In The Shadow of Sleep

ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔬𝔴

[veilofsam]

Bri ★⁺ she/her, 26 , chronic music listener , professional fangirl , MDNI! (18+) . 𓂃 ✧ ˙

american. asexual. april taurus. INFJ. professional yapper. music lover. book enjoyer. media consumer. married to daryl dixon in my mind.

sleep token ★ bad omens ★ the walking dead ★ supernatural ★ stranger things ★ criminal minds ★ heartstopper ★ horror videogames ★ side blog: @savvy-spidey ★

⚠️DNI: dont respect ST's anonymity, ship w*ncest, homophobic, transphobic, racist, pro-shippers

[beasbrain]

I Pine, I Perish

description: a cutie lil fic where eddie is just completely obsessed with you. who knew all he needed to bring you two together was jason carver beating his ass?

pairing: yearning!eddie x you (fem!reader)

tags: yearning!eddie, protective!reader, eddie x reader, no y/n, reader insert, slow (ish) burn, first kiss, happy ending, fluff the house down boots, high school romance, so much fucking yearning, eddie's head over heels

WC: 4.5k

TW: bullying, violence, some smoochies

A/N: requested by @midgardian-rogue hope you enjoy!! sorry for the wait! life is kicking my behind. i haven't forgotten about you all. reblogs are always appreciated my loves<33 hope you all enjoy an ounce of some innocent fluff before final girl pt.2 bc......

People talked about love like it happened all at once. Like it was lightning. Like one look across a crowded room, and suddenly the rest of your life made sense.

Eddie Munson thought that was complete and utter bullshit.

Love wasn't lightning; it was erosion. The kind that wore you down one unnoticed glance at a time until one day you looked up and realized you'd built an entire religion around someone who didn't even know your favorite color.

Everyone knew you.

Not in the way they knew Jason Carver, Jason demanded attention. You never asked for it…it simply just followed you.

Teachers smiled a little wider when you answered questions. Freshmen gravitated toward you on the first day of school like frightened birds, somehow knowing you were safe.

It was infuriating. Not because Eddie disliked you. God, that would've made things so much easier, no. You were kind.

Genuinely, painfully, kind.

The kind of person who remembered birthdays without writing them down. The kind of beauty that had nothing to do with your face. Though...that certainly wasn't hurting anything.

You smiled with your whole body. Your shoulders, your eyes, even your laugh looked warm. Sometimes Eddie wondered if the sun waited for your permission before coming up. Which—

Jesus Christ.

See? This was exactly the problem. He couldn't even think about you without sounding like he'd swallowed a Hallmark card. He'd never even spoken to you. Well, not really.

Sure, there'd been little moments. A borrowed pencil sophomore year. A quiet "thank you" when he'd held a door open. Passing each other in the hallway enough times that nodding became an unspoken ritual.

But conversations? Actual conversations? Those belonged to people who lived on the same planet. You lived somewhere else entirely.

Some place made of honor roll certificates, volunteer hours, and Sunday mornings that probably smelled of pancakes instead of cigarette smoke.

Eddie had long since accepted that there were invisible lines running through Hawkins High. Athletes. Nerds. Burnouts. Band kids. Freaks. You somehow belonged to all of them, while he belonged to exactly one.

Hellfire. The trailer park. The people adults warned their children about. 

Wayne always said Eddie had expensive taste. Not in clothes or cars, but people.

"You always go lookin' at things that ain't yours to carry," Wayne had muttered once while Eddie admired an old cherry-red Gibson through a pawn shop window.

At the time, Eddie thought he meant guitars. Now he wasn't so sure. Because every morning, without meaning to, he'd find himself searching the parking lot before first bell. Just to see if your car was there.

And every afternoon, he'd linger exactly thirty seconds too long outside English because he knew your classroom was across the hall. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to catch one glimpse.

Then he'd spend the rest of the day pretending that was somehow enough, though it never was.

The thing about memories was that they lied. Or maybe they just... polished themselves over time.

Eddie couldn't remember what he'd eaten yesterday. Couldn't remember what movie he'd watched with Wayne the week before. But he remembered that afternoon, every stupid, humiliating second of it.

It had been almost exactly a year ago.

The last bell had rung, sending Hawkins High spilling into the hallways in a tidal wave of backpacks and locker doors slamming shut. Eddie had lingered by his locker, stuffing loose campaign notes into a folder while Gareth argued with Jeff about whether dragons were technically reptiles.

He never heard Jason coming. The locker door slammed shut before Eddie could grab it, the metal rattling loud enough to make nearby students jump.

"Well, if it isn't the freak."

Eddie sighed. "Christ, Carver. Don't you ever get tired?"

Jason leaned against the neighboring locker with that smug grin Eddie had grown to hate. Andy and Chance flanked him like loyal guard dogs, each wearing the same self-satisfied expression.

"Nah."

Jason reached out, flicking Eddie's shoulder with unnecessary force.

"I actually look forward to these little chats."

"I don't."

"Funny."

Another shove. Not enough to knock him down, but just enough to remind him who had thirty pounds and varsity sports behind him.

"You know," Jason continued loudly, making sure the people walking by could hear, "I heard you recruited another freshman into your little Satan club."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "You guys are really obsessed with us."

"Just looking out for the town."

Same script, different day. Eddie had learned years ago that fighting back only made it worse.

So he leaned against the lockers and waited for them to get bored. He almost missed the footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing?" Your voice wasn't loud.

Jason turned first. "So, this doesn't concern—"

"It concerns me now."

You stepped between passing students without the slightest hesitation, your backpack still hanging off one shoulder.

"Move."

Jason laughed. "Excuse me?"

"I said move."

Andy scoffed. "You serious?"

Without another word, you planted a hand square against Andy's chest and shoved him back just enough to force him away from Eddie. Not hard, but just enough to make it clear whose space he'd invaded.

Jason stared at you, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" you echoed. "Three against one seems pretty pathetic to me."

"We're talking."

"No." You folded your arms. "You were cornering him."

Jason took one step closer. "I'd be careful if I were you."

Eddie's stomach dropped.

But you didn't move. Hell, you didn't even blink.

Instead, one eyebrow lifted. "What?"

Your voice stayed infuriatingly calm. "You gonna hit a girl?"

Jason's expression hardened. "I didn't say—"

"No?" You tilted your head. "I mean... you've already got one thing in common with your father."

You paused, eyeing him up and down.

"It'd be a shame if you decided to copy the rest of his behavior too."

Jason's face went red. Not from embarrassment, but pure fury. The kind of fury that made his nostrils flare.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" You shrugged. "Then prove me wrong."

For a moment...Eddie genuinely thought Jason might do it. Might shove you. Might yell. Might finally snap.

Instead, Jason looked around. He couldn't touch you, not here. Not with everyone looking.

Jason just clicked his tongue. "Whatever."

He shot Eddie one last glare. "You're not worth it."

Then to you, "Careful who you stick up for."

You smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jason scoffed before turning on his heel. "C'mon."

Andy and Chance followed without another word.

Eddie realized he'd been holding his breath. "...Thanks."

You turned toward him. For a second, he thought you might say something profound. Something unforgettable.

Instead, you smiled; that warm, easy smile he'd only ever seen from across classrooms.

"Don't mention it." You adjusted your backpack. "See you around, Eddie."

Eddie? Not ‘Munson’? He thought. 

Then you just…walked away. Like standing up to Jason Carver was no bigger a deal than holding the door open for someone. Eddie watched until you disappeared around the corner.

He didn't realize Gareth had come back until someone elbowed his ribs. "Dude."

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

Eddie kept staring at the empty hallway. "...yeah."

A year later...Eddie could still tell you exactly where you'd been standing. Exactly what you were wearing. Exactly how your hand had looked when you shoved Andy away from him.

He'd spent three hundred and sixty-five days trying to convince himself it hadn't meant anything. That you would've done it for anybody. It was probably true. But God knows that didn’t help slow his crush on you down in the slightest. 

There was a reason Eddie loved the Hawkins Fall Flea Market. Sure, half the vendors were selling ceramic geese in tiny bonnets or dusty kitchenware that should've been thrown out sometime during the Nixon administration.

But every now and then...Someone's grandfather died, and suddenly there'd be a box full of first-edition fantasy novels.

Or vintage dice. Or a stack of Dragon magazines someone didn't realize were worth something. Treasure hunting. That's what Wayne always called it.

"You never know what you're gonna find."

Eddie had been elbow-deep in a cardboard box labeled COMIC BOOKS - 25¢ for nearly twenty minutes before giving up his search for anything remotely Dungeons & Dragons related.

No dice…literally.

With a dramatic sigh, he wandered farther down the rows of tents, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he smiled to himself. It wasn't exactly exciting, but it was comfortable.

He almost walked right past the record stand.

It was tucked between a vendor selling antique fishing lures and another covered in old comic strips and movie posters. Milk crates overflowed with vinyl records while wire racks displayed cassettes in crooked little rows.

Naturally...Eddie wandered over. His fingers skimmed over faded album covers. Thin Lizzy. Rush. Van Halen. Not bad. Then—

"...No way."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there you were. Standing on the opposite side of the rack, your brows pinched together in concentration as you thumbed through a crate marked HEAVY METAL.

You wore an oversized forest-green sweater with the sleeves pushed over your hands, faded jeans, and beat-up Converse he'd never seen you wear to school. Your hair was tucked behind one ear as you carefully flipped through albums like you actually knew what you were looking at.

There was no universe in which this made sense. You belonged in the classical section. Or maybe folk, something acoustic. Not Iron Maiden. Motörhead. Judas Priest.

He blinked hard, almost thinking he was staring at a mirage. Nope, still there.

You looked up and caught him staring again. A smile spread across your face almost instantly.

"Oh." You laughed softly. "Hi, Eddie."

His mouth opened, but nothing happened.

"You... um..." Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. "You like... music?"

God, just bury him now.

Your smile only widened. "I dabble."

"I just..." He gestured helplessly toward the crate. "I wasn't expecting..."

"Me?"

He nodded.

"I wasn't expecting me either." You grinned to yourself before looking back down at the albums. "My dad's the reason."

"You've got a metalhead dad?"

"The biggest."

You laughed. "He swears everything made after 1984 is garbage."

"Smart man."

"I told him you'd probably say that."

Eddie's head snapped up. "...You've talked about me?"

The words escaped before he could stop them.

You looked equally surprised. "I..."

A tiny laugh escaped you. "I mean..."

You ducked your head for a second. "You know... around school."

Right, of course. Don't be stupid, Munson. The thought that your family even knew his name made something warm bloom in his chest.

You continued sorting through the cassette, then suddenly stopped.

"Oh."

Your fingers landed on one. Without hesitating, you slid it free from the rack and held it toward him. "I think you'd like this."

He looked down. Mercyful Fate.

Eddie stared at the cassette, then back at you. "You know Mercyful Fate?"

"I know enough." You shrugged. "My dad played this one so much I practically know it by heart."

Eddie took it carefully, almost afraid it'd disappear if he moved too fast. "You've heard this?"

"'Come to the Sabbath' used to scare me when I was little."

He barked out a laugh. "You've gotta be kidding."

"Nope."

"You don't exactly scream..." He motioned vaguely toward you. "...Mercyful Fate."

"And you don't exactly scream honor roll."

He blinked. "...Fair."

You smiled victoriously before turning back to the rack. After another moment of searching, your face brightened. "There it is."

You pulled out your own cassette. The Cure: Disintegration.

"See?" You held it up proudly. "I have range."

Eddie laughed. "I'll allow it."

"I appreciate your approval."

The older vendor wandered over. "You kids find everything?"

You nodded. "I think so."

As the man rang up your cassette, Eddie was still standing there holding the Mercyful Fate tape in both hands like you'd just gifted him the Holy Grail.

You paid, tucked the cassette into your canvas tote bag, and looked back at him. "I'll see you Monday?"

He swallowed. "...Yeah."

"Don't wait too long to listen to that." You pointed toward the cassette still in his hands. "I'd like to know what you think."

Before he could ask exactly how you planned to do that...you were already walking away.

You lifted a hand over your shoulder. "Bye, Eddie."

He watched until the crowd swallowed you whole. Only then did he glance back down at the cassette.

"You gonna buy it?"

The vendor's voice startled him. "Huh?"

"You've been holding it for five minutes."

"Oh."

Eddie looked down at the cracked plastic case, then toward the direction you'd disappeared. "...Yeah."

He smiled to himself. "I think I have to."

The cassette wasn't rare. He'd seen three copies of the same album over the last month. It wasn't even his favorite Mercyful Fate record. But this one? This one had your fingerprints on it.

By Wednesday, Eddie had listened to the Mercyful Fate cassette four times. Not because it had suddenly become his favorite album, it hadn't.

But every time King Diamond's voice crackled through the speakers of the van's cassette player, Eddie could picture your smile across that flea market record stand.

"I think you'd like this."

Wayne noticed by Tuesday night. "Ain't this the same tape you played yesterday?"

"...Maybe."

"You finally wear out your Sabbath tapes?"

"...No."

Wayne glanced over the rim of his newspaper. "...Girl?"

Eddie nearly combusted on the spot from how red his face was.

The cafeteria buzzed louder than usual as homecoming week had officially taken hold at Hawkins High. Construction paper streamers hung lopsided from the ceiling.

The student council had somehow convinced the administration to decorate every available surface in orange and green, making the cafeteria look like it had exploded.

Eddie hated it. He hated pep rallies, football, and he especially hated homecoming. And he especially especially hated listening to Jason Carver talk about the "spirit of Hawkins."

"So," Gareth said through a mouthful of fries, "we skipping the pep rally?"

"We're legally obligated to."

Jeff nodded solemnly. "It's in the Hellfire constitution."

Mike frowned. "We have a constitution?"

"We do now."

Laughter bounced around the table. Then Dustin elbowed Eddie. "Dude."

"What?"

"Twelve o'clock."

Eddie looked up. You moved from table to table carrying a thick envelope and a clipboard tucked against your chest. Homecoming tickets, of course.

You stopped at the basketball table first. Jason smiled, and you smiled back politely. Professional and nothing more. Then the band kids. Then the theater kids. Then—

Hellfire...and Eddie's heart immediately forgot how to function.

"Hi, guys."

You smiled at the whole table before your eyes landed on him.

"Hi, Eddie."

God. You always said his name like it belonged in your mouth.

"Uh... hey."

"So," you said, setting the envelope on the table. "I'm making my rounds."

You held up two small orange tickets. "Homecoming tickets. Five dollars."

Jeff snorted, Mike looked horrified, while Gareth dramatically searched his empty pockets.

"We're allergic."

"I figured."

Then you looked back at Eddie. "Oh."

Your smile softened. "Did you ever listen to the cassette?"

His brain completely abandoned him. "...Yeah."

"And?"

"It was..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Really good."

"'Really good?'" You looked mock offended. "I thought it'd at least earn a 'life-changing.'"

"I was trying not to sound insane."

"So you liked it?"

"I—" He smiled before he could stop himself. "...Yeah. A lot, actually."

"I knew you would."

Something warm settled in his chest. You knew. Not hoped, not guessed, knew.

Which is why, when he said, without thinking, "I'll take two."

Silence, which even made Eddie freeze. What?

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. "...Two?"

He stared at the tickets. Abort mission. Abort mission. FUCK! Too late.

"Uh..." His hand was already digging into his pocket. "Yeah."

He slapped a crumpled ten-dollar bill onto the table before his brain had the chance to intervene. "I'll take two."

You looked at him for a second longer than necessary, then the smallest smile tugged at your lips. Then, you handed him the two orange tickets. 

"Our music committee isn't nearly as good as Mercyful Fate."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I'll see you around?"

"...Yeah."

You gave the table one last smile. "Have a good lunch, guys."

Then, you disappeared toward the next group of students, and the second you were out of earshot...

Five heads slowly turned toward Eddie.

"...What the hell was that?" Dustin snaps.

"What?"

"You hate homecoming."

"I don't hate—"

"You called it," Gareth interrupted, "'capitalist propaganda with crepe paper.'"

"I stand by that."

Jeff leaned across the table. "So why," he asked carefully, "did you just buy..."

He held up two fingers. "...two tickets?"

Eddie blinked. "...Did I?"

"You were there." Mike snorted. "I'm pretty sure you even paid for them."

Eddie looked down at the tickets in his hand as though they'd magically appeared there.

"...Huh."

Gareth burst into laughter. "'Huh?'"

"'Huh?!'"

"You bought two!"

"I know!"

"Do you?!"

Dustin reached across the table and plucked one from Eddie's fingers.

"'Homecoming Admission.'"

He looked around dramatically. "Guys. I think Eddie the Banished has suffered a traumatic brain injury."

Jeff nodded. "Only explanation."

"You've spent three years talking about how dances are government mind control."

"They are."

"So, who are you taking?"

Eddie opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because...he hadn't thought that far. He hadn't thought at all. He'd just wanted another excuse or another thirty seconds of hearing your voice.

"...Nobody."

Five skeptical expressions. "Nnnoooobody?" Gareth echoed.

"Nope."

"So you just bought two tickets..."

"Yep."

"...For fun?"

"...Sure."

Mike deadpanned, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

Dustin slowly smiled. "Oh."

"Oh no," Eddie muttered.

"Oh, no."

Dustin pointed across the cafeteria, where you were still making your rounds. "You bought two tickets because you're gonna ask her."

Eddie nearly choked on his Coke. "I am absolutely not."

"You absolutely are."

"I absolutely am not."

Jeff grinned. "Dude."

"You've been listening to that cassette all week."

"You don't know that."

"Wayne told my mom."

Eddie's head whipped toward him. "...Wayne, what?"

"My mom was at the trailer dropping off your uncle's casserole dish."

Jeff shrugged innocently. "He said—and I quote—'Boy's been playing the same damn tape for three days. Must be love.'"

The entire table erupted while Dustin pointed triumphantly. "Called it."

Eddie dropped his forehead onto the cafeteria table with a groan.

By the time Hellfire finished packing up their campaign books in the theater room, basketball practice had just let out. Which meant letterman jackets, inflated egos, and Jason Carver. Perfect.

Eddie spotted them before they spotted him, or so he thought.

"You boys have another séance today?"

Gareth groaned.

"Just keep walking."

That had been the plan. Until Tommy H stuck his foot out, and Gareth caught it too late.

His books were scattered across the pavement, dice bouncing in every direction. One tiny d20 rolled nearly twenty feet before coming to rest beneath a parked truck.

"Oh, my bad," Tommy said without sounding sorry in the slightest.

Gareth muttered a curse beneath his breath as he knelt to gather his things.

Eddie was already moving. "The hell's your problem?"

Jason shrugged. "Gravity."

"You tripped him," Eddie says, pointing between Jason and Tommy. 

"I don't know, Munson." Tommy grinned. "Looked pretty clumsy to me."

Jeff and Dustin immediately stepped toward Gareth, helping gather his books. Eddie stood between them and Jason.

"C’mon, man. At least pick on someone with a fighting chance."

Jason smiled as he chimed in. "I am."

The shove came so fast that Eddie barely had time to react, his shoulder slamming into the side of a parked car. The metal echoed.

"Jesus, fuck—" Eddie shoved him back, causing Jason's smile to disappear.

"Oh. There he is."

The first punch caught Eddie across the jaw, causing white to explode across his vision. He stumbled back, so Andy grabbed his jacket from behind. Then, Tommy landed one on his ribs. Someone else kicked the back of his knee.

Three against one, again. He heard Dustin yelling, Jeff trying to pull somebody off, and Gareth shouting Eddie's name.

"...Enough!"

Everything stopped as a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Eddie blinked through blurry vision and saw you.

You were marching across the parking lot faster than he'd ever seen anyone move as your backpack swung wildly against your side.

Jason scoffed. "Stay out of it."

"No."

You shoved Andy away from Eddie so hard that he stumbled backward. "I said that’s enough."

Tommy laughed. "Oh, here comes Wonder Woman."

You ignored him completely. Instead, you crouched beside Eddie. "Are you okay?"

He tried to answer, but instead, blood dripped onto his shirt. Your face tightened as you looked back up to analyze the scene: three basketball players, one bleeding boy, and his friend's reactions somewhere between horror and panic. 

"You should be proud of yourselves."

Jason rolled his eyes. "He was acting insane. He pushed me for Christ's sake."

"That's bullshit."

Jason took a step closer. "What do you care?"

"I care because you three are acting like a bunch of fucking neanderthals. And for what? What the hell did he ever do to you?"

He laughed. "You really gonna defend this freak?"

You stood slowly until you were eye level with him. "I'm defending someone who can't fight three people at once."

Jason clicked his tongue. "You're wasting your time."

"No." You shook your head.

"You know..." You looked Jason up and down. "For someone who talks so much about honor..."

Your eyes drifted toward the gym. "...you sure need a lot of teammates when you throw a punch."

Jason's jaw clenched. "You should go."

"You first."

You kept your gaze fixed on Jason, putting on the best ‘don’t fuck with me today’ face you could muster.

His eyes dart between you and Eddie, a small and almost sinister grin forming. Then, he scoffed.

"C'mon. This freak show isn’t worth our spots in Friday's game.”

The last of the basketball team disappeared across the parking lot. Jason threw one final glare over his shoulder before climbing into Tommy's truck.

"...Jesus Christ." Your voice was barely above a whisper. Eddie looked up just in time to see you drop to your knees again beside him.

Your eyes darted over his face: the split lip, the scrape across his cheek, the beginnings of a bruise blooming beneath his eye.

"Dustin!" you called over your shoulder. "Go to the nurse's office!"

Dustin looked between you and Eddie before immediately taking off toward the school. "I'll get an ice pack!"

You nodded once before turning your attention back to Eddie. "Can you sit up?"

He managed a small nod even though every rib protested. You slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, helping him lean back against the brick wall of the school.

"So much for keeping your pretty face."

Eddie let out a weak laugh. "...Didn't know I had one."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."

Your backpack slid into your lap, frowning as you rifled through its contents. "No..." You dug deeper. "No..."

"Ah! There."

You pulled out an old black T-shirt, faded nearly gray with age. Eddie recognized the logo immediately: Iron Maiden, The Number of the Beast tour.

He blinked. "You just carry band shirts around for fun?"

"My dad leaves them in my car." You shrugged, "Guess they make good makeshift paper towels."

You hesitated. "Can I?"

He nodded before he even knew what you were asking. You folded the shirt into a small square before gently dabbing at the blood on the corner of his mouth; your touch was impossibly careful.

With your face inches from his, he’s embarrassed about how many times he imagined being this close more times than he cares to admit.

"You know..." You sighed, "...That was really stupid."

"Hm?"

"What were you thinking?" You wiped another streak of blood from his cheek. "There were three of them."

"They were picking on Gareth."

"I know."

"So..."

"So you decided to get yourself killed?"

"I wasn't gonna let them jump him."

"I know." You say with an exaggerated sigh.

You make another careful swipe of the shirt across his lip, "You don't always have to be the one who saves everybody."

He watched you instead of answering. Your brows were pulled together, bottom lip tucked between your teeth in concentration.

"Eddie?"

He hadn't realized he'd been staring. "What?"

"You okay? You keep looking at me and, like, zoning out. Do you feel dizzy?"

"Oh." His voice came out embarrassingly quiet, "Uh, no. Sorry."

"Oh." You reply, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.

“Huh?” He swallowed.

His brain screamed at him to say literally anything else. Comment on the weather. Ask about homework.

"I think I really like you."

You froze mid-wipe of his cheek, eyes quickly meeting his. 

Eddie groaned and closed his eyes. "Fuck—Forget I said that."

"Oh."

Fantastic. She sounds uncomfortable. Wonderful.

"I didn't mean—"

"No." Your hand gently caught his wrist before he could keep spiraling, "I just..."

He opened his eyes, and to his delight, you were smiling.

"I've been wondering how long that was going to take."

His eyebrows knit together. "...What?"

"I was starting to think you were never going to say it."

"...Say what?"

"That."

You laughed quietly. "I've liked you for over a year, Eddie."

His brain stopped. "No, you don't."

"I do."

"You can't."

"I can."

"You..." He searched your face for the joke, "You've liked me?"

"Since you helped that freshman find the theater room on the first day of school last year."

"...That's why?"

"You spent fifteen minutes walking him around the building."

"He looked lost."

"I know." You smiled, "That's kind of my point."

He stared, then laughed, a disbelieving and breathless laugh.

"I've spent an entire year convincing myself you were completely out of my league."

"I've spent an entire year waiting for you to realize I wasn't.”

His heart nearly flew out of his chest just then.

"But then..." You shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "You bought the second homecoming ticket, so I just assumed you found someone else to ask."

"...WHAT?"

The word exploded out of him so loudly that a flock of birds scattered from the nearby trees.

You blinked. "What?"

"No!" He sat up a little too fast before immediately grabbing his ribs. "Ow—Jesus Christ."

"Eddie! Jesus, would you calm d—"

"No, no, listen." He pointed emphatically toward the school. "I bought the second ticket because you were standing there."

"...I know."

"No, I mean—" He groaned. "I wasn't thinking."

"I've noticed."

"I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to you."

You stared.

"So my brain went..." He mimed throwing something across the parking lot. "'Buy two tickets.' But uh, I didn't have a plan after that."

A laugh bubbled out of you. "So..."

He continued, growing increasingly animated. "...then Gareth asks, 'Who're you taking?'"

"And?"

"And I realized..." He buried his face in his hands. "...I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."

Your shoulders started shaking. "Oh my God..."

"I panicked."

"I can tell."

"I said I bought them for fun."

"You told them..." you managed between laughs, "'for fun?'"

"I know!"

"That's the worst lie I've ever heard."

"I KNOW."

"They believed you?"

"They absolutely did not."

You laughed even harder, and he found himself laughing, too.

"I have spent," he said through a grin, "the last four days wondering who the hell I was supposed to ask because apparently I'd already committed."

Your laughter slowly faded into something softer.

"So..." You looked at him carefully. "...Who were you planning on asking?"

He gave you the most incredulous look. "You."

"Really?"

"You literally just admitted you thought I found somebody else."

"I know, but..." You smiled. "I wanted to hear you say it."

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "You're evil."

"A little."

"You've been letting me suffer this whole time?"

"I thought it was kind of cute."

"Oh, that's cruel."

"It was a little cruel." You say, shrugging.

He smiles the biggest smile he can muster, considering the pain shooting through what feels like every inch of his body, and releases a deep sigh. 

"So..."

"So?"

He reached into the pocket of his denim vest, wincing as his bruised ribs protested.

After a second of fumbling, he pulled out the slightly crumpled orange homecoming ticket, holding it out between two fingers.

"I know this isn't exactly the most romantic timing."

You looked down at the ticket, then back up at him.

"But..." His smile turned nervous, "...would you maybe wanna go to homecoming with me?"

You could’ve just verbally said yes, but fuck that.

You broke the final inches of distance between you, your lips meeting his. He kissed you back instinctively, one hand finding your waist, smiling into the kiss. You smiled too.

"Hss—" Eddie jerked back with a sharp wince, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth.

"Oh, my God!" Your eyes went wide. "Shit! I'm so sorry!"

"No, no—" He laughed despite himself, carefully pressing two fingers against his split lip. "I just forgot I got punched."

"You idiot."

"Yeah..." A grin spread across his face, "...Worth it."

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the smile tugging at your lips.

"This time," you murmured, leaning closer again, "try not to throw yourself into it like you're storming a castle."

"I make no promises."

"I know." You cupped his cheek, much gentler now. "So let me."

This kiss was much slower; you barely brushed your lips against his at first. He practically pulled you into his airspace, completely ignoring any stinging sensation because, hell, he’d thought about this at least a thousand times. 

Afterward, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

"I've wanted to do that," he admitted softly, "for... probably an embarrassing amount of time."

You laughed. "Me too."

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face. "So..."

"So?"

"Does this mean you'll go to homecoming with me?"

You pretended to think about it. "Hmm..."

"Don't do this to me."

"I suppose."

He let out the most dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank God."

Before you could tease him for it, he was kissing you again. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jaw as he smiled into it, and you smiled back.

Then you felt the subtle tension in his hand. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly against your skin. The sharp inhale he tried, and failed, to hide.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. "You're hurting."

"I'm surviving."

"Eddie."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He grinned, lopsided because of his split lip. "I've imagined kissing you about a thousand times."

You laughed softly.

"And not once did Jason Carver punch me beforehand."

You rolled your eyes, your thumb carefully brushing beneath the bruise blooming under his eye.

"You are unbelievable."

"I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have."

His forehead rested against yours, his smile refusing to leave. "I don't think anything could ruin today."

"...Ahem."

The two of you froze and slowly turned your heads.

Dustin stood a few yards away, an ice pack dangling from one hand. He looked from Eddie to you, then to the fact that you were still sitting impossibly close together, practically entangled. 

A slow, knowing grin spread across his face. 

"...I guess you don't need that ice pack then?"

missed u guys sm:,) more coming soon, pinky promise <3

taglist:

@bonnieprincess @kylorensbaby @rebelfell @djotummy

@bitterestwillow @lnnn1n @youngbrokefab @ludachrissy @sisteramycatherine @izzycstairs @britttzy267 @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @sariahs-stuff @cciessuzi @lilyquinnmunson @julxsxx @kozume-ko @obsessed-eddie @doomdabss @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses @meadows-of-asphodel @whitakerstorm @brrrainst3w @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullsteve @peachpuffs25 @micheledawn1975 @whitakerstorm @cciessuzi @blackqueenie-18 @ggdawgg @velvetdimond @enne02  @ludachrissy @izzycstairs

@abbysleftbicepp @britttzy267 @ssculker @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @kylorensbaby

@lilyquinnmunson @this-issam @acrloved @foxygrll @gem-writes @m-art000 @kylorensbaby @oatmilkriver 

[l3earfat-st]

🦋

[mrslumi]

[seablossom]

[inthedarkofmyroom]

[seablossom]

[iisdrumroom]

This pic of ii is from Parabellum’s official social. I made sure it didn’t show his face before I posted.

His tatts and pretty hands!!

A gift to the ii fans

[boykingscourt]

SAM WINCHESTER | SUPERNATURAL 5.17 - 99 PROBLEMS

[voidsagent]

Bruised, Not Broken - andrew ‘pope’ cody x reader

Pairings: andrew ‘pope’ cody x reader

Summary: Baz can’t keep his mouth shut about you or any chance he gets to bully Pope. When things escalate, Pope gets physical & finds you upset.

Warnings: fighting, blood, explicit language, medical inaccuracies, alcohol, its animal kingdom iykyk, toxic family, emotional abuse, hurt/comfort, fluff, happy ending.

Word Count: 2k+

Author’s Note: It’s finally here !! I’m so excited to give you all my first ever Pope fic !! <3

The Drop was loud, louder than it usually was on a Friday night. Some surfing event brought in way more than just the regulars. You’d offered to help Deran run the bar, cutting up limes, getting new glasses, cleaning off tables. You could use the money.

It finally slowed down closer to midnight, a few regulars straggling behind. Deran had let you off, but with the rest of the Cody brothers around, you decided to stick around too.

Andrew had been eying you all night. It wasn’t anything new. Your boyfriend was protective, tracking your movement and any other guy in the bar that got too close or didn’t pass whatever checklist he had in his head. He’d sit at the bar or at a table in the corner—glass of beer pulled up to his lips—eyes looking out over the rim as they followed you.

“Jesus man”, Craig says beside him, “You’re eying her like she’s meat.”

Pope doesn’t answer, just a rough scoff.

“Let him alone, man”, Deran says, swiping the glass from in front Craig.

J sat next to them, watching their conversation, eyes flicking to you briefly. He had that younger brother protective relationship with you. He’d stare people down like Pope did, just not as intensely.

“M’just keeping an eye on her”, Pope finally says, setting his glass down and adjusting himself to sit up straighter.

He’s got his legs wide like he always does, one arm thrown over the back cushion of the booth—his head turned slightly forward as he watched you reach for another glass—this time for yourself and not a customer.

“Where’s she gonna go man?”, Baz laughs, signaling to Deran he wants a refill.

“Not with you man, that’s for sure”, Craig’s booming laugh echoes next.

That gets the smallest smile from Pope.

“Nah, not my type”. Baz says, rolling his neck, “She only likes crazy guys. Ain’t that right, Pope?” He’s patting him on the chest. Like he thinks it’s a compliment or a win on his part.

Pope’s jaw ticks before tightening, but he doesn’t answer.

“Baz”, Deran cuts in.

But Baz keeps going;

“I mean how fucked in the head do you think she has to be to get with Pope?”

Pope’s seething inside. He doesn’t even care about the comments towards him, no; he was used to that. But the comments towards you? Those had his blood boiling.

“Shut up”, Pope grits, still not looking towards his brother.

He just raises his glass again, taking a longer swig.

“Aw what’s the matter Popey? Can’t take a little criticism?”, Baz is still laughing; “We all know your head’s not right.”

Pope’s finger taps against the edge of the glass, still watching you move around the bar. Eyes not wavering or blinking—only his jaw tightening the longer Baz speaks.

“Seriously man, stop it”, Deran warns.

Pope can see Craig’s nod of agreement from the corner of his eye. By now J had sensed the tension building and had left, heading towards the courtyard behind the bar.

“Seriously guys? I know that chick’s gotta be freaky as hell. Fucking Pope, must be some kind of messed up with a sick ass kink to-“

The sound of glass shattering echoes through the bar, Pope’s footsteps as he stands following quickly behind.

“I said shut up!”, Pope shouts, fists clenched and chest heaving.

You spin around, eyes wide at the sudden noise.

Your heart clenches as tight as Pope’s fist when you see him. His jaw so tight his teeth might break. Face red and angry.

You don’t hear what Baz says next, but it hits Pope hard. He’s across the room in two easy strides, gripping Baz by the collar of his shirt and slamming him into a wall behind them with a loud and echoing thud. The thought of the wall cracking flickers through your mind briefly. But it’s gone just as fast as it came when you see Pope raising his fist.

The bar had fallen completely silent other than the scuffle of feet as Pope went at Baz, the sound of his fist connecting with his face. Baz stumbled, but was swinging right back. It didn’t take long for a swing to connect with Pope’s face. You winced at the sound.

Craig and Deran’s shouting echoed around you as they tried to pull the two men off of each other, fists still swinging and words flying that you couldn’t make out. Pope had Baz by the shirt collar now, cheeks already red and starting to bruise.

“Andy! Stop it!”

Your words fell on deaf ears, Pope was too angry to hear anything besides the rage pumping through his body. Baz looked almost afraid for a moment as Pope raised his fist again; lip swollen and bloody—eyes wide to match. You were sure you saw a sudden realization that his words may have gone too far this time flicker through his eyes. If it were any other situation, you would’ve been smug about Baz finally getting what he deserved.

But not here in public, not now where everyone could see, where anyone could show up; especially police.

“Andrew!”, Your voice was more stern now, louder, dripping with plea.

Finally his movements stuttered, head whipping around and eyes flickering around until they met yours. You could see him soften immediately.

He saw the look on your face, the tears threatening to spill out of fear, out of anger. You didn’t know which you felt more of in that moment.

“Put him down!”, You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

You didn’t think it worked.

Still, Pope dropped his grip on Baz’s shirt, taking a step back with his eyes still trained on you.

“Fucking psycho”, Baz spit blood, wiping at his mouth—looking at his hand as he pulled it back.

Pope’s head swung around, but Deran stopped him.

“Pope! Cmon man, that’s enough!”

“No! He doesn’t get to talk like that! He said-“

“I know what he said!”, Deran says back, dropping his hand from Pope’s chest; “I know what he said man. But fighting isn’t gonna fix it.”

You watch as Pope finally seems to come back down to where he is, fists opening and closing at his sides, jaw crooked and ticking as he thinks. He lets out a huff through his nose before shaking his head, letting his gaze find you again.

But as he steps forward, you take a step back.

For a moment he falters, unsure if it’s anger or fear in your eyes. Fear that he caused you. Fear of him. The sound of his heart shattering was almost audible in the small bar.

“I’m going to pick up Lena to drop her off at her friend’s house, then i’m going home”, You say it to the entire room, one hand still up in slight defense in front of you as you bring them both to your chest, throwing down the rag in your hands.

“Let me drive you-“

“No.”

You move past the bar, only stopping when you hear Craig’s voice.

“Pope needs patched up-“

“Pope can clearly take care of himself.”

Pope’s entire world shattered. You never called him Pope once the entire time you’ve known him. But now here it was, that godforsaken nickname that haunted him, leaving your lips. The last place he ever wanted it to be.

Fuck, he’d really screwed up.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

You hadn’t heard from Pope the rest of the night. Half of you expected him to try and call, maybe send a text, but you got nothing. The only mention of him came from Lena as you pulled into a spot outside her friend’s house.

“Where’s Uncle Pope?”, She asked softly.

Your heart clenched.

“He’s with Deran and Craig, you’ll see him when we pick you up.”

“Promise?”, The little girl holds out her pinky to you.

You feel yourself soften, a small smile tugging at your lips as you offer your pinky in return, closing them around each other; “I promise.”

Satisfied with your response, she reaches for her bag.

“Cmon! Let’s go inside!”

Sometime after dropping Lena off you find yourself back at your place, not Baz’s on the water front where you spent most of your time with Pope. Not at Pope’s place either. You texted Deran that Lena wanted Pope to pick her up the next day, letting them know where you’d be. If you didn’t show up at Baz’s, Pope would worry.

Even now mad at him, you couldn’t help but worry.

Across town—Pope wasn’t any better. For once he was in his own barely furnished apartment, curled up on the shower floor. The water running way too hot. All he could think of was the look on your face. How scared you seemed. The sound of that name leaving your lips.

Pope.

Cause that’s all he’d ever be right? The monster that Smurf had so carefully created?

He couldn’t shake it from his mind when he finally stood after what felt like hours, turning off the stream and stepping out of the bathroom. He didn’t bother with clothes, just let the water droplets drip onto the floor as he walked.

He checked his phone, the only thing being from Deran, just passing on the information of where you’d be. Still nothing from you.

Pope ran his hands through his wet hair, pushing it back as he stared out the window at the waves crashing against the shore. Mind too loud. For once, he found himself being pulled toward his bed—letting his body flop against the hardly used mattress. The comforter around him turning slightly damp. He didn’t sleep, no, he was way past a time where he’d be able to do that. Especially without you next to him. He curled back up into a ball, staring blankly ahead, hands under his wet hair as he blinked slowly. Afraid to move and cause damage anywhere else.

In his mind, that’s what this was; damage. Caused by the monster that didn’t know any better, the monster still somehow run by Smurf, even when he’d distanced himself. He wanted to be better, not just for himself, but for you.

Shit, he really needed you.

His body felt hollow lying alone in the bed, but maybe—if he thought hard enough—he could pretend the warmth over his skin was from you being cuddled up next to him, and not the scalding shower he’d just stepped out of.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

Somewhere in between spiraling and trying to keep himself sane, Pope fell back into his normal routine of taking Lena to school and picking her up. It became a good distraction for him. Unfortunately for Pope, he found himself unable to hide from her. No, she was one of the few people who could read him just as well as you could.

“Why are you sad?”, Lena asked him over cereal as they sat at the kitchen counter.

Pope paused mid cereal bite.

“What?-M’not?…M’not sad”, Pope tried.

Lena narrowed her eyes; “Yes you are.”

Pope set his spoon back in his bowl, before shaking his head.

“Not sad. Just…thinking.”

Lena resumed eating; “About what?”

Pope sighed; “I don’t really know.”

It suddenly dawned on him that he really hadn’t known what he was specifically thinking about over the past few days except you.

“Where’s Auntie?”

God, that made Pope’s heart clench with a softness and a strain that had become all too familiar lately. You and Lena had become connected at the hip pretty much the moment Pope introduced you.

“I don’t really know that either”, Pope tells her honestly.

It was true, Pope who normally knew where you were through his brothers, the safety app on both your phone’s, or from a general watching—had decided to really give you space. He hadn’t seen you since that night in the bar.

“Why not?”, Lena kept her questions coming.

“We had an argument.”

Lena furrowed her brow; “…Is that why you’re sad?”

Pope almost laughed. He rubbed his neck instead.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The little girl shrugged; “So fix it.”

Pope raised a brow at her bluntness; “I don’t really know how to do that either.”

Lena stared at him seriously; “Just apologize.”

The words left her mouth like it was the most common knowledge on the world; and it was coming from a seven year old.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”, Lena nods, “Works with me and my

friends.”

As he sat there—spooning another mouthful of cereal in his mouth—Pope decided that maybe it was worth a try.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

When Lena was finally asleep that night—it being a rare occasion when Baz was actually home—Pope found himself sitting outside your house in his Jeep, fingers thrumming against the steering wheel.

His jaw was ticked, tongue in his cheek as he looked at the exterior of your house. The lights inside were on, he could tell it was your living room lamp by the soft yellow glow. Your car was in the driveway, he could see the flicker of the tv through your curtains. Yet he didn’t move.

You were home, he knew that, so why didn’t he move?

He stared at your front door for another hour before he forced himself out of the car with sweaty palms and a racing heart. He thought about just sitting on your doorstep, maybe you’d find him eventually, but he didn’t want to draw any outside attention.

Your welcome mat was familiar under his feet, the pale green of your door under his hovering hand stared back at him. He swallowed hard before finally, finally forcing his knuckles to rap softly against the door.

He could hear you shuffling around inside as he squeezed his eyes shut, your footsteps approaching and for once, he was nervous—no, he was scared out of his mind.

When you finally opened the door his breath hitched at the sight of you; braid down your back that would no doubt lead to the beachy waves he loved when you took it down, a pair of shorts and oh?—one of his t-shirts.

Even now, when you were supposed to be mad at him, you still wore his shirt.

You almost wince at the sight of him; face and nose still purple and bruised around his eye and across his cheek. A few small cuts from Baz’s ring. Mostly healed, but still noticeable—still something you desperately wished you could take away.

“Andrew?”, You asked softly, not expecting him to be on your front doorstep.

The minute his name left your lips Pope broke, hot tears he’d tried to push back were suddenly on his cheeks, and he found himself unable to stop them.

After a moment of stunned silence you pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him and leading him to the couch. He leaned instinctively into you almost immediately—head resting against your opposite shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him. A choked sigh slipping from his lips when your fingers came up to card through his curls.

“I’m so sorry-“, He choked out between sobs.

You were still shocked, sure you’d seen him cry before, but never as big as this.

“Hey, hey. Shh”, You say softly, “It’s ok, baby.”

But he was already shaking his head.

“It’s not ok!”, He shoves his head into your neck; “I made you upset…I-scared you.”

You cup both of his cheeks with your hands—pulling his head up so he’s looking at you—thumbs rubbing stray tears away from his red and puffy cheeks.

“Wasn’t scared of you”, You tell him, shaking your head; “I was scared for you.”

Pope furrows his eyebrows.

“Andy, I called your name twice that night before you even looked at me….I was just, upset.”

His eyes flick down to his lap—where’s he’s picking at the skin around his nails—to behind you, until he’s finally looking at you again.

“M’sorry…”, He whispers; “I just, I was so mad. At the things Baz was saying about us, about you.”

It’s your turn to furrow your eyebrows.

“What did he say?”

Pope looks away from you, but you guide him back.

“Andrew, what did he say?”

Pope inhales deeply, blinking a few times before he answers.

“That you’re probably messed up in the head to be with someone as fucked up as me…that you probably have some psycho kink…”

You immediately shake your head.

“Baby, you’re not fucked up, I promise.”

He searches your face, looking for any sign of doubt or dishonesty; he finds none.

“And fuck Baz, ok? He’s the one who’s fucked up. The stick in his ass is so big it might as well be a tree”, You huff.

Pope’s lips turn up at that, a small sound of air leaving his nose—almost a laugh.

“Baby, I promise everything he said is not true”, You continue, fingers running through his curls again; “You’ve been through a lot, yeah. But you’re not fucked up.”

You press a kiss to his knuckles, still a little swollen from connecting with Baz’s stupid face.

“Bruised…not broken.”

That’s what gets Pope to let himself finally smile, knowing you meant him and not his fist.

“Does it hurt?”, You ask softly, turning his hand over in your palm; “Or your cheek? Your nose?”

He shakes his head; “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

You don’t know whether your heart should soften or hurt inside at that.

“Cmere”, You pull him forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He sighs immediately, a weight on his shoulders lifting as his body melts into you and the couch. Feeling like he could cry again just from the relief of finally having you back in his arms.

“I love you so much, Andrew.”

Your thumb rubs soothing circles on his cheek, his eyes flicking across your face again like he’s memorizing it all over again.

“I love you too.”

He keeps repeating those three words in his head and out loud against your skin until he falls asleep that night; your hands still in his hair and his body snuggled into you.

taglist: @loveisallyouneed1125 @elliott-calls @arigoldsblog @thestreetscallmebuggy @crossfandomslut @reblogging-all-i-read @snake-in-a-flower-crown @honimoon @angelbunny222 @ajeff855 @lifeofapittgirl @bizbat @laptimelewis @amnatreal @mumi800 @devilpeqch @boricuas-fic-recs @flawssy-227 @nerdygirl270

if you wanted to be tagged but don’t see yourself here, it’s because your username didn’t come up when typed !! <3

[kaddyssammlung]

I saw that Glen Joseph Robinson wanted to stream and talk a bit about RCA/ RICO.... One thing I recorded for you XD

Glen talked to RCA and they said "....I don't want to have to deal with another angry Vessel phone call anymore"

[iisdrumroom]

Ha!! Get em Vess!!!!

[veilofsam]

Vess really went into protective mode omg

[feral0mens]

noah boyfriend material pt. 2 ; long hair edition

[critual1611]

even in arcadia

[dancinghannigram]

[beatboxes] is this anything............................................

[bad-o-mens]

🤫

[lenkenvenom]

Frankenstein (2025) by Guillermo del Toro

The Creature.

[rokakakakakakaka]

Adam Frankenstein