Summary: Being stuck at the snooty, all-boys school your father works at is NOT how you wanted to spend Christmas (especially with Angus Tully...asshole). Still, the Winter of 1970 leading into 1971 is one you will not forget. A stubborn teenager, a professor with a stick up his ass, a woman with a heart of gold, and a mini feminist who's pissed at everyone 99% of the day (yours truly)...what could go wrong?
Tropes/keywords: Academic Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Young Love, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Feel Good, CHRISTMAS, and Found Family.
Chapter 1: "Bah, Humbug!"
Chapter 2: "You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham"
Chapter 3: "Emotional Motion Sickness"
Chapter 4: "Too Late to Turn Back Now"
Chapter 5: "One More Reason to Control Myself"
Chapter 6: "December Never Felt So Wrong"
Chapter 7: Coming Soon
"A Silence Haunts Me"
{Eric x Selective Mute!Reader}
->A Quiet Place: Day One
Summary: It's Day 168 when you arrive on the island...it's all too loud. Even when he (Eric, the man who was kind enough to take you and Nina in) breathes, it's too much to bear. If you're going to stay here, you're going to have to learn how to be civil among everyone else...you don't plan on talking to any of them.
Tropes/keywords: Slow Burn, Healing from Trauma, Action, Adventure, Found Family, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, and Parenting.
Chapter 1: Somewhere (beyond the sea)
Chapter 2: Please Don't Confront Me with My Failures (i had not forgotten them)
Chapter 3: Coming Soon
Series Summary: When a run goes poorly, and Daryl is separated from his group, a stranger and her companion help get him out of a sticky situation. Little does Daryl know this stranger is much closer to home, and his life is going to get a bit more complicated
Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader (s3 - s11) (ongoing)
A/N: Hello everyone and welcome to the continued chapter directory for close to home. For chapters one through forty five, please visit here.
Thank you for continuing to check out close to home, it means the world to me 🖤
This will follow the entirety of the show--so if you have not finished the show, there will be spoilers!! Plot arcs, events, and character deaths will be spoiled, so read at your own risk!
Warnings will be mostly chapter specific, but some general warnings for the story are adult language/content, sexual assault/mentions of assault, violence, descriptions of blood/injury, character deaths, and all of the typical TWD content. The story will mostly follow the TWD plotline with mild canon divergence. Therefore there will be plot lines and dialogue from the show. Additionally, there will be background information for the reader and mild descriptions of her features, but they can be ignored! Basically, the reader is almost like an oc, but self-insert for the most part lol
I try to post every day, but I do work full time, so sometimes I might be unable to. Thank you again for checking this story out, and please take a look at my masterlist to see other content!
Chapter Directory
chapter forty six
chapter forty-seven
chapter forty eight
chapter forty nine
chapter fifty
chapter fifty one
chapter fifty two
chapter fifty three
chapter fifty four
chapter fifty five
chapter fifty six
chapter fifty seven
chapter fifty eight
chapter fifty nine
chapter sixty
chapter sixty one
touch-starved!fem!reader x touch-starved, shy daryl dixon. this is pure tooth-rotting fluff with protective daryl, set somewhere in alexandria. the reader is a medic, this is a sweet build-up to smut which is going to be in part 2.
3.5k words, suitable for everyone. reader is referred to as "she", written in 3rd person, mostly daryl's pov, all lowercase. title from the lana song cherry because lana + norman = *author barks incoherently and descends into insanity*
her knee landed between his legs with a soft thud. the meat of his thigh surrounded by her legs as he sat under the yellow overhead lamp, daryl's chest rose and fell steadily, caramel skin marred by a deep red welt.
he stunk like bloody sweat, moist soil and gunpowder and lead.
"I'll inject a local," she mumbled, tapping on the glass vial before inserting the syringe and filling it up with a clear liquid, "you gonna need some twenty stitches, boyo."
"you dun' hafta," he, nonetheless, winced; the welt went across his chest, over his pectoral and almost to his collarbone. all and all, far from the worst he's had.
painkillers were a luxury, better spent on someone else, someone not like him. but he knew better than to argue with a medic (or someone filling the position of one, for that matter).
the woman's scent enveloped his senses in an opaque fog of sweet summer sweat over sharp, cheap laundry powder. something bitter, like rosemary and thyme, something sweet, like cherries and wine.
daryl's eyelashes fluttered as the needle pierced his skin: once, twice, five times, all around the jagged edges of the torn wound. the breath he was holding in left his mouth in a humid huff.
her hands, so gentle, prodded at the edges of his hurt until he could answer her question of 'feel anything?' negative, honestly. briefly, the acrid stench of rubbing alcohol overshadowed everything else as she sterilized everything, the tools and him, to the best of her ability.
he opened his eyes.
"now," she lifted her clever eyes, surveying the scene, "I'm gonna perch myself here," she moved that much closer, one knee between his legs, the other on the side of his leg; hovering over the same leg, facing his reclined torso, "you tell me if you're uncomfortable. that's the only light here, I don't mean to invade your personal space like that."
he could have laughed, if not for the risk of disrupting her careful stitching of his flesh.
"don'tcha worry 'bout it, pretty girl," his voice gravelly low, daryl did his best to stay still.
she chuckled softly, "bet you say that to anyone who can stitch you up in an even line."
"no," he scoffed, surprising himself, "jus' you. rick's hardly a pretty girl."
her hands stilled, eyes momentarily darting to his. the yellow light reflected in them, giving her pupils a red-hot gleam, as if devil himself had taken a sharp turn and went to seek refuge inside her instead of coming down to georgia.
he studied it, studied his own blurry, open-mouthed, panting reflection in the pupils of the woman currently perched atop his lap. then the realisation hit him, like a derailed runaway train, and he immediately withdrew to count the cracks in the ceiling.
she cleared her throat, resuming the rhythmical push and pull of the needle.
"didn't know rick could do that."
daryl attempted to shrug - stopping it before the motion reached his shoulders - and grunted instead.
she continued to stitch, the suddenly pregnant silence punctuated by the crinkling of a wrapper. an extra large, sterile bandaid was placed over the wound after she applied something green and foul-smelling atop the now-closed gash; his grunted query was met with a curt,
"antiseptic."
and he was let go with instructions to return the next day for a dressing change.
he lied to himself. he waited until it was dark to show up the next day, well into the summer night, just to be placed in the same position - under the lone hanging lamp, under her.
cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, complimented by a trail of herbal tea. she smelled like peaches, too, this time. or, perhaps, it were the blooming trees outside her window that snuck their sweet aroma indoors.
"healing nicely," she remarked off-handedly, seemingly oblivious to the rising level of his tension and his inner turmoil. "the pain not too bad? you seem grumpy. grumpier than usual."
this time, he waited until she removed herself from his form to bark a terse laugh.
"no, pretty girl," he eyed her in the dusky, dusty room and received a crooked smile for his troubles, "long day 'is all."
"tell me about it," she huffed, shoulders sagging a bit more than he would have liked.
"who's the prick bothering ya?" he couldn't help it, his mind immediately went... places. surely, he wasn't the only one who noticed her pretty.
"no-one but my own damn brain," she scoffed, seemingly at herself, "and maybe the dick from number 17. it's like he's doing it on purpose."
"doin' what now?" daryl's voice dropped, his eyes squinted. his palm migrated to the handle of his knife, a gesture utterly subconscious.
"gettin' injured," she grumbled, no real heat behind her words, "got shot with a dart last week, sprained his ankle on a routine perimeter check today. how did that man serve 6 years in the army is beyond me."
daryl's head tilted as his chest tensed, heart thudded uncomfortably against his ribs.
"isn't carol taking care of all the broken bones?" he asked, tone laced with suspicion.
she turned to face him; he felt, more than saw, the annoyed roll of her eyes.
"he demands a real doctor," the woman shook off the wrapper before leaning back into him and placing it over his wound in one swift, irritated gesture, "how come nobody's told him I'm just a good faker? everyone knows by this point. all he does is waste resources-"
"woah, woah," daryl's voice rose briefly as he attempted to halt the incoming ramble. not that he didn't want to hear what she had to say, it was just unusual to see the quiet woman so... not herself.
"sorry," she shot immediately, looking away, "he just gives me the creeps. I know it's mean but-"
"no," daryl shook his head immediately, "if he's botherin' you, he's botherin' you and he needa back off."
she chuckled as she leaned back to observe the results of her work. her eyes were tired and a little ashamed. "say whatchu want but you southern fellas are real gentlemen," her smile was soft.
nobody has ever spoken to him like that, much less referred to him as a gentleman. through the momentary awe, daryl let the corners of his lips tilt up in a closed-lipped, shy smile.
he didn't return the next day, and the day after, having been deemed healthy enough by rick to be sent off to hunt some game - all activities classified as "takin' it easy" by the community leader. people needed food, growing kids needed the protein.
the gash on his chest bled a little, not much, and the scab that formed afterwards looked proper, thick and healthy.
as he reached the gates upon his return, he could make out some shouting just on the border of the little gated town. a few voices did their best to be heard, one right over the other.
"whazzat?" he quizzed the guard.
"lil doctor lady," the guard responded, frowning, squinting into the distance, "and big john, arguin' over something. dunno what. rick's there too."
daryl did not like the sound of that. he didn't like that at all. he dumped the three deer right there on the muddy ground as soon as he crossed the threshold of the safe zone, powerwalking towards the arguing trio.
"... 'm tellin' ya, rick, she's makin' shit up! I risk my life every day goin' out and patrollin', getting the damn supplies so she could patch me up like she's s'posed to!" big john, red in the face and fists clenched, stood looming over rick as he defended himself to the unimpressed sheriff, "'s'not like I broke my damn arm on purpose!"
immediately, daryl's bullshit meter went off as alarms blared in his head at full volume. big john's words were a little too loud, a little too passionate.
rick's eyes darted towards daryl's rapidly approaching form; that was all he needed to know about the situation.
"if that were true, you'd have no problem with carol attending to you, man," for the time being, rick successfully played the good cop.
"she's not even a real doctor!"
"neither am I!" the woman finally spoke up, shooting a glance at daryl, too, as her shoulders dropped slightly.
"hey, what's your fuckin' problem?" daryl finally stomped close enough for big john to jump at his words.
"none of your damn business," he shot back immediately, switching to stare down at the woman. it wasn't hard for him to make her shrink: his name was big john for a reason.
"don't bother tha nice lady," daryl scoffed, straightening up, "least you want a fuckin' knuckle sandwich. first and final warning."
"oh, fuck you man," big john turned to daryl, taking a step towards the archer, chest puffing out with the force of his rage. his left hand was in a makeshift cast; the right one rose, rapidly flying, aimed at daryl's face.
it didn't take the archer much effort to side-step the large man. he was immediately responding with a punch of his own.
big john staggered, taking a couple of unsteady steps back; within the next second, another punch connected with his face, sending blood and snot flying as he fell on the ground noisily.
"that's enough!" rick yelled, pulling on daryl's shoulder.
for the time being, the archer was content to let himself be steered away from the fight.
somewhere behind him, a feminine voice mumbled something less-than-polite, sighing, as she joined rick in pulling him away from big john.
"c'mon big guy," she cooed softly, nodding to rick as she steered him towards her house, "let's get you cleaned up."
he let her drag him indoors, towards the kitchen sink where the smell of herbs was the most potent. throughout the dirt and grime that always followed his hunts, it was a welcome respite. earthy and natural in the best, the most tender of ways.
the woman checked his knuckles, tugging on his big, meaty hand to place it under a stream of cold tap water; his skin was clear, once the grime and blood and dirt was washed off. a coupla punches was nothing, his knuckles too seasoned to sustain an injury from something as simple as a fistfight.
in broad daylight, there was no need for her to perch atop him to check the wound on his chest.
daryl swallowed, following her hands with his eyes. in her pristine, clean kitchen, he'd never felt more out of place as she moved aside the neck of his sweat-stained shirt and touched the soft skin of her fingertips to the scab, checking for infection.
the corners of her mouth finally, finally tilted up. an angry, upset expression had no place on her face; daryl could feel himself deflate as the cloud over the head of the little doctor lady finally, finally dissipated.
"you didn't even tear the stitches, I'm impressed," she complimented him softly, brushing the shirt collar back in place and smoothing it out with her palm, "they're dissolvable, luckily. go wash up and come back, I'll put some antibiotic ointment on it just in case. okay?"
her touch burned, but it was a sweet sort of fire. the kind that remained in his mouth after a particularly delicious batch of spicy wings, blooming as he took a deep breath.
he wanted to chase it with his tongue.
his nostrils flared as he exhaled.
"okay, dar?"
she had a nickname for him. she stared at him with those round, trusting eyes, not knowing that in truth, he was no better than big john.
daryl's cheeks flamed.
"okay," he mumbled, unable to refuse her anything when her eyes.., "dun look at me like dat."
"like what?" she frowned again and oh no, this was so much worse than the earnest concern written plain as day on her face just seconds ago.
his heart hammered in his chest. his fingers twitched. he swallowed the lump in his throat, shuffled his feet.
"cya," finally, his legs cooperated! he ran out of the house like the coward that he was.
he didn't come back as she'd requested. he couldn't. instead, he stubbornly stood under an ice cold stream of water, as long as could manage - and it did exactly nada for his racing thoughts or his traitorous body.
the soap carol had made smelled like herbs.
it smelled like the kitchen where tender fingers prodded at his skin, where soft hair briefly brushed his cheek, where the overhead lamp illuminated a halo around the head of the woman that found a home inside his head on most nights.
dusk fell over the settlement as a knock disturbed the miniscule amount of peace he'd managed to find for himself in the darkness of the basement.
"daryl?" rick's voice yelled, "I gotta favour to ask!"
he was there in an instant. "whassup?"
"the doctor lady. big john's bin runnin' his mouth since dinner, ion like it. I think he's gonna be up to no good."
what daryl liked about rick was his straightforwardness and common sense. such concern had place to be. daryl nodded, walking inside to put on a clean shirt and pick up his crossbow.
"I appreciate it," rick clapped him on the shoulder, "I'd stick around myself but judy is teething and michonne has been up for three nights already, m'afraid she's gonna..."
"no probl'm, rick, ah get it," daryl cut off the rambling man, "you go take care of your baby girl."
as daryl made way to the woman's house, his mind switched to defense mode effortlessly. he knew just the perfect spot to perch himself in, away from prying eyes and well within the observation range of the entries to her house. it wasn't the most comfortable of spots but summer nights were warm and the birdsong from the trees provided a childhood sort of comfort under the clear, dark skies.
as he prepared to settle in, the main door to her house cracked open.
she wore short, thin cotton shorts and a worn out t-shirt and nothing else, a steaming cup of tea clutched securely between her palms. her eyes immediately landed on his dark figure attempting to blend into the dusky underbrush.
"I thought you'd be a no-show," she remarked, a playful tone colouring her voice.
daryl had enough conscience to look sheepish. "uhh," he replied, eloquently, taking a hesitant step towards her house. the light breeze blew the hot fumes of her tea right into his nose, momentarily clouding his judgement. he barely could tear his eyes away from the soft, unblemished skin of her legs.
"c'mon," she waved him in, and he followed, obedient, quiet, like a puppy. she made a brief stop at the stove before pushing a cup into his hands, "I made some tea. not terribly sweet for you, I hope. you seem like a black coffee kinda guy."
the upbeat, companionable chatter sent daryl's head reeling. it's like she was completely oblivious to his clumsiness, to his bluntness, to the awkwardness that seemed to take deep root in his bones whenever he was in her presence.
he took a sip, a courtesy, as she made him sit in that recliner chair again, her body warm and comfortable above him. isn't that what you wanted, moron? his head screamed at him, the annoying voice eerily similar to his late brother's.
"it's okay to let me know you're uncomfortable," she spoke quietly as she moved aside the collar of his shirt once more.
he shivered, it's not like he could help himself. "wha?"
"not everyone likes to be... touched," she briefly looked up, then back again as she rubbed the salve around his scabs, sharp chemicals and plastic disturbing the peaceful aroma of her herbal tea, "my ma used to yell at me to, like... stop hugging random people. sometimes I forget that not everyone is perfectly fine with jus' bein' groped."
"hmm," he managed, struggling not to sound like all of his christmases just had arrived at once. she wanted to touch him. well, not just him-
"these days, I'm not particularly keen on that either, but eventually, the touch starvation catches up to me. I'm just glad that, like, carol and rosita don't freak out or anything, when I play octopus with 'em."
"it's... okay," he had to drink to clear his throat, inhale to clear his mind. "ion mind, pretty girl," daryl tried for a smile and was sure it came more like a grimace. he desperately needed practice in that department.
she chuckled, a dulcet little noise, before her eyes shot up to his. whatever she was looking for, she found it; her hands, done with healing his external wounds, stroked slowly over his shoulders, mapping the broad, muscular expanse of them in one fluid motion. the tips of his hair tickled the tops of her palms.
with only a thin cotton barrier separating daryl's skin from hers, it was as close to heaven as he will ever allowed to be. the cup in his hand scalded his rough palms, hot ceramic burning through the callouses: it was like an afterthought of pain and nothing more.
her fingers connected behind his neck, the pads rubbing over the tense muscle there. the groan left his mouth unnoticed by him, until he could feel the smile on her face bloom just like the flowers outside her window.
"you like that?"
"mmm," he managed, weakly. something inside of him was crumbling. maybe it was the tea that had filled his veins with melted sugar and liquified the strong resolve to not let someone like her be tainted by someone like him.
she kept on kneading his neck and shoulders, like a damn cat working graveyard shift at the biscuit cookie factory.
daryl's deep inhale moved his whole body.
she staggered, brief and sweet, tilting heavily into him to keep up her balance and stop herself from falling over. graceful, she was not.
he was met with a parted mouth, so sweet and red and plump, like ripe cherries; right over his nose, just out of reach, sinful and tantalising in it's own right. the pink, moist meat of her tongue was tucked into the corner of it as her eyes narrowed, something between relief and concentration.
seeing him look, the mouth stretched into a smile, making it that much sweeter. she was looking at him, again, like- like that.
her hands faltered, she swayed in place; daryl's instincts got the better of him and he secured her, one hand holding her body by the hip to steady the sudden bout of clumsiness.
"m'sorry, imma klutz," she looked away sheepishly.
he squeezed her hip on response, letting her know it was okay. and it really was more than that: much to his wide-eyed wonder. he felt like he was the one who should be doing the apologizing. but not only did she not shake off his hand, oh no, she leaned further into him, her belly almost touching his bent forearm.
it took a gargantuan amount of effort just to not pull her in all the way. she was most inviting to touch, all soft curves courtesy of semi-regular meals and tender skin despite the blazing summer sun.
daryl's thumb moved up and down the cotton of her shorts absent-mindedly. the sweet little sighs falling from her lips were hard to miss. almost as if it was someone else pushing her into his arms, a well-meaning ghost perhaps; she tilted in on herself to soak up the warmth of his large, hot body.
a trail of goosebumps ran across his scalp, starting from the place she was rubbing gentle circles into it - at the back of his head, where his hairline met his nape. if he was capable of purring, he would.
instead, he groaned again, eyelashes fluttering, casting a moving shadow on his sharp cheeks. his reward was an equally-content sounding sigh as it drafted into his nose, warm and earthy.
the empty cup thudded against the table where he placed it.
her fingers parted his hair gingerly, taking great care to avoid potential tangles. some finer, smaller hairs still pulled, taking some of his self-deprecation and resolve with 'em as the motion traversed his body in a jolt and settled somewhere deep inside the pit of his belly.
summary: out of all the girls Eddie could like, of course he'd pick Jason Carver's girlfriend. He kept ignoring the warnings, and now he's in too deep.
tags: Eddie x fem!reader, pining!Eddie, friends to lovers, requited love but both parties are idiots, Dustin trying to talk sense into Eddie, cw for Jason being a misogynistic asshole, song fic, pure fluff, slow burn ish, oneshot
☆ word count: 6.5K+ (she's worth it i promise) ☆
It's sprialed out of control. Eddie knows that now.
It's as if he's been struck by lightning, the realization jolting him awake when your fingers deftly brush against his whilst you pass over the chemistry pop quiz. The touch lasts for less than two seconds, accompanied by a friendly smile and a quiet "good luck" thrown in, but it's enough for him to falter and almost let the paper slip from his fingers.
It reminds him of the first time you two met, late after school - you because of cheerleading practice, him because of detention.
Eddie was exhausted. Having shown up late to school with mismatched socks and his roleplaying notebook forgotten by the driver's seat of his van - not that it mattered anymore, considering he had to cancel tonight's session due to detention - he swore that the world was out to get him.
It was half past five and the spring rain was unrelenting, the pitter patter of water droplets against glass windows drowning out all other noise. Eddie scowled, not even the weather was on his side today. He'd have to make a run for it to his car, with nothing more than a floppy notebook to hold over his head.
His footsteps faltered, however, when he heard a feminine voice swear followed by the clattering of metal. Peeking his head around the corner, he was met with none other than the sight of you struggling to open up your locker, delicate fingers fumbling with the lock desperately.
"Oh for fuck's sake." you swore, trying the combination again and pulling the lock with all your strength to no avail. Dropping your duffel bag onto the floor, you tried again, this time grasping the metal lock with both your manicured hands.
No luck.
Sighing, you dropped your arms and fell forward onto your locker head first, before perking up and looking around for someone to ask for help - perhaps a janitor would know how to deal with this. Your eyes met Eddie's, and his eyes widened in an instant (fearing the worst, being caught staring wordlessly at one of the most popular girls in school) but your eyes lit up with recognition and joy.
"Hey! Eddie, right?" you called out, waving him over.
You knew his name? Eddie was simultaneously flattered and shocked, considering you two were separated by several stratospheres in the popularity pyramid. He was in your Advanced Physics class junior year before he dropped down to regular Physics, and even then you sat by the front row with the rest of the cheerleading squad whilst he doodled in his notebooks at the back.
"Do you think you could try opening up my locker for me? I left some important notes in there and my European History test is tomorrow, so I really need them." you sheepishly added, leaning against your locker. Eddie hesitated for a few seconds - was this a trick? Why were you being so nice to him? Why was the smile on your face so pure and so genuine, never once faltering?
Ignoring the sirens going off in his mind, he wordlessly nodded and walked up to your locker.
"The combination is 8-1-8-2."
He spun the dials around and tugged at the lock, but it remained stuck. He tried again, being extra careful to spin the numbers to the exact digit this time, but it still didn't budge.
"Nothing?" you questioned anxiously, peeking over from behind his shoulder. Eddie just grinned at that, hand flying to his jean front pocket to fish out an extra hairpin.
"Maybe not. Hold on."
Bending the metal pin straight, he fumbled with the little hole at the bottom of the lock, until a satisfying 'click' rang out. He was then able to finally unhook the lock and open it up to the contents of your locker - textbooks and folders spilling with notes neatly piled up at the bottom, with a Dior perfume, tube of lipstick and a jar of gummies sitting on the top shelf.
He was about to make a lighthearted joke about the gummies when the joke died in his mouth at the warm sensation of your arms wrapping around his waist, face buried in his shirt as you joyously embraced him.
"YES! Thank you so much, Eddie, you are a lifesaver!"
The sudden burst of affection was totally foreign to him and his senses were going haywire - overwhelmed at how your hair was tickling his exposed skin, your sweet scent (notes of caramel, honey and vanilla) evident but not too strong from this proximity. He fumbled over what to do with his arms, not knowing what was appropriate to do, before awkwardly settling on patting your back with his left hand.
"It's uh, no big deal." he managed to stutter out, small grin on his lips. A grin far outshined by the massive one on yours, bubbly laughter flowing as you quickly dug out the notes from your locker before slamming it shut and locking it back up.
There was another foreign sensation now beginning to register in his brain. Warmth, pleasant fires kindling in his lower stomach, an ache in his chest to have you close to him again. And his next sentence was blurted out before he could even think through all the repercussions.
"Do you need a ride home? Since it's raining and all."
"Yeah! That'd be great."
Following the locker incident, you began to wave at him and exchange quick greetings with him in the hallways. It was a minor change, a verbal acknowledgment instead of silent smiles and polite nods, but that didn't stop others from giving Eddie dirty looks. After all, why was the most popular girl in school giving any time of her day to the resident school freak?
Truth be told, he didn't understand it either. But he wasn't going to complain either, only returning the gestures wholeheartedly. This amicable state of acquaintance - knowing each other's names and being friendly, but never crossing the line into friendship - was broken less than a week later, when he was sitting in Mr.Wilson's office and being lectured about how he really needed to get his grades up.
"I've assigned you a tutor. She's one of my star students and she's kindly agreed to tutor you for free, so please do show up on time and try." the elderly man sighed under his breath, pushing his metal rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose before shuffling through a stack of papers.
"Her name's (Y/n). I'll leave the specifics of the arrangement up to the two of you, but the expectation is one session every week or two. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
So here he was now. Standing in front of your house, double checking the address scribbled down hurriedly onto his notebook for the hundredth time, agonizing over what to do. Should he knock? Ring the door bell? He was a few minutes early, maybe it'd be best to just wait for you outside-
"Hi there!" you exclaimed, throwing open the door excitedly, making him jump back in surprise. "Come on in, we can go up to my room."
Your hands were preoccupied with drying your wet hair with a towel - it looked as if you had just emerged from the shower, the thought of which made his throat dry, a dirty sight he had to immediately scrub from his mind. Not that it worked particularly well, not when you were wearing an oversized Nirvana t-shirt that showed off your legs and the cheerleading shorts you had on hugged your thighs perfectly.
Carefully eyeing the living room and kitchen, he half expected for your parents to jump out and begin to interrogate him as to his identity.
"Are your... parents around?" he'd asked quietly, fingers anxiously twiddling by his sides. You shook your head sideways.
"My parents work out of state most of the time. My godfather drops by every few days though to make sure I'm fine though."
He raised his eyebrows at that, following behind you up the stairs.
"Doesn't that get lonely?"
You hummed, dabbing the last droplets of water from your forehead.
"I guess so. But Hopper - my godfather - has a lot of friends in the community so I get invited over to a lot of things. Plus cheerleading and school stuff keeps me pretty busy so it's not too bad."
You then pushed open the door to your bedroom with your shoulder, stepping backwards to let Eddie in first.
He marveled at how well organized your room was: sunflowers potted by the windowsill, a collection of vinyls leaning against a propped up vinyl record player playing a slow Whitney Houston song. White wardrobe pushed against the wall next to pastel pink drawers, makeup and skincare products neatly placed one after another.
Your cheerleading uniform was ironed and nicely draped over a cushy velvet chair, a full length body mirror with polaroids of you and your friends stuck to its sides on the white wooden frame.
You led him over to your study desk, pristine and white, and gestured to the chair to your left. He was still drinking in the sight of your room as you closed the door shut and hung your towel over the frame of your bed - which was complete with frilly lace sheets, pink and yellow cushions, bumblebee patterns stitched into the fabric.
In summary, Eddie thought, the whole room was so damn... clean and cute. A stark and sore contrast to his messy room, unfolded laundry everywhere and his walls crowded with his guitar and various metal band posters. He was just grateful now that he had insisted on doing the first session at your place instead of his.
"Everything okay?" you questioned, noticing his silence and awed expression. He blinked at you wordlessly at that, mind blanking in an instant.
"Yep! Amazing. Awesome, really. Just very stoked to get started on this exciting English Literature." he boasted, tapping his hand down on the thick textbook. You giggled at that, leaning against your chair.
"Listen, I know that Steinbeck and Fitzgerald aren't as exciting as Iron Maiden or Black Sabbath, but I promise you that there's a charm to these authors as well."
"You know about Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath?" Eddie perked up at that, pleasantly surprised. You rolled your eyes playfully, as if it was common knowledge.
"Duh, what else would I listen to whilst I jog? I can't say I'm as big of a fan as you, but I do listen to a bit of everything and metal is a cool genre."
It was his turn to chuckle, leaning forward onto the table to rest his head on his palms.
"You know, (L/n), you're not at all like what I'd expected you to be."
"What'd you mean by that, Munson?" you challenged, quirking up your eyebrows teasingly, his heart skipping a beat at the action.
"Nothing bad, I promise! Just, I don't know, your friends aren't as friendly or as cool as you."
You click your tongue at that, faux frown on your glossy lips.
"But aren't we friends? And you're plenty cool and friendly."
Friends. The word felt heavy on his tongue, goosebumps rising on his skin. Plus, you'd called him cool and friendly - by far the nicest thing any popular student had ever said to him. All logic flew out the window at that moment, walls tumbling down faster than the next words on his lips.
"Of course we're friends."
It was dangerous territory, a quiet voice was nagging him in the crevices of his mind that this was totally new and treacherous - accepting the friendship of the most popular and desired girl in school. The sirens were blaring in his head, red warning signs clouding his vision.
But Eddie consciously chose to turn the other way, running farther into your embrace.
"Cool. Glad to hear it, friend."
Once the initial hurdle was jumped over, the label of 'friends' hanging over you and Eddie, everything fell into place. Weeks flew by with tutoring sessions filled with inside jokes and excited ramblings, with Eddie taking every chance to insert a dirty joke in somehow to make you laugh.
He walked you from class to class at your insistence, your sharp glare at any staring passerbys enough to shut them up. Conversation was never awkward, there was plenty to talk about. His D&D sessions, the latest Metallica record, the next football game that Eddie would begrudgingly turn up to (but ultimately always would, just to be able to hug you in celebration afterwards).
It was all platonic, he told himself. Sure, he thought you were pretty and fun, but that didn't mean anything. He had it all under control, he reasoned, no, insisted. He was feigning igornace, arguing with his inner voice that it was all just excitement and nerves over having a friend who was popular.
"A lot on your mind?" you asked him a few months later, tongue swiping across the top of your ice cream, legs uncrossing underneath your cheerleading uniform.
You'd insisted on celebrating his first A in English Literature by going out for ice cream - "it's on me" you'd added, making it impossible to say no. It was a sizzling hot summer day and both of you were seeking refuge under the shade of a large willow tree, sitting on the roof of Eddie's van with him only a few inches separated from you.
'Yes.' Eddie wanted to say. 'I can't stop thinking about you.' he wanted to confess. 'I hear your laughter whilst I fold my clothes. I see you in the corner of my eyes everywhere I go, laying on my sofa with your legs dangling off the armrest, smiling at me in the rearview mirror from the backseat of my car.'
But he didn't say that.
"Not really. Just still reeling from the fact that I got an A." he joked, choosing to suppress his inner thoughts.
"Aw, well, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, Eds. This is just the beginning, I know it."
Humming, he shot you a quick wink.
"I'll take your word for it, doll."
Both of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, until a loud shriek was heard from inside the ice cream store. A girl Eddie vaguely recognized from one of his classes was nodding fiercely and hugging her boyfriend close, making his eyebrows raise in piqued curiosity.
"Oh, probably just a promposal for the dance next week." you commented lazily, tongue flicking at the top of your cone.
"Are you... going?" Eddie tested the waters, eyes cautiously picking apart your reaction.
"Yeah, I am! Jason's being really difficult about the color palette we're matching as though. He wants pink and blue, I'd rather we do yellow and blue or pink and white."
Eddie's vision flashed white at the mention of Jason's name, bone chilling cold seeping through his chest.
"Jason as in... Jason Carver?"
You nodded, and the pain he felt upon seeing the fond smile that spread across your lips instantly felt worse than a million needle pricks at his heart.
"That's him. He can be kind of difficult at times but... he's my boyfriend and I love him, you know?"
Eddie knew he'd never have a chance with you. He never deluded himself into that fantasy, but now it was confirmed, written in clear black and white: you were taken. Not only that, but you loved Jason Carver. He was your boyfriend.
It made total sense. How had Eddie not noticed it before? Perhaps you had mentioned it to him previously, an off the cuff comment here and there, but Eddie wasn't listening carefully. Too intoxicated on your quiet giggles, too busy admiring the golden sunlight kissing your hairline.
It was impossible to prevent the smile from dissipating from his face, a forced grin instead replacing his genuine warm smile.
"Yeah. Makes sense, I guess."
"How about you, Eds?" you excitedly asked, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Anyone caught your eye that you want to take to the dance?"
It burned his mouth to respond, heart throbbing, fingers strained by his sides.
"Yeah, but uh... I don't think I'll be able to make it, so I'm not going to ask her."
You frowned at that and there were a few drops of strawberry ice cream hanging from your lips, which Eddie reached out to wipe away with his thumb instinctively.
"S-sorry." he muttered out, retracting his hand quickly as if he'd been burnt.
"Yeah, you better be." Jason barked out from behind Eddie, making him straighten up in alarm, not having heard Jason's car pull into the parking lot.
The jock glared at Eddie as he walked around to wrap a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you right against his figure. Your widening smile was unmissable, so was the way you kicked your legs forward in delighted joy when Jason suddenly swooped down and pressed a harsh kiss against your lips.
Eddie awkwardly averted his gaze as Jason continued to glare at the metalhead from over your shoulder, deepening the kiss possessively, his vice grip only loosening from your waist when you patted him on the back indicating that you needed air.
"Ready to go, babe?" Jason asked, not even missing a beat. You nodded, scrunching up the paper cup in your hands and throwing it away to the nearest bin.
"I'll catch you round?" you asked cheerfully, linking your hands with Jason and shooting Eddie a hopeful smile. The smart answer to give would've been to make up an excuse, to cut the friendship there and for good - especially with how Jason was steaming with anger next to you, blue icy eyes narrowing in on Eddie's figure.
There was a storm brewing, toxic smoke billowing into the air. But Eddie stood there, unwavering, only nonchalantly rolling back his shoulders and winking at you.
"Yep. See you round."
Jason's hatred for Eddie only intensified as time went on - you'd tagged along to a D&D session once and the jock found you leaning over Eddie mid-dice roll, metal ring clad fingers on top of yours as he guided you. Eddie waited for you after school whenever you had late practice to drive you back home, only for Jason to then pop out of nowhere and insist on driving you home (though he lived in the opposite direction from you).
"I don't fucking trust you, freak." Jason once spat the moment you ran off to the bathroom, leaving the two men to be standing around your locker. "I don't know what the fuck my girlfriend sees in you, but you better not be dragging her into any of your shit."
Eddie clenched his jaw, fists grasping and ungrasping by his sides in an attempt to control his anger.
"Relax, Carver. We're just friends."
Jason just rolled his eyes at that, stepping forward threateningly.
"Yeah, friends. Just don't get your dick hard thinking she's yours. She shouldn't be wasting her time on you anyways."
Eddie's blood boiled at the way the basketball player talked about you, wanting to control and dictate everything you did.
"She's not property for you to fucking control, jackass." he retorted, only succeeding in causing Jason's nostrils to flare with fury.
"I'm back, and I- Oh." you paused, noticing the tension lingering in the air and the defensive postures. "Is everything alright?"
The boys stared at each other silently, hatred still tinging the air, but it all melted into fake smiles on both their faces when turning to you.
"Yep." they both affirmed.
"Everything's... perfect. Just as it should be." Jason slowly drawled, eyeing Eddie up and down. It was a threat, an alarm bell ringing right by his ears. It dawned on Eddie that this was becoming unavoidable now, the mess that he was in, his love for you an unstoppable tornado.
It was incredibly reckless to continue to be friends with you. But god, it felt so damn good.
So out of selfish nature or not, Eddie didn't pull away. He chose to clutch on to you tighter, grit his teeth harder, damn all the consequences that would follow. He'd wander closer into the eye of the storm, wholeheartedly and willingly, all for you.
Though Jason wasn't silent about his unhappiness over your friendship with Eddie, you never let it affect you. So Eddie continued to be your friend, maybe even best friend at this point after six months, what in between Saturday movie nights and late evening talks on the bleachers after practice.
Eddie forced himself to be content with being your go-to platonic company: of helping you pick out a dress for your date with Jason whilst leaning against the headboard of your bed, carrying your things for you at school as you rushed to class after cheerleading practice, laughing with you over a pack of cheep bear in someone's backyard during a loud house party.
It hurt - doing all the things couples did, but under the label of friendship and under Jason's persistent gaze. After all, Eddie was the one to hold your hair back when you'd had too much to drink at the end of year summer party, helping to wipe your mouth with a stray towel and gently guiding a water bottle to your lips.
Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, having ditched you the moment his fellow basketball players called him over. It made Eddie furious, how it seemed Jason only wanted you as a trophy to show off to the school before abandoning you in favor of his friends, but you seemed to be blind to it.
Besides, Eddie reasoned, who was he to intervene? Overall, you were happy, right?
The metalhead wasn't even in the bathroom with you for more than three minutes when Jason came pummeling through the door, chest heaving with anger upon having been told that you were seen stumbling into an empty bathroom with Eddie 'the freak' Munson.
The jock never said it - at least in front of Eddie - but it was clear that he suspected something more than friendship, you two always tilting dangerously close into romantic territory. Jason ordered Eddie out, insisting that you were in need of your boyfriend instead of him, and with a heavy heart Eddie sighed and wandered back into the party.
He still thought about you the rest of the night though, no matter how many jaegar bomb shots he downed.
Come autumn, and it wasn't just Jason who saw what was going on. At this point, you were beloved by everyone in the Hellfire Club and you'd even swung by Eddie's trailer multiple times. Wayne and the kids would all tease Eddie for his clear infatuation with you, which Eddie would vehemently deny, though he knew deep down they were right.
"So are you ever going to admit that you like her?" Dustin teased, knocking his shoulder into the older boy's.
They were sitting on the railings of the skate park, the boys having lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with Max to pick between going to the arcade or to the skate park. The redhead was busy coaching you on how to skate - your legs wobbly on the skateboard as Max held onto your arms, wide amused smiles on both your faces - whilst Lucas and Mike ran off to the corner store to get some water.
"What, (Y/n)?" Eddie tried to play dumb.
"Duh, who the hell else?" Dustin retorted, appalled that his friend would even try to feign ignorance.
Both boys picked up their heads at the sound of loud laughter, your back on the pavement as you seemingly fell, Max laughing so hard that she had tears in her eyes and was hunched over to clutch her stomach. The fond smile gracing Eddie's lips was instantaneous- you were always so good with the kids, they all adored you. The boys pestered you for gaming tips, Max and you bonded over music, Erica thought you were the "coolest adult" she knew.
It made Eddie fall even deeper for you, his heart now fully in the eye of the hurricane. You were ripping down all his walls, your laughter destructive and haunting. You left him dizzy and stumbling through the hallways, heart heavy with infatuation, lips aching to be on yours.
"There. Right there." Dustin commented, pointing right at Eddie's face. "You get that stupid grin on your face whenever she smiles or talks or shit, does anything really. We all have bets on when you're finally gotta make a move, so when are you?"
Eddie shoved off the curly haired boy, fingers scrambling to brush off the sleeves of his jacket in false boredom.
"For the millionth time, Henderson, she has a boyfriend. Said boyfriend, who by the way, hates me and frankly I don't feel like being a homewrecker." he spat, venom dropping from his voice at the thought of Jason. Letting out a short exhale, he flashed the younger boy a tired smile.
"Besides, we've been friends for like, what, over half a year now? The ship has sailed, I've got no chance."
"You're just saying that because you don't see the way she looks at you." the younger boy insisted. "Seriously. Friends don't look at each other like that."
Eddie had nothing to say to that, you looking up from the opposite site of the skate park to wave at the two boys with delight, which they both quickly returned. The fluttering in Eddie's stomach was easy to anticipate at this point, as was the heavy pang in his heart at the realization that Jason would be coming to pick you up in a short bit.
"She's just being nice, Dustin." Eddie muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.
You looked ethereal whilst skating, so carefree, hair flowing in the wind as your knees bent and braced for the dip off the edge. Fading red orange sunlight accentuating the dip and curve of your facial features, autumn foliage stuck in your messy hair.
You'd come into his life, a tornado, and destroyed his whole being. He was wandering alone now, knees brushing up against green fields with nothing but trees surrounding him, but Eddie didn't mind.
So long as he got to continue to watch you smile like that.
Cut to the present, Eddie's mindlessly filling out the pop quiz, brain still fuzzy from your touch lingering over his skin, ghostly yet ever so present. The rest of the class flies by and it's the end of the school day, so Eddie quickly moves to shove his things into his bag, crushing all his paper notes with the haste with which he does so.
"Any plans for tonight?" you ask, tossing your bag over your shoulder.
It's Friday night, which to everyone else means parties and fancy dinners, but to Eddie it usually means going back to the trailer and watching a rerun of a shitty sitcom over a bowl of microwave mac and cheese. Not that he'll tell you that, though.
"Not really. Why, up for another spontaneous drive through town?" he teases, heart fluttering hopefully. You sigh and shake your head sideways.
"Can't - Jason's taking me out on a date, but... rain check for maybe next Friday?" you question, peeking up from your lashes.
"Sure, next Friday." the bitter smile and forced ambivalence to his tone is painful, but it's a dull ache he's made peace with at this point. "If anything changes, you know where to find me." Eddie jokes, cocking his head to the side.
And unexpectedly, things do change.
In the blink of an eye, it seems.
Eddie's mid-way through the rented copy of Evil Dead, hands stuck in a greasy bowl of popcorn as he lies chest down on the sofa, blue light from the television illuminating his tired face, until someone bangs against his trailer door furiously.
Jumping up at the sudden loud noise, he pauses the VHS tape, abandoning his bowl of popcorn on the couch before throwing open the door.
It's you, mascara running down your cheeks, arms crossed over your chest, clutching at your skin so harshly that the baby blue dress you're wearing bunches at your waist.
"I broke up with him." is the first thing you say, voice shaky, body still trembling. "He said some, fuck, awful things, Eds. Really awful things. I had no choice and I know it was the right thing to do but-"
Your voice breaks as another wave of tears overwhelms you.
"But then why does it still hurt?"
Eddie's quick to shush you and envelope you into his arms, not caring that your makeup is probably smudging against his shirt, his hands coming up to comfortingly cradle your head against his chest. Your body trembles with every sob that escapes your lips and Eddie presses a soft kiss to your hairline, wishing nothing more than to take your pain away from you.
His mind is whirring with a million different things to say to you, but your comfort is on the forefront of his mind above all.
"Hey... have you ever been to the park by Saint Street? You know, the one with the playground." he quietly suggests, pulling away slightly.
You look up at him, confused, wiping your eyes.
"I don't think so, why?"
Picking up the jean jacket thrown over his kitchen counter, he digs out his car keys from the side pocket and extends his left hand out for you to grab.
"Because. We should go. It's impossible to be sad at a playground."
It's a stupid thing to say, childish even, but it does the job of putting a smile back onto your face, your cold hands grasping his warm ones. It's a quick drive - no less than 15 minutes - but he can't help but look over at you at every intersection and red light, making sure that you're okay.
He jumps out first to open the car door for you before helping you climb over the metal fence - "no one comes by, I swear" he assures you - shaky feet meeting dead leaves and dirt, he's quick to tug you towards the swing set.
He refuses to let you talk - "play first, until you stop crying" - and he insists on pushing you on the swing as high as he can. He chases you down the slides then races you to the top of the jungle gym, drunk off of your bubbly laughter and the way your eyes twinkle in the moonlight.
Neither of you know how much time has passed before you two sit across from each other on the seesaw, ribs hurting from the lack of oxygen. You can faintly make out Eddie's features in the dark - moonlight illuminating his curls, amused grin on his handsome face (the same face you've been unable to stop thinking about for the past few months).
"So what'd Jason say?" Eddie asks, leaning forward. "But only if you wanna talk about it, of course." he clarifies.
You let out a slow exhale, nodding tiredly.
"No, no, you... you deserve to know. Jason was on edge at the restuarant - I didn't think much of it, he's always a bit on edge - but he just went crazy today. Like, the moment the waiter left he started screaming at me, accusing me of cheating on him."
"Cheating on him?" Eddie strains his neck with the speed with which he picks his head up to stare at you, wide mouthed. "You? You would never!"
You scoff at that, thumbs anxiously twiddling on your lap.
"I know. That's what I tried to tell him but he wouldn't hear it. Just kept on going and on about how I was clearly in love with-" you stop yourself then, the gravity of the situation falling into place like dominoes.
You just broke up with your boyfriend of nearly a year. You came to Eddie crying, showing up at his doorstep in a heartbeat. Now you two are staring at each other in the park, leaned over opposite sides of a fucking seesaw, pouring each other's feelings out into the chilly winter air.
"With who?" he furrows his eyebrows and you almost want to laugh at how oblivious he is. You suppose maybe you've been hiding it well - well enough for Eddie to not notice how your touch has always lingered a bit too long on his skin, how your head so easily found home in the crook of his neck, how you began to prioritize meeting up with him over your fellow cheerleaders.
But not well enough for Jason, eagle eyed and jealous, constantly hovering over your interactions with Eddie and deluding himself with the gossip around school that you'd gone further than that.
"You."
It's whispered, heart falling to the bottom of your stomach at the confession now lingering in the open, cold and heavy.
"M-me?" Eddie stutters, clearly taken back. You lick your lips, chapped and dry, your shaky breaths coming out in small whisps of white smoke.
"Yeah. Jason insisted that it was clear that I was cheating on him with you and that we were spending way too much time to be just friends, and he... he called me a lying slut. Straight up. Screamed that I was whore to my face, demanded to know how many times we fucked behind his back."
"W-we never even kissed!"
"Yeah, I know." you chuckle sadly, shaking your head sideways, blinking away new tears which spring to your eyes. "But Jason didn't believe me. I dumped him, left him with the check and... I don't know, didn't feel like going home to an empty house. And I just... all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you."
Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. So he takes the safe route, nodding sympathetically and flashing you a small grin.
"Well, I'm glad that you did. I hope me dragging you to the playground wasn't the wrong thing to do." he teases, attempting to lighten the heavy mood. It works, soft grin tugging at your face.
"Yeah it definitely wasn't. Coming here was perfect."
The night breeze blows against your bare shoulders and it hits you that you really aren't dressed for the outside. Even if winter is only beginning to slowly roll in, it's still chilly enough to see your breath in front of your eyes in puffs of smoke and you've been sitting still on this seesaw for a while. So Eddie steps off to shrug off his jacket, musky earth tones warming your senses as he places it carefully around your shoulders.
"Thanks." you mutter, fingers grasping the lapels of the fabric.
"Don't mention it." he responds, waving you off.
A few beats of silence pass and then you throw your head back, staring up at the night sky full of stars.
"You know, weirdly though, I'm kind of relieved."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. Too many red flags, you know? I just keep on ignoring them because... I don't know, really. Don't like change."
"I get that."
"God, feelings suck." you chuckle, shaking your head sideways. "Don't they? Pining, infatuation, love."
Eddie hums, nodding along.
"I'm there with you. For example-" he pauses. He's staring the storm right in the eye now, he has to made a decision.
He's tired of running, he decides.
"The girl I've been fawning over for almost a year now has been totally blind to my love for her and I'm exhausted." he makes it a point to stare straight at you with an unwavering intensity. "But she's worth it."
It's a shot in the dark but there's a surge of courage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the dark makes him more bold. He blames it on the wind rush, the night high, how beautiful you look in that velvet blue dress.
"She sounds like a very lucky girl." you choke out, mind blanking unexpectedly. Eddie nods and walks up towards you slowly, your throat running dry under the intensity of his stare.
"Yeah, and she's incredible, too. Head cheerleader. Great English Literature tutor. So funny, so kind, so damn beautiful, especially in blue. Great with kids, loved by my uncle, and I just heard-" his left hand comes over to brush up against your cheek. "That she's single. Funny how things work out like this, huh?"
You nod wordlessly, entranced by his warm brown eyes.
"It is."
You stand up cautiously, never once breaking eye contact with him, leaning in closer and closer. Eddie's expecting you to pull away from him in any instant, disgust springing onto your face or apologies falling from your lips, but you remain still. Your lashes fluttering shut is the last sign he needs before he commits to closing the gap and kissing you squarely on your lips, knocking the cold air out from your lungs.
It's a cold night but his skin's on fire, left hand springing up to cup your chin, other hand supporting your neck as he tugs you in even closer. You taste like cherry chapstick and smell like French perfume, velvet fabric brushing up against his arms as he backs you up against a park bench.
It's a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue, but he can't give a fuck. Not when his heart is soaring, fingertips electric, mind hazy at the realization that he is finally kissing his dream girl after a whole year of pining.
"Holy shit." you manage to say when you two pull apart, hair slightly messied and lips wet and plump.
"I hope that's a good holy shit, princess." Eddie teases, the nickname causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies.
"It's a good holy shit. A really good holy shit." you confirm, nodding fiercely. You both laugh at that, warmth blossoming across both your chests.
"W-why didn't you ever say anything?" you stutter out, head still reeling from the passionate kiss.
"I wanted to. God, I wanted to so many times. I knew I was falling for you from the beginning, all these little indicators and signs and the intrusive thoughts. But I kept on ignoring them and by the time I realized I loved you, I knew you were with Jason and you two seemed happy. And I didn't want to be selfish and intrude on your happiness like that."
He tugs you down onto his lap, sitting both your bodies down on the metal bench. Your hands come up to carress his cold cheeks, trembling thumbs rubbing up and down his jawline, eyes admiring the freckles on his nose and the specks of moonlight in his hair.
"Well, no need to ignore those warnings anymore, huh?" you say quietly, voice heavy with adoration.
He just nods, head falling forwards to rest on your chest, hearing your soft heartbeat through velvet fabric.
"Absolutely."
Eddie ignored the tornado warnings.
But in the wreckage, you two found each other, hands desperately grasping each other's in the darkness.
Burrowing his head into the crevice of your neck, he's content to stay with you in the aftermath of the disaster, so long as you continue to grip onto him like this.
a/n: this was based on the song with the same title by Sabrina Carpenter! Please go stream and support her new album, 'emails I can't send', it is fantastic and there are so many other bangers on the album.
Speaking of which, the way that the metaphor of the tornado is used in the song is kinda different from how I used it here but idk, I thought it was a cute concept and the song motivated me to write it haha. Not sure how this fic will be received but I loved writing it :)
summary: you were a part of hellfire long before your brother and his friends got to high school, yet they fit right into the club while you get pushed aside.
requested: no
word count: 6.4k
warnings: light angst, jealousy, brief arguing/raised voices, lots of fluff, kissing, fake gagging, few curse words
a/n: i apparently can’t write short fics for eddie, but i don’t think anyone is complaining about it. plus, i think the fics are freaking adorable & i’m highkey kinda proud of them. so i hope you continue enjoying them, as i’ve got plenty of ideas for him with more coming daily. if you’ve got an idea you’d like done (for eddie or any other st character) feel free to send it my way & i’ll give it a go. also, i couldn’t think of a better title than this, but the actual fic has no purposeful inpsiration from the olivia rodrigo song. i hope you enjoy it regardless! Xx
You groan as you see your brother and his friends make their way through the cafeteria towards you. Knowing it was their first day of high school, you had no doubt they’d try to sit with you. It’s not that you don’t want them to, but you’re terrified that they’ll embarrass you in front of your long-standing crush and dungeon master.
It had been a few months into your freshman year of high school when the small group of friends you’d found yourself in started ranting about how weird and creepy the Hellfire club - and their leader, Eddie Munson - was. You didn’t quite hold the same opinions, though, since you’d been playing the game for a few years by then. In fact, you had only recently given it up when the friend you played with moved towns.
If you're still interested in writing prompts: maybe tiny bby!Matt who just started training with Stick gets pulled into the future, and Foggy finds him and is insanely overprotective of him, and very angrily vocal about how everything Stick put Matt through was child abuse because big!Matt never told Foggy the truth, but bby!Matt has no such compunction to lie and Matt is baffled and maybe wants to cry because he's not used to people being so protective of any version of him since his dad died
this is sort of, kind of this prompt, a little bit!!
Foggy opened his door at 3 AM expecting Matt, probably bleeding and soaked through from the rain that’s hitting against his windows right now, but instead he finds Matt and a bonus small child. Matt’s the only one bleeding, at least, but the kid’s hair is wet and plastered to his head and he’s shivering.
“Right, okay—I’m getting you both clothes to change into,” Foggy says, immediately, walking to his bedroom but still talking in the same tone, figuring the kid probably can’t hear him that way, “and then hopefully you can tell me that we won’t be facing any kidnapping charges or that you’ve secretly had a son this entire time, because that’s, like—I’m a blind ninja—or yes, Foggy, I’m 100% straight levels of lying, man.”
When he comes back out, Matt’s jacket is crumbled on the floor, and he’s apparently ignoring the blood blooming out over his white shirt for kneeling in front of the kid and talking quietly while the kid looks—scared, maybe, but also fascinated.
“First aid kit’s in the kitchen,” Foggy says, dropping a hand down to ruffle Matt’s wet hair before Matt stands up and takes the clothes from him. “Make sure you don’t die, I don’t think I’m up for being a single parent.”
“He’s not my kid,” Matt says. “He’s—it’s complicated.”
“What isn’t with you?” Foggy asks, kissing his cheek before he kneels down in front of the kid and starts to say something to him, startled when he realizes that he’s blind, too. Blind and—Matt’s nose and his eyes and—“Uhm, Matt?”
“Yeah?” the kid asks, softly, kind of rough.
“…holy crap,” Foggy breathes.
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