#I would like to keep everyone in my basement thank you and good night

[l1linya]

SWAP DOL AU!!! by @just-dol-headshots

I asked and you answered with an okay so.. I hope you like the fanart!!

Featuring: Sydney the loner, Robin the bully, Whitney the faithful , and Kylar the 'orphan'(???)

Extra v

[star-stilinski]

stiles with virgin reader? maybe she's like insecure or like is just scared he'll look at her differently 😩😩 everytime i watch the eichen house basement scene i literally die because he is so sweet and gentle and GHRHHSHEHDH

okay so i actually have that written from before i deleted my blog... would you guys want me to write another?! i'll repost the one i have but this concept is really super fun to me and i like writing it a lot so... maybe you guys would want to see more?? anyway here's the old one!

☆

yep, stiles is perfect. dominant, but just to guide you. observant and overly educated (he once spent an all nighter researching female pleasure and orgasms. he stayed a virgin for a long time after, but at least he knew!). he wants you to feel good.

i feel like he had a conversation with allison once when she was really frustrated with scott where she basically ranted about how he was great in bed, really, but he sometimes got too excited and forgot about her until later. or his wearwolfness made him a bit rough. stiles just kinda stood there, but he was determined to keep that from being his reviews when he finally got laid. it was very educational.

set right before season 4.

you're reading up on the spanish mafia on your bed while stiles types away on his computer with one hand and breaks to texts scott with the other. he seems to be especially stimulated today.

"i think my excuse will be that we're camping." he mumbles randomly, setting his phone down face-up to take a swig from your water bottle. you frown. he smiles. "when we go get derek."

"for your dad?" you set the library book on the floor and scoot up on your bed, sitting back against the pillows.

"yeah. he's all worried i'm isolating myself after... everything. so he'll like that anyway. hey, scott invited us to the lake later tonight, wanna go?" your boyfriend talks so quick you almost get dizzy. that subject change was so stiles though, and seeing him as himself after those worrying days of the possessed, zombie-eyed shell of a man he was makes your chest feel fuzzy.

but at the mention of swimming, you glance away from him. you hadn’t been feeling super awesome about your body lately. It’s just… stiles is amazing, really, but he never says much about your looks and you’re scared he’s not into that part of you. It’s not like you need to be constantly hit on, but knowing that he wanted you in every way would be… well, it would make you feel better than you do.

so you hesitate, at the thought of being in a swimsuit in front of everyone. “uh, i dunno, i have a lot of homework.”

he laughs and his eyebrows shoot up. "what? we got ahead on, like, everything. did you fall behind again?”

"okay, first off, we did not get ahead on everything. we did everything due this week. you’re just used to waiting until the night before to rush through. second of all, i’m not really feeling the lake right now.”

“why not?” he frowns, tilting his head at you. you roll your neck and sigh, wishing you hadn’t said anything. It was so annoying to try and explain it.

“i mean…” you shift uncomfortably on your bed. “i don’t know. i’m just feeling weird lately.”

stiles stands, grabbing a stray pen to fiddle with as he stretches his legs, pacing your bedroom floor. "yeah, that's what you say, don't you? that you’re feeling ‘weird’.”

"you're weird." you deflect, watching him pace. he likes it when you do that, you both realized one day a long time ago when his hair was buzzed and you had braces. a lot has changed since then, but he still liked to know that you’re listening when he has to move around.

"and yet here you sit, after inviting me over to listen to me ramble." he teases back, throwing you a look before turning to walk the other side of the floor. he scans the pictures and posters on your wall, back turned to you. "seems like my weird is good weird and yours is bad weird."

you're thankful he isn't watching as you flush a light pink color in the cheeks. it's the stupidest stuff getting you flustered recently. the other day he said 'atta girl' to you and you were still blushing ten minutes later. kira actually thought you were sick. 

you know why. Part of you just wants to ask him, but a larger part of you assumes that -even as his girlfriend- he’ll be grossed out if you asked to have sex. He’s just not into you like that.

stiles swivels around to look at you, frowning curiously. "you went quiet."

"oh, um," you shift on the bed and fiddle with the hem of your shirt. he watches you do so with a look on his face before stepping closer to the edge of the bed while you scramble to remember what you were talking about. "your weird is tolerable weird."

he smirks and scoffs but it's kind of a laugh, one that makes your stomach swoop pleasantly. "what makes yours bad weird?"

"it’s nothing, sti’.” you fiddle with one of your stuffed animals, growing antsy under his gaze. “just thoughts.”

you feel the bed dip beside you as stiles sits, feeling his shoulder brush with yours. there's plenty of room on the bed. you know he did it on purpose.

"i like to know your thoughts.”

"yeah, well, sometimes i prefer to keep them in my head." you huff, still not looking at him. “and anyway, they’re just-”

"weird?" he interrupts and you look up at him. he's smirking, brows up, eyes sparkly.

you frown at his cockiness. you were going to say weird, but still. you can hear him silently asking you to elaborate.

"you’re not allowed to get all pitying, okay?" you feel yourself about to spill anyway, so you might as well tell him. it would usually take a lot more encouragement for you to say anything, but it's stiles and he's using his stupid pretty eyes on you and you trust him with your life. “lately i just feel kinda… just like, um, not great, i guess? i’m just scared i’m not doing enough for you, or something’s wrong with me because you never say anything about my looks and i dont need you to, but if you’re unsatisfied i want to change that because i want you to be happy in every area to do with me.”

stiles is silent for a moment. you look up and catch him look away from you. he frowns and looks back, meeting your gaze head on.

"that's not weird.” he says, quietly, brows upturned. “you… wow, you’re dense.”

you laugh abruptly at the jab stiles pulled, embarrassed. "stiles! I’m not upset or anything, i just dont want you to not be into the way i look. which might be unrealistic, i guess. not everyone is going to be physically attracted to me. that's fine."

"you say that a lot." his tone drops to something more thoughtful. you give him a face and tilt your head.

"what? no i don't."

"yeah, you do. 'oh, well, lydia's the beauty out of all of us anyway.' 'malia, you should dance with kira to blend in. that would be casual and guys will find you two hot, anyway.' 'that isn't my color.' 'i'm breaking out.' 'i'm bloated.' 'i don't think anyone would want to see me in something that revealing.'"

you feel heat crawl up your neck as he quotes stuff you've said the past few weeks. you scramble to make him wrong. "stiles, literally all of those were different sentences."

"no, they were not." he shifts, like he's revving up to explain something. you press yourself against the pillows to create space between you two. he notices. "you keep saying you think you're ugly. just the other day, a girl you didn't even know came up to you and said you were pretty and when she walked away you said she was lying. i remember, you were convinced. thought it was just to be nice because you had let her cut you in line for drinks. it was at the movies."

you look away from him, narrowing your eyes. you're embarrassed right now, and he knows. why isn't he stopping? "she was lying, stiles. you're a guy, you can't see that stuff like girls do."

"i'm a guy, i'm not blind." he gets hotter in his voice. both in tone and in attractiveness, getting sterner. saying 'i'm right' without saying it. "are you blind? you're so pretty. like, objectively."

"stiles, can you drop this? I shouldn’t have said anything." you curl in on yourself, drawing your knees up to hide your body. you feel so exposed, like he tugged the part of you out that you don't really like to talk about.

stiles goes soft. like a flip being switched, he loses his fight and shifts to face you better, placing a hand on your knee. "hey, i'm sorry."

you desperately want to go back to when he was a safe distance away and pacing your room and teasing you. you hate it when you ruin the mood with your feelings. you hate how much you love it when he touches you, especially since he'd never want you the way that you want him.

"it's fine, i promise." you claw around your brain for something to change the subject, but you feel it short circuit as stiles' hand begins to hold your cheek. he lifts your chin to look at him. you feel your cheeks flame hot and your whole body warm at his touch. you stare at him as you feel your resolve practically melt away.

"do you think you're pretty?" he asks, curiously. like you're something he doesn't fully understand yet, but he's on his way and he's getting excited to speed up the process. it makes you nervous.

"umm... i don't know..." you don't think so. you're very confident that you're ugly. but telling stiles that is letting him win. and you don't know what you'll do with a cocky stiles when he's already ballsy enough to corner you like he is now.

"i do." he says with finality. stiles gets closer and his hand leaves your cheek, only to part your legs gently and crawl in between them. "i think you’re hot. and pretty. and when you focus you nibble your lip and it kinda makes me want to pin you to the nearest flat surface and eat you out.”

now your legs are on either side of stiles and he's leaning over you, eyes roaming over your face hungrily. you stutter dumbly for a moment, face flushed and feeling like a cornered bunny getting stared down by a wolf. his scent becomes stronger and you resist the urge to ask him to do just that, opting instead for feeling like a gross creep and fretting if you’ve shaved well enough.

"you don’t have to say that..." you trail off, still flustered at stiles' boldness. "i just didn't really know what you thought about my looks, i guess. b-but i guess that’s kinda conceited, huh?" you laugh weakly at your joke. stiles doesn't laugh at all. instead, he watches you quietly for a moment, a hand landing on your knee again.

"i don’t say anything because i never want you to feel uncomfortable." he states breathily. you squirm under him as he leans forward, a determined look in his eyes. “do you want me to tell you what i think about you?”

"stiles, c'mon." you turn your head away. maybe you can resist this question by acting pathetic. it's not really working, and stiles just gently guides your chin so that you're looking at him again. he knows the answer. he kinda has to, doesn't he? otherwise he wouldn't be doing this.

"I want to hear you say it." he looks into your eyes like it would actually literally kill him if you said no. you feel that rush you get when he talks like this, all quiet and deep like he's breathless. and despite you thinking that stiles thought of you as a low-physicality girlfriend, you find yourself nodding slightly.

"yes, i do."

stiles sighs out like you just healed every one of his wounds and leans forward, shifting himself so that he's propped on his hands and knees above you. one hand moves to your waist and the other holds his weight as he leans down.

the kiss sends a spark down your spine. as he goes back in again, kissing you harder, deeper, gently guiding your mouth open, you think it's better than any other kiss you've experienced. his hand inches your shirt up to reveal your stomach and he pulls back.

"you're beautiful. okay? i feel like you're not hearing me. i want you to see it." he says, still upset about that. you're still a bit flustered by the quick change of events, so you don’t respond.

he frowns at your lack of response but it softens as your hands slide onto his neck, pulling him down again. he smiles and goes back in for another kiss.

this one's even more than the last. stiles' tongue... well, it works. that's all you can describe as he makes you gasp in surprised pleasure from just a kiss. you can feel his slightly cocky smirk as he kisses again, but it gets lost when you rake your nails lightly against the back of his neck. he manuvers you both further down the bed so you're laying more comfotably and kisses you deeply again, like he can't get enough. 

he presses his knee up against your core as you kiss and it sends a pulse of pleasure up your body, making you pinch your brows. stiles pulls back abruptly, and you're both panting. you can see your spit making his lips glisten prettily and you want to hide under the covers and pull him back into you at the same time.

"hey," stiles dawns a little smile. it's sweet, and when he tugs at the hem of your shirt gently your heart flutters. "can i take this off?"

you pause at that. if he takes your shirt off, he'll have to see you shirtless. you didn't wear a nice bra today, just the grey t-shirt bra you got at walmart. but he wants to see you shirtless. and you want to see him shirtless.

then again, you’re no pornstar-level body. maybe stiles will be disappointed. or laugh. no, no, he won’t laugh. but if he doesn’t like it, he won’t say anything, and you’ll be stuck wondering what he’s thinking again...

"i can hear you overthinking, you know." stiles' big palm lands on your bare waist, his thumb rubbing your skin softly. "we can stop if you want."

you meet his eyes. he looks like he really means it, like he'll pretend none of this happened if you asked. his hand leaves your waist, cups your cheek, and his thumb presses against your bottom lip softly. you breathe in. "i don't want to stop."

he nods, smiling. it's crooked and you almost giggle because of course stiles is excited to keep making out. and then his gaze shifts and he takes his hand off your cheek to tug on your shirt again. his brows lift in question.

"uhm, yeah." you nibble your lip. fuck it. "take it off."

"that was not enthusiastic enough."

"i-?! don't blame me if you don't like what you see! i just don't want you to be unimpressed!" you squeak defensively. he laughs and pulls you up just enough to lift your shirt off.

"you can be so obtuse sometimes." he mumbles as he tosses your shirt out of the way. you're propped up on your forearms when he turns back around and you can practically hear the breaks in his brain screech to a halt.

his eyes roam your body in a way that makes you flush and his hands aren't much better, spreading over your now-exposed middle like they have a mind of their own. he lets out a breath and blinks a few times, one hand sliding up to cup your bra. “s’ this okay?”

you swallow and nod. it is. really. you like the way stiles’ hands feel on you and how his eyes track over you like he wants to devour you but doesn’t want to hurt you. you like how eager he is to touch you. it makes you feel like maybe he really wants to.

he leans over you and presses a kiss to your neck. you tilt your head back on instinct as he grows more persistent, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and nibbling your neck to pull a sound out of you. you gasp when he nibbles your earlobe and he reacts positively, hands getting more confident as he cups your breasts or you waist or whatever he can get ahold of.

you feel him press his knee up against you again and it makes you jolt momentarily. your thoughts are getting hazier, you feel yourself relaxing every second you spend underneath him. his hand travels up your back and finds your bra clasp and he kisses down your collarbone as he undoes it.

“you’re so pretty.” he starts, pulling back. you blink up at him as he sits over you. “you are, I don’t care what you think. I can’t believe you’re so convinced otherwise.”

he pauses, giving you time to reject him or tell him to stop or do anything. instead, you tug at his shirt, pulling it up.

he takes it off immediately and you press your hands against his bare skin. “stiles, i’ve never done anything before. I’m not gonna be good.”

he scoffs and shakes his head, toying with your loose bra strap. it’s still on, unclasped. he’s waiting.

“you’re doing so good right now, idiot.” he hums affectionately as he traces the seam of your bra, fingers brushing your breast. you suck in a breath. he watches your chest rise. “i’ve, um, thought about this before. a lot. and it’s ten times better having you under me than daydreaming about it.”

you blush at that. he traces the underside of your breast, fingers slipping under your bra to feel your skin. “I want to make you feel good.” he whispers, meeting your eyes. you nod slowly, fingers running along his abdomen as you admire him.

“you do?” you ask, as if he wasn’t practically pinning you to the bed already. he nods eagerly and it spurs you on. you shift, slowly pulling your bra off. he helps you and tosses it away with your shirt, but his eyes never leave you. instead, they dart all over your chest, hands cupping your tits. he sighs and his thumbs swipe over your pebbling nipples, making you squeak in shock.

“you’re so beautiful. ‘m gonna make you believe it, okay?” he says with finality, maneuvering so that he can kiss your breasts. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple and he pulls up just to envelop your mouth. “you sound so pretty. just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

you’re embarrassed at how easy it is for you to make noise and how eager you are to listen to his instructions. you sink into the pillows and let your eyes flutter shut as stiles kisses you. it's soft and slow, but it makes you a puddle anyway.

stiles gets the both of you down to your underwear shortly after. his hands are incessantly gentle and when he does something new he leaves a sort of gap for you to tell him to stop.

you never do.

he's mouthing at your neck when he first presses his long fingers against your clothed clit, and you sigh lightly in relief. the pressure was more than enough and you had completely soaked through your panties anyway. he pulls away from your neck to watch you as he rubs a slow circle against your nerves, humming in approval when your lips part and your brows pinch.

"does that feel good?" he questions quietly, still rolling a circle against you with his middle finger. you nod and hear him swallow as his eyes roam from your exposed tits to your wet spot and everywhere in between, locking eyes with you at the end.

"i can't wait to hear you. you're gonna sound so good." he mumbles, mostly to himself as he slowly pulls your panties off. you whine in embarrassment and cover your face with your hand.

"don't say stuff like that!" you huff, scrubbing your face like it will make the blushing subside. "you're getting your hopes up."

"jesus christ." he groans, and it sounds super fucking hot. you peek through your fingers and see him looking at you like you've wounded him. "you've exceeded every single one of my very high hopes i've been getting off to since freshman year so far. you-i mean, look at what you're doing to me."

he gently takes the hand you're using to cover your face and guides it against his bulge. he's hard as a rock, and when you press your hand against him he tilts his head back and sighs out. "seriously, you're so gorgeous. and you're a great kisser. you're doing so good. i mean..."

with your panties off and him in between your legs, he has easy access as he slides two fingers through your slick. you can both hear it in the quiet of the room and you feel that heat rush of embarrassment again, eyes widening as he literally moans. "you're so wet. just for me."

and as he presses his finger to your clit, it feels ten times better than it did with your panties on. you gasp and your eyes flutter closed as you whimper "god," completely on accident. his hands aren't amazingly skillful, but the way he watches your reactions and tweaks his performance, fucking a finger into you and keeping his pace on your bundle of nerves-it's almost hotter than a guy who isn't looking to improve, because stiles is adjusting things to your preference. not just what every woman would generally like.

"how's it feel, pretty girl?" he hums against your stomach, kissing down your body. you don't know what the hell he's doing but most of your mental focus is on how stiles is making you feel, anyway.

"feels good, sti'," you gasp, feeling his mouth against your thigh. he moans when you say his name before sucking a hickey onto your inner thigh. your eyes snap open and you prop yourself up to look at him, eyes wide. "are you leaving a mark?"

stiles looks up at you, and then at your neck, and then your tits. he pulls away from your skin slowly and mumbles "uhm..."

"whatever, just... don't make it ugly. hickeys can look so weird." you flop back against the pillows and sigh, but your thoughts are cut short as stiles-

"oh, fuck," you moan, rolling your hips against stiles' tongue unconsciously as he presses his mouth on your clit. he flicks his tongue and you gasp out another moan, hips lifting.

his big hands land on your bare hips and press them back down, holding them there as he looks up at you. meanwhile, his tongue is laying claim on you in a way no one ever has, and he's making you feel better than you ever have. you sit up on your forearms to watch him and he sucks on your clit, making your eyes roll back. "stiles, oh god, that feels really good-"

he moans at your noises, mouth moving with more fervor against you, hands pulling you closer to him. he's doing everything perfectly, or so you thought, until he pulls a hand away from your hip and presses two fingers inside of you. it's a stretch, but it feels amazing, and your brain is fried as you feel yourself hurtling towards that edge-

and then he pulls back.

you look down at the speed of light, glaring at him on accident. "wha-? why-?"

his eyes are dark, something you haven't seen in them before. his mouth is covered in your arousal and he's sitting up, leaning over you. "i really want you to finish with me inside you. does... is that...?"

your previous annoyance falls away and you bob your head enthusiastically. "yeah. yes. please."

he grins and licks some of your slick off of his lips before kissing you sweetly. when he pulls back, you look down to take his boxers off but realize he took them off already. you also realize you've never seen stiles' dick before.

"your staring is making me nervous." he teases, rubbing your thigh. you blink and look back up at him, smiling sheepishly. he smiles back, and it's crooked, and he's tilting his head and panting and sometimes his eyes are wandering to your tits before snapping back up to your eyes. and.

"you're the hottest guy in the whole world, i think." you hum, reaching up to cup his cheek. his eyes go wide and he laughs, kissing your palm.

"is my dick that big?"

"not what i meant."

"it could be."

you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. "'s it gonna hurt?"

his eyes go soft, a bit worried. "proabably for a second, but we'll go at your pace so you can stretch out properly, and if it's too much i can just finish the way i started, kay?"

you nod. stiles would never, ever hurt you. and with the way he's looking at you and how he moans when you feel good and how his hands always have to find a way to pleasure you... something in you switches and you realize he really wants you to like this. that he's being honest when he says he's thought about it a lot.

so as he quickly rolls on a condom (which included him admitting that he usually grabs one before he leaves to see you) and presses into you -slowly, slowly- you try your best to relax against the pillows. it's not unbearable, but you have to ask him to pause sometimes. he always does, and layers praises on top of each other while he does it.

"you're doing so well. just breathe, okay? just like that. holy shit, you feel amazing- b-but how do you feel? you alright?" he rambles halfway inside. you nod, breathing deeply.

"it actually feels... good..." you close your eyes and pull on his waist, urging him forward slowly. he bottoms our and gasps out a moan at the same time you do, feeling him reach the spot you're never able to. his hand snakes in between the two of you and presses against your clit. you gasp out his name, tilting your head back. it's almost too much.

almost.

as you urge him to move, he presses slow circles against your bundle of nerves and kisses any patch of your bare skin he can get ahold of.

"just relax, baby- fuck, god, you know how may times i've thought about this?" he pulls out slowly and pushes back in, and all of his stimulating mixed with his moans and his words... he's doing a good fucking job, that's for sure.

you moan when he moves a little quicker, gasping. he presses his tongue into your open mouth and kisses you sloppily, going a bit faster with every thrust. you whine when he flicks your clit almost crudely, pressing your head back against the mattress and gasping, "faster, sti'"

he obeys without further encouragement, snapping his hips a little quicker than comfortable. you feel your body adjust and watch stiles as he leans back to admire you.

his eyes rake over you, one hand cupping your breast and kneading it softly. he lets out a higher pitched moan than you've heard from him when he sees the point where your bodies connect, slowing his thrusts just to watch. "you're perfect, i swear to god."

you can't respond, not when he's already leaning down to overstimulate your nipples. your brain feels like it's in the other room and has been replaced with stiles' hands, almost solely focused on his kneading of your tits and his circling of your clit. his mouth makes its way back up your neck and he kisses you again, still with very little concern for the proprieties of it.

it's sudden, the feeling that crawls up on you as his hips snap quicker and praise falls from his mouth in between kisses. you gasp for air and tug his head back by pulling his hair, causing a loud moan from him that you'll have to unpack later. you're arching your back, whimpering "faster, faster," squeezing your eyes shut as you feel that sweet release low in your belly. he speeds up his hips, but more importantly his fingers on your clit. your vision goes white for a split second as you cry out, chanting his name like a prayer. you hear him moaning too, and it only helps you as he rides you through your orgasm.

"holy shit," you gasp as you come down. he nods, pulling out of you carefully, and you both lock eyes. you're smiling and he's kissing you and everything feels kind of perfect for a split second. then you remember him, and feel like an idiot. "oh, did you, i totally forgot, did you-"

"don't worry," he laughs sheepishly and glances away from you. "i did. it was, um, when you pulled me away from kissing you."

"when i pulled your hair?" you ask incredulously. he buries his face into your neck and groans.

"maybe we should focus on you again." he kisses up your neck and all over your face. "you did so good, you're so perfect and pretty and oh my god you thought i wasn't attracted to you. you're so out of it sometimes."

"stop insulting me! you never said anything!" you defend, slapping his shoulder. he laughs and cups your face.

"i'm going to say every thought i have now. okay?"

"i feel like this isn't going to end well..."

he grins mischievously. "you look so good when you're cumming. let me make you make that face again?"

you close your eyes and sigh. "yeah, i knew it. this is going to be the death of me."

he laughs, loudly, excitedly, and kisses you. "it's funny how you think death will help. i bet you'd be a sexy ghost. oh, fuck, now i'm thinking about that. yep, it's hot."

you shout and push him off of you, laughing.

☆

when i wrote this originally, i wasn't super happy with it. even now i'm like... ehhh.... i dunno.... so if you guys want more of stiles with virgin/inexperienced reader, i have a lot of ideas and would totally post some if given the 'okay' from my fellow stiles lovers! let me know!!

(please say you want more because i want to make more lowkey tho just lowkey like idec but please)

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”

[bloodycassian]

Reborn - Reader x Azriel. AN - thank you anon for this great prompt!

Requested - I don't know if your requests are open but I wanted to throw something in just in case.

An Azriel x reader, where AZ and reader have never met before, reader has been tortured and experimented on by the court of nightmares ( Keir ) she could be a shadowsinger, and they're mates, when the reader is in the verge of death for refusing to work with Keir, AZ feels it and begins to grow hectic without knowing the reason,  everyone in the inner court is confused until elain comes out of nowhere and tells everyone that his mate is in danger. ( Vision )

I have this on the back of my mind since reading some of your amazing work and couldn't stop thinking about it.

No amount of masturbation, drinking, or sparring helps the agitation under Azriel’s skin. It’s a constant, burning, itching thing that’s like a fucking disease upon his being. 

Sleep is his only relief, but even then he’s plagued with pain and darkness. It reminds him too much of the dank basement he’d been forced into when he was young, so he stays up. He’s exhausted and brooding and quick to snap at anyone who questions him. He knows he’s being a dick but according to the five healers he’d seen, there was nothing wrong. 

Nothing wrong, just like how his shadows weren’t some kind of magic, according to them. 

He’d refused to believe in healers all that much since the explanation Madja had given him about his diseased pets. The writhing, tentacles of night were a ‘bodily mutation of the highest level, tainted with fae magic’. Tainted. The word felt right for what they were, but that didn’t mean it stung any less. 

“We’ll invade here, and be able to plant our…” There was a beat of silence in Amren’s quick words, then her voice cut through his busybodied task like a knife “Azriel, are you even listening?” 

Truthfully, he hadn’t been. He’d been consumed by the ache again, the broiling sickness beneath his skin that had every muscle flexed in tension. His mind had other battles to fight. 

“What does it matter? You’ll carry out your plan with or without me. Keep talking, make yourself feel important, Amren.” His ill-tempered response came quick and laced with venom. One glance towards the small not-quite-fae female and his mind gave a twinge of regret. 

A lick of her power radiated, filling the room with something vibrant and undeniable. Cassian sucked in a breath, and a word from Rhys had her firey gaze snapping to him instead. “Take your dog from the important business then, High Lord.” Her words were precise, hissed. 

Azriel straightened. The insult didn’t land as well as Amren had wanted, in part because he couldn’t care less, another because the fire under his skin was reaching a peak that he had no idea how he survived every time it came around. He glanced to Rhys, who gave him a nod. Good. Let him free of this cage. 

He flung open the balcony doors with his cursed gift and sprinted off the ledge, launching himself into the summer air. 

+

Rats nibbled at your toes when you slept, scurrying away before you could catch them. Your senses weren’t even close to what they had been months ago. Before, you’d been able to catch at least two a week for extra sustenance. 

You told yourself that they’d learned, that they’d gotten quicker at their biting and fleeing. Truthfully, you could feel your strength waning every day. 

Living was no longer hope, and more of an inconvenience. 

But it was an inconvenience to Kier as well. And that meant you’d keep on living out of spite. 

The next female would appreciate it. 

“Arms up, legs together.” The order came with unnatural casualness that you’d grown used to. If you didn’t follow the orders, you were beaten until you either complied or were unconscious, so complying was really the only option. Especially when you were attempting to stay alive for as long as you could. 

It’s for the next girl. You chanted to yourself when the keeper made the injection. It stung like hundreds of bees attacking the same place, but the pain was familiar. A friend you welcomed before everything went sideways and the nausea rolled in. 

The drug Kier’s men gave was like none you’d experienced outside this cell. An incredible high, with a disastrous low. 

You convulsed on the floor moments later, your body still barely able to take the amount they dosed you with. You’d seen the liquid inside the damn thing grow each week, they were marking your progress with every one of them. So, with each dosing you made sure to put on some dramatics for them. 

The clawing at the throat was false, the sound of your screams only half-forced. The real, unforced reaction though, was always the shade of pallor your skin turned after every injection. The darkness that radiated from you like a bubble, the pain made physical. 

It hovered over your skin like an aura, tendrils of it washing over your forehead when the sweating started. It always started like this, for the first few hours - or possibly minutes, you weren’t sure once you were lost to the pain - they’d observe, and sometimes Kier himself would join, looking like a disappointed mother. Then, once the shaking subsided, and you were able to breathe normally, they’d release a rabbit into your cell. 

The same rabbit almost every damn time. After the first two weeks, you’d grabbed the first one and snapped it’s neck, hoping that Kier would be happy with the accomplishment and you’d earn something. You’d felt awful as it died in your hands, but the pain… if it stopped the pain, you’d kill anything. 

But time after time, they’d send in another rabbit, and though you begged for some kind of explanation of what they wished with the damn thing, they’d only observe. After a few hours of investigating, it’d eventually be removed and you’d wake up alone again.

Kier did not make an appearance today, and after your shaking stopped, neither did a rabbit.

“Where’s dinner?” You croaked, the tears stinging small cuts on your cheeks. Your friend never laughed or spoke, hardly even moved when he was in the vicinity of your cell. It was odd, even for a freak who enjoyed drugging and torturing others.

The male only stared, writing in his little notebook. He could at least humor you and tell you what he was so keenly logging. Some friend.

He opened the door, but instead of the rabbit jumping inside, he stepped forward, past the barrier and wards keeping you from breaking through. Your breathing halted. 

“Your reluctance to learn your gifts has given us no other option.”

+

“Did you lose a fight?” 

Nesta’s words normally bounced and slid right off Azriel, but with how volatile he was feeling, it took all his restraint not to snarl at her.

“Come on Az, where’s that quick wit?” She chided, crossing her legs at the knee beside her sister. 

His eyes drifted to Elain, the warm blush of her cheeks. Her lavender nightshirt made her seem so much more vulnerable than she was. He knew just how lethal the female could be, and admired her for it. His eyes drifted to the soft hair and round features that he’d once dreamt of. How foolish he’d been, how full of hope and bitterness. Now here he was, merely a ghost. A shell for pain to be housed in and nothing more. 

And here he stared at a garden of hope and light. The female who’d haunted his dreams for years. The opposite of the steel bitch that sat beside her. 

A pang of guilt pinched at him. “You’re ridiculous.” Was all he could muster at her. Nesta was trying to help, in her own way, he supposed. She was testing his limits and temper, even while balancing comforting words and attempting to heal her little sister’s mental wounds. Not to mention navigating the strange, untrained gift of Elain’s.

It wasn’t often that Azriel came to the house of wind proper. When he did, he usually confined himself to the dining area and the war room, where the formal dinners and meetings were held. He hadn’t walked the halls into the large internal library in a long, long while. No wonder they both had turned their chairs to face him when he’d cracked the door to find them both here. 

The large windows seemed crowded with the amount of books that surrounded them. The only source of light, aside from the twinkling magic fueled ones above. The room had always made Azriel feel claustrophobic, and now it set him on edge in a way different than it had before. 

Especially when Elain’s eyes bored into his own. His skin felt like it was shifting, pulling and pushing from just beneath. He was beginning to wonder if the healers had somehow missed a parasite of some kind. Something new perhaps, something they’d never seen before.

Elain’s eyes widened, her cheeks going from the pink blush to sickly pale in an instant. Her expression was unfocused, hazy - as if she were drunk. Azriel suddenly felt like he was intruding, like seeing her so vulnerable was something reserved for only those close to her. 

Nesta placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed her sister’s back comfortingly. It was about as tender as Azriel had ever seen her, even with Cassian. He watched the hands that rubbed the Seer, recalling the intense desire he’d once felt for her. Embarrassment coated his cheeks, distracting him from the physical pain for a moment.

He’d wanted to be that support for her, once. Nesta’s hand seemed to grow in his vision, the embroidered collar of Elain’s nightshirt with it. He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. The blackness around his eyes did not recede though. His bones ached, and his headache stabbed at him like a branding iron. He rubbed his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“She needs help.” Elain gasped, coughing on a breath. Azriel wavered on his heels, something hard hitting his back, crushing his wings. 

He could barely hear the high strung sound of Elain’s voice. “She needs help, Azriel!”

+

He tore though the court, dragging Kier kicking and frothing with him. He’d received a few severe wounds from the cruel male, but nothing that a few patches of his siphons couldn’t hold together. 

The gushing stab wounds could wait. He had something far more important to tend to.

“You’re a bastard, a low-born inconsequential bastard, Shadowsinger.” Kier coughed as Azriel dragged his broken body with him. The crowd pushed and writhed around them, but his outstretched dagger kept any of the patrons from advancing. Several dark looks, hisses of death closed in around him, but he plowed through them all, working his way to the catacombs behind the stone chair that served as Rhys’s dark throne. 

“I may be a bastard-” Azriel grunted through his pain, now more fevored and intense than before. It was a wonder he’d even been able to make it here, but it did explain his sloppy handling of Kier once he’d found the male. 

“But at least I didn’t sell a daughter off as stock.” He tossed the would-be-king to the locked door of the catacombs, a part of him enjoyed the thunk his head made against the stone floor, even through the intense agony that ripped through him. 

This was not the place to show weakness. If he let his shadows drop, let the air of anything but a cold hearted killer go for even a moment he’d be trampled by the crowd. 

Kier rose slowly, muttering curses while he pulled out a key and slid the door to the side. He sketched a bow, waving Azriel in. Spit landed at Azriels feet as he crossed the threshold, and he hesitated in his step. A hiss rang out behind him, shuffling feet a song as the crowd quickly scooted back. He held his stance there for a moment, collecting the wrath that built in him. It writhed and twisted in his mind, his guts, his teeth throbbing with the urge to tare out Kier’s throat. 

The blistering heat flared again, this time in his jaw and he moved down the hall, towards the cells that an unfortunate assistant to Kier had described. 

He’d made their death quick, painless. 

+

You couldn’t scream, could hardly breathe with the weight that seemed to be growing in your chest. 

Not weight exactly, more like pressure. Internal pressure, like there was lava built up inside you with nowhere to go. And every rattling breath seemed to give it more life. You wheezed, weak with the exhaustion of fighting it. 

Your friend had given you three more of the injections, and promptly left when you began struggling against the binds at your hands and feet. One of them had ripped, you only knew because that was the hand that you’d used to claw at your chest with. 

The blood made going any further too slippery and exhausting.

There were far away sounds, but it all seemed too strange, so disjointed to be real. Screams and sharp clangs of metal, breaking glass and thudding. 

Your eyes slipped closed, and relief washed over you. The pressure eased, and the squeaky hinges of the door opened. Had death finally come? Was this the end of your cycle, and now they were bringing in a new victim to Kier’s experiments? 

There wasn’t much of a goodbye to the world, though. As sad as it was to not be able to see your family again, you were just grateful that the pain was receding. That finally there’d be no injections, no innocent rabbit and certainly no Kier around. 

The sounds were strange, a choking, strangled sound like the first time you’d killed the rabbit. Your eyes cracked open almost involuntarily to see what had happened. 

Outside your cell in a glow of blue light was a winged male, his hand wrist deep inside your friend’s chest. 

+

Blood is hotter than most people think it is. Azriel takes joy in it though, when it’s the blood of the truly vile ones. The male with the syringes and log book reeked of something spiced and foreign, something Azriel’d never encountered before. He would have asked, would have talked to the male if he’d not pulled a knife and threatened to ‘kill her’ as he backed away. 

There were no thoughts after that. And as he fell to the floor, Azriel reveled in the male’s labored breathing. Relief and heat flooded him, prickling him with a soaring joy he’d thought abandoned him long ago. He could laugh, if it weren’t for the absurdity of how it sounded to laugh at this moment.

 He plucked the book from his hands and shoved it into his belt behind him, his chest thrumming with joy.

He’d never been so filled with glee before, so overwhelmed with it after killing… Had he become broken in a sick way? Was he no better than the male he’d just killed? He looked to his hand, twisting it in the low light of his siphons. 

A wet, weak cough echoed off the walls and he spun, knife ready. 

Then the blade was on the floor as he rushed to the bars of the cell door, ripping it free of the rusted hinges. 

The female was gaunt, and frail. Yet his chest sang and though she looked moments from death, he couldn’t imagine more beauty. 

She clutched her chest, the blood there crusted and dry. “Thanks.” She croaked, voice barely a whisper. Shadows mounted around him, enclosing them in complete black. He would have thought he was winnowing if it weren't for the sorry excuse for a bed that stayed beneath her.

Azriel’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying, even to his own ears. His mind, his body was a rushing river of every emotion at once, all cascading through his mind, to his chest and thrumming in his blood. Her eyes went wide and wild, searching his for a moment. His heart thundered in his ears.

What had his life been until now? Why was this moment such a climax to him so suddenly? All of it, the pain the agony, the stark moments of joy against it all - the brief moments of shared happiness that made it all worth it tore through his body like a flash floor. 

Tears pricked his eyes, and it was a curious thing to see them fall onto her neck and wash away the blood there. 

Then, a wet sigh from her lips, and her eyes stopped searching his. The rush of joy and sense of sanctuary ceased. His blood went quiet in his ears, and the room felt suddenly cold. The room silent around him, not even his shadows dared whisper.

His fingers hesitated over her cheek. When her next breath did not come, he shook her gently. Her eyes remained, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

This was truly a tomb now. 

“No…” He heard his own words that time. The word clattered through the cell like a bell tolling, echoing.

“Take her back.” A shadow hissed over his ear, caressing. 

He shook her again, the tears boiling over now, panic gripping him. 

“We know how.” another said. This voice was different, the same whispered tone and suggestion, but this was not one of his pets. He sent his own shadows skittering away, and a group of them stayed, unbound to him and unmoving from the cell. His heart skipped, fear upon fear pulling him into the icy abyss of despair. 

His own shadows returned, a broken syringe floating to him on their behest. They mingled with the others, reveling and dancing together though Azriel felt that he was slowly sinking.

“What am I supposed to do with this?!” He shouted at them, at nothing. He had truly lost his mind, hadn’t he?

“Save her.” The strange shadows told him. Just like Elain had said, overtaken by her visions.

 A tendril of the foreign shadow wrapped around his hand, locking the glass pieces there and slicing into his palm. The needle aimed directly to her chest, between the ribs, only a few inches from the heart. 

And what did he have to lose? The silence that surrounded him now was almost worse than the pain had been. Wouldn't pain at least be better than complete nothingness? To feel completely blank and unwritten as a being?

With a breath, and a part of his siphon’s power to support the broken syringe, he pushed into her skin. His own blood dribbled down the sides, mixing with hers. Through and through - until he knew that he’d met the same depth of a killing blow to an opponent’s heart. 

+

“Side, block, strike.” Cassian’s orders came out in demanding, practiced tones. Each step, each swipe of your blade met with one of Azriel’s shadows as a shield. 

His were still much, much stronger than yours, even after months of practice with them. Even with him showing you very intimately just how much they were capable of. Your cheeks blushed at the reminder of that. 

“No distractions, keep that shadow talk in the bedroom, Az.” Cassian scolded.

A smirk played at your mate’s face, and he hit you with a surprise swipe at your feet, left unprotected by your own shadows. 

You fell on your ass, cursing. 

Azriel offered a hand, panting at the exertion the sparring had taken. You were proud of that, at least. 

The first six months of training had been dedicated to building stamina, gaining back weight and muscle while balancing training your shadows to obey you. Six months ago, being able to spar with your mate had seemed like a far off dream that you’d never be capable of doing. 

But with his training, and Cassian’s encouragement, you were almost able to take him on stride for stride. Almost. 

So, you took his hand and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Then knocked his knees out from behind with a wave of your own shadows.

You smirked, and offered him a hand while Cassian boomed with laughter.

He allowed you to help him up, but cleaned in close, pecking a kiss on your cheek. 

“You’ll pay for that later.” He said in an intimate tone. A lick of his shadow wrapped around your thigh, snaking upwards. 

“Promise?” Your eyes sparkled at him, and the pain all those months ago had been worth it for this. 

[navybrat817]

A Hero's Reward

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.

Word Count: Almost 500

Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, kidnapping, dark Avengers, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 5! Character: Bucky Barnes. Length: 200-500 words. Prompt: "Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me." ❤️ @krirebr , thank you for chatting me about this and everyone should check out What You Can Do For Your Country. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Heroes were meant to make the world a better place. They exemplified courage, resilience, and determination while serving as living embodiments of values and ideals that many admired. They offered protection and safety. And you were lucky enough to live in a time with The Avengers, the self-proclaimed world's mightiest heroes who saved the Earth time and time again.

But no one liked to talk about the burden placed on their shoulders. Or that they had their own needs outside of the fight. So what did the heroes take for their reward? Whatever they wanted.

Bucky Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier, only wanted one thing.

You.

“Look at me,” he ordered above a whisper.

You brushed a tear away as you lifted your gaze and moved back to the corner of your bed to cower. The cell Tony made was comfortable enough, but the massive size and aura of Bucky made it seem small and dark. It would never be your home. They took you from it the moment the Soldier decided he wanted you as his personal doll. You were told it was an honor and a privilege.

The same thing they told the occupants in the other cells, each one a reward chosen by the various team members.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. You managed to break free from your cell earlier that day, but the relief was temporary since you were quickly caught and dragged back. “I just want to go home, Sir. Please.”

Bucky observed you as he walked toward the bed, his icy blue eyes not leaving your trembling form for a second. “This place is only temporary. Steve and I will move you and his girl into our new home once it's ready,” he told you, brushing his metal hand along your cheek as you tried not to flinch. “Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”

“Yes,” you answered, trying to block out the memory.

You fought him. Well, you tried to. He quickly proved why he was a hero in the physical sense when he overpowered you. He then proved why he was your villain when he split you open with his cock.

“Yet you still tried to run,” he said, his voice laced with hurt and anger. “Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me.”

A shiver of fear and anticipation ran down your spine as he straightened up and unbuckled his belt. You knew what was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The worst part deep down was how much you liked him owning you. That was why you had to get away.

But he would never let you go.

“So let me remind you how good it feels when I'm inside you,” he said, tugging the sheet away when you tried to cover yourself. “And let's see you try and run from me by the time I'm done with you.”

He can keep me. That's fine! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

-

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

-

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

-

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

-

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

-

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

-

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

-

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

-

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

-

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

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This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

[writeandsurvive]

Hi. I’ve been reading your work and it’s been sooo funny. It’s my first time asking for fic. Could you write a fic where Gibbs and reader is in the secret relationship in the bullpen. And one day they’re having breakfast or lunch or anything and they’re cute, sweet, and so in love each other and then being caught on the scene by someone in the bullpen.

Thank you so much for good works!

Hello anon, thank you for the request and your kind words, it means so much to me ❤️ I hope this is what you were looking for!

Busted ~ Jethro Gibbs

It's not easy to give a relationship secret, but it's even worse when it happens in the workplace, and the people you're the closest with are all trained investigators. However, you and Gibbs have been doing a great job at hiding it. It's a lot thanks to him, to be honest; the man has one hell of a self control and when he puts his mind into something, he never fails.

Most of the times you were almost caught was because you couldn't keep your hands off of the man you love. A stolen kiss here, a lingering hand there. The closest to being busted happened when a lawyer was clearly hitting on Gibbs, and your jealousy went over the roof. You trust Gibbs more than anyone, you know he'd never do something like that, but seeing this woman being too comfortable with your man, touching his arm, and giving him flirty looks, that was hard to handle.

However, it led to the first time Gibbs allowed himself to let go in the office. Noticing how jealous you were getting, he got you to follow him to autopsy, taking the elevator and shutting it down. He immediately grabbed you and kissed you intensely. Then he looked deep into your eyes, silently asking if you got the message. You smiled and nodded. Gibbs was a man of a few words after all.

Weekends off were a very rare thing for the team, so when the boss said 'see you on Monday' by Friday night, it was a race to the parking lot. Obviously, a few minutes after you got home, Gibbs let himself in and you immediately jumped into his arms. "An entire weekend, just you and me?"

"Why else would I let everyone go this early?" He kissed you.

After spending the Friday night at your place, ordering takeouts and simply relaxing together, you went to his place on Saturday. Gibbs feels more comfortable there, and he likes to work on his boat while you're reading a book in the armchair he specifically brought into the basement for you.

But Gibbs wanted to spoil you. He knows he's not the most outgoing and adventurous man, and there's this tiny voice in his mind that keeps telling him you're gonna get bored of him and the relationship. So, he used all of his computer skills to search for the best and fanciest restaurants in Washington. He wished he could've asked McGee for this, but how would he explain it? 'I want to take my girlfriend on a fancy date, and spoil her the way she deserves, cause I'm afraid she'll get bored and leave me. Also, my girlfriend is someone you love like your own sister.'

It was a nightmare to do this research, but Gibbs was satisfied with himself when he found the perfect place to take you.

"Your burgundy dress is still here, right?" He asked, joining you after he took a random shower.

"I think so, why?"

He kissed your forehead. "Go get ready, we're going out."

"You're kidding? Where are we going?"

"Surprise."

You excitedly got up from the couch. "Okay, but I need to take a shower too!"

He looked at his watch. "You got an hour, good enough?"

"Yes sir!" You quickly pecked his lips and rushed upstairs.

You don't remember the last time you got into a fancy restaurant like this, you kinda felt out of place. But it was amazing to see Gibbs being this romantic with you, holding doors, pulling out the chair, he even ordered your first alcohol drink, for the both of you instead of going with a beer or bourbon. "You're spoiling me," you shyly smiled. "And you look extra handsome tonight. I still love the polo shirts and hoodies though."

"You deserve to be spoiled." He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. "Had to clean up nice so people don't wonder why the hell you're doing with me, more than they already do, at least."

It was amazing. The food was exquisite, the conversation flew smoothly between you, and Gibbs kept complimenting you, and not just physically. He hinted several times how lucky he felt that you were with him, loving him and standing by his side no matter what. "Jethro," you looked at your joint hands on the table before getting lost in his wonderful blue eyes. "You don't have to do this to make me happy. I'm happy as long as I'm with you."

He stayed silent for a moment, processing what you were saying and looking for the right answer. When he opened his mouth to answer, a voice came out from behind you. "Boss! Wow, fancy seeing you here!" Tony DiNozzo. Great. You couldn't get out of this, could you? "Who's your da--" he reached the table, and finally laid eyes on you.

"Hi Anthony," you teased. "Didn't recognize me from behind? That's offensive from you."

Tony kept looking between you and Gibbs, mouth open. "I think he's having a stroke." You joked to Gibbs, who softly chuckled. He had accepted that the cat was out of the bag.

"DiNozzo, you gonna keep standing here or let us go back to our date?" Gibbs asked.

"I, um, wow. I got some many questions." Gibbs gave him his famous, which got Tony to solely look at you. "I got many questions." He said, lower.

"I can still hear you, DiNozzo, and most importantly, I can still see you."

You nodded to Tony with a smile, silently telling that you'll indulge his curiosity.

"Well," you laughed after Tony was finally gone. "I guess we're no longer in a secret relationship."

[xinmin-exe]

(Hey there. Your work is so amazing that I need MORE! :3)

How would Shigaraki and LOV react on his s/o, who is rich and caring and she bought them a house in the woods, so they can hide when the heroes are near? Would they like to go there for a vacation with her? To just chill in the nature?

(Thank you so much for your amazing work 🤍)

Hiiiiiiii I’m so honored you like my work! ☺️☺️ I hope you like this too!!

Shigaraki with Rich!Reader

Shigaraki and the League would be incredible suspicious at first

They expected you to be some rich kid who’s “rebelling from their daddy” (which dabi understood) and trying to make their family mad

Who could blame them? You came in and told them you wanted to help the cause, but you didn’t know the first thing about fighting or stealth. “My father always paid bodyguards to protect me” Frankly, Shigaraki was ready to kick you out from day 1.

But when you came back with information about the Hero Commission’s next move (unprompted I add) they were intrigued

Shigaraki realized you could get in close like they never could. You were smart, friendly, and most importantly, the daughter/son of a wealthy, influential family

He knew that he could use that to his advantage. Eventually, he began accompanying you out, wanting to make sure you weren’t double crossing them. He would stalk behind you about 10-15 feet, keeping out of your way and letting you do your work

When the two of you would return and after telling the league what you found you, you and toga and Magne would gush on and on about how attractive your date was

Spinner and dabi would gag and leave the room, Mr. Compress would chuckle and make a comment on “the good old school girl crush” behind making his exit, but not Tomura

He lurked around the bar afterwards, drinking some cocktail Kurogiri make and listening in. (Yes I headcanon Tomura as a cocktail man, don’t come at me)

It irritated him endlessly how much you talked about your date, going on for hours about how you enjoyed it

His hands would twitch and he could feel the need to dust someone increase exponentially. He decided to not stay around afterwards anymore, but the feeling never went away

He thought it was just his annoyance of gossip, but even when he wasn’t there, the feeling lingered.

Long story short, one night Tomura dusted your date immediately after you ended the night and confessed (stuttering and scratching his neck while doing so)

But after confessing to you, the young leader became.. less of as asshole and more.. mature

By that point, you had settled into being a part of the LoV and everyone had taken quite a liking to you (even dabi if you can believe it)

Things only got better for the league when you were able to steal money from your father and buy them a much better, bigger hideout.

“My father had millions upon millions of yen, he’s not gonna notice if a few million go missing”

It was an old, a banded building on the outskirts of town. With a kitchen, multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, and even a basement that the LoV converted into a training area.

While they kept using the bar as their main HQ, most of the time if someone wasn’t on a mission, they could be found in the building you bought

They even named the building “Y/N’s Mansion” (spinner came up with the name)

The Relationship

Tomura’s relationship with you was, frankly, the best thing to happen to the league

Even though sometimes he still got annoyed with how privileged you seemed, he never really could bring himself to hate you

You were always kind and generous, never really thinking about yourself

You always made sure to be ready with the first aid kit when anyone came back from missions and you always made an effort to learn about each one of them

The first time Tomura let you touch his skin, you were so delicate and soft. Treating him like a glass figure, careful not to break him

Before you, he had never been shown such tenderness, it was a new sensation for him that he swears he will never get used to it

He wanted to show you the same thing, so he forced Dabi to go out and steal some artist. gloves for him

Your skin felt so.. delicate underneath his rough palm that he almost convinced himself that you were a real angel

You were still naive to the way of the world, but Tomura wanted to keep it that way

He was like your scary dog privileges and "barked" at anyone who even looked at you wrong

A guy stared too long at the connivence story? Dusted later that night

Someone made an unwanted advance at a bar or club? They suddenly go missing a few minutes later

Dabi makes some snide comment about you? Tomura is up in his face, glaring and threatening him (Kurogiri has had to break up too many confrontations)

Overall, Tomura may have been suspicious of you but in reality you have become the single, most important thing in his life

[weaveandwood]

Writing Prompt - Gale hosts a camp cookout! Everyone has to bring something to the party. Ora gets very flustered watching him cooking, and one thing leads to another...

Anything for you my love! I wanted to have this done closer to the holiday on Monday but here we are.

NSFW Words: 1982 CN: Oral Sex Watching Gale cook was one of Ora’s favorite pastimes. The sharp focus he got when he was doing something he loved was so attractive. From the very beginning of their journey together she had found her eye drawn to him, but especially so when he was cooking - something about the way his forearm muscles flexed, the furrow of his brows, the precision in his cuts. Someone that exacting with food would surely be as exacting in other areas of their lives, a fact Ora found out first hand almost a tenday ago, when he confessed he loved her and proved his diligence to her pleasure almost every day since. His attention to detail, whether it was spell casting, cooking, or remembering the exact amount of freckles that were sprinkled across her hipbone was one of the traits about Gale she loved the most. 

Now, with Ketheric Thorm out of the picture and Gale very obviously not blown up, he had suggested a celebration dinner where everyone would bring their own dish to the courtyard at the Last Light Inn and contribute to the meal before the party left on the road to Baldur’s Gate with the sunrise the next morning. Not one to relinquish complete control of the meal, he offered to cook the main dish, and claimed his usual prep spot in their campsite, leaving the others to find somewhere else to work on their contributions. Auroria walked up to Gale holding a loaf of bread that she managed to talk Jaheira out of.

“The best hunter in our party shows up with a loaf of bread?” He teased. “No matter, it will go perfectly with what I have planned,” he smiled and kissed her cheek as she pulled over a stool to keep him company while he cooked.

“I’ll have you know it took plenty of effort to get Jaheira to give up this loaf of bread. I’m positive the only reason she did was because we took out Ketheric. She also gave me this,” she smiled as she held up a bottle of wine, one of the better bottles housed in the basement of the Last Light Inn.

“Another thank you gift?” Gale asked, taking the bottle and looking at the label. “I’ve had this before, this is an excellent wine. Almost too good to be enjoyed at a party, better to be shared in more intimate surrounds,” he lowered his voice and winked - winked! -  as he put the bottle under the table, obvious in his intention to take it back to his tent to drink alone with Ora later that night. After they finished whatever battle, scouting mission, or strategy session they had for the day, she loved spending wine-drunk evenings with him while he read to her, his warm voice making even the most academic of passages sound downright sinful, often leading to other sinful acts before the night was over.

As he resumed his culinary work, the rhythmic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board took Auroria back to the thumping of the bed against the wall the previous night, when the two of them managed to secure one of the rare private quarters at the inn - the first thank you gift from Jaheira after defeating Ketheric and restoring Reithwin, breaking the Shadow Curse. After so many nights spent together in bedrolls on the hard ground, sharing a bed, a real bed, was revelatory. They had chased their first releases that night quickly, desperately, a confirmation of their survival, of defying the gods. A fire burned within her as she watched his elegant hands curve around the knife handle much in the same way they curved around the back of her neck whenever he kissed her deeply. 

Why did he have to push his sleeves up like that? It was maddening how she couldn’t draw her gaze away from them or the tendons working in his hands as he grabbed a tomato. The way his hair fell forward into his face as he leaned over, slicing it - each slice precisely the same thickness. The way he bit his lip as he looked for the next ingredient needed. Was she standing too close to the fire? It was suddenly very hot in this area of the camp. 

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” He asked, catching her staring at him. 

“Nothing appropriate,” she smiled. “Have you ever been told just how attractive you are when you cook?” 

He chuckled, slicing an onion now. “Well, considering how my last relationship before you was with a goddess who didn’t require food, and then I was a hermit for over a year…no, no one has ever told me that.” 

She stood up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face before leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Well, let me be the one to tell you that every time I watch you cook, I want to peel all your clothes off right then and there and give you as much attention as you give these vegetables.” She planted a kiss on his neck, knowing it drove him wild, confirmation coming in the form of a low groan. “And since we are the only two people in the camp right now, we should take advantage of it,” she said as she nipped his earlobe. 

He set the knife down, kissing her. “As much as I want to take you to my tent and give you every attention, there’s still some prep to do before we are supposed to reconvene at the Last Light Inn, my love. I promise to leave you doubly satisfied before you sleep tonight.” 

“You always do, and I will hold you to that,” she laughed. “But I said I wanted to give you all the attention, remember?” She kissed him again and pressed her body against his, feeling his growing desire for her. She reached between them, her hand rubbing his growing erection through his pants. 

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers. She felt him gasp against her as she reached inside his waistband, under his undergarments and felt him, growing harder as her fingertips brushed over him. 

He broke the kiss and looked at her, a hint of nervousness on his face. “Out here, Ora? What if someone comes back to camp?” 

She kissed his neck again, smiling against it. “You are Gale of Waterdeep, I have utter faith that you would figure something out,” she smiled as she unbuttoned the front of his pants and loosened the laces on his briefs, enough to keep him covered but grant his hardness enough freedom for her to wrap her hand around it. His sharp intake of breath encouraged her and she started slowly stroking him, feeling him grow even harder in her hand. “I would have you right here, but I know you value privacy, and your tent is just over there,” she whispered. “Maybe you can take just a short break?”

“Gods, Ora, you will be the death of me. But I will die a happy man.” He kissed her and took her hand, putting aside his current duty and leading her to his tent, lowering the flap behind them. 

He put his hands on her hips and kissed her deeply. Her hands wrapped around his back, pulling them closer together. He reached between them for the bottom of her shirt, his hands running under the hem, against the soft skin of her stomach.

“Take it off,” he whispered. 

Auroria nodded, pulling off her shirt, leaving her in only her bralette, much to Gale’s dismay. When they stole time together at the end of the day she never wore anything under her shirts. He ran his fingers along the edge of the embroidered fabric, dipping just barely inside it to feel the even softer skin of her breast. His other hand drifted down, rubbing her over the fabric of her leggings. A soft moan escaped her lips. 

“Gale, I’m supposed to be giving you the attention, remember?” She laughed, her knees almost buckling from the friction between her legs and the way he was looking at her, a man starving. Like he hadn’t feasted from her the night previous, like they hadn’t spent the morning in each others arms, bringing each other into relaxed bliss as the sun rose. She reached between them, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. Gods, she thought, admiring his chest, running her hands over it. 

“You’re so perfect,” she whispered, kissing down his neck, over the orb marking, down his chest. “Now, take off your pants, my love.” She smiled as he gladly acquiesced, standing naked before her as she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him. She looked up at him as she wrapped her hand around him again, hearing him gasp as she stroked, his fingertips resting on her shoulders for balance. 

“Let me touch you,” he whispered. It was still difficult for him to accept receiving pleasure with no expectation of anything in return, no matter how many times she told him she enjoyed it as much as he did. She looked up at him, making eye contact as she flattened her tongue, licking the length of his hardness before taking just the tip in her mouth. 

She thought he might fall over. His eyes darkened with lust and he moaned loudly. His hands went to her hair, tangling in it as she took him farther into his mouth, sucking softly. One of her hands traced up his thigh, feeling the muscles underneath his gorgeous skin before settling on his hip. 

“That feels so good,” he said, watching her intently, his hips starting to rock in tandem with her hand and mouth, making her take him deeper. She hummed against him, loving the feeling of him against her tongue. She stroked him from base to tip, her mouth following, drawing new and louder sounds out of him. She was suddenly glad they were the only ones at camp - she loved when he let himself get lost in pleasure. His hips rocked faster, urging her to suck harder, faster, deeper. His hands were on her head, guiding her as he set the pace. 

She could feel his body stiffen, his breathing become more labored as he neared the edge of his release. She moaned against him, looking up and catching his eyes as the vibrations went through him. He looked down at her. He looked so undone, she had such power over him in this moment. 

“I’m going to…I’m almost…” he whispered. He maintained eye contact with her as he gave two more quick thrusts with his hips, crying out loudly as waves of pleasure washed over him, sending him over the edge. Auroria felt him pulse and throb in her mouth as his release coated her tongue before she swallowed it. 

“Gods, I love you,” he said, smiling as he reached down and stroked her face before helping her stand up.

She kissed him deeply. “I love you too. Thanks for letting me distract you for a moment,” she smiled as he pressed his forehead against hers. “We should probably get back out there and finish up. I’ll even help.”

“Ora, I’m not sure that’s the boon you think it is,” he laughed, remembering the last time she helped him unsuccessfully. 

She smiled and narrowed her eyes at him. “Get your clothes on wizard, and I’ll see you at the inn, then. And don’t think I won’t hold you to your promise of making sure I’m doubly satisfied tonight!” She laughed as she walked out of the tent. 

He smiled and shook his head as he reached for his discarded clothes. Gods, he was glad he didn’t blow himself up.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I was wondering if you had any thoughts on reader hosting a dinner party with Dr. Kemp for his… clients, shall we say?

Thoughts on reader hosting a dinner party with Dr. Steve Kemp for his “clients”

Pairings: Steve Kemp x Female Reader

Summary: Steve and you hosting a dinner party for his “clients”.

Warnings: Fluff, little bit of implied Smut (18+), language, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 I have a few thoughts for this and I decided to turn this into a little headcanon

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

First of all, Steve would tell you to be a good girl and he would tell you to keep it a secret of why you’re not in the basement. He would say something like…

“Be a good girl tonight, sweetheart. You know what happens when you’re not a good girl.” or “Don’t say a word about why you’re not in the basement to the others. It’s our secret.”

Steve would buy you a pretty dress to wear.

He would tell you to interact with the others like everything is normal.

“Act normal and interact with everyone else.”

You know better than to be nervous during dinner, but you still get nervous. You just try your best to not let it show.

Steve whispering soft praises in your ear through the night.

“You’re being such a good girl tonight.” “You’ll be heavily awarded tonight.”

[pinetrees-in-the-water]

Slender mansion headcanons?

Aight anon you didnt mention who to write for so I'm gonna write about all my favs, also this will be infuenced by my personal rewrite so I hope you dont mind!!

(Charcters included: Jeff, Ben, Nina, Toby, EJ, Clockwork, Jane, Masky/Tim, The Operator and a hint of Laughing Jack)

I'll make a part 2 as soon as I can because I have way too many thoughts about the Mansion to fit in one post.

Thank you for the ask!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

◇Slender Mansion Headcanons◇

◇Part 1◇

• Actual fucking chaos

• Thank god the Mansion is so deep in the woods because they would have been reported for SEVERAL noise complaints.

• Ben and Jeff usually play videogames late into the night (usually old PS2 titles, horror or multiplayer games) and Jeff has almost 0 voice control.

• So Tim (or Jane) usually has to barge in and yell at them to keep it down, not that he sleeps much anyways but theyre annoying and Nina is a light sleeper.

• Ben, Clockwork and Tim are all insomniacs so they usually all play board games or go for long drives together, Ben has successfully gotten them into dnd.

• Ben is pretty bad at taking care of himself because he just kinda....forgets due to his ADHD so everyone in the mansion gives him their little reminders or help out.

• Whether its Nina brushing his hair, Jane bringing him dinner when he forgot to eat or Toby essentially throwing him in the shower (never the bathtub his phobia of deep water is too strong and everyone in the mansion is mindful of it)

• Nina, Jeff and Ben all have movie nights every Tuesday. Occasionally the other members of the mansion will join them if the're free but they all have different hunting schedules set by The Operator.

•Nina screams at every jumpscare in a horror movie, her screams are so loud that EJ can hear it from the basement.

• The Operator himself doesn't live in the Mansion although it is his. Hes rarely seen or heard from, only leaving notes around the house. The only one really fond of him is Nina.

• The Operator usually leaves breakfast on the table in the morning for all of them, Clockwork has a small feeling that he doesn't like Jeff because his eggs are never done the way he likes.

• Speaking of Clockwork, the only people she really relaxes around are Toby and EJ, otherwise shes the resident strong, scary, silent type. Ben was low-key scared of her at first but theyre cool now.

• She has major anger issues so his fears are validated, she mostly does a good job of hiding it and generally is very friendly although her bluntness comes of as being mean sometimes.

• EJ and Clockwork usually give each other book and audio drama podcast reccomendations. They're so comfortable around each other that everyone though they were dating at first (They're not).

• EJ was studying to be a surgeon before he got into this mess, his skills carried over and he acts like the in house doctor for the mansion, frequently gets annoying at Tim's smoking.

• EJ honestly spends more time in his lab in the basement than his actual room, he doesn't let many people down there for "sanitation" reasons but everyone else knows its just to keep the teenagers from being more traumatized than they already are.

• Nobody goes into the attic as The Clown (Laughing Jack) lives there, they're all a little afraid of him but he only leaves and enters the room through the attic so hes never seen in the rest of the house.

• Jane had to go into the attic to speak to The Clown once on instruction of The Operator and acted out of character for the rest of the week, keeping all the cupboards and wardrobes in her vicinity open at all times.

• Jane and Tim are often regarded as "The Parents" of the Mansion as they're the oldest, both being in their mid to late 30s, everyone MOSTLY respects them enough to listen.

• Nina treats Clockwork and Jane like big sisters and often finds every excuse to tag along and spend time with them, usually ends up rambling about random fanfiction or a new show she's watching while they listen.

• Clockwork and Toby are like Ben and Jeff just older. Two peas in a pod, they go everywhere together and Clockwork becomes a little more unhinged around him. They've been hiding a stolen stoplight in Toby's room for 3 months and nobody has noticed yet.

• Toby and Jeff either get along a little too well or are fist fighting there is no in between. They're both loose canons. Nobody can tell if they're friends or hate each other.

• Toby and Nina both get along well as they're able to understand and read each other better than the other mansion members due to their shared experience having bpd.

• Toby often accompanies Nina on missions and looks out for her, similar to an older brother, and Nina goes on frequent trips with him to help bring firewood for the Mansion.

• They have their moments but overall everyone gets along pretty well.

[its-in-the-woods]

The Woman Who Couldn’t Die Part 9

master list

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Original Character

Synopsis: “I don’t know if I can lose someone again.”

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: This is based on Fallout expect typical horror as well as: Blo0d, G0re, Death, Bodily injury, mentions of SH, death, drugs use, soft!cooper, angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, Dead dove,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

*thank you to everyone that reads <3 You all make the world go round. I've really fallen in love with this story

The next two outposts were the same burnt outside, body parts, and not much else. The third one left Cooper feeling frustrated as they went over the whole place trying to find something worthwhile. Food, water, and chems were low. They could probably go a few more days, but it was making his fingers itch. He didn’t like to run low on anything, as it would mean withdrawals, withdrawals lead to going feral. He glances over at Jade, he was not going feral. No. They’d figure this out, or he’d off himself before that happened. 

Jade had started lifting floorboards around a desk, the woman was convinced something was under the floor. Ghoul was less optimistic, it wasn’t the first time she’d torn into a wall or floor thinking there might be more behind it. Jade hadn’t said much about whatever was happening, she’d curl up against him at night, and while they walked she’d occasionally hold his hand. She’d kissed him a couple of times too, it left him feeling slightly dizzy, the world didn’t feel so dark with her in it. She was a vicious killing machine when it called for, but also full of ridiculous optimism. How? He didn’t try to understand. The more he learned about her life the more he questioned why she kept going. Why did anyone keep going? Jade just wanted to live, she lived for each day, and each morning. Somehow grateful that she got to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

“Yes!” He hears her call out, taking him out of his thoughts. She had dropped down below the floor, just her hand sticking up out of the hole she jumped into. “Chems!”

The Ghoul moves over looking down into the dark hole. Jade had a big smile on her dirt-covered face shaking the case of chems above her head like she’d struck gold. He reached down, grabbing the box before placing them on the old table. Opening it up, six bottles of his chem, he couldn’t help the small smile tug on his lips.  

“Hell yah,” He says, turning to look back down at her, there were half a dozen or so crates scattered over the basement. She was going through each carefully, a small stack of cans beside her, some water purifying tablets.  

“Start passing stuff up’er, Pip-Squeak.” Cooper leaning down, she turns face to him, now covered in more dust and dirt. She grabbed a few things wrapping them up in her coat to hand to the man. 

“Think we should be good for a little while now,” Jade smiles at him, he couldn’t help the way his heart twitches seeing her grinning.  She looks at him like the sun revolves around him, eyes lit up like fire. 

“Grab whatever else, then we should get you outta here, don't know what could be down there.” He states, squatting down to hand her the jacket again. 

After one more load, he helps Jade out from under the floor, they are both covered in dirt. Jade was over the moon with her small find, “This should keep us supplied until we get to the next town. God I hope we get to -”

A click of a gun had Cooper whirling his own gun up, as he turns to face the two men who stand in the doorway. He fires at them, his other hand pushing Jade down, he hears her drop as gunfire goes off. His gun blasts a hole in one of the men, the man falls as the other blasts scattershot. The shot hitting the Ghoul in the chest, but that didn’t stop him, instead the Ghoul was already aiming his gun at the man. The blast coming out and blowing the man's hand clear off. Another shot from outside hit the Ghoul's side, Jade standing up beside him firing at the man. Her speed and accuracy were no match for the other man as he was hit by both of them. The one man was dead on the floor, the other screaming holding the stump of his hand up. The man outside had chunks out of him but was taking off. Cooper was already at the door grabbing the man and dragging him back to the door. Jade stood over the blood-covered man as he begged her to end it. 

“Why are you here!” She yells at him, Cooper slamming the other man’s blood body beside the door. The other man was coughing and sputtering blood all over the ground as he oozed. 

“There’s a bounty on you two,” The man sobs, his face starting to go pale as blood gushes out of him. He wouldn’t be long for this world, not without them fixing up his stump, which isn't going to happen. 

“A bounty huh,” The Ghoul said, crouching in front of him, watching him try to squirm away from his gaze.

“You killed the wrong guy's brother, Ghoul,” The man beside the door choked out, blood foaming down his face. His eyes were going in and out of focus, words more a slur than speak. 

“Whose brother!” Jade gritted, her hand grabbing stumpy's stump and pushing a finger in. 

The man howled, “Stop, please. Please no more.” He whimpered tears covering his dirt-smeared face. “Joel, Joel Pedro. Dom Pedro’s brother, you dumb cunt.”

Jade looked up at the Ghoul, the two immediately recognizing the name. The ghoul handed her a knife, she took the knife and cut his throat, blood squirting out as he sputtered and choked. 

The Ghoul had a foot on the other man pressing it down into its chest, the man wailing as he pushed on it, “Who the fuck is Dom Predo?”

The man shrivels back, squirming in his own icker. “He’s coming for yah Ghoul. He’s going to take you and the experiment girl alive.”

Cooper shot him without hesitation, the splash of blood on the doorway dripping down. Jade stood there with a confused look on her face, before moving towards the bodies, digging around in pockets. She pulls out a sheet of paper, unfolds it, and holds it up to the Ghoul. 

His face sans hat was on there, and beside him was a poorly done drawing of Jade. Both drawings were half-assed but it was clearly them. A large bounty for them both found alive, less if they were dead. A bit more info was below, they were to be brought to the southern west coast. Details were sparse but it was enough to give them a direction. 

“Well fuck, looks like you got your first bounty on your head, Tiny” The Ghoul states before he folds up the paper and puts it back into his pocket. Trying not to think too hard on the fact that Jade was now in danger because of him. 

“First? You’ve had this happen before?” Jade pushes, Cooper shrugging as he starts to go over the dead men. He had lost track of how many times someone had wanted his head on a platter, it never ended well for the ones looking for him. You didn’t stay alive for this long without killing a few fellas. 

“Won’t be doin’ good if I wasn’t on the boards myself,” He said, grabbing a good bag of caps from one of the men, they’d be well stocked now. The Ghoul pondering a change of course now that there was a bounty on their heads. 

“How’d they know it was us?” Jade asks, pulling out some ammo and pocketing it. Her pants and bag were already heavily weighed down by her findings. 

“Always someone watching, could have been someone in one of the towns or outposts that recognized you.” He replies, fishing out a couple vials of chem, as well as another inhaler. Never hurt to have a spare one or three. The old saying, ‘One is none, and two is one’, came to mind.  

Jade sitting back on her heels looking at the mess, “I wish I could remember their faces, at least we could avoid them then.”

The Ghoul watching her, he could see the wheels turning in her head, he got up and went to her. Crouching beside Jade to look at the body, really what was left of the body. 

“Look’er, I can give you some bullshit 'bout how it’s gonna be okay. That they’ll never catch us dead or alive. But I know you Jade, you’ve seen this world for what it is. It ain’t gonna get better, you decided to follow me. You decided to jump down that creature's throat. We both know that chances of us makin’ it to the other side unscared, much less alive, is low.”  He states, he didn’t know why he needed a speech, but it felt right. “Now ya can try and dig those memories up, to make sense of it’ll. But I’ve been wandering this bullshit for two hundred years, and most memories that’re gone are best left gone.”

Jade looked at him, brown eyes watching him before she stands up and stretches, audible pops as she moves. “I think that’s the most words you’ve said to me.”

The Ghoul huffed, “Yeah, you're welcome, Pip-Squeak. Good it gets me.” He rolls his shoulder under the duster grabbing his bag, hoping that maybe some of the words crept into that thick skull of hers. 

Jade has a small smile as she goes back into the building rummaging through the last dead body. “Well, it does get you a bunch of Chems, and a good amount of caps. I am not a completely useless sidekick”

She jingled the cap and held out the chems, the Ghoul took them. Letting his hand linger on her fingers a little longer. Watching as her cheeks go a little pink, the girl had just killed three people with him and was now blushing at the touch of his glove. Maybe he was still stuck in the forest somewhere living in a daydream.

“Think we should head south at the next intersection.” He said as he stashes the bottles in his bag, Jade doing the same thing, making sure all their loot was tucked away.

“Why south?” Jade asks, closing up her own bag. The Ghoul was grateful to see her not wincing when she shifted it onto her back. He had taken out the stitches at the second outpost. Most of her bruises and cuts are now gone, but he'd catch her every now and again wincing in pain. “Thought we would be heading west?”

The Ghoul pulls out the paper that had their bounty on it. Rereading the words.“Want to know more about this fella. Dom Pedro. So we know what we are walking into.”

“Walking into?” Jade pries, as she walks over to him. “Are we planning on going after him?”

“Won't be who I was if I ran from every slimsnake that wanted my head.” He clicked his tongue, standing up and taking a hit of chem, the numbness easing his mind. “I know of a small town that should be able to get us some information. If you're game?”

Jade shrugs, looking around the place, before back at him. “Don't got any other plans.”

They continued west until they hit a crossroads, the beat-to-hell pavement more sand and gravel than the once black tarmac. Jade stands beside her companion watching him look at the different directions. His eyes squinting, head tipping as he listens. His senses were much sharper than hers, he often stop to do just this. Listen, look, smell, and take stock of what is around them. Since the forest incident, he had been extra cautious about anywhere they went. Constantly making her stay somewhere so he could scope it out. Jade would have called it annoying, but really she knew he was just trying to keep her safe. 

As he turns she saw the wreckage of the scattershot he had taken. Grimacing a little at the wounds, she hopes he’d let her dig them out. It had to be painful, right? He finally faces south, squirting down the way.

“What is it?” Jade finally asks, trying to see what he could. She moves to stand right behind him, shifting the weight of her bag on her shoulders. Regretting having taken those extra cans of cram, the bag's weight pressing down on her tender joints. 

The Ghoul huffs, rolling his shoulders, “I am not sure, something feels wrong.” Jade tried to let her senses feel out, when she had been in the forest she had felt the strangest, the wrongness of the place. Here though, it didn’t feel any different than any of the other trails they’d been on. 

Jade shifts her weight onto her other foot. The thought that they could be going down another fucked up forest trail was not high on her to-do list. “Can we not go that way?” She gestures towards the western trail. 

He turns to her, looking to where she is pointing. “You scared now pip-squeak? Thought you went on instinct.”

Jade rolls her eyes at him, at the moment her instincts are dull. She had blamed it on the many stimpaks and med-x shots she’d taken, but standing there she wondered if it was something else. “Instinct would like me to live, not go through another monster-being-dropped-on-my-head forest walk,” Jade replies sarcastically, trying not to let the fear creep into her voice. 

The Ghoul let out a wheezing cough of laughter, a crooked smile on his face, “Yeah, I would rather not carry your dead weight around.” Jade gives him a dirty look at the comment, “We should keep going West then, it will be a bit roundabout.”

“Roundabout, but alive sounds better than, straightforward and dead.” Jade sighs, turning towards the western path. She is about ten steps down the road before realizing he hasn’t moved yet, “You losin' it, old man.” 

The Ghoul turns towards her, eyes covered by the shade of his hat. “Dotcha think it’s a little odd, how everytime we try to go in a directions somethin is standin in our way?”

Jade shrugs again, she hadn’t really thought about it that much. Really she hadn’t thought further than the next place they slept. Was it weird? Maybe, but this was the Wastes, and it wasn’t uncommon to run into issues. 

“It’s really only the one time?” Jade said, walking back over to him. “Not like we’ve been traveling for months here.” 

“Fifteen days,” The Ghoul said, still staring down the southern path. Jade standing beside him, wondering why he had kept track of how many days. Maybe it was an old-world way she didn’t understand. 

“If you really want to go south, we can,” Jade states, yeah she was not really up for another battle, but she wasn’t going anywhere without him either. Sense dulled or not, she couldn’t imagine being alone out here. The realization that she is heavily relying on him, made her heart clench. Did he even feel the same way? Was this a hint that they would be splitting?

The Ghoul turns to her, his hazel eyes looking over her face. Jade held his eye contact, wishing he would just tell her what he was thinking instead of staring at her. The silence was always so much worse than the arguing. 

“Well, let’s go,” He said, moving past her down the western trail, in a flurry of material swishing behind him.

Jade’s shoulders slump as she follows him, working hard to keep up with his long-legged pace. Wondering why he had decided to move at the speed of sound all of sudden. She thought about his comment, about how there always seemed to be something in their way. 

“What did you mean back there,” She finally asks, “About something being in our way?”

The Ghoul was quiet, Jade’s boots echoing around them as they moved. Jade stops, waiting for the Ghoul to do the same. He turns back looking at her, she still couldn’t make out the expression on his face. Maybe this was it, he had finally decided he was done carrying her dead weight.

“What?” He asks, throwing his hands up. “We're going West, will go around. Save us the headache of finding another critter.”

“What do you mean what?” Jade asks, “You were standing there like you were contemplating the meaning of life instead of which direction we should go."

“Just doesn’t feel right is all.” Ghoul huffs, making as if he is going to leave but doesn’t move much. Instead pacing back and forth. “We should.” He swallows, looking away towards the trees. “I can’t,”

Jade is moving towards him, but he is still staring off face covered in shadow. “What is it? Is this ‘cause of the bounty? Thought you said this wasn’t uncommon?”

“It’s not safe traveling with me. Yah got a bounty on your head, you almost got killed. Cause you are following me.” The last words are so quiet she almost doesn’t hear them, his shoulders drawn up like he was trying to hide himself away from her. 

Jade stands in front of him, seeing the pain in his eyes makes her heartache. The holes in his chest had mostly stopped bleeding, but would need to be tended to. At the moment his mind was what needed tending. She reaches up to touch his face, but he moves away from her touch.

“Stop it.” He says, the words holding no venom, he takes a step back from her. Jade wasn’t having it, moving backward with him.

“Me? Stop it?” Jade cusses, “You think I can’t make my own choices?” This time when she reaches for him she pushes him backwards. He barely moves, head tipped down, not looking at her. “Treating me like a child.” Jade is now raising her voice, “I am here, following you. Cause I want to be here.” She shoves him again, “My life has been a living hell for years, and the last however many fuckin days, have been some of the best ones. Even if the monster almost killed me.”

She goes to shove him again, the Ghoul is grabbing both her wrists holding them in iron-like vices. He pushes her back, she stumbles until her back hits a tree with a thump. Thankful that her backpack cushions it. Jade’s hands are pinned against the branch, the Ghoul is right in her face, eyes lit like fire as he glares down at her. Jade's Heart pounding in her chest as his eyes flow over her face. 

“You are so frustrating,” He growls at her, Jade staring right back at him with just as much venom, “I can’t keep you safe forever.”

Jade grits her teeth, struggling against his grip, knowing she most likely won’t break free. But there was no way in hell she was going down easily. “I am not asking you to. You vacuum-sealed raisin.”

A small smile twitches his lips at her insult, “Look who's talking, smooth skin.” 

Then he leaned down and pressing his lips against hers. Jade froze for a moment, brain trying to figure out how they went from arguing to kissing. Pushing that out of her mind, she pushes back, the bridge of his nose bumping against hers, the warm brush of air as he breathes out. Her whole body reacts when he opens his mouth and sucks her lip into his, keening as she pushes her body against his. Feeling her wrists being let go, his hands traveled down her body, pulling her close. She reached down and held his face, his rough skin under her hands, feeling each scar and mark. Trying to remember the way they felt and how he tastes, all of it. 

As suddenly as it started it stopped, the Ghoul pulling away, resting his forehead against hers, hat shading both of them. Their breath mixes as they try and catch it, hearts thundering under their clothes. 

“I don’t need you to save me,” Jade whispers, opening her eyes so she can see him. Feeling how his brow furrows at the words. “I just need you with me. For however long we get.” His breath is evening out, eyes still closed, Jade wishing he would look at her. “Please, I don’t know how long I will get. But I’d rather spend it with you.”

She hears him swallowing, his hand coming to cover the sides of her face. “I don’t know if I can lose someone again.”

The hurt in his voice had Jade wrapping her arms around him, hugging him close to her body. Feeling him tremble a little as she held on, refusing to let go of him. She didn’t care about anything else but holding onto him. Holding onto a man, who had seen every part of his world destroyed. Lost family, friends, and more to this horrid wasteland. 

“I will follow you, wherever you go. Until this world of ours ends,” Jade whispers, holding him tight for a moment more.

Part 10

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[countrymusiclover]

18 - Mr and Mrs. Cooper

( image from Pinterest )

Part 19

The Texas Tire Family

Tags just ask - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley

Missy ran down a hallway to the last bedroom putting her baseball and mit away. She came back grinning ear to ear. “So my brothers are weird. My dad drinks beer and my mom is really strong about god. Other than that I’m the normal one.”

“Okay I’ll keep that in mind.” I nodded, putting my hands inside the pockets of my jacket until the back room opened.

I noticed Sheldon was carrying some mittens in his hand and he stood in front of us. “You’re Y/n from my math class that sits in the front row. You did well on our last test. Not as good as me but not bad.”

“Uh thanks Sheldon. Can I ask why you have mittens?” I made the mistake the first night I had dinner with his family.

Missy rolled her head back. “Oh no.”

“I don’t know where your hands have been. I don’t want to risk the likelihood that you have some kind of disease. There are too many in the world.” He explained moving around us to watch a science tv show.

The back door opens and I saw their mother come in with some brisket getting the table set in the dining room. The bedroom door in front of me and Missy opened and I smiled seeing it was Georgie. “Hey Georgie.”

“Hey Y/n.” He smiled wearing a yellow tea shirt with a football number on it. He had blue jeans on with henna shoes. I gulped feeling nervous since I was just wearing a Texas tea shirt that was light blue and some dark blue jeans with my hair in a ponytail.

The three of us headed into the kitchen seek Mr. Cooper had come in from work wearing his red coach gear. “Hey ya’ll. Georgie, did you invite a girl from school to dinner?”

“No!” He fought back.

Missy piped up. “I did.”

“Alright well let’s eat.” He shrugged his shoulders sitting down at the end of the table. Missy sat across from me. Georgie and Sheldon were on the same side.

Someone entered the house where I saw an older woman sit down at the other end across from George Senior. “Hey ya’ll who’s the new girl?”

“Y/n, ma’am.” I smiled while putting some brisket on my plate.

She smiled at me. “Call me Connie.” Mrs. Cooper had us all take hands while she blessed the food before we all dug in.

“This is really good, meemaw.” Georgie told Connie with his mouth full of meat.

She sat her fork down on her plate. “Really good. You’re spitting the best brisket in Texas all over the damn table.” I snort covering my mouth with my hand holding the fork trying not to laugh out loud.

“Close your mouth.” His mom said.

Sheldon suggested back. “Or aim your face the other way before you spit on Y/n.”

“You're acting like a barn animal. Y/n probably won’t ever kiss ya.” Missy stuck her tongue out towards her brother causing my face to turn red at the thought.

Georgie hit his other hand on the table where I glanced out the corner of my eye seeing that he was blushing too where a smile grew on my face. “Shut up, Missy. I ain’t gonna kiss the girl in my class that you invited to dinner.”

“I bet you a dollar that you will get with her in two years.” She challenged him.

I added on playing her game smirking at Georgie. “When she is going into middle school.”

“Oh yay!” Missy leaned across the table high fiving me grinning with me. Unknown to either of us it would actually happen when we were both sixteen years old.

Georgie and I were huddled up as close as we could be. Aurora, Eve and Montana in between us with the storm crashing outside the upstairs of the church. I didn’t know how long we had been down in the basement. But it was scary as hell that much I knew. Clutching my eyes shut tightly I whimpered like a dog until someone peeked outside announcing to our group. “The storm has passed now. We can go check out the damage.”

Everyone got to their feet and shuffled outside as best as we could. Georgie got to his feet first helping me to stand on my own two feet. “I’m sorry about your dress, darling.” He dropped his gaze downward to my wedding gown.

“It’s just a dress, Georgie. I’m more relieved that my family is safe.” I shrug my shoulders pushing hair behind my ear. The dress was stained with dust and dirt on the bottom train but otherwise it was white still for the most part.

Aurora and Eve ran towards the main doors pushing them open. I was carrying Montana in my arms where he was drooling a little on my shoulder. “Mommy, look at the truck.” Eve points out where we both gasped in relief.

“Holy crap.” I sighed seeing that a large tree limb was laying right beside our car meaning it was fine but it definitely was a close call.

Georgie put a hand on my shoulder squeezing it gently. “Things could have been worse.”

“Thank you lord.” His mother said, holding her hands together praying to the sky.

Sheldon just glanced at Amy who gave him a look. “Don’t say it.”

“She probably will say God sent the storm and then took it away.” He didn’t listen and said it anyway.

Connie came over to us pulling a box of firecrackers in her hands. “I thought I’d get you two of these as a wedding present. Since Mary is going to be watching your kids tonight.”

“Oh mom.” Mary rolled her eyes.

Georgie glanced down at me wrapping his arm around my waist tugging me into his side smirking. “Take you back doesn’t it, Y/n?”

“For sure. At least this time we won’t have to worry about being grounded.” I chuckled at him, grinning up at him. I would remember that night forever.

Mary came over gently picking up Montana from my arms. “I know your father would be happy if he was here. You’re a good father and husband Georgie.”

“Mommy, can we throw the poppers?” Eve asked tugging on the side of my gown.

I bent down handing the box to my husband, opening my arms for her. “Unfortunately no sweetheart. They are for your father and me. But we will let you throw some if we don’t use them all. Now give me a hug.”

“I love ya.” She mumbled jumping into my arms hugging me gently.

She ran towards her daddy jumping up into his arms where he grunted at how fast she ran at him. “Woah Eve. I love ya too.”

“Rora, behave for Connie.” I warned our eldest daughter when I noticed something in her pocket when she walked over to her father hugging him. “And don’t set you or your sister on fire with that cracker in your jacket pocket.”

Georgie smiled when I sent him a raised brow. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t give it to her.”

“Sure, you didn’t Mr. Cooper.” I trailed off, raising myself to stand heading over to his truck. Georgie came over to me making me squeal when he picked me up bridal style sitting me in the passenger seat. He got in the driver's seat taking us back to our house that was down the road from Connie’s.

We finally had gotten enough money to move out of the apartment and buy a house of our own. Georgie opened his door coming over to my side where I wrapped my arms around his neck when he picked me up again. “Georgie, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this now.”

“Neither can I, babe. Now let’s do this the right way.” He opened the door when I grabbed the keys from his back pocket. After fiddling with the lock I got it open since he was still carrying me in his arms. “Welcome home, Mrs. Cooper.”

My dress hit the floor where I spun around underneath his arm when he gave me a spin. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper. I love you, Georgie. Just thought I needed to say it again.”

“You don't have to stop saying it ever. Cause I love you too. I’ll never stop, darling.” He tugged me against his chest watching when I moved my hands up undoing the tie he had on throwing it off when he shut the door with his boot.

I smiled up at him leaning up on my toes and he closed the gap kissing me slowly. One of his hands moved to the back of my dress tugging on the zipper where I broke the kiss smirking. “We should probably move this to the bedroom.”

“Probably a good idea.” He nodded leading me by our intertwined hands into our bedroom. We both kicked off our shoes and he removed his jacket just being in jeans and his white tea shirt.

Laying down on the bed I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him in for another kiss. He put one hand on my hip, kissing me slowly. His other hand was in my hair tugging on it for a second until he broke the kiss. “What’s wrong?”

“With our track record of when we sleep together I just….I want to make sure you're cool. With ya know maybe a fourth kid and all.” He searched my face for any hesitation and he has done it every time since we were teenagers when we had Aurora.

Running one hand through his hair I drew him in for another kiss. “Georgie, I said this with Eve and I said it with Montana. I ain’t gonna run because you get me pregnant. I love you always. Now kiss me, Mr. Texan.”

“God you don’t know what that nickname does to me.” He smirked quickly trying to shrug his shirt over his head and then helped me remove my dress by tossing it on the chair by the shut bedroom door so it wouldn’t end up on the floor.

Resting my hands on his shoulders I smiled up at him hovering above me. “Probably the same way you call me darling. Every time it drives me crazy and I love you for it.”

“And I’ll never stop cause you're always going to be my darling.” He smiled wrapping his arms around me when I put my legs around his waist pressing my lips onto his. The rest of the night was spent in bed enjoying being in each other's arms finally as a married couple after ten years.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[corrodedseraphine]

timezone | #2 so fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (mentions of her having long hair and bigger thighs), chrissy cunningham x robin buckley

chapter summary: Keeping his promise, Eddie heads to sunny California immediately after his second tour to find his friends and, more importantly, the girl who hasn't left his heart despite being out of touch for about three years. Full of hope, he ends up at a bar with a strangely familiar name. The evening turns out to be full of surprises, not just for him.

the story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

songs that I used here: BABY SAID and TIMEZONE by Måneskin

as always, thank you @i-me-mine for help and support, if not for you most of my works wouldn't be published 🥺

I can't count how many times I've changed something here, when I wrote the chapter, everything seemed to look good, but now I have extremely mixed feelings about it. I will be happy if you like it, but I will also understand if you don't, thank you for reading anyway ♥

"How can I help?" a middle-aged woman asked, smiling warmly. If someone had told Eddie a few years ago that he would find himself in this place as he is now he would have laughed at them. Looking around, he felt definitely out of place. The fact that he could now afford to be here still seemed like a bizarre dream.

"We, uh- We are looking for an engagement ring." he said, smiling shyly.

"The most beautiful one you have!" Gareth added patting Eddie on the back. All day long he couldn't stop being happy that he was the one Eddie had asked for help.

They had just finished their second tour which meant a few months off and then hard work on the new album. When the others heard that Eddie's next destination was now California, they joined their friend in renting a big house by the beach together, as was appropriate for rock stars, taking Chrissy with them, who got the exclusive use of the entire basement where she set up a small apartment. The Corroded Coffin boys were also clued into Chrissy's plan right after Eddie agreed to it, and they didn't mind for her to tag along.

"What size?" she asked.

"What?" asked Eddie still lost in thought.

"What size of a ring?"

"Oh! I-I don't know…" he scratched the back of his neck nervously, when he felt a metal necklace under his fingers, he got an idea - quickly unfastened it and handed it to the woman. "Like this one."

"Of course." she nodded.

Although the jewelry store wasn't very big the selection they had was overwhelming. Wanting to choose the most perfect one for you they spent more than two hours there. Fortunately, the shop assistant proved to have the patience of an angel.

Typical for a Saturday night, the beach bar was packed to the brim, and fortunately most people were at tables outside sipping colorful drinks. A few people accosted them for an autograph as they walked toward the bar, and when they finally got there, despite the fact that he was standing with his back to them, they immediately recognized the best-styled hair in the room.

"Am I dreaming or is King Steve standing right in front of me?" shouted Gareth teasingly.

"Yeah, it's me don't cream your pants" Steve turned around with a wide smile on his lips and smoothly jumped over the bar. "Good to see you, assholes." he said and greeted everyone with a hug and a pat on the back.

"Well, well, well…" said Eddie smirking. "I knew it was some weirdo who had to call the bar Upside Down," said Eddie.

"I didn't miss you actually." Harrington laughed while hugging his friend.

"I know you did. Missed ya too, big boy."

"Dude this is really yours? All yours?" asked Jeff in disbelief.

"Yup. You should see it from the beach side, I think you'll find a lot of female fans there." He winked at him insisting on the counter. Without waiting any longer Gareth, Jeff and Simon rushed to the outside of the bar.

"So, what brings you here?" asked Steve returning behind the bar.

"The tour just finished…" sighed Eddie. "I think you know what brings me here."

Steve pressed his lips together with a thin line and just nodded.

"Can I get you a drink first? You might need it." he offered. "On the house."

"What's your suggestion?" Eddie leaned against the counter with his elbows.

"I'd say the demobat will appeal to you, but I'm afraid it will be so good it might kill you."

"Charming as always, Harrington." laughed Eddie. "Interesting name by the way."

"I think you'll like the rest of it, too." he replied, slipping him a drink card.

He was right. In addition to demobat, there was demodog, and demogorgon. Although his favorites were in the "specials" category at the bottom of the card. Dusty-bun, Mad Max, amERICA, Will the Wise, Eleven, Sinclair Ranger and Mike the Paladin brought a wide smile to Eddie's face. "Damn, I miss these shitheads." he said.

"Me too. But I'll never admit it to them. Never in my life." Steve shook his head.

"Same here. One Dusty-bun, please." he said in a super-sweet voice.

"Great choice."

Steve silently prepared two same drinks and sat down opposite Eddie when a short brunette ran up to them.

"Babe! Quickly! I need my good luck kiss before we go on stage!" she said and leaned across the bar. Steve eagerly approached her and brought their lips together.

"You will be amazing, honey, as always." he said as they pulled away from each other. Eddie watched them with a goofy grin, and grunted significantly, drawing the two's attention back to himself.

"Aren't you going to introduce your old buddy?" he asked accusingly.

"Oh, I know you. You are this infamous Eddie Munson." the girl replied crossing her arms over her chest and measuring him from top to bottom. Steve snorted seeing her reaction. "I am Layla." She extended her hand toward him.

"Eddie." He replied grabbing it uncertainly. The note of hostility in her voice surprised him more than a little, but he decided not to worry too much about it for now.

"Are you ready?" asked Steve as the girl walked away toward the small stage.

"For what?" he asked puzzled. In response, his friend only nodded in the direction Eddie was about to look.

He wasn't ready. He definitely wasn't ready to see the love of his life walking onto the stage. You stood by the still-off microphone saying something to the boy who was tuning his guitar. Steve's girlfriend took her place behind the drums, and the other, tall blonde girl grabbed the bass. A second boy stood by the keyboard.

Feeling his heart speed up second by second, he didn't take his eyes off you. You were wearing slightly ripped denim shorts and a T-shirt with the logo of your favorite band with a cut-out neckline. Your hair was much longer than he remembered, tied up in two braids. You looked stunning. As soon as you started the show, his mind blew up. You sang in duet with the guitarist, having the time of your life out there. And Eddie couldn't get out of his awe and surprise that this was the same person who just a few years ago avoided being in the spotlight like a fire.

What's your thoughts about religion? Are you close to your mother? Tell me 'bout your dream vacation And all of your ex lovers Tell me now What's that look on your face? She puts her hand on my lips, begging "Please, end this conversation"

Baby said "When you're talking, I go dead" "Shut your mouth, give me your head" I know you really want to Baby said "Let me taste your silhouette" "You can talk between my legs" I know you really want to

He enjoyed it until he started listening to the conversation of two men sitting at the bar next to him.

"I would love to talk between her legs." laughed one of them. Eddie violently turned his head toward him to see the blond man devouring you with his eyes.

"Dude she could crush you with those thighs. She'd have to lose a few pounds first." the other parsed.

"You don't know what's good."

Eddie involuntarily clenched his fist, not knowing which one he should punch first, the one who drooled at the sight of his girlfriend or the one who criticized your look. Steve watched with amusement as he sent them murderous glances, but made no comment. Despite the fact that it was his friend, and he would probably follow him to hell a second time if he had to, he partly thought Eddie deserved a little suffering.

At the same time…

The music in the club was playing loud enough that Chrissy could clearly hear every word of the song. She stood in front of the building nervously rubbing her hands trying to motivate herself to finally go inside. She had been standing there for the past twenty minutes, every now and then changing her mind about whether she should be there at all. In New York she was categorically forbidden to appear in such places, her old manager would have had a heart attack if anyone had seen her around. Now, after breaking her contract and moving to a slightly smaller agency, her manager has made it clear that Chrissy's comfort is most important, showing her support in every way. As long as she acted sensibly and took care of herself, no prohibitions threatened her.

Taking a deep breath, she took two steps forward only to give up moments later and start backing away, bumping into someone along the way.

"Shit, sorry!" the girl shouted and they both turned in one another's direction.

"N-no it's me who's sorry!" she replied raising her eyes to look at her face. "Oh my god, Robin? Robin Buckley?" she asked smiling.

"Chrissy! What a meeting!" she laughed nervously.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to the party." Not expecting such a reunion, Robin definitely didn't know how to behave in Chrissy's company. She felt uncomfortable.

"Right, silly me." The blonde rolled her eyes while knocking lightly on her forehead.

"How about you? Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, I came here alone. My new manager said I should come over here, meet more people like me, but all in all I've never been alone at a party in my life, in high school you know, then at every party Eddie or Gareth or Jeff or Simon was with me, so now I'm standing like an idiot and have been trying to get in for twenty minutes. Actually I don't know why I'm telling you all this, oh my God, you probably think I'm stupid." A waterfall of words came out of her mouth uncontrollably, Robin's presence made her feel nervous, but on the other hand, a part of her wanted their paths to just go like that.

"Chrissy…" began Robin scratching the back of your neck. Despite the fact that the girl standing in front of her was considered the most beautiful woman in the states, and more than once Robin had caught herself looking at covers with her for too long, she also believed that right now an embarrassed and flushed Chrissy looked incredibly cute, which took her even more out of her mind. She knew she shouldn't think like that. Hell, she shouldn't even be talking to her. "You know, uhm, you know this is a gay club, right?"

"Yeah, I know." sending her a meaningful look.

"Oh." Buckley replied looking even more confused. Chrissy Cunningham who was sitting in the first row in church every Sunday, dating the handsomest boys in Hawkins, Eddie Munson's girlfriend, was standing here now saying that in this place she would find people like herself? Not daring to ask for an explanation, she merely nodded and an awkward silence fell between them.

"Maybe…can we go inside and have a drink together? Talk about old times and catch up on current ones?" the blonde finally asked with hope in her voice, to which the other agreed after a moment's thought.

When they went inside Chrissy looked in disbelief at all the people inside. People who were brave enough to be themselves. Disbelief quickly turned into delight when she realized that she wasn't alone and that it wasn't that there was anything wrong with her. The words she had heard in church about people like this, people like her, went through her mind. All those years she had spent in fear of herself, of how much she had sinned with her mere thoughts about Lucy, the assistant captain of the cheerleaders. All those years in which she forced herself into relationships with boys she didn't like one bit, who made her sick when their hand tried to wander under her short cheer uniform skirt.

The hell the pastor was scaring her with no longer impressed her. She had survived hell in 1986 and now she was sure she was a million times stronger than she used to be.

She grew more and more excited as she saw those people enjoying themselves on the dance floor, as two girls not far from her whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears and carelessly showed tenderness. Would she someday be able to experience this too?

Sitting down at the bar, they each ordered a drink initially sitting in silence glancing in each other's direction from time to time. With one more glance and a sip of alcohol through a colorful straw, they both burst out laughing, nodding to each other at the strangeness of the whole situation. Taking the initiative, Chrissy began to ask her about her college, then Robin listened curiously about a recent fashion show where Chrissy was the lead model. As time went on, the conversation got smoother and smoother, the girls became more and more comfortable in each other's company, joking more often and not holding back their tongues. It turned out that Robin makes great parodies of high school teachers, making Chrissy laugh to tears in the process.

A few drinks later, they were both starting to feel a gentle buzz in their heads. Not knowing why, for most of the evening, instead of focusing on what she should be doing, Chrissy couldn't take her eyes off Robin's wildly gesticulating hands and the sparkle in her eye that she noticed when she laughed at her jokes every time. Unfortunately, she also noticed the moment when the sparkle was extinguished and the smile disappeared immediately when a tall black-haired girl, looking a bit older, approached them.

"Hi!" she came up smiling. Robin left her without replying by taking a straw to her mouth and pretending to be busy drinking. The tension between them was palpable. "Can we talk outside?" Still no answer. "Robin, can you stop acting like a child?" That was it, the crack of the dam inside Buckley was nearly audible as she set her drink down on the countertop.

"Oh, sorry, since when is not wanting to talk to the girl who cheated on me childish behavior?" she replied crossing her arms over her chest.

"Come on, I just want to talk!"

"But I don't want to talk to you," she said.

"Do you want to sit here miserably alone the rest of the evening getting drunk?"

"Excuse me." grunted Chrissy. "Robin is not alone here, and it just so happens that we were having a great time before you showed up here." She stood beside her intertwining their fingers. When Robin felt Chrissy's small hand in hers she almost had a heart attack looking at everything with shock. Only when the girl squeezed her hand giving the sign to play along she shook herself and smiled.

"Oh, yes, sorry." she said quickly. "Chrissy, this is Diana, Diana, this is Chrissy." she introduced them to each other.

Diana measured her ex-girlfriend's new companion from top to bottom, feeling out of rhythm. "I didn't know you had a taste for blondes." she said raising an eyebrow. Looking at the petite, gorgeous and adorable blonde who was her complete opposite feeling jelaous.

"Oh she does! We've known each other since high school, we were already crazy about each other! Unfortunately, in a small backward town we couldn't enjoy it like we do here." Taking a step forward Chrissy's hand moved to Robin's waist, gently hugging her.

"W-what? you never said anything..." Diana turned to Robin, but when she didn't manage to say anything, Chrissy continued on, seeing how her lie brought that one out of her groove.

"Our break-up was very hard, and I'm not surprised that Robbie didn't mention anything." Robbie? Oh god why is it so hot in here and why is my heart beating so fast? Calm down Buckley, you don't like at all how she held your hand just now. For God's sake, you don't like at all how she is hugging you! Being too busy talking to herself in her mind she simply let Chrissy continue. "Fortunately, we have found each other again, and this time I have no intention of letting her go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to go dancing with my girlfriend." Without waiting for an answer she dragged Robin to the dance floor.

"Holy shit, Cunningham, what was that?" she breathed out.

"I just wanted to help, she didn't look like she was going to leave you alone." Chrissy shrugged her shoulders. "Now don't just stand there, dance," she said.

"I'm so stressed right now, I think my body has forgotten how to move."

"Silly." She giggled and took Robin's hands placing them on her waist as she began to move her hips in rhythm and after a moment threw her arms around her neck. In Robin's head, the internal conversation with herself turned into a non-stop scream of panic. "Try to follow me. She's still looking at us."

The truth was that Robin had long forgotten about Diana. Her entire thoughts were occupied by the little blonde swaying her hips in front of her and how she shouldn't feel such overwhelming pleasure. She wanted to kill all the butterflies she felt in her stomach.

When she finally joined the dance she tried not to notice that they were getting closer and closer with every step. Somewhere near the end of the song there was no visible break between them, together with the fading melody they stopped moving however they did not let go of each other's embrace. Breathing heavily, their faces also began to move closer together. Robin's brain, which just a moment ago was trying to control the situation, shut down and let her lips taste the sweet gloss on Chrissy's mouth, who quickly responded by dipping one of her hands into Buckley's short, slightly sweaty hair. The kiss was interrupted by an uncontrollable smile that crept onto Cunningham's lips. Robin snapped out of her magic trance and with difficulty swallowed when she realized what had happened. Seeing Chrissy leaning into her side again she stepped back slightly.

"Chrissy-we shouldn't." She said stopping her by the shoulders.

"Didn't you like it?" she asked disappointedly.

"It's not like that! Liked it very much, but- something I don't understand. What about Eddie?"

"Oh." Only now she remembered everything. She was so fascinated by the evening and Robin's meeting that she completely forgot about some other important things in her life. "It's not what you think! Eddie And I- Damn." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Will you let me explain? Please. Let's go to my place and I'll tell you everything you want to know. Please." She wasn't sure where such sudden desperation had come from, but the kiss had awakened a whole new feeling in her toward Robin. She definitely didn't want it to end with just one. She wanted to be close to her, much closer than she would have expected.

"Okay, let's go."

"You were a wonderful audience, as always!" shouted the guitarist into the microphone. "Today, however, before finishing, we wanted to present you with one more song. The latest work of our wonderful and lovely y/n" he nodded in your direction, at which you sent a small kiss in his direction. Eddie did his best to ignore the sting of jealousy he felt upon seeing this little interaction and began clapping with the others.

You're wearing my old clothes, but you, you wear it better And every time I see your face, the moon should be jealous And I keep talking to the wall 'til he's a friend of mine I call you every hour just to tell you that I'm losing my mind

Now I know you're sleeping Where I'm supposed to be in Wish I could've stayed

Eddie has had many moments in his life when he felt he was running out of oxygen and suddenly the whole weight of the world was falling on his head. Now it was additionally joined by a burning sensation. He had the feeling that the small box he kept in the inside pocket of his leather jacket was burning a hole in the material, and then in his skin and heart. He knew the words perfectly well, remembered the circumstances under which he said them because he replayed the scene in his head night after night.

Only thing that keeps us apart Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning I'm coming home Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone

Tomorrow I got another plane, I'm not gonna take it Instead, I'm gonna fly straight to you, I paid double for the tickets And I don't give a shit about the contracts that I signed And they can say whatever, we'll be making love, I'm fucking you tonight

Now I know you're sleeping Where I'm supposed to be in Wish I could've stayed

Despite the fact that you sang again in duet with the guitarist for Eddie there was only your voice with which you sent strong emotions that crept into his body tightening around his heart. It was as if these emotions turned into vines and trapped him in a strong grip from which he could not escape.

Only thing that keeps us apart Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning I'm coming home Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning I'm coming home Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone

Without thinking much as soon as you finished the song and received thunderous applause he moved straight towards you. You stood with your back to him talking to Layla, who immediately noticed him and squinted her eyes watching his every forward step. Seeing your friend's strange look, you turned around to see what was causing it.

The world stopped. When your eyes met he smiled showing dimples in his cheeks, at the sight of which you were reminded of your beginnings.

"I swear I could live in them." You said laughing and kissing his entire face. "I love your dimples, I love your smile, I love you, Eddie Munson." That was the first time you confessed your love for him. When it occurred to you what you had done you opened your eyes wide and saw his smile become even wider. "That's good, because I love you too." he replied and kissed you passionately. "I have no intention of stopping, ever."

You didn't believe you would ever meet again. You didn't believe that you would ever again be close to the person for whom you were dying of longing. Now he was standing in front of you. Your Eddie. As an unconditional first reaction, a smile also appeared on your lips.

Unfortunately, you quickly came back to earth. This was not your Eddie. He hadn't been yours for a long time. He was hers. Suddenly all the people surrounding you in the bar were gone, you felt alone again, scared and hurt, surrounded by silence and emptiness. The heart that you had been trying to patch together for years had again turned into a dandelion whose parts were blown away by the wind to all parts of the world, so that nothing would be able to put them back together again. Again you felt liters of tears gathering in your eyes exactly as you did on the day when it was revealed that the new favorite couple in show business is the rebellious Eddie Munson and his complete opposite the charming and beautiful Chrissy Cunningham. The same Chrissy he assured you was just a friend and you had nothing to worry about. The same Chrissy he once had a crush on, but apparently that was in the past. The same Chrissy who, to Eddie, was supposed to be like Steve to you, the sibling you didn't have.

Without thinking twice, you turned on your heel and with a quick step walked out of the bar towards the beach. Of course, he moved right behind you when he felt a firm grip on his wrist and nails digging into it.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Layla exclaimed looking him straight in the eyes. "I won't let you close to her, not after what you did."

"You don't understand, let me go!" he said trying to break free.

"And what would your girlfriend say about it, hm? What would your little supermodel girlfriend say about it?"

"Fuck- just let me go! Let me explain it to her, you don't fucking understand!" Eddie was becoming more and more desperate. He understood why Layla was so protective of you, apparently you had to tell her everything, but neither you nor she knew the truth because you never gave him a chance to justify himself.

"Baby let them talk." Steve suddenly squeezed through the crowd. "It's been years, just let them talk."

"Really Steve? Are you fucking serious? Do you want to go through all this again? Do you want to let him destroy her like he did right after he left? Do you want her to lock herself in her room again for months and push us all away? She's barely learned to enjoy life and you want to let him destroy it again!"

"Listen-" said Eddie finally releasing his wrist. "I know what you're all thinking, and I can assure you that you're damn wrong, all of you! And I can explain it all to you but for heaven's sake let me talk to her first!"

Layla looked at Steve, who sent her a pleading look. She rolled her eyes and without a word squeezed between them walking away towards the bar clearly annoyed. Eddie turned to leave however felt Steve's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"Now you listen." he said with a serious face. "You're my friend and I believe you want to fix things and there's some strange explanation for all this. But I swear that if you break her heart again I won't even defend you when Layla wants to scratch your eyes out."

"I don't want to hurt her, I want to explain everything and make things right, you have to believe me, I love her, damn it Steve, I never stopped loving her."

Harrington just nodded his head and let him go. Quickly running outside, he looked around hoping that he would still be able to find you somewhere. After a while he spotted your silhouette sitting by the shore. He pulled off his shoes and socks and grabbed them in his hand to walk barefoot towards you and sit down next to you. Your knees were pulled up to your chin and your feet dipped into the soft sand. The murmur of the waves perfectly punctuated the sounds of the music and people in the distance. Their sound was soothing, it was easy for him to imagine that the beach, especially during sunsets was your favorite place. You fit perfectly there, and he had the fondest hope that someday he, too, would have a chance to fit back into the picture right by your side.

"What do you want Eddie?" you asked without taking your eyes off the water.

"I- I want to talk, to explain." he said quietly watching a small smile full of pain appear on your face.

"Explain what? That you were just waiting to get away from me and finally fall into the arms of your dream girl?"

"She is not- y/n I beg you, let me explain it all," he said.

"No. I don't want to hear it." you said rising, he did so as well. "I'm not going to listen to lies about how you loved me, and that's not at all what I think."

"What? you think I didn't love you?"

"You could only seem to have loved me since in your head it was Chrissy all the time anyway." The bitterness in your voice made him sick.

"Stop it. Fucking stop it." he said clenching his jaw. You could blame him for all the evils of the world, but to suggest that he never loved you was an overstatement. "Just listen to me, for the first time in three years listen to me and just start talking after that." he said.

"And what would you like to hear from me?! You heard the last song, didn't you? Would you like to hear that I wrote it thinking about you? You don't even know how many nights I wasted crying into my pillow and dreaming of those words coming out of your mouth! I agreed to this fucking break so that we could enjoy something new, but I didn't expect that I couldn't enjoy anything without you, I loved you so damn much Eddie. That's why I let you go completely and let you enjoy the life you always dreamed of. I'd a million times rather think about you fucking some random groupies on a tour bus every night than less than three months after our breakup to find out that the rising rock star is madly in love with super model Chrissy fucking Cunningham! You always said that my insecurities had no basis, that I shouldn't worry about the fact that you once had a crush on her, you kept telling me that she was just a fucking friend I definitely didn't need to worry about, and it turned out that as soon as you got rid of me from your life you immediately flew to her! Three years, it's been three fucking years and I still can't get over it! I hate that you have moved on and are living the best possible scenario. I hate that this scenario doesn't include me." You were fuming. Your glazed eyes looked at him with hatred. His sadness-filled eyes that you used to adore looking into so much. The full, pink lips that you loved so much to kiss and feel all over your body. The neck into which you cuddled your face after a hard day and kissed the wet paths on it. The pain you felt was increased the moment your attention was caught by the necklace hanging on it. Without thinking, you moved closer and pulled it out from under the collar of his shirt. He still had it. You looked at the pick and the ring in shock.

"y/n…" when his hand touched your cheek you flinched.

"You don't deserve to wear this." Anger darkened you completely, you tightened your fist around the necklace with all your strength and ripped it off.

"What the hell?" he asked shocked. He watched in disbelief as you threw the most precious thing in his entire life straight into the sand. He immediately crouched down to pick it up and put it safely in his pocket. His heart was breaking in half, feeling how he could not control his tears he quickly stood up walking straight towards you. At the last moment he managed to grab your hand.

"Don't touch me! Don't come near me because I can't stand it Eddie. If I let in one more time I will never be able to let you out again and that will kill me. You have your dream life, your dream girl, you don't need me, sometimes I think you never needed me." You said trying to break free.

"Don't say that! Don't you dare say that I never needed you! That I didn't love you! I loved you, I love you and I will love you for the rest of my fucking life!"

Before you had time to react in any way he pulled you to him and kissed you. The kiss had the taste of salty tears, but you weren't sure if they were yours or his. Despite the hatred you felt, you couldn't help how you surrendered to the moment by kissing him back. Your heart completely took over.

The moment didn't last long, though, as it was interrupted by a flash from the camera. Frightened, not knowing what was happening, you jumped away from him and looked in the direction from which the light appeared for the second time.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" shouted Eddie furiously walking towards the paparazzi. "You fuking piece of shit!" he sped up his stride. He felt like rushing at the paparazzi with his fists and then throwing the camera straight into the ocean. Unfortunately, the man turned out to be much faster and ran away. When he turned around, you were gone.

"Holy shit, you live here?" Robin looked with open mouth at the beautiful house with the ocean behind it.

"Yeah, with the boys, they gave me the whole basement so I could set up my own little apartment there, sharing a bathroom with four guys could be tough," laughed Chrissy. "Do you want to go inside?"

"Can we…Can we stay outside? I can't believe you have an ocean behind the house."

"Sure, let's go." she said and grabbed Robin's hand, leading her to the back of the house, where they sat on a wooden garden swing.

"This place is just like from a movie." commented Robin trying not to think about the fact that even though they had already sat down they were still holding hands.

"So, you wanna know the truth?" asked Chrissy uncertainly changing the subject. Robin nodded in response. "When I got the contract in New York, I thought I was winning my life, that I would finally be happy, finally all my dreams were coming true…" she sighed. "But I was quickly brought back down to earth. It turned out that my manager was homophobic, so I never dared to tell her the truth about myself."

"I'm so sorry…" Buckley squeezed her hand, to which she responded with a warm smile.

"The real nightmare began when they came up with an brilliant plan to promote me through a relationship with a sleazy fashion designer who was twenty years older. I didn't know what to do, so in a panic I lied that I had a boyfriend, and that's how I found myself in Eddie's apartment begging him for help. This was the first person I came out to and at that moment I thought I was going to die of nerves, I was wrecked and scared, and Eddie wasn't even shocked. He immediately understood and tried to calm me down. Then I proposed the whole plan with a pretend relationship. I needed someone reliable, and Eddie seemed perfect for that. We both ran away from Hawkins to start a new life in New York, the world immediately believed it, I didn't even know when we became the most recognizable couple in America and our careers just exploded."

Robin connected the dots in her head, everything the blonde said sounded crazy, but without knowing why she believed her. "I'm really glad you were able to get away from it all." she said quietly.

"If it weren't for Eddie my life would still look like a horror, I'll never be able to make it up to him…"

"He is a great friend." commented Robin, knowing that if she were in such a situation Steve would have done exactly the same thing. However, this did not stop the unpleasant feeling.

"I know what you're thinking and I feel terrible about it." Chrissy said, turning her head away. "I hate that by doing this to save myself I destroyed what Eddie had with y/n. She stopped talking to him, didn't respond to his letters, when Eddie agreed to the plan he said that the condition was that I would tell her everything, and I really wanted to do it as soon as possible! I was ready at any time to tell her the whole truth, but she didn't even give a chance to explain."

"Oh my God…" Robin bent her head back looking at the stars. She remembered what the first few months were like when Eddie and Chrissy's relationship became "offcial." You locked yourself in your room, went out only for classes and completely shut yourself off from people. Robin could hear the sounds of quiet sobs echoing around your apartment almost every night, but when she offered to be by your side at those times you just shooed her out of the room. You could have saved so much suffering if only you had given him a chance to explain. One little conversation a few years ago and things would look different now.

"You know, y/n is my best friend and in a way I understand her attitude. When we found out, we were all shocked, after all, everyone remembered that these two were madly in love with each other. Do you know about their arrangement? About the break?"

"I know, and I think you also know why we ended up in California after their tour ended," he said.

"I wish she'd let him explain it, everything would have looked completely different, and we wouldn't look so bad here now," she said.

"Maybe it could all be fixed? Maybe we could try to look good? When we moved here I broke my contract with that agency, I am now in a new one, which is not as well-known, but here they take care of me. My new manager knows everything and said that Eddie and I can end this whole pretending thing, but the label that handles Corroded Coffin isn't thrilled with the idea, so we're still in this, but Eddie is working on how to finally convince them to let us end it." she looked at her with hope in her eyes. They were so light and shiny under the gentle light of the moon and the stars. Robin's heart was melting.

She really wanted to believe that this had a chance of working, but she also knew that unless you let them tell you the truth nothing would be fully right.

The two sat in silence lost in thought as Chrissy moved closer to Robin.

"I'm sorry." she said quietly, resting her head on her shoulder.

"For how I was in high school. That I let Jason and his half-brains laugh at you. You didn't deserve it. I'd like to meet you under better conditions than the end of the world and struggling to survive."

"That's in the past, we can forget about it." she replied sincerely. Sitting now with Chrissy cuddled in her arms, she was able to forgive everything.

"I know it's crazy, but I feel like I'd like to try." Chrissy said quietly.

"Try what?" Robin pulled away sending her a surprised look.

"Us." As their eyes met, the world began to spin anew. Getting into a relationship with Chrissy was risky, they still didn't really know each other very well, but there was something, some invisible force that drew them to each other.

"How about a date when it will all be cleared out?" Buckley couldn't help herself, did that make her a bad friend? Now that she knew the truth she didn't feel as bad about it as she did at first.

"I would love to!" the excited blonde threw her arms around her neck pulling her close. When she pulled away, they were still close together. Sending nervous smiles in each other's direction once again, they began to move closer together. The gentle brushing of their lips was a hopeful sign. Before they could continue, though, they heard curses and the clink of keys. Intrigued, they went with the sound to see a furious Eddie who, with shaking hands, could not hit the door with his keys.

"Fucking bullshit!" he shouted banging his fist against it.

"Eddie? What happened?" asked Chrissy seeing the state her friend was in. Instead of at her, his eyes focused on Robin standing two steps away.

"Buckley? What are you doing here?" he asked puzzled.

"We, uh…" the girl didn't know what to say.

"I met Robin at the club and invited her here, I hope it's not a problem?" interjected Chrissy. "Give me the Keys." she said and opened the door. The three of them went inside. Eddie aggressively pulled off his shoes and threw his jacket into the closet with all his strength, but the jacket flew out of it a second later, and from the inside pocket of the jacket a small box that had been weighing him down all the way home.

"I was ready to fall to my fucking knees the moment I saw her." he said seeing the girls look at it in shock. After a moment, Robin picked it up and opened, showing the ring. "She thinks I never loved her. She thinks she has meant nothing to me all this time." his voice began to crack. "She hates me and didn't even give me a chance to explain it all. On top of that, that fucking paparazzi, I swear I'll kill the shithead as soon as I see him!" he walked toward the couch and sat down heavily on it, pulling a broken necklace from his pocket and placing it on the glass coffee table.

Chrissy looked at him with horrified eyes, she knew like no one else that Eddie cared about it like it was the most precious thing in whole world.

She approached slowly and knelt by the table taking it in her hands. Looking at her friend whose cheeks were streaming with tears, she couldn't help the guilt that had awakened in her. It was her fault, it was because of her that Eddie was losing the love of his life. "She said I didn't deserve to wear it." he said quietly. "She ripped it right off my neck." His voice was small, weak and helpless. "I love her so much, I never stopped Robin, you have to believe me." it was painful for him to have to keep assuring others of his love for you at every step, because no one wanted to believe him.

"I believe you." she said, sitting down next to him. "I know everything, Chrissy told me everything."

"She did?"

"Yeah, and now that I know everything, I want to help you. I'll try to convince y/n to give you a chance to explain everything."

"Thank you." he said hugging her tightly to himself.

"But now I should go, I don't want y/n to be alone today, I think you understand?"

"Of course, thank you Rob." he replied while wiping away tears.

"I'll call you a cab." offered Chrissy.

While they waited for the cab the girls exchanged phone numbers, Robin leaving promised to call as soon as she returns to the apartment. She also received a kiss on the cheek from Chrissy as a goodbye, which revived the butterflies in her stomach.

When she entered the apartment she noticed that the door to your room was ajar, peeking in there she noticed that you were asleep. Not wanting to wake you up, she just called the number she got earlier, toold them that she didn't talk to you because you had fallen asleep and went to bed herself as well, wondering how to clean up the mess you all found yourselves in.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @greatpizzascissorstaco @alanamarie @hiscrimsonangel

[ghostradiodylan]

So, it's one year after the night at Hacketts Quarry. And everyone's kind of freaking out because, that's what trauma does to you. So basically what would everyone do that night?

Also, thank you for keeping this fandom alive

Ooh this is a fun ask!

Sorry this took so long! I had to chew on it for a bit and then I forgot it in my drafts!

Okay, so it's August 22nd 2022. The moon is cooperating by not being full (it's a waning crescent, to be precise). It's also a Monday and it could be the first day of college/university for anyone going, but let's imagine they all go back a little later since that seems to be the case in the game itself.

We'll imagine everyone survived because otherwise there are fewer of them to talk about and everyone is way sadder. I think one thing they're definitely not doing is going back to Hackett's Quarry in some kind of misguided Until Dawn style return to the scene of the trauma trip. Even if the werewolves are gone, there's still a ghost out there and that's how horror movie sequels get made!

They might do a quick zoom or hit up the group text just to check in, but I don't think they'd necessarily all get together. It would be a little intense for an anniversary, I think.

Max & Laura are endgame, so obviously they're still together, and I'd like to imagine they'd plan a little getaway for themselves (preferably one where Max doesn't have to drive). They'd want it to be something completely unlike the woodsy setting they spent the night in last year. Maybe they'd book a nice hotel for a long weekend not too far from home, just to have a break. Or maybe they'd do something big like take an Alaskan cruise. (Can they afford that as two grad school aged students whose lives just got turned upside down a year ago? Probably not, but it's a nice idea! Maybe if there was a victim's compensation fund or they sold their story to Netflix...) Water all around means zero werewolves! Max will keep comparing their accommodations with those of the North Kill jail, as he will do on every vacation now. ("Look honey, the toilet's in its own room and not an open concept bathroom like the last place we stayed!")

Emma talks about how she wanted to go to the spa after camp in one variation of her scene in the lodge basement, so maybe she'd have a nice pampering session for herself. Mani/pedi, facial treatment, massage, then chilling at home in a fluffy robe and slippers. Kat @itscomingupaces headcanoned Emma acquiring a tiny dog postcanon, which I love, so she probably has a tiny dog in her lap too. Maybe she'd do a brief vlog to reflect on her progress over the course of the year, assuming her viewers have a general idea that something traumatic happened to her and it wasn't all covered up. She'd throw on a comfort movie like Tangled or Singin' in the Rain and get her beauty sleep.

Nick would probably like to forget this anniversary, but I doubt he'd be so lucky in just a year. He has a lot of guilt about the way he treated Abi, though he wasn't really in control at the time. He'd probably try to do something that made him feel good about himself, like volunteer work. I could see him working on a Habitat for Humanity house or walking dogs at an animal shelter. He's almost certainly apologized profusely already, but if he's living anywhere close to Abi, he might offer to take her to dinner. If not, maybe it would be a good time to send her a card. Or an email.

Abi has definitely channeled some of her trauma into her art, so she might take the day to work on a new piece, maybe something a little less based in realism and a little more based in emotion. Maybe she'd incorporate some mixed media or sculpture into it. I go back and forth about shipping her with Emma or with Nick (or neither, or both) but maybe she'd get a manicure with Emma if she's not getting dinner with Nick (she wouldn't be up for the full spa day, though, that's just too much of strangers touching her and talking to her). Or maybe she'd do both, though that would be a lot of doing for our little introvert!

Jacob & Kaitlyn have hopefully patched up any bad feelings stemming from Jacob sabotaging the van because as childhood friends, I think they'd want to help each other when difficult anniversaries like this one come up. I forget who originally suggested it but I now strongly believe the headcanon that they are longtime karaoke buddies and they probably go get a private karaoke room and scream-sing away their angst while getting really embarrassingly drunk. It's fine, they'll get an Uber back to Kaitlyn's and eat an entire pizza later.

Ryan would want to go pay his respects to Chris, Kaylee, and Caleb Hackett. He has very complicated feelings about the family and their role in everyone's nightmare a year ago, but he still has affection for them and feels a duty to remember them as they were when they weren't transforming into flesh-eating monsters. I think he'd want to go visit their gravesites back in North Kill, take them some flowers, and clean off the headstones if the other Hacketts aren't around to do it. I'd like to imagine that he and Dylan would have figured their shit out by then, but whether they're a couple or not I think they'd definitely be in touch and Dylan would probably offer to drive Ryan out there and keep him company if Ryan would let him (if they still haven't gotten together, they probably have some things to talk about).

Dylan picks up some food on his way home, takes an edible, curls up with his cat, and watches the original 80's version of Cosmos with Carl Sagan. It's got a retro futuristic vibe that's very comforting. Some people get anxiety thinking about the vastness of space, but Dylan finds it oddly soothing to think that his problems are actually very small in the grand scheme of things in an ever-expending universe. Ryan can come too, if he wants (he probably does).

[serenasoutherlyns]

i won't end up anywhere good (without you)

“The guitar suits you; you know. It just looks right in your hands.”

calex. mature. ao3. playlist.

If I'm a broken record, write it in the dust, babe I'll fill myself back up like I used to do And if my bones are made of delicate sugar I won't end up anywhere good without you

After the show, it was beers in the basement, after beers in the basement it was smoking outside in the warm June weather. After smoking she pulled out her acoustic guitar and covered Rihanna songs to make everyone else laugh. Olivia always turned in first, Amanda second, and Rafael and Casey would stay up until dawn before caving and falling asleep on the floor, the only space left. They’d wake up with pounding hangovers and load into the van again and do it all over in a new town. They were somewhere in Massachusetts; Casey couldn’t keep track anymore.

Olivia motioned for the bong over breakfast. Casey passed it, coughing into her cup of coffee. Amanda patted her back. Rafael was in the kitchen finishing the mountain of pancakes and bacon he was making for everyone in the house, the number of which seemed uncountable. The first of them to wake emerged from a bedroom in shorts and a tight tank, her eyes half-closed. She gave everyone a wave before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Ugh,” she said when she reappeared, sitting down at the crowded table, “I need food, right now.”

“Raf, ETA on pancakes?” Said Amanda.

“Gimme three,” he shouted over the hood fan.

“Thank God,” said the blonde woman beside Olivia.

“Big night?” Asked Casey playfully. The woman nodded.

“There was a show, went late, the afterparty went later. Too much whisky.”

“That’s all?” Said Amanda.

“Coke, but not that much,” she said. “Can I?” she asked, motioning for the bong.

‘Of course,” said Olivia, handing it to her. The woman turned her head back as she exhaled, politely blowing the smoke away from the rest of them. Raf came into the dining room with a towering stack. The woman’s eyes widened, and she immediately dug in like a cat with a fresh bowl.

“Hungry?” Said Raf, laughing. The woman nodded. Raf went back to cooking.

“This is so fucking good,” she said. “Ugh I have terrible manners, I’m Alex.”

“Olivia, nice to meet you.” The rest of them made their introductions. Alex Casey rolled around in her head. She liked the sound of that.

“I have to go to work in like half an hour,” Alex groaned.

“Oof,” said Amanda, “I don’t miss that. What do you do?”

“I’m a barista.”

“Do you play?” Asked Casey.

“I just live here,” said Alex. “Can’t play an instrument to save my life.” Casey nodded, taking a bite of her bacon. Another door opened and Rita came out, that was who had invited them, Casey remembered, the bass player. Rita gave them a nod. They heard the unmistakable sound of vomit from the bathroom and all cringed in sympathy.

“Poor thing,” said Amanda, drawling.

“Hey,” said Rita when she came out.

“Hey,” chorused the rest of them. Rita poured herself a cup of coffee from the Chemex. Casey imagined Alex must’ve insisted on a nice set up.

“I’d better go change,” said Alex, rising from the table. They filled the air with idle conversation. When she came back out, she had on a baggy pair of men’s Levi’s and a loose white t-shirt, her hair was up in a high ponytail. Casey noticed the green lower half of her hair. She had swiped on some black and white eyeliner and plum lipstick. She slung her arms around Rita’s shoulders. She grabbed her bag off a hook in the living room and said her goodbyes as she left for work.

“See you guys tonight,” she said. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for us.”

“See you,” said Casey for the rest of the table. Olivia had begun to gather the dishes and Amanda was washing them. Raf took his opportunity to finally eat. Another roommate, and then another, and another (significantly more people than there were bedrooms) came out over the course of the next couple hours and were disappointed that the pancakes were gone. You snooze you lose, was Rafael’s reply. He knew more of them than the rest of them did. Raf had been in bands since he was thirteen.

“I saw you checking out Alex,” Rita said, cornering Casey at around three o’clock. She was sitting on the couch reading a novel.

“Did you?” Said Casey, who was unaware she had been doing such a thing.

“Yeah,” said Rita. “You’re her type, you should go for it.” Hm thought Casey. She did like to build memories in each town they visited. Eventually, though, they started to blend together, and all she would remember was girl with all the rings or undercut girl.

“Maybe,” said Casey.

“Anyway, I’m going to The Olive,” Rita said, “Alex’s boss gives us free drip. Want some?”

“Actually,” said Casey, setting aside her novel, “Can I come with?”

“Sure,” said Rita with a smile. “She’s fun to watch in action.”

“They always are,” said Casey. She grabbed her wallet and followed Rita out.

---

“Casey, hey, welcome,” said Alex from behind the bar. It was a busy Saturday, but not too busy. The place was full but there wasn’t a line. Casey watched as Alex effortlessly took an order while finishing up another one, like it was nothing. Pleasant indie pop played over the speakers, not entirely unlike what Hands in the Middle played, though they had more of a punk edge. Casey looked forward to their show that night.

“Hey,” Casey replied. Alex was filling up two twelve-ounce cups of drip coffee for them. She gave them a happy look. “Good to see you. You want room?”

“Black’s fine, thanks.” Alex handed them the cups. They could afford to chat for a little while. Rita, somewhat pointedly, went to the bathroom, leaving the two of them alone. “How’s it been today?” Alex bit her lip and looked into Casey’s eyes. She was being pursued. She liked that feeling.

“Oh, fine,” she said, “The lunch rush was kind of crazy.” She gestured to an untidy workstation behind her.

“Saturday,” Casey said.

“Looking forward to tonight?” Alex said. Casey didn’t miss what she meant. “I’m excited to see you guys play.”

“Yeah, I am,” said Casey, “very.” Alex’s coworker gestured behind Casey, and there was someone waiting. Rita came back from the bathroom.

“See you, Alex,” said Casey as they left. Alex gave her a large smile and wave in return.

---

“We sound like shit,” said Raf to Olivia. Something was off about the acoustics in the space, but there was nothing to be done about it, and no use in complaining, in Casey’s opinion, which she was sure Rafael knew. Casey played a few bars of their newest song.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Raf,” she said. Amanda made a noise in agreement. The residents of the house were milling about, eating, smoking, drinking, playing cards. Casey liked this kind of show, one where people actually lived. It was so personal and comfortable. They eventually got Rafael to calm down and just play. It was a good show, all things considered. Maybe they didn’t sound their best, but Casey was sure they didn’t sound their worst either. The crowd seemed to have enjoyed themselves. Now, everyone was gathered in the living and dining rooms with beers and weed, just how it should be. Alex found her right after the show and sat down next to her. Olivia and Amanda found some corner to pretend not to be into each other in (messy), and Rafael was passionately discussing cartoons with Rita at the dining table. Alex had her hand on Casey’s thigh, now, and Casey knew it was only a matter of time before they were going to be making out on this couch. She set down her beer.

“You really were great,” said Alex, flattering her. “The guitar suits you; you know. It just looks right in your hands.”

“Looking at my hands, were you?” said Casey, teasing.

“A little, maybe,” said Alex with a giggle. Casey was just high enough to be a little silly. Alex must’ve been too. Casey took Alex’s hand in her own.

“Look all you like,” she said in a deep voice. Alex kissed her, then, cupping her cheek and leaning in. Before long, she was in Casey’s lap and Casey’s hands were roaming her back, playing with her hair. Alex whipped her head back when a can collided with it.

“Get a room,” yelled Raf. Alex looked at Casey and shrugged in invitation.

“Sure,” said Casey. Alex hopped up and guided her into her bedroom. There were two beds in there, but nobody else in either. Alex got on the bed and lay back. Casey took one hand in hers and used the other to prop herself up as she kissed her lips, then her neck, making her gasp and moan.

---

It was nice to sleep in a real bed for once. Casey woke up feeling more rested than usual that Sunday morning. It was a good thing, too, because they had a really long driving day ahead of them. She could smell Rafael cooking, which meant it couldn’t be that late (well, someone would’ve woken her up if it was dire). Alex was already awake, it seemed, because she was alone in the bed. Casey dragged herself up and into the kitchen.

“Morning, Casey,” said Rita, “Alex had to head into work early, she sends her apologies. Fun night?” Casey grinned.

“Yep,” she said. Amanda gave her a high five. Breakfast was served, and thoroughly enjoyed. They loaded their things into the van and set off. That had been a good stop, in Casey’s opinion. It was on to the next.