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lookingformoondrop · 11 months

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Hiiii! Thanks for writing for tcoal! If you have time can I get a yandere Andrew x reader? Thanks :)

Sure thing~ Once again, it seems highly unlikely that Ashley would let this obsession slide, so for the sake of the story, she's been bliped. Happy (late) Halloween! <3

Yandere! Andrew GravesxReader

TW: Yandere themes, possession, obsession, murder, implied kidnapping, intimidation, stalking, Andrew has a foul mouth (Y/N too), not proofread

♡1,438 WORDS♡

Andrew Graves has a mask.

It's a very well crafted mask that's used to blend in with his peers, his friends, his girlfriends, his parents, and even himself.

It covers the dark parts of Andrew that even himself is too terrified to look at.

For if you look into the abyss, it looks back at you.

But when he met you, swinging back and forth at the playground swing, he could've sworn he heard something crack.

You were beautiful.

As he watched you, with the breeze blowing at your cute overalls and baggy shirt, god, so pretty.

Your smile could open the gates of the heavens. Your laugh could make rainbows last, your tears would be prettier than diamonds, and you in his cage would bring him closer to your hell.

He couldn't help but imagine you as some sort of art. Something valuable that wasn't ever to be touched by another person. Only seen by him, just him.

His mask cracked the more he looked at you.

That day started a life-long obsession.

He would venture to that park a few more times after that, until eventually introducing himself to you. Naive you, who believed him to be a kind and stoic person.

You weren't wrong, but it was your fault for thinking that's all it was.

Even if Andrew never admitted it to himself, the thought of you being his and ONLY his made his heart flutter.

How when you breathed, when you walked, when you spoke, when you laughed, it would all belong to him.

Those thoughts kept him awake at night, even if a light blush would always dust his cheeks.

As time went on, he learned that his dakmfk thoughts that he pushed to the back of his mind would only resurface when a man talked to you. Even a father-figure was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Andrew didn't say anything, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his blood boil.

"Andy? Are you okay? You've been glaring at the ground even since we walked past Mr. Mancho."

"Why do you even like him? He's so...weird," Mr. Mancho was an innocent looking math teacher, one that always smiled at the students. And yet, Andrew hated the fact he smiled at Y/N...he didn't like that very much.

"Weird? He's been pretty nice to me...," You scratched your chin in deep thought, "do you not like Mr. Mancho?"

Andrew looked up at your doe eyes and heard something crack again,

"...he keeps looking at my things."

Andrew justified his growing hatred.

Even as you shrugged away his weird moods whenever you talked to cousins, friends, and teachers, Andrew never lacked as your friend.

Through every obstacle, he'd be there to help you jump over them. Although he'd complain about jumping in the first place, he'd never leave you.

He'd care about your issues, he'd care for your wounds, and he'd listen to your problems.

Especially when you were bullied.

The keyword here is 'were'.

While in school, a boy had groped you. When confronting him about what happened, his friend group laughed at you, claiming that you were just making shit up for attention.

This had made you cry when you got home.

Something that Andrew instantly knew about...somehow.

"Jesus Y/N, what happened?"

"S- Some boy touched me, and- h-he then said I was just making it up for attention! My friends all believed him a-and I," you broke down in sobs as your day was retold to your best friend.

As you continued to share your day with Andrew, he remained completely silent.

Several times throughout the call, you'd check if he was even still on. Still, when you called out for him, he'd answer with praise for trying to stand up for yourself, no matter what they had said to you.

You didn't know it then, but Andrew was squeezing his pack of cigarettes so hard that by the time he had gotten off the phone with you, they were all broken.

The next week, when you came to school, authorities were there questioning all the students. When they came to you, it was explained that the boy who groped you was killed and stuffed into his parent's basement freezer. Along with his friends, who all mysterious died in the forest, with some sort of satanic pentagon painted beneath their bodies.

You told the police you knew nothing, and all your friends who had doubted you came to you in an instant with apologies.

When you had told Andrew everything that happened he had only said,

"How strange."

As the years went on and you grew older, your friendship with Andrew always stayed strong.

Andrew would never say it, but when he kissed your cheek or patted your head, he was screaming,'I love you.'

But his dark thoughts, the ones he kept far back in his mind, would only double.

"Andy! Guess what happened today?"

"Hah?" Andrew turned his head from his spot on the couch.

"This cute boy at my job said he would love to take me out to dinner sometime!" You smiled brightly at the sly possibility that your bad streak with love would finally be over.

Every guy that ever walked into your life promptly bolted for the door the moment you opened it.

Andrew always told you that those guys just didn't appreciate you enough and that someone who bolted just like that was a quitter. Ashley?

But even then, you never gave up. Despite the long list of guys who ghosted you randomly.

"Oh...you said no, right? "

"What?" You walked over to Andrew from the door of the apartment. "Why would I say no...?"

Andrew looked at you with a dark shadow over his face, "Y/N, there are millions of creeps and perverts that are going to ask you out. They're only leering at you for your body."

You frowned at this notion,

"When you go to your next shift, tell him you don't want to anymore." Andrew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Andrew looked at your confused eyes.

"Just realized I have to get up early tomorrow to take out the trash."

When you went back to work the next day, he had quit just as suddenly.

Sad and upset over the millionth guy that ghosted and dumped you, you'd sulk to Andrew. Who would always make you warm cup of tea.

"Dumbass, you just keep picking quitters. It's not because of you."

"But Andy, I haven't had a boyfriend in years! At this point I'll die alone, probably with you right there to bury me with my hundreds of cats."

Andrew laughed at that and reached his arm around your shoulder.

"Just wait a little longer Y/N, I'm sure there's some jackass out there waiting for you."

"Yeah, right." You smiled at Andrew, "You're the only jackass I know, though. "

You leaned your head on Andrew's shoulder and began to fall to sleep rather quickly.

"The only...jackass...in my life... Andy, I'm sleepy."

Andrew took a sip of his tea and placed the cup far away from your drink.

"Rest Y/N. When you wake up, you'll have me right there besides you."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you're my best friend."

Andrew patted your hair as you drifted off to a drug-induced slumber.

"Yes, I'm your best friend," Andrew stared off to the distance as he thought about it.

"Soon, your only friend," He nodded at that statement, "Yes, the only friend you'll ever need."

His mask, although long forgotten, had finally cracked open.

You were his. Like a forbidden piece of art, it belonged to him. He was your painter, and as the painter, he declared you to be covered up. Only his retinas were allowed to peer at you.

It's your fault he went through all this effort to keep you safe. He's obligated as the painter to keep his art safe from dirty influences.

He's mildly disappointed in you whenever you speak to another man, but it's okay. It's his job after all to stalk the said man and hack his tongue off for even going to speak to you.

No matter how many guys he has to threaten, no matter how many people he's had to hack at, no matter how many people he's had to kidnap, it wasn't his fault.

It's yours.

All the blame is on his sweet, naive, poor, Y/N.

Still as innocent the day he found you at the playground.

"Still mine..." He mumbled as he stared at your sleeping face.

"Only mine."

Thanks for the ask!<3

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navybrat817 · 11 months

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The Silent Treatment

Pairing: Dark!Andy Barber x Female Reader

Summary: You attempt to give Andy the silent treatment during dinner.

Word Count: Almost 500

Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, implied kidnapping, delusion, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 4! Character: Andy Barber. Length: 250-500 words. Prompt: "You think I care about you? Cute." ❤️ 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!

You made no attempt to eat your dinner as you sat at the table with Andy. You also hadn’t spoken a word to him since he got home. He warned you before he left for the day that he’d be home late, but you were still in a mood the moment he walked through the door. You greeted him with a kiss as expected, but you didn’t extend any additional warmth.

What had he done to deserve it?

Andy took a bite of his food with a hum of dissatisfaction. “I thought takeout would’ve been a good idea since I had to work so late, but this is kind of terrible,” he teased, looking to you for a smile that you didn’t give him.

Your silence was the most eloquent reply you could provide.

Clearing his throat, he pushed some of the food around on his plate. “Did you have a good day?”

You replied with a shrug before you stared off at the wall behind him. It was the first time you noticed that the floral painting he had hung up was slightly crooked. It was fitting considering he tried to put on a front of perfection, but something was off.

His sigh brought your attention back to him, watching wordlessly as he ran his fingers along his beard. “Honey, I’m trying, but you have to meet me halfway.”

Lifting your chin in defiance, you watched his blue eyes flash as you slowly shook your head. You weren’t in the mood to be nice today. You were tired.

“So, that’s it? You’re giving me the silent treatment? That isn’t how our relationship is going to work. You-”

“Our ‘relationship’? There is no relationship, Andy,” you finally spoke, bitterly laughing at his stricken expression. “What, you think I want to be here? You think I care about you? Cute.”

You flinched when his fork scraped his plate, his jaw tight as he pushed his chair back. You should’ve stayed quiet. Why had you opened your mouth? “I knew I let you out of the basement too early,” he said more to himself than to you. “That’s my fault.”

“Andy, please,” you whispered as he rounded the table to grip your arm. The plasticware and plate wouldn’t do any damage if you fought. He never left anything sharp around you. “Don’t send me back down there.”

“You haven’t learned yet,” he said, your body trembling when he kissed the top of your head. “But don’t worry. You will.”

You tried to apologize as he dragged you back down to the basement. Just as you had given him the silent treatment, he ignored your pleas as he pushed you into the dingy mattress and took what he wanted. Later he’d remind you that he chose you to be his perfect wife and he’d eventually let you back upstairs to try again.

Until then, he’d keep you in the prison he created until you learned to love him.

You'll learn eventually, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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double--blind · 11 months

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(SPOILERS) Andrew and plausible deniability, OR: mfer doesn't wanna be held accountable for his actions

This has been churning in my head for a while (I am mentally ill 🥴), but a large part of the driving force behind Andy and his actions is his aversion to blame. He sorta shares this w/Ashley (she's got quite a few rants abt how things aren't her fault), but I believe Andrew takes it just a step further.

I've seen many say this before, but from the start of the game, you'll notice that even beyond normal moral quandaries, Andrew's first objection to any horrific action Ashley proposes is usually a variance of "what if we get caught?". He objects not bc her ideas are ethically repugnant, but bc they could be found out as having done them, and he knows rationally that others know they're bad. This goes as far back as childhood with the Nina incident. He fears punishment and the threat of prison more than he apparently worries about what his crimes might mean for him as a person or what they might mean for the people that might be affected by them (save him and Ashley). This doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilt or have nightmares abt them, but they're not his first priority. Trouble's a pain to deal with, and the dude's low-energy.

In fact, most of his guilt seems largely self-centered. Like, no exaggeration: if it isn't about either him or Ashley (which is, in a way, lowkey also about him), then he couldn't really care less. Do you recall him ever expressing worry or remorse on Nina's behalf? Mourning her? We think Ashley's the one w/empathy issues, but Andrew's in the same boat imo. Self-preservation and self-interest is all that's keeping him seemingly amiable enough for polite society, bc for the most part, he really couldn't be bothered.

In his dreams, the victims of their murders are just bodies: interchangeable, holding no more meaning beyond the fact that they're dead. Any corpse's limb will do to replace the one Ashley cooked—never mind that they may be from different people—bc they're all the same to him. Even Julia, sitting in her dorm room surrounded by evidence of Ashley's harassment, gets no sympathy from Andrew. For the most part, he elects to ignore it all, and regards Julia herself with a detached sorta nostalgia tinged in no small part with apathy.

img txt: You'll never see her again. And the fact that it doesn't really bother you, bothers you.

(The only things of notable worth from her were the colored pencils on her desk, which he promptly takes from her to give to Leyley instead, and isn't that just some crazy symbolism right there?)

His fear of punishment goes hand-in-hand with his desperate pursuit of plausible deniability. Everything he does, he does under certain self-imposed conditions. If it's Ashley's idea and he argues back, it doesn't matter in the end if he goes along with it, bc it was Ashley's idea in the first place. He's just there to make sure she doesn't get them in trouble, bc she needs him, bc he's gotta take care of her. Even if it's not her idea at all (e.g., killing the closet warden, killing the lady in room 302), it's still her fault, bc he did it for her, bc everything he does, he does for her.

Ashley's a manipulative, evil lil possessive gremlin w/a soul as black as tar, and Andy's a doormat, but don't think for a second that part of him doesn't use that dynamic a little to keep from reflecting on what he is. He suffocates under it, but he also relies on it. If there's any sort of plausible deniability available, he'll take it and run with it.

The truth of the matter is that they're both deeply toxic, warped individuals. The difference is that Ashley's owned up to it and quite frankly doesn't care. Andrew hasn't. He's the "normal" one.

Now, for the funky incest part (what we're all here for babyyyyy)—

We've all seen the flavor text abt the bed-sharing by now, right?

img txt: Oh yeah, you tooootally have nightmares as often as you claim.

We know for a fact that aside from some light teasing, maybe, Ashley would have no problem whatsoever with sharing a bed w/Andrew. Heck, she'll coax him into bed (demo) or climb onto the couch with him (ep 2) w/o any prompting from him whatsoever, just bc she feels like it. Andrew, apparently, can't do the same. He doesn't allow himself this intimacy of his own choosing, so he has to lie and pretend to get it if he wants it. He's greedy for her, too, but he can't let himself show it.

If something is sufficiently too intimate in his eyes, beyond anything he can excuse away for some reason or another, then he'll stop himself from doing it. Just like how he wouldn't let himself succumb to the urge of pulling Ashley into his arms to make her smile, but is willing to give her a hug when she asks for it in front of their parents.

He insists on the extra expense of two beds, and then cites his nightmares and panic attacks as the driving force behind crawling into bed w/her, bc then it isn't really his fault now, is it? He tried to stay away, after all. He did! He just didn't have a choice!

Lol

Andrew can't admit to wanting this—buries those feelings and thoughts as deep as he can so they fester and bleed, the repressed idiot—so he gives Ashley all the power to decide how close they get. It's in Ashley's hands. He's free of that hassle.

Which is why the post-sex vision, and Ashley's reaction to it, is so dangerous. @csg-iii made a good point about it in my last post:

img txt: I think the biggest point about "11" is that Andrew asks/begs Ashley for reassurance that it will never happen ("never say never"). It's a subtle admission that if she really wants it to happen, he knows he won't be able to resist his own urges. His only ""hope"" of avoiding going there is if Ashley doesn't want it.

Andrew, in absolving himself of this choice and putting it in Ashley's hands, shoots himself in the foot, bc what if Ashley goes the whole mile? Then the only real thing keeping his desires unrealized was the fact that they had never been voiced as an option before.

He doesn't want to think of himself as someone who'd bone his own sister. Forget being a cannibal, demon summoner, or a murderer; those titles were foisted upon him. This is too close to something real that he carries inside him; this isn't anything Ashley's buried in him, but rather something of his own invention. Something he'll definitely have to take responsibility for.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #coffincest #andrew graves #txt post #yeah......... I'm rambling again sorry guys #character analysis

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boxofbonesfic · 1 month

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Title: Return to Sender [6 of 9]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark! Andy Barber x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he's going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Murder, Canon Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Fluff, Friends to lovers, Smut, MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED

A/N: ooh you all are going to be saur mad at me, lol. i’m sorry. i promise, we’re coming to an end, one i hope is as satisfying as the journey has been. remember, the outcome of this story was one you all voted on (dark vs. fluff), something i’ve kept in mind as i’ve crafted the story moving forward. thanks for sticking with me! comments are great, reblogs are golden. thank you for reading, and mind the warnings. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Andy’s voice sounds like oil even through the phone.

“Well?” The expectant word rolls off his tongue. “I’m waiting.”

It’s hard to speak, like the words are stuck in your chest. You lick your dry lips, casting a nervous glance around the phone store.

“I want to talk.”

“Yes, Honey. You said that already.”

“I—I want you to stop hurting people. You have to stop, Andy!” The phone trembles in your clammy hands as you readjust your grip on it. Ari is still asleep—or at least, he had been when you’d crept out from underneath his arm after he’d fallen asleep. Otherwise, he’d surely have stopped you. From across the counter, the employee gives you a frustrated glare. It’s almost closing time, and you don’t exactly have spare minutes to skip around the point. You’d also promised her a sale—which you absolutely were not going to follow through on either.

“You know why I’m hurting people.” He sounds like he’s going to say something else, but the grainy sound of an infant’s cry derails him. Your chest clenches, and tears gather in the corners of your narrowed eyes. “See? Look who you’re hurting, Honey. All this foolishness, and all you’ve managed to do is hurt everyone around you. You hurt our daughter.” Andy sighs. “And yourself. You’re quite good at that.”

You take a deep, trembling breath. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t true, that none of it is true. It doesn’t matter that he’ll think it’s his idea. It’s better. Better if he does.

“You’re right.” The words feel like glass on your tongue. “You’re right.” The sound of him clucking his tongue through the receiver is enough to raise your hackles. You want to hang up the phone, to press the end call button and leave. You want to say it’s your devotion to Dove that keeps you on the line, and mostly it is. But there’s the part of you that Andy owns—the part you expect he’ll own forever that believes him. “I… I’m sorry.” You hate that part of you that really is.

“I’m sorry for everything.” There’s no response, but you know he’s still there—you can hear Dove gurgling against his shoulder. “It’s my fault. I got scared, Andy. I—I hate it, without you.” You hear his thoughtful hmm thought the receiver.

“Then tell me where you are, Honey. So I can come and get you, and this whole ugly mess will be all finished.” You don’t want to.

“I—I will, but you have to promise me you won’t hurt anyone else. Promise me, Andy.”

“Tell me something, Sweetheart, who is Ari Levinson?”

You’d called Andy with the resolve to give him nothing. To placate and pacify him until he allowed you to see Dove again. What you weren’t prepared for was him knowing about Ari. Your chest tightens as his words ring again in your ears—Promise me you won’t go back. Promise me.

I’m sorry, Ari.

Your non-answer is enough to make Andy sigh.

“So you do know him.” The displeasure in his voice is easy enough to hear, and it fills you with cold dread. He’s trained you that way, made you hyper responsive to every one of his moods. You can’t help it now, your body tightening like a piano wire at the sound of his disappointment.

“I really thought you would keep better company, Honey. Dishonorable discharge, manslaughter, criminal intimidation…” Andy trails off, clucking his tongue. Your heart is pounding, your trembling, clammy hands gripping the phone so tightly your fingers hurt. Manslaughter? Intimidation? Ari hadn’t told you any of that—but you suppose you hadn’t really asked. You know Andy’s only doing this to make you unsure, to shake up your footing and keep you guessing while he gathers all the cards—and he’s good at it. He chuckles at your silence.

“Oh Honey. He didn’t tell you, did he?” Andy doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement. “I’m always telling you you can’t just trust anyone off the street, Honey. These people you’re with, they’re not good people.”

You’re not good people, you think savagely, though your resolve crumbles as you hear Dove’s sleepy wail through the phone. She needs you, and your whole body aches at the thought of being unable to fulfill that need. Andy clears his throat.

“I’m going to ask again, Honey, and I really want you to be honest with me when you answer. Who. Is. Ari. Levinson.”

“H-he just helped me, that’s all,” you mumble. “Ir—my contact, she… she knows him. I don’t really… I haven’t spent much time with him.” Andy’s always been good at knowing when you lie—and you wait anxiously to see if he’ll taste the mistruth in your words. The silent seconds tick by as you hear him quiet your daughter and sigh deeply.

“If I send Robert to get you, Honey, you’re coming home this time. Understand?”

“I-I want to come h-home.” The word feels like acid in your throat, but you want to swallow it back down anyway, so he can’t hear it. “I need to come home. I-I miss Jacob.” You do—that part, at least, is true.

“Honey I want that more than anything. It’s going to be good, better, Sweetheart. So much better than before.” His words do everything but reassure you. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that.” You imagine him in his office, standing in front of the fireplace. It’s so clear you can almost see it, instead of the dingy used phone store. “He’ll be there tomorrow morning, early. Train station.”

“I-I’ll be there.”

“I know you will.”

“You promise if I do this—you won’t, you won’t hurt anyone else, right?” You hear the line clicking in his silence.

“I promise.”

—

The walk back to the shop takes you twice as long, probably because you keep stopping, staring ahead of you silently as your thoughts boil over and out of control. You’d promised Ari—and you’d known, even then, that you would break it. The sight of Irene’s face, his wound, it had all made your decision as easy as it could possibly be:

You were going to get Dove yourself.

You’d underestimated Andy’s connections, and two nights ago was proof enough of that. Pronge was proof of that. If you don’t go back now, you know they won’t survive another encounter. And Andy… you know he can spin it. Just like he had your disappearance. He wouldn’t let you go, he never would. He’d make it cost too much. It already cost too much, you think to yourself, clenching your fists angrily.

It feels like no matter what you do, no matter what you choose or how hard you fight, you just. Keep. Losing. You come to the dead end street where Zemo’s abandoned-but-not garage sits—but you walk right past it. You can’t go back yet, you don’t have your story straight. Hell, you don’t even have your own fucking head straight. You can’t face either of them right now.

How do I tell Ari?

You don’t want to think about how devastated he’ll be, how angry. You doubt he’ll understand—you can’t leave Dove with Andy, alone to twist her mind and shape her into God knew what. No, you can’t do that. You can’t even consider it. You didn’t want to leave Jacob either, but you knew you couldn’t manage two babies, not when Andy had barely let you escape with one. Ari will blame himself, you know that much already.

But knowing he’ll hate you is far better than knowing he was dead because of you.

It’s a gray day, and the off-again-on-again rain has managed to soak through your borrowed sweatshirt. Once you round the large, empty park at the far end of the neighborhood, you decide to head back. You don’t really feel much better, but you know you can’t stay out by yourself much longer. Once you round the corner and turn onto the block, you spot Ari standing outside, in front of the closed garage door bay.

“What are you doing? Where did you go?” He asks, frowning down at you worriedly. “You can’t just—” Ari stops himself, and blows out a harsh, frustrated breath. “Mouse, you know he isn’t going to stop.”

You look down at your feet. “I know.” He steers you back inside with his good hand.

“Let’s go over the plan again.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. He can’t see you, but somehow, Ari knows. “Hey. Come on, humor me.”

“Fine.” You lean against the dusty front counter as you watch him close the door and lock it behind him, lowering the security grate before bolting that, too. “Step one: Canada. Step two: new identity. Step three: Come back, get Dove.” You know this is what they want, what they say is best, safest.

And you know they’re right, it is what’s safest—for you.

Andy has a long memory—and his patience exceeds that of a fucking saint. He’d waited eight years for you. You don’t want to know how long he’s willing to wait to put another bullet in Ari. And somehow, you know that if he comes to do it himself, he won’t miss.

“Good. I know it’s hard right now. But I promise you, I will be with you every single step of the way, okay? We are not giving up on Dove.” Ari cups your chin with a tenderness that brings burning tears to your eyes. You blink them back, burying your face against his chest.

“I know.” The rough fabric of his sling against your cheek strengthens your resolve, though. “Thanks, Ari.”

“You’re welcome.” He kisses the top of your head. “Not the biggest fan of Quebec but Montreal is nice. Maybe we’ll go there, first.” Andy’s voice echoes unpleasantly in your head. Dishonorable discharge. Manslaughter. Ari’s laughter falters. “What’s wrong, Mouse?”

“N-nothing.” You shake your head, attempting to clear it of the ghosts Andy had put in it. “Did you go to Montreal while you were in the army?” You ask, and his expression darkens, just a little.

“No. After, actually. After I left.” The why hangs unspoken in the air between you, and you hesitate to breathe it into existence yourself, no matter how desperate the desire. “I told you about my sister. Her husband.” He sighs. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t alright. When they died. I’m probably still not, but it… I was angry. I wanted to kill him, Mouse. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt them and I wanted him to know why.”

“Did you?”Ari doesn’t look proud. He looks… sad. Like he doesn’t want you to know, like he’d rather lie instead of letting a single shred of the truth pass his lips in this moment. But Ari isn’t a liar, you’ve learned that well enough.

“Yes.” He’s looking at you but his eyes are so far away that you know he isn’t, really. You don’t know what he’s seeing, but you know it isn’t you. “I did. I know I should regret it—what I did. But I couldn’t. I can’t.” You aren’t afraid of him, even though perhaps, you know you probably should be. And yet, even amidst his confessions, all you feel is safe.

So safe.

“I went to Montreal after that.”

You don’t know what else to say, but you wrap your arms around him, the tips of your fingers barely touching around his broad back. It’s the only thing you can think to give him in this moment. Words may fall short, and you know that he will dwell on them tomorrow when you’re gone, dissect them with the same stubborn diligence he shows you at every opportunity. But this, this he won’t be able to deny, to spin.

Ari hums, squeezing you affectionately.

“Mind if I change the subject now, Mouse?” He asks, sighing the words into your hair. “Besides, if we stay out much longer, Irene’s liable to come looking for us.”

“Too late.” Her irritated voice makes you jump. “Where did you get off to?”You swallow thickly, hoping Ari doesn’t hear it.

“I just took a walk.” In the beat of silence before Irene’s response, you can practically hear her roll her eyes. You turn to see her doing just that, and you wonder briefly if your powers of prophecy might lend themselves to something more useful. She jerks her head toward the office.

“Well, walk yourself in here a minute, would you? We’ve got to get these tickets sorted.” Ari snorts with laughter. “That was good, right?” She grins, carding a hand through her silver-blonde hair. Irene hasn’t been nearly as forthcoming as Ari with information—like she almost doesn’t want to know you, or like she’s afraid to get close. The disapproving look she fixes Ari with only further substantiates your theory.

Reluctantly, you follow Irene inside.

—

Andy takes a long, slow sip of his scotch, holding the liquor on his tongue before swallowing. The ice clinks gently against the glass, and after a moment, he sets it down to ponder the object in his other hand.

Your ring is beautiful—a classic marquis cut diamond, flanked by alternating long and short baguette cuts. It fit you perfectly—he’d had it made for you, so of course it had. Large enough that other women made a fuss over it whenever they saw it, but still classy, not ostentatious.

You’d left it on the dresser, next to the ankle monitor you managed to slip off without tripping the alarm. Andy’s lip curls, and he downs another mouthful.

Let’s see her take off a goddamn chip.

The sound of tiny footsteps outside his office door makes Andy turn, just in time to see Jacob poke his head around the doorframe. He’s nearly four now, and he can reach the handle without standing on the tips of his toes, now.

“Hey, bud. What is it? You know you’re supposed to be in bed.” Jacob’s lip trembles.

“Daddy, I had bad dream,” he replies shakily, rubbing his watery eyes with the back of his chubby hand. “Went for mommy but she not there.”

It takes everything Andy has not to blame you, but he swallows the urge. You can’t help it—you don’t have his vision, his foresight. You don’t see how much he needs you, how great you could be together if you would just let him lead you. He’d tried to replace you with Laurie, and look how that had turned out. No, Andy had already tried back-up plans B, C, and D when what he really needed was just to try A one more time.

“Daddy’s sorry to hear that, Jake. Would you like to come sit with me?” He nods, sniffling. Andy hoists his toddler up onto his lap, rubbing his back with a gentle hand. “What was the dream about?”

“The bad-glasses-man.” Jacob says seriously, turning his glassy, terrified eyes to his father. Andy’s face remains passive, but inwardly he rages. Pronge’s comings and goings are easy enough to hide from the rogue paparazzi and the plain-clothes cops he knows are lurking just beyond the property gate, but significantly less so from his son, apparently.

“Who’s the glasses man?” He knows the answer, but he needs the confirmation. The question alone is enough to upset him, and Jacob begins to fret, his eyes watering as he shakes his head.

“I don’t like him. His face is red.”

The night he’d brought Dove back, he’d been practically covered in blood—the only clean thing was the goddamn baby. Andy didn’t ask where the hired muscle was, and Robert did not volunteer the information.

“You know that was a dream, don’t you, tough guy?” Andy says, wiping the tears from his son’s chubby cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “When you go to sleep, you have dreams. And what we see in our dreams isn’t real, remember?”

“I ‘member, daddy.” Jacob still looks rather upset, though, and Andy wonders what else he hasn’t managed to hide, what other loose ends he hasn’t managed to tuck. “Him’s scary.”

He’d been planning of disposing of Pronge anyway—passing along “new” evidence to his friends in the DA’s office in Florida would be more than enough to have a needle in his arm before he could so much as kick dirt at Andrew Barber’s pristine legacy.

“It’s okay to be scared, Bud. Thanks for coming to see me—that’s what dads are for.”

“And moms.” Jacob adds seriously, and Andy smiles and nods in agreement though his free hand clenches against the seat where his son can’t quite see it.

“And moms.”

—

Dinner is takeout, with Ari meeting the delivery driver three blocks away, just to be safe. You can feel Irene’s eyes on you the whole time he’s gone. You wonder if maybe she knows somehow, if she’s figured out your plan just from plain experience and observation. Her face is still a mess of bruising, but the swelling around her eye has gone down enough for her to squint out of it, which is what she’s currently doing as she looks at you. Her nose is still red and angry, the bruised, veiny skin peeking out around the bandage and splint—Pronge had broken it.

“I’m sorry.” You feel compelled to apologize again—after all, you’re responsible. Sure, Robert had been the one to break it, but you feel like you might as well have driven your own fist into her face for all the difference it made. “I didn’t know Andy would… that he would call someone like that.” You’d thought you knew Andy, that you understood him, who he was. And that had been why you’d let him back in.

But you hadn’t, you see that now. Not even a little bit.

Irene snorts. “Robert’s a parasite. I’m not surprised he’s got himself mixed up with a big fish like Andrew Barber.” She crosses her arms. “He’s always had a talent for finding garbage.”

“You know him?” You ask, grimacing. Irene’s scowl deepens with regret, and she looks away. She’s by no means a small woman, broad shouldered and tall—but she looks somehow diminished.

“S-sorry, I, I shouldn’t pry. I—I know we’re supposed to keep the interpersonal stuff to a minimum—” You ramble apologetically to fill the awkward space your question has left, but Irene cuts you off.

“He was my first partner. Before lover-boy,” she adds, snorting. Your cheeks heat. You can’t stop your face from contorting in confusion. “He was my transporter, till he turned one of my girls back over to her husband.” She looks down at her hands. “My last girl, before, well, you.” Irene’s laugh is dry, but not bitter.

“I didn’t know I was your one last job,” you reply. “Where’d you meet Pronge?”

“What can I say? Your email was very convincing.” Your chest hurts at this, bad. You want to tell her, tell her everything, your phone call with Andy, your deal—but you don’t. She’ll only try to stop you. She’s already suspicious of you, you know—you can’t be the first to think about going back, to weigh the pros and cons and find the latter holds more water. Instead, you watch her tug the chain out from beneath her collar with her thumb.

“Military. Same place I met Ari,” she adds.

“You were all there together?” You ask incredulously, and she actually laughs, shaking her head. “In the army?”

“No, no. Six degrees of separation, type thing.” The chain link rattles as Ari pulls it up, and you turn to watch him duck underneath before lowering it back down and snapping the padlock into place to keep it shut. “Didn’t even know this prick till I needed an east coast cover.” She jerks her thumb at him as he sighs, shaking his head.

“Talking about me again, ladies?” He says, putting the bag down heavily on the counter. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Irene retorts. “And we weren’t Army.” She scrunches up her nose with distaste. “That, there, darlin’,” she points at Ari. “Is a Marine.” She turns her accusatory finger back on herself. “Marine.”

You offer her a wry smile. “I’m not sure what the difference is, but—” you hold your hands up placatingly as her face screws up with offense. “I do believe you that there is a difference.”

“Damn right.”

Ari’s hand finds the small of your back as he passes by behind you, and you don’t jump at his presence.

“There’s not really that much of a difference.” He murmurs cheekily, and you stifle a giggle, biting your lip. “Just so you know.” Ari’s lips graze the shell of your ear, and your whole face goes hot.

“I heard that, asshole,” she snaps, jabbing her finger in Ari’s direction again. “There is.” Irene eats alone, waving her hand and shaking her head as she shovels food out onto her plate. “No, no. I need time away from you two. No offense.”

“None taken.” Ari replies, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “You’re in a shit mood anyway.” You don’t have to see Irene flipping him off to know it’s happening, but you peek over your shoulder anyway, and snicker with laughter as she proudly presents her middle finger. Ari ignores her.

You eat in companionable silence, before Ari, elbows you gently.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, and your chest fills with that too-familiar-ache. “Really?”

“I’m fine.” You don’t know if he believes you, but he doesn’t ask again. Instead, he does something else entirely—Ari dotes on you. He reminds you to finish your food when you push it away half-eaten. If not for me, then for Dove, Mouse. Can’t make milk for her if you’re starving. And when you’re done, he takes your plate, tossing it in the trash for you. You’re still wired, however, electricity running under your skin as the hours wind down. It’s all you can do not to pace.

Andy had taught you that you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too—but goddamn do you want to. You want your daughter, and you want Ari. It feels unfair that you can’t, mostly because it is. Andy gets to have it all. Do it all, and what do you get? To crawl back to him on your belly because he’s still. Fucking. Winning.

Ari places a hand on your thigh, stilling it. You hadn’t even realized you’d been bouncing it nervously, staring off into space. His concern cuts through the noise of your anxiety.

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy.” He grasps your hands. You sigh.

“I know.” You hang your head. “I—I can’t stop thinking about Dove,” you admit, hanging your head. “How she needs me…” Ari squeezes your hands together, his larger ones enveloping them.

“You need you.” He strokes the backs of your hands softly with his thumb. “You realize that, don’t you, Mouse?” You try to resist when he tucks a finger underneath your chin to make sure you’re looking at him, and when you do, you find his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Please tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

You want to—but you don’t even know who you are anymore. Without Dove, you feel adrift; she’d been your anchor, your purpose and drive. You needed to protect her, to get her away from Andy and keep her safe and whole and good. You reasoned you could fix yourself after, duct tape was good enough for you. But now that he has her again and your plan lies in ruins around you, you don’t even know what you’re doing this for. The various splintered pieces of you held in place by thin tape are falling apart again, and you don’t have another way to make them stay together.

When Ari pulls you to his chest you go willingly, tucking yourself against his chest. He smells like pine musk and rain and just a hint of sweat, and you bury your nose in the folds of his shirt. You want to remember him, remember every moment you’d spent with him because they were precious. Of course only you realize it as you stand upon the precipice of never seeing him again, but you can’t change that now. You’re okay with it, trading the feeling of Ari’s solid body against yours, the surety of his presence, for knowing he’ll get to keep breathing.

He’s worth that to you.

Ari presses a kiss into your hair.

“I fucking swear I will do everything in my power to make sure that he never hurts either of you again.” It breaks your heart to know that no matter how hard he tries, Ari will never be able to keep that promise.

I think I love you. “Thank you.” I’m sorry.

“Let’s get some rest.”

You swallow against the tide of words that threaten to come crashing out of your mouth, and nod instead. He leads you back to the makeshift bedroom, and climbs into the cot beside you. He holds you, tucking your head beneath his chin as, for the last time, you fall asleep beside Ari Levinson.

—

“You look like shit.” Pronge’s voice is mocking. You glower at him from across the empty parking lot, but you don’t get any closer. You hadn’t been waiting there long when the sleek black car had pulled into the lot, with Pronge oozing out of the driver’s side door. “What? You get cold feet all of a sudden?” He doesn’t have to yell to be heard—there’s no traffic, no people. The train station is practically a ghost-town at this hour, so there’s no one to overhear, either.

“No.” You narrow your eyes at him, before reluctantly stepping forward. You see no reason not to be honest. “I just hate you.” He grins at your admission.

“Happy to see you too, Sweetcheeks.” Pronge throws open the door to the black sedan next to him, and jerks his thumb at the back seat. “Now get in. Your hubby’s eagerly waiting for you a three hour drive back to fucking Boston.” He sneers. “What, you deaf too? I said move it.”

You’re halfway across the lot when the sound of your name makes your eyes widen. You turn, and behind you is Irene, leaning against the gate as she pants. Your own eyes widen with panic—she’s not supposed to be here. You swear she’d been sleeping not forty-five minutes ago, though the steady rise and fall of her chest in the dark had been your only indication. Ari doesn’t seem to be with her though, and you wonder if she’d rushed here straight out of bed—she isn’t wearing any of her gear, and the knife you know she keeps in her belt is nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Irene looks from you to Pronge and then back again. Your chest aches as the realization crosses her face, betrayal settling in soon after. “You can’t do this.”

“Oh but this is delicious,” Pronge drawls, stepping around the open door. His greasy hair hangs limply into his face. “She’s going home to daddy.”

“The fuck you are,” Irene retorts. “You know you can’t.” She isn’t even talking to Pronge anymore, just you. “You can drink poison knowing it’s poison, but you’ll still die. Andy is never going to let you go, you know that. You told me what it was like in the basement. It’s going to be ten times as bad if he gets his hands on you again.” Irene fixes you with a pleading, earnest look. “Please—”

You’ve heard gunshots before—plenty of times, now—but this doesn’t sound like one. It’s why you don’t understand it when Irene’s chest erupts in a spray of dark, warm red. You can smell it, like burned, raw meat. It dribbles out of her mouth as she stumbles forward and then falls down onto the dark pavement, twitching. You clutch at your face with your hands as the scream that had built up in your chest emerges as a wheeze.

You look at Robert, watching with horror as he stows a pistol with a long silencer attached back into his filthy jacket. The blacktop is slick with morning dew as you race across it, slipping and skidding until you reach her.

“Help me!” Irene is gasping and twitching, her eyes rolling wildly as you push her onto her back, pushing your trembling hands against the hole in her chest. “What-what do I-I don’t know what to do, I—” Jerkily, she lifts a hand to your face, smearing your cheek with her blood.

“R-ru-un.” She coughs up more red, darker, thicker. You sob as you attempt again to staunch the bleeding. It doesn’t help, though, bubbling up out of the wound and over your hands to pool on the ground beneath you.

“No, no, please, he promised, he promised he—he promised,” you babble uselessly as she spasms again and then goes completely still, her eyes locked on the brightening sky above you. “He promised. Andy, he promised.” You look at Robert as Irene’s head falls back against the pavement.

“I guess there’s one cherry that Barber didn't pop.” He is on you in an instant, closing the gap between you with a few careful steps. You can’t move, though, can’t think as his wiry fingers dig into the meat of your shoulder, dragging you to your feet. Irene needs help, she needs—

“No, no, I, I have to help her, I—” You’re babbling uselessly as he shoves you into the back seat, and when you go for the handles on the doors, nothing happens. “Let me—let me out! No, no, he promised, and—” Pronge ignores your wailing, sliding in behind the wheel and starting the car. If anything, he’s enjoying it, grinning as you sob and beat against the windows with bloodstained hands. You cry and scream until your throat is raw, watching her body disappear, eaten by the cityscape as you move away through it.

After a while, you curl in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your knees and laying down on the cool, clean leather.

He promised.

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nfwmybaby · 6 months

Text

to be alone (with you)

_↷pairing: andrew x reader (tried my best to make reader as gender neutral as possible) ˎˊ˗

_↷word count: 1.3k ˎˊ˗

_↷warnings: cigarettes, making out ? ˎˊ˗

♡┊͙thinking about sharing a cigarette with him!! first fic pls go easy on me 😭

“I love you too, Andrew. And I love being alone with you as well.” You take a hit of the cigarette you stole from Andy’s right hand. You don’t know how long you stayed in that position for. How long the soft shake of the trees and the quiet of your heart beating played a soundtrack fond to Andrew. He could die, then and there, and he would not care if heaven and hell existed afterwards, because he’d already experienced something greater than heaven— you.

The sound of music and conversations surrounded the house. It carried itself through every hall, every room, only to be let out by the opened windows, and even then you could hear it from a mile away. Thank goodness Andrew’s house was miles away from the rest of civilization.

“Y/N!” A person calls for you, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Andy went to hide away in one of the rooms again!”

Christ sake.

Why had you even accepted the invitation to the outing knowing you would just be put on Andy-watch? As the constant chatter of people were starting to make your skin crawl, you were albeit a little thankful to be given the perfect chance to crawl away. You understood why he would leave his own party, some people started getting way too much. Still, couldn’t he have told you as to where he was going?

“Alright I’ll go find him.”

“Thank you! And tell him Alex is one minute away from leaving if he’s unattached from Andrew any more.”

You joke, “Fucking boyfriends” And with that you walk away, grabbing a plate of brownies before pulling out your phone to open Andrew’s contact up.

The people are looking for you

Are they sending you to look for me again?

Yes.

I come alone.

Baring peace and some brownies, if you let me

🧐

Is it the brownies I like best?

If you mean the ones I make, yes!

Peace offer accepted.

I’m technically outside.

Have fun trying to find me <3

Oh my god you hate to see me

Quite the contrary, I love to see you, especially when you’re all annoyed

I hate you, Andrew John Hozier-Byrne.

Yeah, Y/N M/N L/N, sure you do.

*message disliked by Y/N*

Good god. You were going crazy looking for him with only his vague ass hint. With the opening of his bedroom you were instantly greeted by the smell of cigarettes and a glass slide door revealing the balcony. There sat the person you had just been looking for, his back facing you. As he turned his face to meet you, a sly smirk grew, bringing the cigarette that rested on his left hand to his mouth,

“15 minutes! You had me waiting for you for 15 agonizing minutes.” He pats the empty chair to the right of him, gesturing for you to sit. You oblige, making your way towards him,

“It’s not my fault you didn’t tell me where you were. ‘I’m technically outside’ had me lost and confused.” You rested your brownies next of the ashtray on the table in front of you both,

“Where’s the fun in that? Plus. I am technically outside. And this is, quite literally, my bedroom. Why would I be anywhere else?” He teases.

You scrunch your face, getting more annoyed with him with every breath he takes, “You know, maybe downstairs, at the party you decided to host? You’re so lucky you’re pretty”

“Aw. You think I’m pretty.” He tried to cover it up, but he couldn't, the paleness of his skin was immediately greeted with a soft blush when the words left your mouth.

“Shush now, Andrew. May I please have a hit of your cigarette?”

He thought for a minute, his eyes darting between the cigarette and the soft pleads of your eyes, “You ask so kindly, but I don’t want to share till you confirm you think I’m pretty, you pure feek.” He takes another hit off his cigarette, but before he can exhale away from you, your body finds itself moving without much thought. Your hand softly guides his head back towards you, a shaky exhale being forced out of him as you lean in close enough to practically feel him exhale. The smoke fills the distance between you two, and without breaking eye contact with him (despite his eyes being glued to your lips at this point) you inhale the smoke he exhaled from his last hit.

“I think you’re a total ride.” You say as you guide the hand with the cigarette to your lips.

“Y/N.” The desperation seeped out of the call of your name like a plea. His hand takes back its control despite it unknowingly still on eachother.

You blow out the smoke, “Andrew.”

He watches you closely as you inhale and exhale, “Christ. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I know, quite romantic, isn't it?”

He laughs, that intoxicating sound that could have fooled you for a siren, “Death by your hand. Put it on my gravestone.”

You two laugh at the thought for a minute, but when the laughter subsided, you’ve come back to the realization his hand still held yours. It felt nice, right, even, like that's where it should always belong. Or maybe it was just the prior drinks you took a short while ago finally catching up and making you crazy. Either way. His hands were soft, a stark difference to the vast amount of guitarists you’ve met with rougher hands. They were also long and slender, cuppings yours with no problem. He must’ve noticed you staring as he switched the hand that held the cigarette to the other. With his now open left hand, it found its way to your waist, tugging you only soft enough to get the message to you. You happily oblige to his unspoken ask. You stood up slowly, taking a step or two before reaching Andrew's chair and then straddling him beneath you, his hand hadn’t left your waist for a second. Even sitting down he was still taller than you.

“You look divine like this, my love. As close to me as can be. Away from the rest of the folks.” He grins that stupid smile you fell in love with long ago. You shake your head at that, leaning in to kiss him. He happily leans towards to meet you halfway. “I love being alone with you. I love you.” He pulls away and buries himself in the crook of your neck.

“I love you too Andrew. And I love being alone with you as well.” You take a hit of the cigarette you stole from Andy’s right hand. You don’t know how long you stayed in that position for. How long the soft shake of the trees and the quiet of your heart beating played a soundtrack fond to Andrew. He could die, then and there, and he would not care if heaven and hell existed afterwards, because he’d already experienced something greater than heaven— you. The sound of your voice had pulled him out of his thoughts like new music to his worn ears, “Andrew. Your stomach was rumbling.” Oh. When had it done that? He wonders. “Here. The brownies I made for you.”

He smiles and thanks you before immediately eating the plate full. Had he been this hungry and hadn’t known it? Oops. Guess he was too distracted by you. You took the last hits of the cigarette as it reached its end, putting it down on the ashtray, returning back to watch Andrew finish the brownies. You place your hand against his cheek and rub the crumbs off the corners of his mouth. His eyes turn soft with a small pleading look on them as your thumb stayed still on his lip. Placing a delicate kiss on your thumb, "Kiss me, please baby?"

You giggle, happily agreeing and leaning in to kiss him. The grip he had on you tightened. Even more when you went to pull away, “As much as I love being alone with you, Alex threatened to leave if he wasn't reattached to you.” You place a small pecks on the corners of his lips. He smiles at what you had said and done, loosening his grip just a bit,

“Can you promise me I have you the rest of the night?” He burrows his head back into your neck.

“I promise you I won’t leave your side.” You reassure him as your hands play with the curls of his hair.

You hadn't thought it was possible, but he had melted more into you, "Thank you for everything you do for me, Y/N" He murmurs softly into the skin of where your neck and collarbone met.

"You know you don't have to thank me for anything, Andy." He starts to slowly rock you both from the left to right, his arms around your waist, tight to make sure you don't loose balance and fall. And because he wanted to be in the comfort of your arms for longer, milking the feeling as much as possible.

"No. I'll spend the rest of our lives thanking you for everything you do. I'll love you for anything and everything." He finally leaves the comfort of your neck, pulling you in to kiss you again. You could feel him pour every emotion out to you in that minute.

You understood him. He understood you. That’s how well you two worked, words left unspoken could be heard, and words that were let out were messages received, no matter the phrasing. He wasn’t too happy about rejoining the crowd, but that didn’t matter, not when you kissed him so softly as a promise to what you had said earlier, and especially not when his hand was holding yours. He couldn’t care less as to where he was as long as it was next to you. Though he much preferred being alone with you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Hope you guys enjoyed !! Please lmk what you think ☻

Also inspired by this version of To Be Alone ^^

youtube

#hozier #hozier x reader #hozier imagine #andrew hozier byrne #hozier smut #x reader #ooc #Youtube

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years

Note

Okay so

Choke Me Bite Me has made me feral

I’m thinking about the next part…maybe some smutty angst where Eddie’s girlfriend catches him and Reader, or he calls out Reader’s name while sleeping with his girlfriend? And she makes him choose? Up to you who he chooses…feel free to go full angst.

Xoxoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚

CHOKE ME BITE ME | part ii | for reference

this will be the last for this ask/ mini series 😘 thank you for all the love ❤️ 💋 thank you to @lunatictardis for the req that started this 💕💕

eddie x female!reader

w.c 3.2k

warnings: NO MINORS, p in v unprotected sex, cheating, drug use. etc

Over the past few weeks Eddie had been acting stranger than usual. Someone who was once a leader among younger misfits of Hawkins, was now nowhere to be found. His seat at lunch would be empty for days, only to be seen rushing in at the last minute to eat a few pretzels and steal Dustin’s hat, or to tease Mike about his supposed California “girlfriend”. Other days he would go missing for lunch and half of his classes, which for him, was not uncommon, but coming back to class with his hair in a low bun, cheeks flushed and sweaty, was. He even started canceling Hellfire or moving it entirely at the last minute, claiming he wasn’t prepared or that Wayne needed him.

The boys of Hellfire grew suspicious of their leather and denim adorned Dungeon Master, “He’s gotta have a girlfriend.” Mike squeaked, the effects of puberty still hitting even though he was the tallest of the nerds.

“He’s had a girlfriend for a long time, dumbass.” Gareth sneers, “How the fuck have you not noticed?”

“Fuck I don’t know! He never talks about her!”

Dustin, easily the smartest of the group, chimes in, “Actually, that’s a good point.. he doesn’t talk about her… at all.”

“Last I heard, she was fucking around on him, I heard her talking about it with Chrissy Cunningham during Biology a few weeks ago. I told him but he didn’t seem to give a shit.” Jeff shrugs, shoveling in a heap of chewy canned corn. “You know how he is.”

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement, brushing it off their shoulders as they planned how they were going to beat Eddie’s next campaign, if he didn’t cancel, again.

“Christ, mmm are you sure no one’s going to come in and see us, you almost got us caught last time.”

“Nice try princess, you almost got us caught cause of that fucking whore mouth you have… fuck.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your mouth shut when your dick is in my throat.”

The hellfire room echos with your combined moans as Eddie pumps harder into you harder, ass hanging off the table, he’s rubbing your clit as you clench around him. Sweat is dripping from his thick tufts of hair as he rolls his eyes into the back of his skull— full demon mode as he claws at your hip with his other hand.

Since Eddie brought you to school that day after date crashing, and vandalizing Andy’s car, you had both been skipping class to— explore the inner walls of Hawkins— or for lack of better words, fuck in any empty room you could get to first. So far the broom closet across from Ms. O’Donnell’s, the Hellfire room (Eddie’s personal favorite) , the band room, the wood shop shack, the dugouts by the baseball fields and the picnic table in the woods: had all been defiled by you and Eddie.

“I swear you get tighter every time we fuck,” Eddie groans as you writhe beneath him, grabbing him by the thins of his shirt collar to look him in the dark glassy pits of his eyes while you moaned into his mouth and come all over his cock. “Thassit pretty girl, fuck you’re so fucking hot, so perfect— letting me fuck you allover this goddamn school, I’m coming fuck fuck fuck.” He comes undone, shivering and bucking his hips harder with every shooting release his body produces. He collapses halfway on top of you, causing the cheap table to groan and buckle beneath your combined weight, crashing to the floor with Eddie’s dick still buried inside of you.

The shock wears off and you’re both hysterically laughing, your laughter pushes his softening length out of you along with your combined come, oozing out of your pussy and all over the floor like pearly melted ice cream treat. “Don’t think I’ve ever broken a table from fucking before.”

“What can I say, I’m just that good,” you say with a wink as you button up your blouse, fixing your hair and blotting your mascara ran eyes.

Eddie couldn’t deny you anymore. He had been putting on this hard ass facade for a while now, but every now and then he would slip up, telling you how pretty you were, bringing you back to his place and holding you while you both slept after the usual hookup and joint. With all the time you had been spending together, you wondered if they were even together anymore. You never mentioned him to her. Never treading towards that car wreck of a relationship. He didn’t seem nearly as frustrated and pissed off as he did when this situation first started. In fact, the sex was almost sweet at times, blaming it on the weed as Eddie would bottom out into your pussy, holding your hands above your head and kissing you sloppy, his hips rolling slow in tandem with the low rumblings of “Free Bird” playing in the background, singing into your ear as he fucked into you slow.

Tucking himself back into his jeans, your come still sticky sweet on his cock, he smirks, “yeah, you’re something all right.”

The jingle of a key in the door has you both on alert, pulling Eddie out of the blissful limbo of wondering if you’re just fuck buddies or a little something more. He helps you to your feet and holds your hand tight, yanking you towards the back door leading to outside. You're both laughing as you run to the picnic table in the woods, grabbing your hand tighter, filling his lungs with fresh air, coughing from the years of lung abuse. A blush pricks its way across his cheeks as he looks down at you. Your smile will end up killing him, he’s certain of that. The ache in his heart subsides when he sees it. Like all the bullshit she puts him through doesn’t matter. Because he has you.

She had been noticing Eddie’s lack of attendance, not that she cared. Even though she didn’t sit with him and his band of freaks at lunch, she couldn't help but distinguish between the now quietness of the cafeteria and Eddie’s normal prancing around like a lunatic, blurting the conformities of the world for all of his very much uninterested peers to hear. Being with him was suffocating. Clutching the air from her perfect image and tarnishing her brand of Hawkins High elite. She allowed their time to be spent together at his place rather than hers, not wanting to taint her family name by having that garbage pile on wheels parked outside the trim and poised bushes of the monstrous house in the newer golf course addition to Hawkins. He didn’t understand what the big deal was, why she thought it was important or even fucking cared at all.

“So you’re embarrassed to be with me?” He’d whine. She so badly wanted to say yes, but clung on to their relationship as a backup…mostly for the free weed. Okay only for the free weed. Sometimes sacrifice was necessary get what you actually wanted. And for that, she would sacrifice herself and lie through her teeth to get what she desired— but what she wanted, wasn’t Eddie.

She was in love with him, or at least she thought she was early on in their relationship. Hooking up after stumbling into the Hideout on a Tuesday night in the summer after a birthday party for Chrissy landed them a ride to the bar and free drinks from the bartender she had been flirting with all night. Eddie was singing that night, sweaty and shirtless. Hair soaked down to his shoulders as he sang and winked towards her. She thought he was in college, home for the summer, playing with his band, working on the side, she was astonished to find out that he was twenty and still in high school, her high school. Eddie had fallen head over heels for her, excited that someone, anyone, would give him the time of day. He was oblivious to her wandering eyes, the way guys would snicker and wink at her whenever they were near. Even missing her crude hand and mouth gestures she made to the jocks on the football team. He was so blissfully unaware, and she used it to her advantage.

He had caught her, she didn’t know it, but he had seen her cheating. He decided to show up to her house on her birthday, a dozen roses tucked under his arm and a pretty heart necklace wrapped in gold paper he had seen at the jewelry store in star court mall. He had spent two weeks worth of dealings to afford it, only for her to be kissing Jason Carver on her front porch. The following night you had been working at Melvald’s when he came stomping in, searching for batteries for his Walkman. You had seen him around school, heard the rumors about him being a vessel for satan. But nothing would prepare you for the pool of wetness in your panties when he smooth-talked you into meeting him out back after your shift for a smoke. That night you were both high out of your minds, lazily shotgunning one another as Eddie pounded into you from behind in his van. Releasing all his pent up anger from seeing her with Jason the previous night. You were his outlet, he had made it clear to you that this was strictly fooling around, nothing more, and to never, under any circumstances were you allowed to talk about her.

That was almost two months ago, and although you promised yourself you wouldn’t, begged yourself not to care about him, to move on from him— you simply couldn’t. You craved him when he wasn’t around, needed him when you had a bad day. What started off as a fling was currently erupting into nights of late night talking, spending more time at Eddie’s house than you did at your own, even meeting his uncle on accident when Eddie started undressing himself and you, shucking his jacket to the ground and toeing off his Reeboks, when he backed himself into the front door of the trailer, a stunned Wayne sitting at the kitchen table, clearing his throat from behind a cup of coffee. But he was still with her.

One night, crowded around the small pea green table finishing their supper, Wayne clears his throat, swallowing the last bits of his tv dinner, “So what happened to ol’ uh whatshername?” Wiping his graying mustache with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes as Eddie stares at him with a confused look on his face, one eyebrow curled up, the other shoved high into his fringe. “Don't’ play stupid with me, boy, your girlfriend.” Wayne grunts.

“Oh.. uh— well we’re still together, why? Gossip not cutting it at the plant, need some entertainment?” Eddie sneers, putting up his walls of defense so quick they practically shook the foundation of the fragile decaying trailer.

“As much as I love not seeing her scowling face around here, was just curious as to why she ain’t, and why you try to sneak y/n out of here in the mornings when you think I’m asleep.”

Eddie’s face pales, running a hand down his face he sinks lower into his chair. “I don’t know what to do.” He groans, talking behind his hands.

“Boy, I know that skull of yours is thicker than concrete, but I never figured you’d be that damn dumb.”

“Hey!” Eddie protests, “it’s not that easy! She was the first girl ever to notice me!”

“It is that easy, you’re just not paying attention, ain’t never seen you smile more than when y/n is around. That other snooty rich bitch used hand sanitizer every time she touched something here. Drove me nuts watching her turn her nose up to you, to this place. Her heart ain’t in it son, and quite frankly it never was,” he stands from the table, throwing away the paper formed sectioned out plate and puts the fork in the sink, rubbing his hands along the fraying towel hung from the stove, “sometimes you gotta open your eyes a little bit and see who makes you happy, who you actually like spendin’ time with.” He tucks his head beneath a worn ball cap and waves bye as he steps out of the trailer, leaving a dumbfounded Eddie staring holes into the cold mashed potatoes. A decision pressed along the inner workings of his mind.

“Jesus Christ,” Gareth points across the dim lit parking lot, laughing as the shadows of Eddie’s van rocks back and forth.

“You know what they say, when the van’s a rockin’ don’t come knockin” Jeff explains, wiping the last bit of Coke off his chin. “Told you he had a girlfriend, Mike!”

Hellfire had just gotten over and the party was heading to their vehicles. The late spring air was chilly as a light breeze picked up, scattering trash along the black asphalt of the parking lot in a sad tango.

“Shit, guess he did have something better to do.” Mike says with a laugh, high fiving Dustin and Lucas. A car pulls into the parking lot, parking right behind Eddie’s van.

“Wait isn’t that…”

“No fucking way!”

Stepping out of the car was Eddie’s girlfriend, fuming pissed as she knocked and banged on the windows.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” Gareth yells as he runs towards Eddie’s van. “Let’s go!” he yells over his shoulder, summoning the rest of Hellfire to help out their devoted DM.

A note taped to the inside of your locker meant one thing, Eddie. He knew your locker combination and would frequently leave you locations and times on where to meet. But this note was different: “meet me at 6 o’clock in the parking lot by my van. 🖤” Your stomach fluttered at the sight of it, clutching the note to your chest you thought about it for the next three hours.

The van was set up with your favorite snacks, camping lanterns he “borrowed” from his neighbors, pillows, blankets, and of course a few joints he had rolled previously. He was standing against the opened back door to the van, holding flowers and that signature grin.

“What’s all this?” You ask, eyes wet with tears, your smile breaking from ear to ear. The beautiful petals from the flowers curling against your fingers as you touched them delicately.

Eddie grabs you by the waist, his hand dragging up your body lazily, stroking your cheek, “just thought we could do something different tonight… before we go any further I need to tell you— I’m ending it with her.”

Your heart skips a beat, “w-why is that?”

His hand grazes your chin, lifting it up higher revealing the slope of your neck. He slotted his lips against you, licking slow and lightly nipping his teeth into your soft flesh. “Oh I think you know why, baby.”

“I do, but I want you to say it,” you tease, twirling your fingers through his hair as you try to stifle a moan.

Eddie grins against your neck, licking a strip up to your ear, whispering, “I want you, and only you.” He pulls away and looks deep into your eyes, “you make me happier than I’ve ever been, I feel like I can be myself with you… I’m so into you baby.”

Your heart sings, you throw your arms around Eddie’s neck, pressing your lips to his, murmuring between kisses, “I’m yours.”

He picks you up delicately, bringing you inside the van and laying you down softly against the pillows. Shutting the door, Eddie peels his clothes off, eyeing you with sweet eyes of honey flecked brown as you undress. He presses his body into yours, kissing you slow and sweet, savoring this moment, wishing he had always taken his time with you. Soaking in every kiss, every lick of your skin, the soft moans you hummed out beneath him as you were finally his. “Should have made you mine the minute I saw you behind that counter at Melvald’s. You looked so cute, and I was so miserable.” He noses his way through the valley of your tits, suckling on your nipples as your back arches up, thrusting yourself up into his mouth.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you moaned in the comfort of the van, “we’re together now… and I need you.” Your pussy aching to be filled.

He wastes no time, throwing your legs around his waist as he unzips his jeans, spitting on your naked pussy and rubbing his cock through your dripping folds. He pumps into you slow, kissing you deeply as he mutters swears against your lips. “I’m down bad for you sweetheart,” he admits, thrusting his hips into you, reveling in the eyes you gasp as he pushes in deeper, “you have no idea.”

You claw at his back, fingers digging into the softness of his skin, rippling across his muscled form. Finally able to mark him up without any restraints, he moans into your opened mouth. He pumps into you harder, rubbing your clit with one hand as the van is rocking back to forth. Sweat is pouring from your bodies, fogging up the windows, and dripping onto the blankets. Headlights glare against the back windows as Eddie pounds into you deeper, you’re whining beneath him, begging and clawing at his shoulders, crying from the beautiful pleasure filling you up, cusping your g spot as Eddie raises your leg over his shoulder, using your hips to grip onto.

A bang on the window has you both stopping dead. Nothing but bated breath and your heart beats heard as you listen. High pitched screaming is breaking against the balance from beyond the metal doors, it’s her.

The Hellfire boys make it to Eddie’s van just in time to stop her from throwing open the doors, or so they thought.

The doors open revealing Eddie’s bare ass for all of Hawkins to see, he throws the blankets over you covering your naked body. He swivels slowly to face her.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she screams as she slaps and hits him on his naked chest, a pillow covering his groin. “You're cheating on me?!”

“Aww, you thought you were the only one fucking around on this relationship?” he scoffs, “tell me how long have you been fucking Jason behind Chrissy’s back?”

“That’s none of your business!” She seethes.

“You’re right, it’s not, we’re done. fuck off. Oh and don’t worry, I made sure to tell Chrissy about your and Jason’s little rendezvous.”

She stomps back to her car screaming with rage as she pushes Mike out of the way. Tires squealing as she leaves the parking lot.

“Y/N?” Dustin asks, peering around Eddie.

“Hey,” you wave, covering yourself up more as you scan the van for your clothes.

“Wait, you know him?” Eddie asks, sitting down next to you and slithering beneath the blankets, pecking your shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Yeah, I do but maybe we can play detective after we’re not naked in the school parking lot.”

“Oh right, hey get out of here you little pervs! Quit trying to look at my girl!”

You would think about those two little words rolling so easily off his tongue for hours. Wrapped in Eddie’s arms, wearing his shirt as you sleep peacefully in his bed, finally as his girl.

a/n: this was so fun to write, hope I ended it the way you had all hoped. I didn’t want to give Eddie’s gf a name figuring she would be best to just be imagined however you as a reader would think of her. if you liked this—please comment your favorite part of this little ask turned mini series—I’m currently taking reqs for specific stories only, the link is in my master list 💋 thank you to everyone for leaving your feedback 🤎

tagged: @sidthedollface2

@dontwasteyourchances @tlclick73 @eddie-swhore @sinczir @alexiatheheroic @sh-el67 @lolalanaie

{if you’re tagged but didn’t get a mention notification, I tried to tag you but I think I saw someone post that it’s a settings issue on your blog}

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie smut #eddie angst #eddie fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x y/n

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jesterofcringe · 20 days

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Detention Teen!James Hook x Reader

★ notes : friends to rivals, unrequited love, absolutely not proof read ★

this is based on the breakfast club, and as such the relationship between Hook and Reader is the same as Bender and Andy's for those who have seen the movie if you haven't seen it- in short, Hook is the rebel character and Reader is the athlete ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

★ "Fucking dumbass!" You groaned, "I can't believe I have to spend my whole afternoon in detention and it's all your fault."

★ "Oh please," James said with a heavy eye roll, "Don't blame me, you're the one who swung first."

★ "Yeah, as if you'd stop talking all that shit on your own. You did that on purpose."

★ It was true, you had swung first. The VKs were being assholes, per-usual, and making sharp comments towards you and your friends. But for whatever reason, James seemed to be completely focused on you. From dissing your clothes to dissing your grades, he made sure to hit you where it hurt. Your hobbies, your classes, your homelife, James barely gave you a moment to breathe. Of course, you wouldn't let that slide. Problem was, you sucked with clap backs. Instead, you punched him square in the nose, causing it to bleed. James wasn't a great fighter, but he didn't want to look bad in front of his friends, so he swung back. He nicked your jaw and before you knew it, a full on fight had broken out in the courtyard between you two.

★ Now here you were, locked away for the next few hours, all because you wanted to get James to shut up.

★ It was uncomfortably stuffy in the library- the AC was broken making the room horribly warm. It didn't help that today was the day you decided to wear your letterman jacket. As soon as you found your seat, you peeled off your jacket and hung it over the side of the chair. You leaned forward, resting your head on the table.

★ James more or less did the same- he took his jacket off and tossed it onto the seat next to him, before settling into his own seat. He leaned back and rested his feat on the table, the back of his chair legs being his only source of balance. You kind of hoped he would lean a little too far and fall backwards.

★ As the time ticked away, your leg subconsciously started to bounce. Less out of anxiety, more out of pure boredom. Barely an hour in and you wanted to claw your eyes out. You could only stare at the clock for so long, and even then the staring almost made it seem as if the clock was moving slower. You twiddled with your thumbs, you used your pens as drumsticks, but it wasn't the boredom quencher you hoped it was. Although you thought you were being inconspicuous, the rhythmic tapping of your foot could only be ignored for so long before James turned to look at you with a sly grin spread across his face.

★ "Awh, getting anxious because it's your first time in detention?"

★ "Keep it up and I'll punch you again."

★ James held up his hands [hand, singular?] defensively and whistled, "Duly noted."

★ The silence was cutting, and obviously James couldn't stand it either. Normally when he was in detention, his friends were stuck with him. This was the first time he was trapped with someone he didn't quite get along with. James absolutely couldn't stand it, and decided witty conversation was better than no conversation.

★ "Somebody's in a mood."

★ "I was supposed to have practice today and now I can't make. Thanks to you."

★ "Do you get kicked off the team for getting into trouble?"

★ "No, but if I miss too much practice I will."

★ James paused for a moment, considering this, "If you ever lose your spot on the team I'm sure I could convince Uliana to let you back in the crew?"

★ To be quite honest, the offer didn't sound half bad. You were apart of the crew way back in middle school- the bunch of you were childhood friends, traveling through school as a team. When you enrolled in Merlin's you decided to take up a sport. While you did spend as much time as you could with the crew, practice and games took up most of your free time. Eventually you had to make a choice, and decided to split off from the crew, finding a new home with the friend group formed from your team.

★ To this day, James was mad at your decision. Back when you were friends, James was closest to you. The two of you were thick as thieves, an undeniably chaotic duo. As you got older, a crush began to blossom in the back of James' heart. While his friends pressured him to confess to you, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was dreadfully scared of ruining the bond you had. When you eventually left the crew, he was shattered. Absolutely crushed that he had lost his chance, feeling completely betrayed at the fact that you had split off from the group as easily as you had.

★ He was still pissed off about it, and decided to take it out by picking on you and generally being a pest. You ignored it to the best of your ability, but eventually enough was enough and you decided to shove back. Well, less shove, more punch. And now you were both locked away, the both of you overly conflicted about your feelings.

★ To be quite honest, you missed him as well. But your sport was important to you. You had a family on your team, and you really felt like you belonged among them. Not to mention, you were pretty damn good at it too. You could make a career out of this, and you were kinda hoping to. You couldn't just throw that all away to bully the nice kids and smoke behind the bleachers with your old crew.

★ So after really taking James' offer into consideration, you sighed, "Yeah right, as if."

★ "I'm being serious-"

★ "So am I."

★ James crossed his arms, and pretended not to feel hurt, "Whatever. Suit yourself."

★ It was almost like there was a wall in between you and James. Despite being so close, you couldn't help but feel so apart. Here you were, being forced to stay in a room with your childhood best friend, and all of your interactions had somehow turned sour. You kind of wished things could go back to the way they were, but you were happy with your life now. You just wished James could've felt the same instead of feeling resentful and making it your problem.

★ When Merlin came in and announced detention was up, you were practically halfway out the door before he had the chance to finish speaking. James on the other hand, chose to linger. He took his sweet time gathering his things before heading out. Right before he could make his exit, he noticed you left your jacket behind in your rush to leave. While he could've just left it, he picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder.

★ He could've done all sorts of things to your jacket just to get under your skin- staining the fabric or tearing it to shreds popped into his head first- but those were decidedly not his idea of a good prank. Instead rather, James decided he'd love to see your face when he showed up to school Monday wearing your letterman and in turn making people assume your time together was something more than just detention.

#might be a bit ooc #its been a minute since i watched the movie #i need to rewatch it #descendants #descendants x reader #james hook #james hook x reader #hook x reader #rise of red #descendants rise of red

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medusapelagia · 1 month

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15 The summer camp

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Childhood) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: secretly alien ) Rating: teen and up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: implied violence Words: 1912

Eddie fucking hated the summer.

Yes, fucking, even if that was a bad word, and Wayne would be really disappointed in Eddie but it wasn't his fault if it was the third year Wayne sent him to the stupid summer camp with the stupid kids of the stupid plant for two entire weeks.

Eddie was twelve, he was old enough that he could have stayed home alone, but no, Wayne signed him up for the stupid camp, again. Eddie cried and screamed, he even begged and promised to eat all his greens and not play loud music by night, but nothing convinced Wayne.

So here he is, sitting in the back of the stupid bus, alone, with his tape player to the maximum volume just to piss Wayne off. He always says that he's going to ruin his hearing blasting music so loudly, but Eddie doesn't care. It's the only way to isolate himself from those mouth breathers.

They all have the same age, more or less, the younger is Jonathan. who is ten, the oldest is Eddie, who is going to be twelve in a couple of months, and in Wayne's opinion that should be enough to have fun. It's definitely not. All those kids wear fancy clothes their moms buy for them at the mall, while Eddie is always wearing second-hand clothes way too big because Wayne says he'll grow into them. So right now he's wearing a very sick Metallica t-shirt that's way too big for him, and a pair of jeans cuffed so many times he lost count.

As soon as they get there the camp counselors are going to divide them into units, or Dens, and Eddie will try to do his best to find a place where to hide and avoid any kind of physical activity the counselors will propose. No swimming, no rafting, no riding, no archery. He has enough books in his backpack to keep busy for the entire duration of the Summer camp.

***

When they arrive, the same smiling faces welcome them. Eddie wonders if it's possible that in three years none of those young men graduated and got a real job. So pathetic. He grabs his bag and waits for the same stupid rituals that will divide the kids into two different groups, when he notices a tiny boy, half hidden behind a tree. He doesn’t remember him from the bus and he’s wearing some clothes that are way too big. His jeans are dirt at the knees like he felt playing through the woods.

And he’s not the only one to notice him. Andy is pointing at him, grinning with his stupid minions, while four-eyes Alex finally turns and sees the dirty boy.

“Hey, you. Why are you hiding? We are all friends here. I’m Alex, and I’m going to be your counselor. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy seems unsure for a moment, but in the end, he mutters, “Steve.” in the softest voice Eddie has ever heard.

Alex grabs his name list, reading the names one by one two times before finally finding the boy.

“Steve found you! Our latest addition, huh? Did your parents leave you here alone?”

Steve nods quietly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, they probably thought we were already here, but don’t worry! We are going to have so much fun together this summer." Alex promises, putting a hand on the kid's back and gently pushing him toward the rest of the group.

"Ok, everyone, this is Steve. It's his first year here with us at the Hideout Camp, so give him a warm welcome."

A choir of Hi, Steve, fills the air, while the kid tries to put up a strong face, but Eddie can see tears in his eyes.

Fuck. Those kids are going to tear him into pieces in no time.

Alex and Jacob start to divide the kids into two groups, and Andy, the son of the plant's HR Director, keeps grinning, pointing at Steve. Eddie knows that he's planning some stupid and dangerous prank because he has been his victim in the past years, so when Eddie is assigned to the Moose Den and Andy to the Teddy one, Eddie decides that maybe, for once, he could care about someone else, so the steps toward Steve and shakes his hand, "Hi, do you want to join my Den? I'm in the Moose one and it's very cool."

It isn't. They both suck, but at least Andy isn't there.

Steve turns toward Alex, unsure, but four-eyes winks at him, "It doesn't happen often that someone asks you to join their Den, Steve. It's a great honor."

"Ok. Well. Thank you. I'll join your Den." Steve replies softly, and Eddie doesn't lose any time and drags him far away from Andy.

As soon as they are far enough from Alex, Eddie whispers, to Steve’s ear “Ok. So. Andy is a prick. Stay away from him and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, he just walks to the end of the line, waiting to get to the last bunk where he could hide and read all the books he wants for the next two weeks, but when he turns the annoying kid is at his side, smiling brightly.

“I’m Steve.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie snarls back, not interested in the latest.

“You should tell me your name." Steve insists.

"Why should I? What are you? A cop?"

"No, I’m not." Steve replies, scared, staring at Eddie with his huge doe eyes, “I’m just a kid.

"If I tell you my name will you just fuck off?" Steve nods, eagerly, so Eddie sighs, and turning his back he adds, "Eddie."

"That's a nice name."

"No, it isn't. It's a shit name. Now can you leave me be?"

"But… you asked me to join your Den!" Steve protests.

"Only to save you from Andy. Now you know you have to avoid him so we can part ways." Eddie replies, grabbing his backpack and following Alex toward their bungalow. He doesn't turn to see if Steve is following as well, it's none of his business, or so he thinks, until he feels a sweaty little hand taking his and he finds Steve smiling brightly at him.

"We are going to be best friends."

Fuck.

This Summer Camp is going to be hell.

***

Even if it’s his first year at the summer camp, Steve seems to outshine in every game or activity the counselors propose to them: archery, obstacle course, climbing, Steve attends every activity and is always the best, and what's worse, it's that he's always dragging Eddie with him. When Eddie protests that he's not strong enough for the canoe, Steve makes sure they are on the same one and does his best to row for the both of them. And when he complains that he doesn’t want to play water balloon dodgeball, Steve hits him first and Eddie starts running to get his revenge.

At the end of the day, they are tired but happy when the counselor gathers them all around the campfire to share some horror stories.

No, Eddie isn’t happy. He’s living a nightmare. Two weeks are almost gone and Eddie hardly finished one of his books, because every time he hides somewhere Steve tracks him down like a fucking bloodhound and drags him somewhere to do something.

“Why are you always so eager to do stuff!” Eddie complains, resting on the grass, and staring at the sky.

“There are so many things to do! And I want to learn them all! I’m not going to have a lot of time to learn and we are going to leave soon.”

“You live in town, huh? That must be cool” Eddie comments, ripping a blade of grass and starting whistling with it. At the sound, Steve covers his ears, shaking his head, and for a brief moment, Eddie could swear he saw a tail. An honest to god tail! Slim and thin like a mouse tail, but still a tail!

“Steve?!” Eddie asks, looking at him worriedly, but Steve keeps covering his face with his hands.

“Why did you do that?” Steve cries.

“I’m sorry, I was just whistling, I didn’t know you didn’t like it. I won’t whistle anymore,” Eddie promises, throwing away the blade of grass.

“Never again?”

“Never again,” Eddie confirms, and Steve slowly lowers his hands.

“Steve…” Eddie asks while they walk back toward the kitchen to have lunch with the others, “Do you… do you have a tail?”

Eddie isn’t a scientist but he knows humans have no tails. Still. He saw Steve’s tail.

The other boy looks at him, his eyes wide with terror while he bites his lower lip, “Why are you asking?”

“I think I saw a tail when you covered your ears.”

“A tail? Does little Steve have a tail? Let's check!” Andy says, grabbing Steve's pants and trying to strip him in front of everyone.

“Let me go! Let me go!” Steve cries, kicking and screaming, but Andy and his friends have almost immobilized him.

“Stupid prick! Let Steve go!” Eddie yells, biting Andy’s arm. He will be kicked out of the camp but he doesn’t give a fuck. Steve is his friend and he won’t let anyone hurt him! But they are two against five, and there’s no way Eddie can manage to free Steve. Maybe if he ran toward the kitchen he could ask a counselor’s help.

Eddie doesn’t even have the time to make a plan that the slim pink tail appears once more and this time it grabs Andy’s ankle making him fall on the ground, then it yanks another boy until Steve is finally free and standing, moving his tail like a whip, threatening the boys to get closer.

“Steve?” Eddie calls, confused, and when the chestnut boy turns his eyes are big and wide, and his skin is a grayish color.

“Steve?” Eddie calls again.

“I’m sorry Eddie. My parents sent me here to learn how to survive your world.”

“In my world? What the hell are you saying?!”

Steve doesn’t have time to reply because a bright light starts to shine above them and when Eddie lifts his eyes a flying saucer is standing above them.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, confused and terrified.

“Those are my parents. They came to take me away.” Steve replies, grabbing Eddie’s hand, “But don’t worry. We’ll meet again. I promise. Just… don’t whistle around me, ok?” the kid asks and then he disappears.

***

Years have passed since Eddie’s encounter with an alien, that’s what he’s convinced it was.

None at the camp did remember Steve when Eddie came back and even if he did numerous research about the mysterious boy or other alien appearances he never managed to find proof that it wasn’t just a kid's dream.

In the meantime, Eddie has become a writer, and most of his books are sci-fi books about a hero alien called: Steve.

He’s mindlessly signing some copy of his last novel, the same script with everyone, “Hey, thank you for coming. What’s your name?” and then writing the same custom dedication, “To (insert name). Thank you for being with me during this new adventure.”

Kimberly, Jonathan, Francis, one name after the other Eddie writes the same sentence over and over until a familiar voice makes him finally lift his head.

“Steve. Name is Steve.”

57 notes · View notes