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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x fem! Reader [masterlist]

Prev | vol viii

Summary: November 1st, Steve’s birthday celebration, a new friend is brought into the mix, Eddie’s past is revealed.

Trigger Warning: no minors pls, language, drinking, reader wears Eddie’s jacket, fluff, angst.

W/C: 11.5k

@jo-harrington + @ghost-proofbaby for beta reading this a tiny bit for me

The sun is waning through your curtains, blinding your eyes with a light so bright it’s like you’re staring into a flashlight. The ominous whirring of your fan oscillates, sending a chilling breeze across your room

Silently thanking yourself for taking ibuprofen before falling asleep last night, the pounding in your head is minimal, but the scratchy dryness of your throat is a steady reminder of the impromptu karaoke singing and the toe to toe chain smoking contest you bullied Eddie into. Your former drunker self turned cockier with every drink.

“I bet you… this house! This fucking house! That I can smoke more cigarettes than you can at once,” you slurred in a buzzed stupor as you swayed your body with the faint music of REO Speedwagon, your finger pressed into his chest where the fabric v’d open.

Red eyed and already higher than Willie fucking Nelson, Eddie grins wider than the Cheshire Cat, dipping low to your ear to whisper, “game on, sweetheart, but we’re smokin reds not your menthol shit.”

News flash. You couldn’t out smoke Eddie. And your burning croaky throat was proof of that.

Feet on the floor, your cold toes inching towards purchase against the carpet for your slippers. Opening your eyes, you assess the room. The Eddie costume you proudly wore all night, was strewn across your floor, complete with the wig. A rumbly laugh reverberates through your lungs along with a horrendous hacking cough. The memory of Jeff wearing it and imitating Eddie jogs across your mind. The way Eddie pouted and glared through his lashes made you smile sweetly at the memory.

A quick glance at your body in the mirror shows that you’re still wearing the soft black DIO shirt from lastnight, but thankfully you changed into pajama pants.

Another rough barking cough against your already achy throat surrenders it’s vices and begs for water. Opening the door you are met with a freezing chill. Eyes blinking in the bright sun from the windows in the living room, you take note of the heaps of bodies snoring and drooling amongst the floor.

Mike and El are cuddled up like two little kittens against the back corner in the living room, her blonde wig used as a pillow, Mike’s Mad Hatter jacket and his arm draped over her. Finding yourself gawking at the sweetness of seeing them curled into each other, you wonder if you would ever have a great love like they did. Your stomach leaps when the one crossing your mind is Eddie.

It was wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling this way about your brother’s friend, your roommate for fucks sake! He was everything you hated about the male population. Loud, annoying, an absolute pervert. Messy beyond belief, couldn’t boil a goddamn egg. But, he was also gentle, kind, and caring. Your yearning heart ached for his touch like the day he held you close to his chest during your darkest hour.

Not to mention he was cute. Okay, that’s a lie. Eddie was hot, in that rugged ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ kind of way. Different from most guys in Hawkins, who were obsessed with their appearance, their family name. Eddie didn’t care, he was just himself. Always had been, always would be. And something about that cocky demeanor, burying the kindest heart you’ve ever come across, made your heart stutter in your chest.

Would he hold you like Mike was holding El if you were his? Would he cover you in kisses and do cliche things with you like matching couples costumes on Halloween? Something deep inside told you he would.

“Cute aren’t they?”

You jump out of your skin at the low, velvet voice, not realizing he was awake, your hungover mind foregoing the aroma and slow drip of black coffee being made. Too wrapped up in thinking about him to notice that he had approached you on your left, his messy curls swing against your cheek as he had bent down to your ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a chuckle.

You turn and look at him, he’s so close to you your noses almost touch. The tickling shock of nervousness from last night returns and travels up your spine, curling into your hair, igniting every hair follicle, a burning welcomed pleasure against your scalp. A quirked smile on his lips as you take a step back.

Blinking slow, you take him in. His smile could melt the polar ice caps, that goddamn panty dropper grin, you curse yourself silently for feeling the heat on your neck. He’s wearing black sweats, cut above the knee and rolled at the hem from many washes. A horrendously sawed off cut t-shirt adorns his broad shoulders. The same raw hems rolling inward, exposing a silver hoop in his nipple. The sun catching the steel ring and casting a blinding glare against it. He tips the coffee mug he’s holding back to his lips, emptying the contents in one gulp. The smell of potent orange juice fills your nose as you stare at his lips. His tongue poked out to lap up the last spilled drops.

“No, you’re fine—I didn’t realize you were up,” you explain, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Peering around him at the small wooden clock on the wall, it’s only 8:30, “didn’t know you were aware that there was an 8:30 AM on Sundays.”

“Are you always this witty in the morning?”

“It’s a gift,” you say with a smirk, “consider it a blessing, you’re late by the way.”

“Late for what?” The lazy way he smiles at you should be a crime.

A coy smile on your lips, “Sunday Service.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and grabs his side, wincing slightly, “agh, don’t make me laugh,” he groans, “I think I fucked up my back or something from falling down those steps last night.”

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…”

Gareth turned his head from the spout engulfing deep breaths from the chilled night air. Argyle and Jonathan let his feet back down to the deck. Standing next to Nancy and Ash, you whoop and holler along with everyone else, cheering on the new Keg Stand Champion. Gareth, stands on wobbly legs, taking a deep breath, he shouts, “And that's how it’s d—“

Before he can finish his victory speech, he projectile vomits all over Big D. Covering him shoulders to waist in foamy chunks of party food and the cheap keg beer. Laughter erupts from Eddie, he throws his wild hair back in amusement. Clutching his stomach and choking on the smoke from the joint he had just inhaled. Karma, proving again that she’s a cunt, Eddie leans back just far enough to fall backwards down the five steps to the ground.

“Jesus down, Jesus down!” Eddie exclaimed, roaring with laughter.

Concerned, you delicately reach for his wrist and move his hand away from his ribs. A small splatter of deep purpling color against his alabaster skin suggests that they are more than likely bruised from the fall. The dainty touch of your fingers on his body sends goosebumps against his flesh, and it wasn’t because your hands were cold. He swallows hard, adoration in his brown eyes as he takes in your smell, how messy your hair was, the hum on your lips as you observe him, pressing the pads of your fingers into his skin.

Who would have thought that simple minuscule touches from you could cause a frenzy in his blood. He thought the hair washing would bring him to his knees, but this? He didn’t realize he stopped breathing until you spoke.

The hitch in his throat is dismissed by you, “sorry, my fingers are probably freezing,”

He murmurs, something along the lines of “it’s fine,” but you barely hear it.

His skin is surprisingly smooth. Women spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in their lifetime to have perfect skin, and here Eddie Munson was, baby soft skin on a metal head’s body. You take the time to admire the exposed tattoo on his ribs next to the bruises. Tracing your finger over the triangled black ink outlined in red, angry against his skin. You’ve seen the symbol before but never understood what it was. An eight laying sideways, in the overlapping section is a cross with two lines instead of one.

Seconds fade to minutes of your fingers tracing his skin. Neither you or Eddie have said a word. Unhurried migrations on your fingers skate across the alabaster, feeling for any broken bones, but only feeling the velour cream of his skin beneath your hands.

Clearing your throat, you look into his blown out eyes, “I —um,” the air is thick between you both, making it hard to breath, or it could be the fact that the caramel pools of his eyes are pouring into yours, “ looks like it’s just bruised,” you say, slowly moving your fingers away from his skin. Your nails scratching his skin casually. And a quick intake of breath hisses between his teeth.

Eddie’s voice comes out shakier than he would have liked, he licks his lips, “o-oh good.”

He casts his eyes downwards, his fingers tug gently at the sleeve of the DIO shirt you’re still wearing from last night. His eyes find yours again, the browned oasis beckoning you, “are you still mad at me for winning the costume contest?” he asks in almost a whisper, lips barely moving, his focus full on the way your soft skin under your shirt feels against his calloused fingers.

The jump in your lower belly ignited the flame within you, sending burning hot coals to your core at his ghosting fingers on your arm. You blink rapidly and scoff. Rolling your eyes to extinguish the flames, you force yourself away from him, brushing past him, your shoulder grazing his chest sends more fire through your veins, a last attempt on keeping the heat blazing. “I was never mad,” you explain. Opening the cabinet with shaky hands and grabbing a white mug with tiny yellow flowers on the rim, you take a deep breath to steady your voice, turning it into a makeshift yawn, “who do you think decides who wins the contest anyway?”

Pouring the hot black coffee into the mug the aroma fills the room. Creamer sloshes against the liquid mixing merrily into a toffee colored dream.

Eddie leans against the counter, taking a piece of candy from the plastic jack-o-lantern dish and twisting the ends between his fingers, the orange hardened sugar melting slow on his tongue.

“You voted for me?” he asks earnestly, his head bowed in bashfulness, “you’re going to make me blush, sweetheart,” he coos, swirling the candy around his mouth, clacking against his teeth as he tries to hide a smile.

Sipping the piping hot coffee gingerly between your lips, you shrug, “not every day I get to see you acting so holy, thought we should capitalize on the opportunity, plus, it really was one hell of a costume.”

The bubblegum blush on Eddie’s cheeks make him look like a teenager, twisting his hair as if he just received his first kiss.

“I don’t know, I kinda liked yours,” he said matter of factly.

“That’s cause you’re full of yourself,” you say with a teasing tone, sticking out your tongue, and coughing roughly again.

Eddie’s eyebrows pull inward, a mocked scoff on his lips, “I refuse to take insults from someone who sounds like my Uncle Wayne— told you you couldn’t hang with the big dogs— but no, Tooty doesn’t listen.”

You dismiss him with a suggestive middle finger and a smirk as you sip the coffee again, “I can do anything I want, you’re not my babysitter.”

Neither of you knew that Robin and Steve were both awake, listening intently to your light banter, your giggling voices as you teased each other. The way yours pitched in a high squeal when Eddie’s hands tickled your sides and you tried to fight him off with the paper towel row.

The two friends sit side by side on the couch, smiling widely at one another, wondering when you would let eachother in.

It was noon before Gareth woke up, a combination of dried puke and drool on his face. The other four party go-ers had already left and did the sad walk of shame out to their vehicles. Both Robin and Steve give you weird looks and wide glances all morning, you even noticed Steve wiggling his eyebrows.

Yawning and reeking of alcohol. The loud snores from Gareth’s slack mouth could awaken the residents lying 6 feet under in East Hawkins. He’s laying with his head in a popcorn bowl, a poorly drawn sharpie penis crudely coloring his cheek, thanks to Eddie. The cold puke slowly oozing from the bowl onto himself has your stomach lurching.

Eddie finally woke him by shaking his shoulders violently, yelling into his face, “dude! You’re gonna rattle the fucking house off the foundation with that deafening snore, Christ almighty!”

Gareth stirred alive, swinging his arms frantically. “Fuck, man, scare the hell out of me why don’t ya!”

“Oh relax, trust me— it was either this or the Tooty method,” Eddie says with a grin motioning to you standing behind his shoulder holding a cup of cold water, a devilish smirk on your face, “seriously though, get up you smell like two-week-old rotten asshole.”

After Gareth and Eddie argue over why he has a dick drawn on his face, and Eddie swearing it wasn’t him, Gareth bumps his fist into Eddie’s and waves goodbye as he stands at the front door, and addresses you, “helluva party Tooty, hopefully I didn’t make too much of a mess and you’ll invite me again next year,” his easy smile is something you’ve never seen directed at you. Of all Eddie’s bandmates, Gareth was the hardest to read.

“Duh, you’re the reigning keg stand champion, you gotta make a return,” you smile back.

Gareth laughs, his floppy thick hair matted from the habit he wore all night, “think my keg stand days are over.” He looks from you to Eddie, watching the way Eddie smiles at you adoringly, and he starts to finally get it. Understand why his friend acts the way he does around you. You’re easy to talk to, friendly, kind, once you let your guard down. He looks to Eddie again as you turn and walk back to the kitchen, giving him a knowing glance shifting his eyes to you, and nodding his head once in approval, “see ya around dickhead,” he jokes to his oldest friend, his role model, his brother.

“Why the fuck do I have to wear this?” Eddie groans, pulling at the stiff collar on his shirt, buttoned too tight around his neck, not used to material that wasn’t leather or soft cotton, the metalhead was crabby and uncomfortable in the borrowed maroon button down shirt and black skinny tie from Harrington, “I look like a bible salesmen!”

Steve’s birthday was tonight and he requested to have dinner at his favorite restaurant in Indianapolis. He had gotten a big promotion at work the week after Halloween and was in need of a little celebration before the task of being executive director started.

Slotting silver iridescent dangly earrings you had borrowed from Nancy into your ears and adjusting the matching choker against your throat, you take the last curler out from your hair and fluff it with your fingers to give it shape. You holler from closed confinements of your room, “it’s for Steve’s birthday, not your birthday— quit being a big baby!”

Stepping your tights into the borrowed black velvet pointed heels, and smoothed down the black velour mini dress with the spaghetti straps you had bought last week from an ad in the paper about selling prom dresses for cheap. The material was snug against your curves fitting like a glove. Your makeup was darker than you would have normally done on any other given day but since this was such a fancy event for one of your closest friends— you smoked out a brown eyeshadow across your lids and added a heavy coat of mascara to your lashes with a thin line of eyeliner. Your favorite lipstick swiped delicately across your lips.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you are pleased at your reflection. A patch of doubt trickles up your chest making you question if you should change. Is it too much? Is it over the top? But all that comes to a halt when loud banging is heard on your door. Stopping your spiraling shame cold in its tracks.

“Tooty?” Eddie raps on the door, “Steve just pulled up. You ready or are we leaving your ass at h—”

For the first time in Eddie’s life he is speechless. Not counting the time that his jaw was wired shut for 6 months when he took his skateboard off the roof of Gareth’s house in middle school.

Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, dry and itchy like eighty grade sandpaper. His eyebrows are lifted, tucked beneath his bangs. It’s as if everything was going in slow motion, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was stunned by the drop dead gorgeous woman in front of him.

Your beauty wasn’t something that just happened in a movie with you pouncing down the stairs to some cheesy song with your friends clapping at the top and high-fiving over their “miracle makeover”. Eddie just simply wasn’t accustomed to seeing you dressed up like this.

It’s taking everything in him to not spring forward like a rabid dog and close the gap between you. Slot his lips against yours. A desperate, needy kiss so full of urgency that your head would spin. He’d keep you in the spinning wonderland until both of you were seconds from passing out. Dizzy from the floating clouds and blissful euphoria soaring around in his arms. He wants to grab your waist, wants to fist his fingers around the nape of your neck, wants to see the way your mouth would open with a gasp as he kissed your collar bone, so sweetly, so delicately— his name a whisper on your breath. He’d kiss your lips until they were chapped, sore, and tender to match his. Then he’d kiss them better, his lips the antidote, curing your craved pain.

He’d give anything— his van, his guitar, the band whatever it took— just to get a taste. In this dream land he’s everything you wanted, everything you needed. You loved him, adored him. Accepted his flaws, his past, his scars. He’d hold you tight while you slept, your head tucked into the crook of his neck, stealing sleepy kisses on your hair, enamored by the perfume of your hair, intoxicated, drugged by the lust of your skin. He’d learn how to cook, make you delicious meals, clean the house, do the laundry, be the perfect man. All for you.

He wanted to feel your body forming and molding around him. Yearned to know the valleys of your body, each curve, each beauty mark, each scar visible or not. If it weren’t for his heart hammering into his ears he would have thought he had gone deaf for sure.

You’re talking but he can’t hear you.

He’s still in the dream land, dancing on Saturn’s rings, cooling his feet in Jupiter’s springs, holding your hand and taking you higher with him. Your smile taking flight in his chest and ascending you along the majestic sights of the Milky Way. Completely gone from this world. A world where you were his, and he was yours.

The more he fantasizes it— the more the impossibility of this dream increases. His bravado falls, crashing through the sparkly dream with fluffy clouds, falling further down. Away from you. Away from the dream he wanted, craved to be reality.

He fell through the clouds, clinging to your fingers, would you reach out for him? Help him? Save him?

Would you ever want to be his? He was Eyeball’s friend, Prince of the Trailer Park, probably annoyed you more than Eyeball himself did. You were beautiful and put together, and him? He was lint in the dryer, causing house fires when forgotten about. Voted most likely to end up in prison for the graduating class of ‘85 and ‘86. A failure, a crack in the sidewalk you’d avoid to break your mother’s back as a kid.

Avoid the trailer park trash. Avoid Eddie Munson.

So he pushed the thoughts away, the ooey galaxy of cotton candy trees and rainbow lollipops— fading back to black as he fell faster harder, back to reality. The dead, decaying ashen life of shitville Hawkins, Indiana. Where reality came in the form of working long days to barely survive. A name branded to his soul, weathered and tarnished like forgotten silverware in a rich dementia riddled woman’s home.

Nothing. Munson trash. The town freak. Social outcast. Scum in the drain. Bastard child.

“Earth to Eddie!”

A snap of your fingers and the impatient wrinkles between your brow bring his soul back to his body.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, wiping his clammy palms on the thighs of the cleanest pair of black jeans he owned, “We—uh,” blush creeps to his cheeks, adamant to push it down, to the cobwebbed box in his brain that never opened, he grabs your hand and starts to yank you towards the door, a gruff annoyance in his voice, “let’s go.”

You’re crestfallen.

Oblivious to his inner intergalactic battles of hoping that he was good enough for you but deep down knowing he never would be.

Not anywhere near the suaveness of Casanova he pretends to possess on most days, motor-mouth Munson was all out of gas. Spending his last tank, last drop of fuel taking you to the moon and spinning you amongst the stars.

Steve is wearing a black suit, standing against a new SUV, shiny ink black like the velvet of your dress, and the pretty girl’s hair standing next to him, she’s wearing a purple velour sweetheart neckline dress, with rhinestone straps, her shoulders are bare until the dress continues to cover her arms, into a full sleeve. Robin is hanging out of the back passenger side window, a tie hung loosely around her neck and a white button down tailored shirt adorning her body. Waving a bottle of Boonesfarm around.

“Come on! Let’s party like it’s 1984! Before Steve had this new bitchin’ car and still half of his virgini—“

“Robin!” Steve scolds, threading his fingers through his hair, the girl on his arm shooting Robin a pleasurable laugh, her hand on Steve’s chest.

Eddie is still dragging you along, hurrying you along. In a rush but not saying a word. “Eddie, Jesus Christ, stop, I have to get my purse,” you yank your wrist from his grip and take a step backward. Silent and fuming, your arms crossed over your chest. Looking up at him with water brimmed eyes, corners of your mouth turned downward in a confused frown.

It’s the same expression he had seen during the first few days he had moved in, when he hurt you.

Shaking his head with a huff he descends the concrete steps and stands next to Robin, clutching the Boonesfarm bottle and taking a long hefty swig, wallowing in his own self pity and self doubt of never being good enough for you.

Of course this is how it would be with you. Why would you ever want him when there are people like Steve Harrington in the world. Offering you anything and everything you could ever need. And what could he offer you? Nothing. A tainted name and a ring pop replacing a diamond.

He wasn’t good enough for Chrissy, wasn’t good enough for Trish. How would you be any different? Swallowing his pride with each swig of the sugary Boonesfarm, he tries his hardest to push the idea of you wanting to be with him, wanting anything other than someone to take up space and pay rent on time, out of his mind.

“Tooty,” Steve says, waving you over once you shut the door to the house and locked it, “Eddie, this is Leighanne, my girlfriend.”

A smile breaks on your face, pure unadulterated joy for your friend. The way his face lit up saying girlfriend, the way they’re clutched together, a perfect match, him looking adoringly into her face, staring in wonder and awe as she beams a radiating light back up to him— it’s sugar sweet.

A low ache in your chest fires again, whatever had burned for Eddie was now boiling on high heat but the pot was empty.

You thought that maybe he… hadn’t he? The bitter truth stinging your tongue, not admitting it to yourself. Not allowing yourself to think any further on the subject, you extend your smile to Leighanne. Pleasantries in your voice as you push down your own worrying heart and open it up to hear all about how Leighanne and Steve met.

“Damn, new fancy job and a car to match— never seen one of these in real life before Harrington.”

Steve dives into the story of him trading in his car for the G Wagon, a year old and less than 10,000 miles. Eddie asked questions and walked around the vehicle with Steve as he kicked the tires and inspected the paint job.

The ride to Indianapolis was full of Leighanne’s bright laugh, teasing Steve and joking with Robin. Her fingers never unlaced from his. She was funny, charismatic in a way that complimented Steve. You’re stuffed in the middle in the backseat. Robin on your left and Eddie on your right, preoccupied with staring out the window.

He’s brooding, steeping like a tea bag in the heat of the sun. Only he’s cold, off putting and sulking. Not engaging once in conversation other than. Answering yes or no to Steve’s questions, giving little up.

And you were doing the same, trying hard to focus on what Robin and Leighanne were giggling about but finding Eddie’s bad mood taking you over. His pitch black aura sucking you in and consuming you. Dampening the celebratory night for your friend that hasn’t even begun because he’s irritated by God knows what. It’s the longest ride to Indianapolis you’ve experienced yet.

The restaurant is burnt brick with an old prohibition era feel to it. Low jazz music is playing by a live band in the back corner. Reservations for Harrington bring the five of you to a secluded area low lit with hues of blacks and coppers and mahogany wood filling the space, setting the ambience for a private affair. The round table is set with a cream colored silk cloth that alone probably cost more than the value of your house.

Steve pulls out a chair for Leighanne. A pinky rouge on her cheeks as she sits down delicately. Robin climbs next to her, body angled towards her, her feet on the seat of her chair.

Taking the seat next to Robin, Eddie takes the seat next to you, angling it ever so slightly away from you, his right elbow on the table, head facing away from you.

What the fuck?

Two waiters arrive holding a large round platter filled with various selections of wines, whiskey, and beers in stout glasses. Each one filled to the brim of the finest liquor ranging in black browned ale to lighter amber on one side, the others full of their house made brew, an inch head of foam in each glass, and wine ranging from white to a deep burgundy red.

Before the waiter can even walk away Eddie has two glasses of the dark colored whiskey in front of him, shooting them down like he’s at a high school party and has a curfew. “Shit man, these are for sipping, ya gotta ease into it a little,” Steve says with a chuckle. Eddie grabs another glass from the circle of the platter, sipping it slow between his lips, letting the fervor of the liquor burn his mouth, welcoming the burn.

Eddie hasn’t said a word to you all night. In fact— he’s ignoring you. Usually the first to start joking around, he’s completely sullen, sinking into his bad mood letting the veil of self loathing cover himself like a blanket, choking his insides. He’d converse with everyone but you. “Can you pass the pepper,” you’d asked after laughing obnoxiously with Leighanne about how Steve couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.

Silence.

“Eddie?” You ask again, “can you please pass me the pepper?”

Another ignored moment of silence from the brooding metalhead.

“Eddie! Hello!?”

Nothing.

A swift kick from Steve to the shins finally roused him alive, blinking his eyes slowly away from his glass, thumb moving over the condensation. “Dude—Tooty needs the pepper.”

Eddie looks at the pepper shaker with hooded, bored eyes, far from the conversation around the table. Trapped in the black box of dread in his mind. He scoots it closer to you but not enough by far. Scooting your chair back with a screech, you stand and lean across him, fully in his space. Encroaching on his doomed self with your perfume wafting into his nose. Your hairspray stinging his eyes when your hair brushes over your shoulder in front of him. It’s intoxicating. The way your necklace catches the light, as you lean over him hits his chest like a lightning bolt. b

A quick turn of your face and he catches your glare, heated and angry, but his eyes are soft, solemn, sad.

“Thanks, Eddie— really appreciate you helping me out there. Next time I’ll just lay across the table when I need something, or I could simply go fuck myself if that’s easier for you? Don’t want to interrupt whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.” you spit, venom on your lips dripping from your teeth as you aggressively shake the pepper on the salad.

Eddie stands abruptly, “going for a smoke,” he says to nobody in particular, Steve stands and follows him out, with the helping nudge of Leighanne’s elbow in his ribs.

The two guys strut outside, breathing in the night air, a flick of lighters and the burning, crinkling sound of the end of two cigarettes fills the almost barren sidewalk. A minute or so passes before Steve speaks first, “nice night out, considering it’s the middle of November.”

Eddie only nods, inhaling the smoke and trying to relax.

“You alright?”

Again, Eddie only answers with body movements, shrugging his shoulders, blowing smoke through his nose.

Steve inhaled his cigarette slow, “Tooty looks nice tonight.”

Eddie bites his bottom lip and rubs his eyes with this thumb. Smoke curling around him in a makeshift halo. “Yeah,” he finally speaks, nodding his head, a huffed chuckle on his lips, “she does, doesn’t she?”

“What’s going on, man?” Steve questions, “last I knew you were head over heels for her— now you’re ignoring her and acting like a jackass in there.” He says pointing to the door, “you’re gonna fuck this up before you’ve even let it start!”

Eddie shoves himself off the wall, the cobwebs on the box in his mind where he stored his pain, were wiped away, fingerprints on the lid, “oh give it up, Harrington.” Rubbing his hands down his face with a groan, “I’m— fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. Falling for someone like her.”

“What do you mean someone like her?” Steve asks frustrated, “fuck man you really are dumb aren’t you?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his chest puffed out in confusion, “this isn’t like some magic eight ball shaking it to see if your crush likes you Steve! That’s not how shit works!”

“You’re a dumbass! Even I can see that she’s hurt by the way you’re acting!” Steve shouts, stomping out his cigarette.

“Dude I’m not talking about this right now, back off,” Eddie pleads, flicking his cigarette into the street and attempting to walk around Steve.

“Why are you being an asshole and trying to shove her away?” Steve goads.

“I’m not.” Lid is off the box, contents exposed.

“Don’t be a douche fucking tell me!”

“Because she’s too fucking good for me!” Eddie finally screams into the night, throwing his hands up in the air.

The box is dumped out. Contents spilled out in his mind, hurt behind his eyes, for anyone to see.

He hangs his head, shoulders slumped forward, he slides down the wall and sits on the cool concrete, breathing heavily, “She’s— fuck, she’s never gonna want to be with someone like me, man.”

All of his self doubt from earlier tonight, all the pain he’s ever felt from being a neglected child, an outcast in school amongst his peers, being cheated on, lied to— it all came crashing down around him. All the alcohol he consumed wasn’t helping matters either.

He was a failure, in more ways than he could count. Twenty-six and just freshly moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-six and still playing in a band at the bar on the weekends. Twenty-six and still alone. Horribly, utterly, bitterly alone. Drowning himself in groupie pussy every night before he moved in with you. He hated himself.

“Has she said that? Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks? You think it was easy for her to stay in Hawkins after her parents up and left? After Kevin was thrown in prison? After that piece of shit Chad Cunningham hurt her? If there’s anything we know about Tooty it’s that she’s a fighter, she could have left at any time, packed her shit and never looked in the rear view mirror. But you and I know that she’s too damn stubborn to let Hawkins get the best of her.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at Steve sitting beside him.

“She needs you, man, you’re good for her.”

Mansion dreams on a trailer park budget. He could never afford the things you deserved. He loathed the thought of anyone else being able to give you the things he couldn’t, the pit of his stomach rolling.

“I don’t know, Steve,” Eddie says, timidly throwing his curly head against the brick behind him, “I saw her today all dressed up looking so absolutely gorgeous, and it hit me, I could never give her the life she deserves.”

“Come on, man,” Steve chides, knocking his shoulder to Eddie’s, “you really think I would have told you about her needing a roommate and insisting that you go and look at the house, if I didn’t think you’d be good for each other?”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders again, the self doubt creeping back, putting the box back together.

“After Nancy moved out, I knew she was scared— she’d never say anything about it, but we worried about it. She needed someone around who she could trust. Robin and I couldn’t get out of our lease, but then you told me you were looking for a place, and honestly there isn’t anyone better for her than you.”

Eddie thinks on this for a few seconds. Steve was right, he did fuck this up. “Christ, she’s probably madder than hell at me right now,” he says with a groan.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, standing and holding out a hand for Eddie, “you’ve got some making up to do.”

“Am I drunk, or is he acting weird as hell tonight, like more weird than usual?” Robin slurs, almost falling out of her seat as she whisper-yells across the table at you the minute Steve follows Eddie out the door.

“Oh, honey,” Leighanne whispers, holding Robin by her arm and guiding her back into the chair, “you’re very drunk, but also I’ve never met him, but he seems sad.”

Stewing in a pot of shame and regret, you try to tune Robin and Leighanne out. A shiver of hatred stirs in your chest, pulling at your heart strings and gnawing on the fleshy stretch cords until they’re rotting, black and withered.

How silly of you to be so nervous about wearing this dress, when Eddie only took one look at you and immediately turned sour. How stupid of you to think that he had somehow turned into a decent human being, a friend, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on when you were desperate and needing consoling. How fucking dumb of you to be so mad in this moment that he was ignoring you, acting like a complete jerk and ruining this nice evening by being a pouty child.

Fuck him, and fuck this.

Reaching for the now warm wine you toss it back, chugging until your throat ached. It’s easier to swallow than the embarrassing way you thought that Eddie was growing to like you. Your mistake.

Won’t happen again.

By the time the guys come back, you were slightly buzzed, feeling giggling with the bubbling of the flutes of champagne that had been brought out after the dinner was cleared from the table.

Steve slaps Eddie on the back and shakes his shoulders a bit, sitting down quickly beside Leighanne and whispering into her ear, she turns scarlet red as he nudges his nose down to kiss her neck. You turn your face away, ashamed again, for wanting a love like that so bad, yet sold short.

“You okay?” Robin asks Eddie. You can feel eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, but you won’t give him the time of day. To hell with him.

He answers her back, making up some lame excuse about not feeling good as to why he was acting like an asshole all night.

“Hmm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows and huffing. Tossing your napkin from your lap onto the table, grabbing another flute of champagne and downing it instantly, crossing your legs and leaning further away from him. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Tooty?” His voice is soft, dipped in butter and spread across a warm croissant. Almost timid the way he’s barely speaking above a whisper, you pretend not to hear him.

A nudge in your side goes unanswered as you turn your face towards an almost passed out Robin. Another poke to the ribs, a ticklish spot for anyone. A tap on your hand, fervent and annoying, your name repeated in high and low tones, as you actively avoid him. He finally stops, and when he does you take a shaky breath, right as your chair is flung backwards on the back legs, and you’re suddenly upside down, peering into Eddie’s face. That cocky Munson grin plastered onto it, the one you haven’t seen all night, sends shock waves to your core, and a burn to your chest.

Goddamn him.

“Put me down,” you emphasize with bitterness behind each word.

Eddie smiles widely, “not until you talk to me, sweetheart,”

“Oh look at that everyone, the pouting child act is over, guess we are blessed after all,” you spit back, crossing your arms and trying to wriggle the chair free.

His smile is pulled back slightly, voice dipped low as he leans forward slightly, “can we talk? Privately?”

You glare back at him, venomous cold eyes peering into his, hoping he understood how annoyed and hurt you were with the bullshit he’d been pulling for hours, “Congratulations on finding your voice Ariel, but if you don’t put my chair down I’ll—“

“What? You’ll do what?” Eddie bickers back with a grin, leaning closer you can smell his musky cologne, and the burnt scent of his cigarette on his breath. He enjoys watching you squirm and get pissed off at him. Something about the way you scold him sends him over the moon.

But, he could never anticipate what you would do next.

His hands on the back of your chair, you turn your head in a swift motion and find his thumb and bite down on it until he squeals and yelps in pain.

“…bite you,”

Instinct taking over Eddie pulls his hands from the back of your chair. And you start tumbling backwards. Falling falling, reaching backwards, you grab onto the first thing you can get your frantic hands on.

It all happens too fast, one minute you’re falling backwards, the next your fingers are gripped tight on the buckle of Eddie’s belt. Your breath hitched in your chest, as you grappled to stay upwards. In a swift motion Eddie grabs under your arms and the chair falls to the ground.

Eddie pulls you up, your body skimming his as he turns you around to face him. “Damn, I’m right here. No need to get so handsy,” he murmurs in a low husky laugh.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, sudden shock of fear fading from your body as you look into his face. Even though he’s laughing, his pupils are blown and dark, eyebrows twisted inward, and raised, pulled into concern.

“Fuck Munson,” you say, straightening your dress, trying not to melt from the heat of Eddie’s hands on your waist, “trying to kill me?” The room was spinning, you hadn’t hit your head, but maybe the rush of falling backwards mixed with the alcohol you had drank was a combination for a migraine. Definitely not the way he was lazily drinking you in, his lips stretching into a wide, pretty smile.

“Kill you?” He scoffs, hands still heavy on your waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs, sending your nerves into a fizzing frenzy of want. “I’m not the one biting others, kitten.”

Of all the nicknames Eddie has called you— princess, sweetheart, baby— kitten was a new one. And you’re ashamed at the pulse in your core and the heat in your cheeks as his eyes twinkle like brown Christmas lights back at you, the flick of his tongue against his lips almost sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Hey—“ Steve interrupts, stepping into your peripheral vision, “—don’t mean to break this up—but we have a problem.”

“Alright guys, good news or bad news?”

Steve steps through the lobby door to the sidewalk, where you, Leighanne, Robin and Eddie were all waiting for him. The chill of the night air is biting through your tights and stinging your cheeks. Even in the cozy musky warmth of Eddie’s leather jacket that he insisted on you wearing, after listening to your chattering teeth for ten minutes, “here,” he announced, stopping abruptly and shucking the jacket off his arms, and wrapping it around your shoulders, “I swear you’re gonna chip your teeth with the way you’re chattering them, it’s annoying,” he said in a faux grumble, his voice mean but his face lighting up when you hurriedly slot your arms through his jacket. Inhaling his smoke musk and cool leather combination as it dizzied your mind.

Ever since the restaurant kicked you all out on account of being too drunk, you’d been walking to a hotel. The restaurant manager had refused to let Steve get his car from the valet because they thought he was too intoxicated to drive. And also denied him from using the phone to hail a cab. There was no other choice.

So that's what led you all here. Walking fifteen blocks— in heels, dresses and fancy shirts, to the nearest hotel. Well technically thirty blocks because the waiter gave Steve the wrong directions. Everyone was freezing, tired and crabby. The drunken happy stage left about twenty blocks back.

“Bad news, Harrington hit me,” Eddie gripes.

Steve brushes his fingers through his hair, “Okay, uhh—bad news… there’s only one room available, with two beds.”

“But, there’s one… two…three..four.. six of us!” Robin counts, hiccuping loudly and letting a giggle escape her slack mouth. Maybe the restaurant wasn’t wrong in kicking you all out after all.

“No— there’s five of us, but there is a chair!” Steve chimes, “that’s the good news!”

You knew what that meant, obviously you would be sharing a bed with Robin or Eddie, and given the fact that Robin was probably a good ten minutes away before she started throwing up like she was notorious for— you were about to share a bed with Eddie.

The room was small but decent. Maroon, itchy bedspreads with pilling fabric sat atop the beds, white linen sheets and overly stuffed pillows with matching cases shoved into the perfectly made beds. A tiny tv sat atop a chestnut dresser complete with channel listings and a remote velcroed to it. Leighanne crosses the room and immediately finds the furnace, cranking it up as high as it will go and shutting the drapes, she sits on the bed furthest from it, and begins taking her earrings out of her ears. Sighing with relief as the heavy dangly bejeweled gems clink onto the bedside table. Steve sits beside her, leaning forward and grabbing her ankle, delicately sliding the strappy heels from her sore feet, rubbing them between his hands and murmuring apologies to her, kissing her shoulder.

Eddie is kicking the toe of his boot into the carpet, hands pushed into his pockets and looking downward. The awkward question of who-will-sleep-where is weighing heavy on your mind, just when you’re about to ask him what he thinks, Robin pushes between you both and makes a mad dash to the bathroom. Like clockwork.

“I’m never letting her drink again!” Steve says with a huff, “every time, she does this every single time!”

You snort out an exhausted giggle, this night went to hell in a handbasket the minute you left Hawkins. The only thing left to do was laugh about it.

Leaning your body against the wall, you carefully step out of your heels, the dingy carpet a glorious welcome to your aching feet. Stretching your toes out and wiggling them against the carpet brings a sigh to your lips.

Body tired from the constant shivering and cramped calves, you couldn’t wait to get the dress off and feel the warmth of the blanket around you, cocooning yourself like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

Fuck.

You didn’t have any clothes with you, just the dress you were wearing, tights and a black thong. If it was Eddie you’d be sharing a bed with, what the hell were you supposed to wear? The thought hadn’t even trickled into your mind until this very second as you noticed Eddie unlace his boots.

Panic riddles your body, fuck would you lay naked next to him? Should you keep the dress on?

“Hey,” Eddie whispers into your ear, reigning you back in with his velvet voice, “there’s a vending machine by the elevator, wanna come with me?”

His lips contort into a smirk, and his hair wisps against your cheek, tickling your skin as you turn into him. Still wearing his jacket the neckline covers your mouth and nose as you nod your head yes.

The low pile fibers of the emerald and turquoise hallway carpet feels plush and luxurious against your nylon toes. A welcomed dream to your throbbing feet. You focus on the intricate leaves pattern as you walk the hallway with Eddie, his socked feet thudding along softly in tandem with yours.

The silence is deafening, and you can practically hear your heart beat out of your chest when his knuckles ever so gently, ever so delicately, graze yours as he swings his hand when he walks.

“Think it’s this way,” Eddie says pointing a thick ringed finger down a hallway at a T intersection. “I’m so hungry I’m going to eat the carpet if I don’t find something to eat.”

“Should have ate while we were at the restaurant,” you poke at him, “but you were too busy being an asshole.”

Eddie chokes out a throaty laugh, “I saved your life, Tooty— how am I still an asshole?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call me-falling-because-you-tipped-my-chair-backwards saving my life, but whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” you barely choke out the last part before you burst into a too-tired giggle, hiding your mouth with the collar of his jacket.

His own nickname on your lips burns his insides, mocking or not he wanted to hear it again and again.

“You fight dirty, I had no idea you were into biting.” Eddie teases, his eyes bright and playful matching his smirk, the vending machine comes into view and his eyes light up even more, “oh fuck yeah, come to daddy!”

The black vending machine is lit with a flickering light over head. Eddie thumbs through his wallet and grabs out ten one dollar bills.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Eddie crooned, “pick your vice.”

Deciding on a package of orange squared crackers with cheese, Eddie buys a bag of chocolate cookies, chips, and two bags of candy.

Carrying five cans of pop from the pop machine and Eddie’s plethora of snacks, both of your arms are full.

“So back to you assaulting me—I’m going to take your dental record down to Hopper— I’m turning you in.”

Laughing harder than anyone should have at midnight, your laugh echoes off he walls and bounces around the hallway. Making Eddie’s heart soar with glee. “Turning me in huh?”

Eddie knocks his shoulder into yours, throwing you off balance slightly, “yeah, I’m turning you in, you could have rabies! And I could start foaming at the mouth in my sleep, you’re dangerous and when I get home I’m taking you to the vet!”

The flirty banter is undeniable between you, his giggles match yours as you pad slowly down the hallway. Cheeks burning, coy smiles filling the empty hallway.

Stopping in the hallway with one hip thrown out and a perfectly placed look of innocence on your face you ask in the sweetest voice you could muster, “I’m dangerous? Me?” Making sure you bat your lashes and pout your bottom lip.

Here it was, his opportunity to show you what you really meant to him. No longer laughing, his face turns very serious. Shuffling the snacks around in his arms so he has a hand free, he reaches up to your face, tracing the outline of your jaw and brushing the pad of his thumb delicately against your cheek.

“Baby,” he whispers, that velvet smooth voice on his tongue, eyes dipped in gold and yearning into your own, “I wouldn’t turn this cute face in even if you murdered that son-of-a-bitch, Mr. Derry.”

Heart rate increases, you’re sure there's a pulse where Eddie’s hand is placed on your cheek. The calloused pads of his thumbs stroking your cheek has you weak in the knees. Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Cute?” You exclaim, feigning shock, heat trickling up your neck and planting itself into your cheeks, the warmth spreading below Eddie’s hand.

His eyes are trained on yours, flicking from your lips and back up again, and you know whatever he says next 100%, without a doubt shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Tooty,” Eddie breathes, his voice melting around you, forming to every cell in your body and holding you tight. “You’re beautiful, and not just tonight…every single day.”

No one.

Not your parents.

Definitely, not Chad.

Nobody.

Has ever uttered those words to you. The final wall around your heart falls, crumbling at the base with Eddie holding a sledge hammer to it, begging to be let in.

This menace, prick, pervert, absolutely disgusting man. Has made you fall for him and without words has made it clear that he’s falling for you too.

Butterflies tickle your stomach the rest of the walk back to the room.

Steve and Leighanne are already asleep by the time you make it back, she’s wrapped tight against his bare chest, a hand threaded at the nape of his neck and through the tufts of his chest hair. His lips lay lazily against her forehead.

Robin took the comforter from the other bed and made a makeshift bed in the tub, Eddie places a can of 7-UP next to her, rustling her hair and making sure she’ll be okay for the night.

Flipping through the channels and leaning your back against the headboard, you find an episode of the Golden Girls, opening your snack crackers and nibbling into them,a can of Pepsi nestled between your knees. Eddie runs and jumps onto the bed beside you and starts ripping open his snacks, starting with the chips, and cracking open a can of Mountain Dew. Chugging the lime colored liquid until it drops down his chin.

He lets out a louder than life belch and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Looking over at you to see if you’re impressed.

You raise up ten fingers and clap, applauding his behavior.

“I’d like to thank my fans, and the Pepsi company, for encouraging the best of burps, with the help of carbonation.” He bows and waves like he’s at the academy awards and you giggle along with him.

You both stay like that for a while, on top of the blankets, watching the Golden Girls and eating snacks, content with filling your stomachs with crappy food and over carbonated beverages.

The looming idea of sleeping in the same bed with Eddie is no longer something you can avoid, when a loud yawn escapes your body and has you snuggling deeper into his leather jacket.

“I—I can sleep in the chair, or on the floor.” He says quickly.

The idea of him sleeping on the floor or with a strained neck in the office chair is unacceptable to you. “No, you can sleep in the bed with me, we can—“ thinking fast for an easy solution, “we can just use different blankets.”

“Oh good,” Eddie whispers, taking off his already loosened tie, and unbuttoning his shirt, “because I would bet a million dollars that you’re a blanket thief.”

Laughing and unzipping his leather jacket, you smirk, hanging it on the back of the chair, “how do you have the vocabulary of a ten year old and a foul sailor all at the same time?”

Eddie unzips his pants and untangles his legs from the dark denim, sitting on the bed with a groan in just his boxer briefs, “I’m like a poor Peter Pan, who grew up on the wrong side of tracks, I’ll never grow up.”

Foregoing any previous thoughts of keeping the dress on, you decide to take it off, exhausted from the night, the cold seeping into your bones and chilling them made you almost delirious with needing sleep, “Can you—will you close your eyes?” You ask in a hushed voice, “at least until I lay down?”

Eddie yanks hard on the sheet and wraps it around his head in a giant makeshift blindfold. “Will this work?”

This angle gives you free range to see his body. It’s not as if you haven’t seen him like this before, but this time it felt different. Every inch of his creamed colored skin, every inky smoked out line of tattoos, the veins protruding from his muscled arms, the ruddy roughness of his knuckles, ghosting with the silver rings on his fingers and in his nipples. The fading sun colored bruises on his ribs. You could write sonnets on the way his breath expands his chest and falls back flush with the rest of his body.

It’s hard to peel your eyes away, but you manage, grabbing your dress by the bottom hem lifting it off of your body. Sliding the tights down your legs until you are completely naked besides the silk black thong. Covering yourself with the off white cotton threaded blanket on the bed, you wrap it around you and sit delicately on the other side of the bed, facing the window, and the furnace.

“I’m done,” you announce, laying your head onto the goose feather pillow and facing Eddie, curling your legs to your chest. Taking slow breaths through your nose to even out your nerves and settle yourself down, the excitement of laying next to Eddie in a bed with both of you only wearing underwear has your body throbbing.

“Finally!” He exaggerates, “were you wearing a dress from the 1800s with all those fancy layers?”

“I was having some trouble with the zipper,” you lie.

“Funny—“ Eddie preens, “I didn’t see a zipper on your dress.”

The idea of him watching you, eyes stuck on your silhouette all night, through dinner, walking to the hotel, makes you feel less bad about staring at him before you crawled into bed. You clench your thighs together.

“How would you know there wasn’t a zipper? Unless of course— you were gawking.”

Two can play this game, and what Eddie didn’t realize is that you’d gotten pretty good at bantering with him.

“Why would you say your dress had a zipper when it didn’t? Maybe you were the one gawking, I mean I get it sweetheart, I’m funny and sexy. Double whammy.”

“Good night, Eddie.” You say with a final laugh. “And I swear to God, if this bed starts jerking in any way—I’ll shave your head and bleach your eyebrows.”

He lets out a laugh loud enough that it makes Steve roll over, scolding you both, about the time and needing to get some sleep. Always in mom mode.

“Sorry dad,” Eddie whispers, giggling like a little kid as he tucks himself in, and turns off the tv and the light between the two beds.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, allowing sleep to take over your body. Sleep finds you quickly, a deep dreamless sleep, you aren’t sure if you’re awake or not when you feel a pair of lips on the crown of your hair line, a hand moving your hair away from your face, and a voice whispering to you, “good night, pretty girl.”

The next morning, Steve drops you and Eddie off at your house. The ride home seemed to drag on forever, everyone was hungover and trying to stay awake. Robin having her head out of the window for most of the drive. Still gagging from the night before.

Getting into Hawkins, Eddie turns towards you, a menacing smirk on his lips and a devil gleam in his eyes, “rock, paper scissors for dibs on first shower?”

“You’re on Munson,”

“I just don’t understand how paper beats rock!” Eddie complains as he takes a piss talking to you as you take a shower. The humidtiy from the bathroom moistens his curls, frizzing them into oblivion, “in what fucking universe does a paper lying over a goddamn rock win?”

Placing the razor against the white pillowy peaks of the shaving cream you slide it up your leg, careful to not cut your knee. “Don’t be a sore loser because you chose rock three times in a row.

“It’s the most common way to win!” He whines, slamming the toilet seat down and plopping himself on top of it. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve been freezing for 24 hours, I never warmed up lastnight.”

Rinsing the last bit of conditioner from your hair you turn the water off, throwing a hand out from the shower curtain to reach for your robe, wrapping it around you tightly, and opening the shower, you notice that Eddie looks paler than usual.

“Are you getting sick?” You place the back of your hand on his forehead, it’s clammy and abnormally warm. The twinkle he almost always has in his eyes is gone, he looks rundown. “In the nicest way possible, you look like hell.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie complains.

“Here,” you offer, starting the water for him, “take a hot shower and I’ll go make us some food.”

When Eddie gets out of the shower the kitchen smells of sweet thick batter, sprinkled with a hint of cinnamon. The waffle iron you had bought with Nancy before Halloween worked like a dream, it was in better condition than you had thought.

Two plates are sitting on the counter, as Eddie walks into the kitchen, wearing a hoodie and sweats, he comes behind you, moving your hips gently to the side as he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re making.

“Waffles?!” He squeals into your ear, “I didn’t know we even had a waffle press thing,” he says, messing up your still damp hair with a tousle, “wait is that the thing that’s kept in the bathroom under the sink?”

Racking your brain you try to envision what he’s thinking of, “no Eddie that would be Nancy’s hot rollers, for her hair..”

“Well that’s not edible,” he says walking to the fridge and pulling out his jug of milk.

Hollering over your shoulder and opening the waffle iron to carefully remove the perfect round breakfast delicacy from the iron with a fork, you announce, “that’s why they’re in the bathroom, under the sink. I bought the waffle iron when Nancy and I went shopping a few weeks ago, how are you feeling?”

Taking a big gulp of milk Eddie mutters, “better, much better, I’m just really tired.”

Plating the waffles and getting the syrup from the cabinet you set the plates down at the table, bringing over two glasses and two sets of silverware, “can you grab the orange juice, and the butter?”

Bringing the requested items to the table, Eddie sets them down, next to the napkin holder. Grabbing a knife hastily and spreading the pale yellow butter around the crispy pockets of the waffle, melting into delicious puddles of savory goodness, awaiting the courtship to be reunited with the sticky sweet syrup to combine into heavenly wedded bliss.

Cutting his waffle and diving in, the kitchen is surrounded by sound of Eddie’s satisfied moans, “fuck,” he cries with a mouthful of food, shoveling more in, “this is so fucking good, you’re a saint— no no! Wait, an angel.”

The waffles were good, the perfect amount of crispy and soft. Eddie finished both of his waffles in record time.

“So where did you get this thing?” he asked curiously, pointing to the waffle iron on the counter.

“With Nancy—oh! I completely forgot!” you say excitedly, “I got a record too, it’s by the rest of them near your record player, I didn’t want to use it and break it.”

Eddie pads over to the record player and thumbs through the stack on the shelf.

He had already been staring at the record for over a minute before you spoke again, saying his name asking if he wanted another waffle.

“Damn,” he interrupts you sniffing loudly, “I haven’t heard this since…”

He carefully pulls the sleeve from the record and slots it in place, putting the needle in place. The soft twang of Bobbie Gentry’s guitar plays as she plucks the strings, a few beats in and her sultry, smoky voice begins singing, retelling the story of the day she found out the fate of Billie Joe.

Eddie sits cross legged on the floor next to the record player, staring in awe. His socked feet tucked under his thighs. Elbows digging into his legs.

His mind drifts to a small house on the outskirts of Hawkins, the paint peeling and chipping away, a dog named Ruby running alongside him as he pedals his bike up the dirt lane.

She was standing in the kitchen, her soft brown curls waving behind her as she ashed a cigarette and cut his ham sandwich into squares, taking the crust off. She hummed along to the waning wonky tunes of the radio as Bobbie Gentry sang about Billie Joe. Her smile fading in his memory.

He never allowed himself to think of her. Despite what Uncle Wayne and the therapist at the stuffy office with the seafoam green painted walls, the cheerful posters with kids and their perfect families staring at him as he glared at the floor, toe of his converse trying to dig a hole through the tile. It only brought him sadness. It was something he couldn’t talk about, not to anyone. The panic attacks in the night when he dreamt of the day she was taken from him, right in front of his big doe eyes, would send Wayne into a frenzy. Helping Eddie breath, making the small child ground himself with his surroundings. So he moved on, throwing himself into music, and his friends. Anything to keep his mind from thinking of that day. But here in your living room, twenty years later, it was all he could think of.

Her perfume, hints of jasmine and lilac a tinge of cigarette smoke underneath. The way her glasses were perched on her head as she read through the paper. Her light brown eyes, like caramel apples you’d see at the fair. Her long fingers always thumping along to whatever song she heard. The gift of a piano player. The way she would dance with him in the living room, barefoot and giggly as she swung him around and around. Those were the good memories, the ones before she was ripped away from him.

The song finishes and Eddie leans up onto his knees, placing the needle to replay it again, this time the warm tears are flowing freely, running down his cheeks. He no longer cared if you saw him cry like a baby.

You’re standing at the edge of the kitchen watching him. You figured his mom was dead by the way he never mentioned her. Chrissy once asked him about his parents after he mentioned his Uncle Wayne, and he blew it off, like he blew off lots of things, “shit, think she joined the circus, married the world’s strongest man.” You wonder if the fib was easier for him to tell himself. Rather have her still around, happy and breathing than what she actually was. You’ve only seen him like this one other time and that was after you saw Chad at the grocery store.

Steve had told you how concerned he was when he came in to talk with you. How scared he was, how bad he felt that he wasn’t around to protect you when you needed it. And just like he did for you, you’d do for him.

Walking gently towards him you stand behind him, not sure if lightly touching his shoulder would cross a boundary but wanting to reassure him, you do it anyway. The pads of your fingers daintily skim his shoulders, running soft figure eight patterns. His face is hidden by his curtain of hair but you can hear him sniffling softly. A soft squeeze of his shoulder and he wraps an arm around your bare calf, holding onto dear life as you pull him into you. His death grip on your leg almost has you falling over. You find yourself threading your fingers through his wet hair. Rubbing along his scalp, his shoulders jump and shake with a deep sigh as the song finishes again. Eddie peels himself from you and turns the record player off. Standing and looking at the ground. Toeing the carpet with his sock.

“I have…,” he says, clearing his throat, trying like hell to gain composure, “I haven’t heard that song in years… it was her favorite.”

Reaching for his hand your fingers find their way into the spaces between his. Squeezing and rubbing his pointer figure with the pad of your thumb. “Eddie,” you whisper to him, your small soft voice reaching out to him beckoning him.

His eyes turn to you, tear filled and red, his body shaking with a light sob. Instincts kick in and you don’t realize what’s happening before it does, you drag him down the hallway, into your room. The same room where he comforted you in the warmth of his arms, you sit down on your bed, your back to the headboard and bring him down with you, his head in your lap. his arms wrapped tight around your bare thighs. Brushing his hair away from his face with your fingers, his body is racked with sobs, the tops of your thighs wet with his tears. You rub his back, comforting him and whispering to him that you’re sorry, that it’s okay, that you’re here for him.

The dishes would have to wait.

When you wake, you’re snuggled down into the confinements of your bed. Blankets covering both you and Eddie, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle like a child with a balloon at the fair, afraid to let go. His body is curved with yours, his light snores tickling your hair. Not waking him, you gently fall back asleep, the thought that he was right, skids across your mind.

Eddie was the first guy to sleep in your bed— and your heart leaped when you selfishly hoped he never wanted to leave it.

A/N: SEE YOU IN VOL: VIII HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED

[this message is for read more —, you big nasty, smelling bitch. Why you took me off the mf schedule with your trifflin’ dirty ass. Big bitch Oompa Loompa body ass bitch, I’m comin up there and I’m gonna beat the fuck …… (it’s a reference from TikTok) BUT TRY ME READMORE TRY ME]

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction

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lulahwrites · 1 year

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Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (smut)

Summary: Remus has a low body count and is set up with the reader by Sirius to fix this issue. It's pretty unrealistic but it's cute so let's not talk about it.

Warnings: Smut (that is also very sweet,) NSFT, reader being sexually experienced is a major plot point, Fem!reader, P in V sex, Unprotected sex.

Word count: 2.3k

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Remus Lupin was clearly a guy with many issues. Even if you didn't know him that well, you at least knew that about him. After graduating Hogwarts, he really didn't expect being inexperienced sexually to be his biggest issue. Clearly, to Sirius, it was a way more pressing matter than the approaching full moon.

'I just think it'd do you some good.' Sirius said firmly.

'I'm fine as it is,' Remus told his friend, laughing humorously.

'Well, I have (l/n)'s number, if you're interested.' Sirius smirked cockily.

He stopped when he heard that, breath hitching at the mere thought of you. '(y/n) (l/n)?' Remus asked, trying hard not to sound too desperate. He failed miserably as Sirius' grin became wider upon hearing his voice crack.

'Yeah, you want me to call her? I'm sure she'd sort you out pretty well.' Wiggling his eyebrows causing Remus to sigh at him.

'Yeah sure,' trying to calm himself down. 'See if she's interested.' He nodded.

His smug friend now cockier than ever, 'of course, I thought you might have said that.'

The air in the room felt a bit thicker at that point, suddenly he was strangely aware of his arms, not too sure what to do with them.

‘Next Monday, 7, be ready mate. I told her your address.’ Sirius finalised it.

Monday came fast approaching, you readied yourself, packed a little overnight bag just in case. You weren’t really sure what you were expecting when Sirius called you, getting to sleep with Remus Lupin wasn’t really the first thought that popped into your head though.

You knocked on the door and waited for a sec and Remus came to the door.

‘Hi,’ he said breathlessly.

‘Hi.’

He kind of just looked at you for a minute, a look you couldn’t quite place.

‘Maybe I could come in?’ You questioned.

‘Yeah yeah, of course. Sorry.’ His cheeks got a bit red at this.

You just smiled and walked into his small house as he opened the door further.

‘You fancy a tea?’

‘Oh no, that’s alright, I should be ok.’

He stuck the kettle on for himself and turned the TV on.

‘Haven’t seen you in ages, you been ok?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, I’ve been ok I guess, looking for work. Been living with Marlene for a while. What about you?’

‘Not too bad, been shacked up here for a bit now, seeing the lads a lot.’

Small talk wasn’t usually part of your exchanges and when it was, it was never delivered with the care that Remus Lupin delivered it in. He was always quite kind, you never really spoke much but he always seemed to be a source of good book recommendations. Maybe you should have payed more attention to him.

It was the first time you really looked at him properly too, his eyes were hazel and his lips were thin but not too thin. His hair was slightly covering his eyes and his nose had a slight bump to it with scratches across it. They were never hard to miss but you always thought he suited them.

You didn’t really know how to handle the whole someone actually giving a shit about your well-being situation. Especially from someone you didn’t know so well so you decided to just kick things off. Thinking about the idea of possibly having to be the assertive one.

He was caught off guard by this. The sudden movement that caused you to be now on top of him, knees on either side of his legs. Quickly brushing your noses together, you’d pulled him into a a very deep kiss. Just wanting to be in an out, the kiss was a bit rushed.

‘Do you just want to go to your bedroom or are we staying here?’

Still in a bit of daze it took him a second to really understand what just happened. He snapped out of it and lead you upstairs holding your hand.

Still holding your hand he lead you to four-poster bed, standing to the side of it. He’d looked you in the eyes for a second then pulled a hand up to hold your face. You were just looking at him again, not entirely sure what he was thinking or what to do under his gaze.

Slowly, he leaned in, bringing the other hand to your hip and kissed you. He set a different pace, he kept it soft and slow but you were trying to up the anti and make it faster. It was just another hook up.

He wasn’t budging though, he was taking his time. His hand slowly moving to the back your head so he could get a better grasp of you, pulling gently at the roots of your hair. His other hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer.

You’d decided to push him down to the bed, breaking the kiss. At a quick, more desperate pace you kiss down his neck. He indulged you for a second but when you sat up to undo his belt, a calloused hand reached for your less stable one. Before you could get it undone he’d placed his hand very gently to stop you.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ You asked, confused.

‘We can slow down you know? I’m not going anywhere.’ He told you, he was also confused, he didn’t understand why everything was so quick.

‘I’ve never really done slow before,’ you looked at him, feeling a bit shy now.

‘Like I said, I’ve got all the time in the world, I can teach you.’

You just nodded at that, the words not being able to find their way out of your mouth. Legs still on either side of him he sat up. Face-to-face again, he stared into your eyes and placed his hands back to where they were before you’d push him down. At a loss as to what to do with your own limbs, you just played with the buttons on his shirt, unable to match where he was looking.

With that, he used the hand that he had in your hair to guide you head up, giving him access to your neck. He left a kiss just on the pulse point below your ear and then kissed a small path to your cleavage, guiding his hand down your arm. Pricking goose bumps as he did so.

When he’d finished kissing your chest, you looked back down at him. You’d matched his pace now, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. He smiled at this, lightly kissing you on the cheek. It was barely there. Gently this time, your noses connected and rubbed together smiling as they did so.

You brought him into a kiss. There wasn’t any grabbing, or biting, nothing rough. Just lips dancing together in a very soft manner. He pulled away, looked at you and gave your t-shirt a small tug.

‘Can I take this off for you, please?’ You smiled and nodded. You mimicked him and pulled at a button on his shirt, he hesitated for a moment but allowed it. You looked down at it as you undid each button, one at a time. You’d normally just rip a shirt like this off.

His shirt was off and you’d been presented with look of more scars on his body. For the first time, it was Remus who was the one who couldn’t meet your eye. Sensing his discomfort, you traced them with a touched that skimmed his raised skin and gave him a kiss on the shoulder.

He looked back and smiled pitifully. From there, you’d went down his shoulder and kissed up his neck to his jaw. You could hear his breath catch. You navigated back to his lips and met him in an intense kiss that still held his same slowed down manner.

Caressing up your back, he wrapped his arms around your legs and place you on the bed. Him hovering above you. You smiled into the kiss and he broke it to find his way down the path he had defined for himself just before that. Following his way down kissing every inch he could get to with in a straight line he stopped at the top of your pants. Giving each hip bone a kiss, he looked back up.

‘Can I?’

You just nodded, almost choking on your own breath. With ease he slipped them off, now standing. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him. Thumbs tracing a circular pattern on then when he placed you to his liking.

He then dropped his knees and pushed your legs up so the bent for him. From this position, he placed small kisses on one thigh, presenting you with the same circular drawings on the other one. He kissed it at a pace that could only be described as painstaking and torturous.

When he felt that thigh had enough, he switched to the other, ensuring the the tip of his nose brushed your covered clit as he switched. He heard your breathing get shallower so with a squeeze of the thigh he just payed attention to he gave the other a small bite. Not painful, just to let you know he was there. As nice as it was of him, he didn’t need to do that, you were very aware of his presence.

Working his way up, he tugged on your underwear and pulled them off. Agonisingly slow. Leaving a feather light kiss on your pulsing clit. Remus made sex into an art form. He wasn't fucking for pleasure, he was doing it for intimacy.

Still as gentle as ever, small licks were felt on the swollen bud between your legs, teasing once again. You couldn't take it. Needing more pressure, more of his touch. You wrapped your legs around him to pull him in closer. You weren't met with what you needed, instead a hum.

He was laughing at you. He got you all worked up, decided he wouldn't give you what you wanted and then laughed about it. There wasn't anything you could do really. His amused hum only elicited a pathetic whimper. You'd say it was cruel but if anything it was adding to the pleasure of having him between your legs. You'd keep him there all day if you could.

Your desperation hung around the room, it clung to the walls. Sensing this, Remus decided to indulge you further. He was almost insatiable. Head between your legs, you couldn't even tell what he was doing. Your head felt like it was buzzing.

This all came to a crashing halt as he moved away and looked up at you very proud of himself. You just looked at him. Still in a pleasured daze. You couldn't even ask why he stopped.

'You ok, love?'

'Mhm.' It was quite pitiful, not being able to even round up the syllables to answer his question properly.

He stood back up, his cock hard and covered by his jeans. You sat up and reached for them, wanting to repay the favour. He stopped you and shook his head.

'I don't think I could take that right now,' his cheeks warming as he spoke.

He pulled you in for another kiss, laying you on the bed. Hovering over you again. You'd spend the next 10 minutes kissing, hands whispering over each other's skin. Sometimes, stopping and giggling where things were awkward or one of you wasn't sure what to do. Laughing especially hard together when Remus tripped over his pant leg when taking his jeans off. He was fervent in the way he kissed you but delicate in the way he touched you.

'You think you're ready to start?' Both of you very bashful after you asked this. He nodded, pulled off his boxers then you pulled back the covers and laid next to each other.

You both leaned on your sides to kiss before the deed was done. He rolled over to be on top a final time. He finally gave you a kiss on the forehead as entered slowly, looking into your eyes.

'Tell me if you want me to stop.' He whispered.

'I'm sure I won't need to but thank you,' eyes lulling shut as you felt him get deeper. His head then resting where your neck and shoulder meets. Low and heavy breaths being pulled out of him. Your body arching as his thrust got deeper and harder.

He was restless, his hands grabbing at anything he could, there was not a part of you that didn't get to know Remus Lupin that night. It was almost too much for you especially when his hand worked down your body to have a firm grasp of your thigh.

The night was hot and the kisses you shared as he pulled you closer were sickly sweet. He was desperate to keep this going for as long as possible, worshipping you in bed as long as he could. As if it was the only way he could have you. As if you weren't at his beck and call after a night like this.

His thrusts became slower but more urgent as he was growing closer. Your sobs from the overwhelming sensation in your stomach being met with groans of of delight. As you came he softly brushed your hair and slowed his thrusts to accommodate for your over stimulated state.

His thrusts stalled and then stopped completely. Resting for a second, breaths heavy and foreheads pushed together. He got out of bed, helped clean you up with a towel and then presented you with some underwear and a t shirt.

You turned to the side and he crawled in next to you, pulling you close to him and gave you a kiss on the shoulder.

'I hope it was ok, I don't do this very often,' he told you nervously.

'You couldn't tell.'

'I'm not joking.'

'Neither am I.'

He smiled at this, holding you close. Both of you silent and content.

'Oh shit, my tea!'

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mangoposts · 9 months

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your whole post about matt being extremely gentle with his virgin girlfriend made me go crazy now as a chris girl i need to know your take on how chris would act for his gf’s first time

Don’t even ask me why, but i feel like when Chris finds out his gf is a virgin he’d be SHOCKED and extremely turned on all at once. To me Chris has a bit of a corruption kink and is a leo man so his ego is large, making him want to seal the deal with you almost immediately after you’d told him.

Of course, Chris would also be gentle as well, but he would be a lot cockier than Matt. I feel like Chris would definitely lay someone down and eat them out first, wanting them to feel everything for the first time because of him. His lips, fingers and dick 🤷🏻‍♀️ And he’d turn someone’s first time into an all night thing, like until the sun rises and shit

I also think Chris would definitely cockwarm a lot before actually fucking, after getting them prepared enough he’d sink his dick into them and bottom out then hold it there for like 10 minutes, just rubbing their clit and kissing their body until he feels them start to grind down against his dick. Then he’ll slowly pick up the pace until they’re getting slutted out during their first time . He’d be so hard the whole time, reminding himself to take things slow but the way they’re reacting to every touch and how sensitive they are makes the blood rush to his cock.

Chris would never let you forget that he’s the one who made you feel those things for the first time. “Such a whore already huh? Letting me fuck your tight pussy like this.” “Such a good girl, doing everything I say and taking what I give you.” “Cum around my cock for the first time baby, I wanna see your face while you cum for me.”

The chris girl popped out, this was longer than expected

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo

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nipuni · 11 months

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Doctor Who status report again! Alright we are half way into S5 and I have opinions to share! These were our fist impressions of the differences after the last regen!

It may still be too soon to judge but there was a noticeable tonal shift in the series with the change in writers. It feels like the writing is suddenly taking itself a bit too seriously, it's moodier with less levity and humor in between. The banter feels more formulaic and often times too on the nose. The doctor also feels angrier, cockier, more self involved, which can be a great character arc on itself don't get me wrong but I think with Ten there was this contrast between his goofy front and what's underneath that made the switching so shocking and heart wrenching and I miss that! I'm also missing the reverence for life and optimism as the main driving theme I think? but again it's probably too early to say! It's also leaning a lot more on sex humor for some reason and I can't say I'm a fan but that's more of a personal choice. There is also a difference in the companion dynamic and arc that reads more YA but I'd have to watch more to tell. All this being said I feel it sounds harsh and like I don't like it but I do! I feel Matt Smith is adorable and does a great job, I loved "The Beast Below" so far that's been my favorite of this half of the season. I also think both Nicolas and I have such a huge bias towards Ten and DT in general that our judgement is compromised so take all of this with a grain of salt 🤣 we were really blown away by the first 4 seasons so it's going to be hard to top but I stay hopeful and we are enjoying ourselves nonetheless. Now onwards to the second half!

ALSO AHHH I'm so happy to see that you all enjoyed my last piece and there is still an audience for it even tho I'm a decade and a half late 😭❤️ I have so much more DW art in the works, I'm obsessed!! sadly I'm also terribly busy but I'm doing my best not to disappear for too long!!

Since so many of you have been in the fandom for years, if you have time to spare could you point me to artist's and writer's works that you love? I'm starved for fan works but I don't know where to look!! I'm partial to Ten but other than that I don't really have a preference 😊 I'd love to find more people who are into it too!

Anyway thank you for reading!!

#personal #doctor who #I'm feeling like clawing my brains out with my bare hands lately #the way I'm clinging to this show for comfort I'm holding on for dear life #Ten is my comfort little guy #DW report #nips blogs

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jejuboo-s · 1 year

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JUST A SIP.

PAIRING: Vampire!J. Wonwoo x F. Reader

W. COUNT: 1.4K

GENRE: Complete smut, nothing much else

SUMMARY: While shaving your legs up to your thighs in the shower, you accidentally wound yourself, blood spilling out of the small cut. In a hurry, you contemplate on going outside and asking Wonwoo to help. But you really couldn’t. Why? Because your boyfriend was a vampire.

EXPLICIT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI.

WARNINGS: Name calling (pretty, whore, etc.), mention of razor (for shaving), obvious mention of blood, Wonwoo is kinddaaa mean, slapping (face), Wonwoo gets cockier as reader gets needier, consent is sexy, cum-play, reader puts up with Wonwoo’s shit easily, she/her + female genitalia used/referenced

A/N: long.. long overdue. i haven’t done a work over 1k since my mingyu “stop kissing me please” and that was like two months ago, if i remember correctly. please do let me know what i could make better and if you have any suggestion for me in the near future, thank you. >3<

You hissed, looking at your thigh, you noticed a large cut from your razor. Feeling hot water fall from your shower head back onto your thigh just made the situation even more uncomfortable, so you decided to finish up your shower and head to your bedroom quickly.

Wrapping a towel around your exposed and wet body, you slowly realized that you really weren’t supposed to be going out of the bathroom with blood dripping from your thigh. Especially with Wonwoo home. You see, your boyfriend was a vampire. Although some things were harder to do with your irregular boyfriend, it didn’t stop you from acknowledging how kind, smart, caring, and handsome he was.

But really, you didn’t know how to really… approach this situation. You had two options, one seemed better than the other, yet the so-called “better” one would end up having more cons.

Option A: Turn off the shower, try grabbing a paper towel and wetting it to pat on the cut. Wait until all the blood has been patted off (estimated around ten minutes).

Cons? It would sting like hell, well, sure it’d sting even more if you got Wonwoo to do it with rubbing alcohol (if he could even withstand just looking at the wound), but it was always better for another person to do it. Plus, all the bacteria you’d imagine could contaminate the cut.. just. gross.

Option B: Walk outside with your towel, disturbing Wonwoo in whatever activity he’s doing inside of the living room. Also, interrupting whatever craving he had before and substituting it with your blood.

There technically weren’t many cons, but the last time he’d had your blood was when you two began dating, and let’s just say; it didn’t end so painlessly.

“Baby? Wonwoo?” You called out from inside the bathroom, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough to not disturb him.

“Hm? Pretty, why don’t you get out of the bathroom to talk to me? You know I like face-to-face conversation better than ones in between walls.”

“Well uhm, do.. Do you still have that rubbing alcohol? And an uhm, a bandage?” You asked meekly.

“Why, are you.. are you bleeding?..” He paused in between his words, and you could tell he did because of the lack of noise coming from whatever activity he’d been doing before.

“Yeah, I just accidentally cut myself while shaving,” you bit your lip. “And there’s nothing really in the cabinets to help. So.. I assumed that asking you would be best.”

“Baby, you do know I don’t wanna hurt you. I haven’t tasted your blood, that rich blood for two years..” His mouth almost watered thinking about it. “I could go overboard and I want to put you over anything else.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you took a small sip.. It’s fine, really, you always do so much for me. It’s unfair for you to give me everything I want but not vice-versa.”

Silence filled the air.

“Come out here.”

Although so bold with your words, inside you were quite the nervous wreck. You opened the door knob with caution, your attention turning to Wonwoo, who had some cheap Netflix show paused.

“Where’s the cut?” you pointed to your inner thigh while your boyfriends’ undivided attention went to the tempting bloody wound.

“So, what you’re basically telling me is that you want me to suck an intimate part of your body free of blood,” that same blood rushed to your cheeks and down to an even more intimate part of your body. “How naughty.”

You sat down on the couch, manspreading. “May I?” Wonwoo asked. It was obvious he wouldn’t take no as an answer by the way his mouth hovered over the cut. But either way, you’d still utter the words.

“Yes.”

Wonwoo sunk his tongue onto the cut, making sure not to waste any last drop, since he knew he’d probably never have this chance again in a while.

On the other hand, you, with your hand trembling scratching at his head, it felt—somewhat pleasurable. Way more pleasurable than it did when he first fed off of you.

“Oh, ‘Woo.. Fuck,” you moaned feeling his warm tongue on the cool patch of body. “Didn’t expect it to be this good..”

He looked up at you after ridding of all the blood dripping down your thigh, with bloody lips, he hovered over your neck and left kiss marks all over.

“M gonna bite you, please, stand still.”

Your neck fell back, providing more space for him to do his thing. Wonwoo let his sharp canines graze over your neck to find a place where he wouldn’t puncture a vein. Before sinking his teeth in, he paused.

“I beg, stand still, you’re shaking subconsciously baby. I promise ‘m not gonna hurt you.”

You tried your hardest but still, it wasn’t enough to ensure that Wonwoo wouldn’t accidentally sink his teeth into the wrong part of your neck. So he just kept a grip on your neck and shoulders.

And then he sank his teeth in.

First: it hurt, it hurt like a bitch. You swore you wouldn’t get used to it, but you still let Wonwoo drink from you like the good girlfriend you were. You just kept an insane clutch on his back, probably breaking skin in the process of doing so.

After a minute or so, your body felt lighter, like a feather, almost. You felt dizzy, not the nauseous type of dizzy; but really, just a feel good type of dizzy. The more he drank, the less pain there was. It was getting substituted with pleasure, it seemed.

“Wonwoo…” You croaked out, hands traveling from his hair and back and hair again. You didn’t know what to do, really, you were in a situation overwhelmed with pleasure.

Your hips bucked and grinded on his pelvis, in response to this, he loosened his grip on your shoulder, bringing it down to your hips, making sure to keep them still while he feeds.

“Woo, babe, hurry. ‘Wan you in my mouth, pretty please..”

Feeling a shadow tower over you, you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend no longer all over your neck, but with bloody teeth and an even bloodier mouth. You brought up your hand to wipe it off, only to just smear blood on his cheek.

God was he hot.

“Good girls wait patiently, don’t they? Fuckin’ whore. You know I haven't tasted your blood in a while, you could’ve been at least a little patient but no, you want to warm up ‘Woos fat cock don’t ya?”

His words hurt, but they also made you all the more horny. You wasted no time in getting off of the couch and letting yourself fall to your knees, your pretty little tongue peeking, waiting for him to take off his briefs.

Although having seen Wonwoo’s cock for the umpteenth time this year, you’d never get over how pretty it looked, hard and covered in precum. Just imagining how far inside he’d be with his dick covered in your spit was complete heaven.

“Open a little more, baby.” He held your chin down, watching as it fell slack with one simple command.

He slid inside, moaning, feeling your cheeks hollow out onto the sides of his dick. It took you a second to stop gagging, sure he wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but he sure was veiny and thick.

“Oh my fuck,” he kept one hand tangled in your hair and the other to comb his hair back. “You look so damn pretty sucking dick, my dick and only mine.”

You let go with a pop, spit dribbling down your chin and down to your cleavage, his cum filling your mouth. Caressing your rosy pink cheek, he then landed a harsh slap on the flesh.

“C’mere.” Wonwoo held your chin, lifting yourself by your hands, he pressed a long and open-mouthed kiss on your lips, liquid seeping through eachothers’ mouths.

The sturdy towel that’d been holding on for life onto your body finally fell, your boobs pressing onto his shirt whilst deep into the kiss.

Pulling away, a string of saliva and the heavy cloud of lust was the only thing that connected you two, and, well, that bite mark of yours he’d left on your neck.

“God, I love you Wonie.” You gasped, trying to catch and steady your breath. He grinned back, now staring at unbroken skin on your neck.

“Right. So, round two?”

#.leeworks #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #seventeen smut #kpop smut #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #kpop x reader #smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo x y/n

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

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💌 I am wondering about your thoughts on Lance Tucker 👀👀

i hate him so much but also i'm entirely obsessed with him and i love him.

he is so awful but so hot and god just the idea of him!! i mean can you imagine him degrading you and just being so fucking mean while he has his way and takes you any way he pleases???

and he no doubt has a praise kink, so he'll force you to be vocal, too. he wants to hear how good he makes you feel, and he wants to hear you cry out how much you love being used by him.

and he just gets cockier and cockier each time your walls involuntarily squeeze his throbbing length impossibly tighter as he fucks you from behind, his big hands gripping your waist, grabbing at your doughy hips and belly as he gropes you feverishly, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust as your ass slaps against his hips, the room filled with the wet sounds of your fucking, his growls and taunts, your broken moans and mutterings of indescribable pleasure as he calls you a disgusting, pathetic whore for letting him fuck you, again and again. for begging for his big dick to fill up your tight little hole, for wanting him to cum inside you because you're so fucking desperate for every bit of him you can get.

and he fucking loves it when you agree, because you know as well as he does exactly what you are. what you are for him. because you're not just a slut, you're his slut. and as you collapse on his bed, thoroughly worn and leaking him, he smirks as you glare at him when he slaps your ass. you can play off you hate him all you want, but he sees the way you shoot daggers into him and any woman he so shamelessly flirts with near you, he feels you, on nights like these, when you're in bed with him and you think he's asleep. he feels you crawl closer to him, feels when you rest your head on his chest, feels when you snuggle into him.

he lets you think he doesn't, but he does.

and look, he's not one for commitment. he doesn't do all that lovey dovey stuff. but maybe there's something to be said about just how much he enjoys nights like these...and the way he's almost excited to pretend to be sleeping next to you, waiting for you to find him and wrap him in the warmth only you can provide him.

and maybe there's something to be said about the lack of other women he's brought home these past few months, not that you needed to know who he spends his time with, but still, he finds himself wanting to brag about it to you. just so you know how lucky you should feel to be the only one in his bed, no other reason, of course.

and he knows come morning, odds are you'll be gone by the time he wakes up. or, like the past few mornings, maybe you'll stay just a little longer, maybe have some breakfast. but he isn't concerned either way. because he knows, just as well as you do, that you'll be back tonight. and like every other night for the past week straight, you'll be in his bed.

right where he wants you.

right where you want to be.

right where you belong.

#q #what happened? i blacked out for like twenty minutes there #lance tucker #lance tucker x curvy!reader #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker drabble #lance tucker smut #sebastian stan characters #3k celebration #asks #tumblin theworldaway

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brooooswriting · 10 months

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Can we get prompt 22 & 25 with Maria Hill (angst w/ hap end (maybe slight smut if ur comfortable)) PLEASE 🙏🏼

22. “You can still use your legs, so don’t say that I was jealous again”

25. “Don’t cover my bite marks, or I might just have to add more”

A/n: so this was my first time writing Maria and I didn’t wanna immediately write smut. Sorry :/

Maria was normally a totally closed off person, the team often tried to engage her and it took several years for her to finally tell them something. But it was never something really really personal which made them even more surprised when she brought a girl to Starks party. On her arm was a beautiful y/h/c girl wearing a shorter dress and gazing up at her with utter admiration.

“Oh wow, who’s that?” Sam asked Steve who was also starring at you. Next to him on the couch, Natasha, Bruce and Wanda were also starring at you.

“I do not know but I am going over there” Wanda said and walked over to you. By now you were standing at the bar, ordering for you and your girlfriend. “Hey there” the brunette spoke up as she slid next to you, shooting you an overconfident smirk.

“Hello” you smiled at her friendly before looking straight ahead again, you weren’t really interested in having a conversation.

“You know, I would have thought that god would keep an angel like you to himself” She asked coming a bit closer again. You had to bite your lip to stop your laugh.

“Is this how you talk to everyone here?” You asked with a grin and turned towards her.

“No, just pretty girls. My names Wanda” she stretched out her hand for you to take, her smile even cockier than before.

“I’m y/n and I gotta go” you said after shaking her hand as your drinks arrived. While Wanda was nice and kinda funny you’d rather be with Maria. So you took your drinks and walked away and past the couch were the others sat.

“What was that?” Maria asked once you were back, taking the drink from your hand. She eyed Wanda who walked back to the couch with a small pout.

“She just wanted to say hi” you weren’t going to tell her the flirting stuff because you didn’t want the agent to hurt her. But she could see through your lies and only gave you an ‘mhm’ before continuing her conversation.

The whole evening went like that, somebody’ either from the team or somebody else, came to you and tried to flirt. It annoyed Maria unbelievably but she didn’t wanna cause a scene and she trusted you. So she let you be on the other side of the room, but always keeping an eye on you, just in case somebody made you uncomfortable.

You could see Maria’s face turn red once Wanda came back and started to touch you. They weren’t forceful or anything, her hand on your arm or your shoulder, sometimes innocently grazing your thigh. It was hard to hide your grin, so you turned your head the other way.

At one point nearly everybody left except the team, some dudes you didn’t know, you and Maria. Fury even came to visit once it was just you guys, he was the one who wanted to introduce you. “Everybody, this is my assistant and new agent y/n y/l/n. She will be here the next couple of days when we have our conferences” he said and gave you a pat on the shoulder before sitting down. You sat down between Maria and Sam which turned out to be a big mistake.

“You know, you could assist me in my bedroom tonight” he told you with a smile, his arm laying behind you on the couch.

“I’ll pass but thank you” you mumbled leaning further into Maria. You wanted to climb on her lap and hide your face in her neck but she didn’t wanna tell the team so you just scooted away a bit.

At one point Natasha came to rescue and made you sit next to her and on the edge of the couch. Sure she was flirting too, but it wasn’t as sexual and way more funny. Plus, you kinda liked the way Maria looked at you once Natasha was flirting with you and she wasn’t close enough to stop it.

“Alright, it was really nice to meet everyone but you know, early day tomorrow. So I’ll see you then, thanks again Tony” you said as you stood up, waving everybody except Natasha and Wanda who decided to hug you. Much to Maria’s dismay.

You waited outside for about ten minutes, knowing that Maria wasn’t gonna take long. A small grin on your lips as you leaned against the wall, purse in hand. It took her longer than you thought to come down, 25 minutes passed when you finally saw her. But your smile fell when your girlfriend came down the stairs with one of the dudes you didn’t know, his arm slightly wrapped around her waist and a smile on both of their lips. They talked for a short moment, Maria typing on his phone before he leaned down. You weren’t stupid and Maria wasn’t either, be planned to kiss her, probably hoping to take her home but she turned her head in the right moment for him to kiss her check.

You were fuming when she came over to you. A stupid cooky smile on her damn face. “What the hell?” You asked with a strong voice, an annoyed look on your face.

“What? You think you’re the only one who can flirt?” She asked walking to the car before you could answer. You rolled your eyes and sat in the passenger seat.

“Flirting? I was being flirted with, I didn’t do anything actively. You were the one who gave a dude her number and he nearly kissed you” you tried to stay reasonable but it was no use. “God what the hell were you thinking?” You shook you head looking out of the window.

“You started all of this, they were all over you” her eyes flickered over to you as you stood on a red light. She watched as your brows furrowed and your head lightly shook.

“So what? I didn’t do anything except being nice, they’re your friends!” You told her as you got out of the car, house key already in your hand. Both of you walking through the door and letting everything fall to the floor.

“Oh so suddenly being nice means whoring yourself out?”

“What the hell? I was being nice, you were the one who flirted around and nearly kissed somebody else! You wanted to keep this secret and now you can’t deal with the fact that other people might want me too”

“Please, this is not what this is about” she screamed back making you roll your eyes and turn around. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“I’m leaving Maria, this is useless. You don’t trust me but you wanna keep me a secret. This won’t work like that and I do not feel like arguing with a brick wall right now” you argued back, your keys already in your hand.

“You’re being pity, y/n” this time you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m being pity? You’re the one who’s pity, you’re jealous and you can’t deal with it Maria” you told her sternly, pulling of your second stiletto with an annoyed sigh.

The next sound that escaped you was a yelp as the brunette had picked you up and carried you into the bedroom. “Wanna say that again?” She asked teasingly as she threw you onto the bed. You were in for a night.

A couple of hours later, Maria fell next to your own sweaty body. She waited a couple of moment before doing so to make sure you had calmed down. She then stood up to get a cloth to clean you. “Open your legs love” she mumbled which made you whine but do so nonetheless. “You can still use your legs, so don’t say I was jealous again” she told you with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

Once she was done cleaning you and got you a glass of water she laid behind you, her arms wrapped around your waist as she carefully intertwined your legs. “I gave him the wrong number by the way” she suddenly whispered into your neck, placing a soft kiss there. “I wouldn’t have given him my number under any circumstances” she added, her thumb carefully stroking your hand.

“You better” you mumbled before falling asleep.

The next morning Maria woke up before you, but instead of getting up she decided to stay in bed with you a bit longer as she admired her work on your neck. There were countless hickeys scattered across your neck, your shoulder, your breasts and your thighs. She couldn’t wait for the moment you saw them.

Not long after your alarm started to ring which made you stir, immediately turning towards Maria and hiding in the crook of her neck to avoid getting up. “Come on sleepy head, we gotta get going” she mumbled and pressed a kiss to your head before getting into the shower. Once you were awake enough you followed her, the bathroom already full of steam, covering the mirror.

You showered way longer than you actually should have, but if you have the opportunity to shower with your really beautiful and smart girlfriend, you don’t say no. So you hurried out of the shower, grabbed some clothes and dried your hair before returning into the bathroom to do your makeup. Your mouth fell open once you looked into the mirror. “Maria hill! You better move your ass in here right now” you screamed.

When she came in she was already wearing her annoyingly sexy smirk which meant that she definitely knew what this was about. Her arms wrapped around your waist as she stood behind you, holding the hand that was getting the concealer down. “Don’t” was the only thing she said as she smiled at you through the mirror.

“What? I can’t go to work like this”

“Don’t cover my bite marks or I might just have to add more” she said sternly, “you know I mean it” a heavy kiss was placed on your neck before her arms unwrapped themselves.

“This is gonna be fun” you mumbled as you put down the concealer and tried to move your hair so it was covering most of your neck. Unsuccessfully so.

The moment you set foot into the conference room it was clear that this was going to be the most embarrassing day of your life. You were still standing at the door when everybody’s eyes were on you. “Damn! Y/n got lucky last night” Tony laughed causing your face to turn red. You were teased her and there before Maria came inside, her hand immediately going from your waist to your ass as she pulled you closer and led you towards your seats.

She was quick to turn around and send Sam and Natasha a wink before pulling out your chair. Now it was their turn to blush and look down which made you chuckle. “Who would have thought?” Clint said clearly surprised as he watched you and Maria while Tony grinned.

“Maria” he called out and threw a piece of paper towards her to gain her attention. “Nice” he said with a nod and a proud look on his face which made everybody laugh.

“I will just say this to be clear, the next person who flirts with her is gonna get their ass handed. Is that clear?” Suddenly she was back in full commander mode as everybody nodded at her. She smirked before placing a kiss on your lips, a happy sigh leaving her.

So maybe, jealousy wasn’t always the worst thing.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #writing prompt #maria hill #maria hill x reader #maria hill x you #maria hill x y/n #maria hill imagine #Maria hill one shot

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roses-r-rosie3 · 1 year

Text

Baby I

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slow-burn, swearing

Summary: Jason and the reader (Katana’s younger cousin), having a frenemies relationship and they both slowly start catching feelings for each other but they don’t want to admit it to each other

Quote: “Wait- hold on- you beat me by kissing me?”

A/n: I was very inspired by Kitana from Mortal Kombat (what a coincidence)

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A lot of people knew you as “Gunsen” or (the one you hated the most) “Katana’s sidekick”. But what people didn’t know, was that you were Katana’s younger cousin. She took you in when your parents died. Of course, she taught you how to defend yourself.

After she took you in, she trained to become her sidekick, which basically meant you had to practice with 50 different weapons. And you learned all of them pretty quickly, but one weapon stood out to you, the war fans, also known as a Gunsen, which is where you got your vigilante name from. You knew how to use other weapons, but the war fans felt more natural to you.

So after years of you training with her, she decided that you were ready. She didn’t let you go out on your own at first because well… obviously why would you let a teenager out fighting people in the streets by their self? But boy, when you were in action, you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

Katana was like the older sister you never had. The two of you would constantly take care of each others wounds when you got home, annoyed each other, and overall just took care of each other.

When Katana knew you were trustworthy enough (which took years), she let you go out on patrol on your own. You eventually moved out of her house to make a name for yourself, and she completely understood. You still kept contact with her because, one, she’s your family, and two, she was more experienced than you.

When you were finally used to going solo, you stopped going after henchmen/goons, and started to go for the actual villains of Gotham. You were not ruthless, but you weren’t known as merciful either. If you killed someone, you killed someone, if you didn’t, you didn’t. But yet, you were still the opposite of Katana, you were a bit more cockier/sassier than her.

On one certain day, you were informed that the penguin had a plan to smuggle illegal weapons to his warehouse, and you couldn’t let that happen.

That night, you snuck into the warehouse, and you listened in to the conversation with the penguin and his henchmen. Unfortunately, you couldn’t listen in for long because someone with a red helmet came bursting through the window.

You took a closer look and realized it was the vigilante, red hood. You’ve heard of him, but you didn’t really know him all too well. But what you did know, was that he had some temper problems, and that meat-head was going to ruin your plans.

Shit.

You had no choice but to go down there and help him fight the Penguin’s henchmen. As soon as you dropped down you pulled out your war-fans and started to fight, trying to make your way to Penguin.

“So are you here to stop Penguin or do I have to kill you too?” Jason asked.

“You? Kill me? Don’t make me laugh. But yes, I’m here to stop Penguin” you chuckled.

“What are you gonna do? Fan me?” Jason laughed.

You were annoyed with him at that point, so you opened your fan and sliced one of the goon’s throat.

“Now what do you think?” You smirked.

“Whatever” Jason mumbled.

After the fight was done, and the Penguin was sent to arkham asylum. You and Jason started to build a “frenemies” type of relationship, weither it be beating each other to the other’s missions. But as the rivalry grew, the more you two grew closer to each other.

It wasn’t until you had a mission to go to one scarecrow’s warehouse and stop him from releasing one of his new fear chemicals. You never took scarecrow seriously, even with all the things that Katana warned you about. I mean, he was just a normal guy at the end of the day.

When you entered the warehouse, Jason immediately landed next to you. You rolled your eyes as you looked at him.

“Hood, still copying me I see” you said as you snuck deeper into the warehouse.

“I didn’t even know you were coming here, so technically, you’re copying me” Jason smirked as he followed you.

“F-”

“Shh” Jason shushed you as he pointed at a door that was left wide open.

You both snuck into the room and the door immediately shut behind you. Jason quickly pulled out his gun and pointed it towards the door, but no one was there. You looked cautiously around the room and you noticed that there was a safe and different viles with what you assumed was scarecrows failed attempts of his new fear gas.

You walked towards the safe and tried to unlock it with all of the combinations you could think of, while Jason stood there watching the door. You tried everything you knew, and none of them were working, and you were starting to get more and more frustrated.

“Did you try 1234 yet?” Jason asked.

“What type of psychotic villain would hide their new fear gas into a vault, and make the passcode 1234? It’s can’t be that easy” you mumbled.

“Would you please just try it, I’m getting impatient” Jason said.

You just rolled your eyes as you typed in the passcode.

“I’m telling you it’s not gonna-”

The safe unlocked and you were shocked. Wow, even the joker would have been smarter than this. You could just feel Jason’s cocky little smirk.

“What did I tell you?” Jason smirked.

“Shut up ho-”

As you opened the safe, you were sprayed with a gas, and it burned. You yelled out in surprise/pain. Jason immediately turned to you and tried helping you. But when you opened your eyes, Jason’s face was all mask was cracked and destroyed and his face underneath was mangled.

You screamed out in fear and Jason tried to comfort you the best he could, but you just kept backing away from him. Jason even took off his helmet to try and comfort you. But all of a sudden the intercom blared and a voice started talking over the speaker.

“Hello there hood, I assume that you have Gunsen with you, and if things went according to plan, he opened up my safe, and got a taste of my new fear gas” Scarecrow’s voice said.

“Shit” Jason cursed under his breath.

“You might be wondering why this is my new fear toxin. Well, it works like normal, but, there’s a little kick in the end” Scarecrow laughed and then the intercom stopped.

Jason looked back at you, and you opened your fan and tried to swing at him.

“Gunsen what are you doing?!” Jason shouted.

You didn’t respond at all. You just tried to kill him. As much as Jason hated to admit it, he cared for you, and actually liked you back.

“Gunsen stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” Jason said.

When you tried attacking him with your fans again, but thankfully, Jason managed to knock both of your fans out of your hands. You growled in anger as you charged at him. Jason dodged all of your different attacks, when he saw the opportunity, he grabbed you around the waist held you in place.

He didn’t know what to do, but he could tell you were about to break away from his grip. He instinctively pushed his lips against yours. Neither you or him pulled back. It took a while for Jason to realize that you were still affected by the fear gas, so he pulled out a tranquilizer he brought (don’t ask why) and hit you with it and you passed out.

When you woke up, you were in a bed, and you felt your face.. your mask was gone! You also had a major migraine, the only thing you remembered was opening the safe and everything went black. You quickly got out of the bed, your suit was still on, but where was your mask?! You walked out of the bedroom, and you saw a guy, a very handsome guy, making breakfast.

“Where am I? And where is my mask” You asked.

“Relax, when you opened the safe you got sprayed with scarecrows fear chemical, we fought a little, but me being better than you, I beat you” the man smirked.

That’s when it hit you, that was red hood! You’ve only seen him with his mask on, and he was hot even then, but with his mask off, he looked hotter than you imagined.

“You want any breakfast?” Jason asked while having a cocky smirk on his face.

“Sure” you said.

After the both of you were done eating, you helped him clean up with the dishes. After you were done cleaning, you both sat on his couch watching his tv in silence but all of a sudden a thought popped into your head.

“How did you beat me? From what I’ve gathered, not to toot my own horn, but I’m way better at combat than you” you questioned.

Jason froze for a second. He couldn’t just tell you that he kissed you!

“I don’t know, I just beat you” Jason mumbled.

“Come on! You were just bragging about how much better than me you were! Tell me how” now it was your turn to wear a cocky smirk.

“I just beat you okay?! That’s all you need to know” Jason said.

“Come o-”

“God you need to learn how to shut up” Jason grumbled as he pulled you into a kiss.

You were shocked at first, but then you started to kiss him back.

“That’s how I beat you” Jason said as he looked into your e/c eyes.

“Wait- hold on- you beat me by kissing me?” You stuttered.

“Do you want another example or something?” Jasons smirked.

After that, you two didn’t start dating yet, but your interactions with each other started to get more flirty. So it was sort of like a friends with benefits type of relationship. It also started to become a normal thing for the two of you to go to Jason’s place after patrol and “hang out”. Hell, you two even knew each other’s secret identities.

You two would never want to admit to each other that you had feelings though. It got bad to the point where it was awkward to even talk to each other. You hated this feeling, you wanted to tell him that you liked him, I mean you two have kissed countless of times! But you still haven’t dated yet! And you couldn’t take it anymore. So after one of your regular hang outs, you finally decided to confess.

“Jay, I have something to say” you spoke up.

“I actually do to” Jason said.

“You wanna say it together?” You asked.

“Sure”

“3…”

“2…”

“1…”

“I want us to be more than just ‘friend’s with benefits’ and I’ve liked you for a while now”

“I’ve actually had a crush on you since we met”

You both sat there in silence, processing what the other just said.

“So… Are we like.. a thing now..?” Jason said awkwardly.

“I guess so” you smiled as you leaned in for a kiss.

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A/n: Sorry that I have not been posting very often :( summer is over now so I’m busier than usual, but my requests are still opened for people who want to request :)

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endofradio · 2 months

Text

FRAGMENTS OF FEAR — CHAPTER 7: TREASON

WARNINGS: gore mentions

NOTES: i lowkey locked in with this chapter WHY IS IT SO LONG. i also decided to spice things up a bit by having sylvie talk to abigail instead of joey doing it (when abigail says that frank is valdez). i am VERY excited to write the scene where abigail exposes everybody because the drama is going to be REAL.

SUMMARY: now that everyone’s locked inside, sylvie decides to make the decision to talk to abigail herself, something that she regrets. after rickles dies next, sylvie confronts frank, which only leaves her feeling more confused and frightened than she already is.

WORD COUNT: 3,290

TAGLIST: @reclaimedbythesea @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @that-one-gay-aew-enthusiast @evildarliing @maggotmommys @maggotssmichael @13th-floor-in-moonstone @vampireheist @xashleyo03x @blackwolfstabs @atcarpenter

shoot me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglist! and… seriously — reblogs and comments are heavily appreciated. don’t just leave a like! it helps keep me motivated. 🙏

“Come on, Rickles. Hey!”

Rickles was storming straight for the front door, adamant on his decision to leave. Even with Joey calling for him and following after him, he didn’t change his mind one bit. Once he reached the door, he attempted to open it.

Well, unfortunately for him, the door was completely locked. There was no way to get out. In fact, as Rickles attempted to open the door, some sort of silver gate rose up, blocking the door from any sort of access. It was completely shielded by the gate. Everyone stared at the door in confusion. How the hell did that happen?

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Peter asked. He figured that since he was the strongest of the entire group, he probably had a chance at unlocking the door. It was worth a try, at least.

Turns out, being 6’5” and over 200 pounds doesn’t always make somebody the strongest. No matter how hard Peter strained as he tried to break the door free, nothing happened.

Confused, Peter looked up at the door. “What the fuck?”

He turned around to look at Rickles. “Rickles, stand back.”

Rickles took a few steps back, and then Peter threw himself at the gate, trying to use all of his strength in an attempt to successfully break through it. Still, nothing happened. It only resulted in some physical pain that definitely hadn’t been worth it.

“It’s locked,” Peter announced, disappointed.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Peter. It’s obviously fuckin’ locked.”

Sylvie and the others watched as Peter still tried to unlock the door. Great, so now everyone was stuck here. Dean had mysteriously been killed, and now the front door was completely unusable. It almost seemed like this entire place was just one big trap.

Frank sauntered over to Sylvie with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.”

Sylvie looked up at Frank, a half-annoyed expression on her face. Seeing that infuriatingly smug grin on his face made her want to just smack him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Maybe she was a coward, maybe it was something else. Either way, the fact she couldn’t make herself do anything about it was bothering her. It was as though her feelings toward Frank were slowly beginning to do a complete 180° in the span of just a few hours.

“And I bet you’re just happy about that, aren’t you?” She asked, trying to sound like a total smart-ass. A snarky response was the most Sylvie could do.

Frank’s smirk grew at Sylvie’s response. He only looked cockier. “Well, I’m certainly not complaining.”

“This whole thing is a trap.”

Frank and Sylvie looked to see Rickles walking away in an obvious hurry. If the front door wasn’t going to be any use, then he figured he’d keep looking. He was determined to get out of this place somehow.

Peter watched as Rickles disappeared. “Rickles! Where’s… hey. Where’s Rickles going?”

“Goddamnit.” Frank hissed under his breath. “Don’t worry about it, Peter. I’ll go after him.”

Peter sighed. “Alright.”

Joey then had an idea. “If Valdez is here, perhaps he checked on the girl and left her there to throw us off…” she speculated.

“I’ll go talk to her.” Sylvie then offered. Right as Joey was about to speak, she was already making her way back up the stairs to the kid’s room.

“Wait—”

Sylvie paused, turning around to look at Joey, who was trying to catch up with her.

“You can’t go in there, Ava.”

“She’s already seen my face. It doesn’t matter.”

Before Joey could say anything else to try and stop Sylvie, she continued on her way.

When Sylvie carefully opened the door, Abigail looked up at her, fearfully clutching a blanket. The sight made Sylvie’s heart clench. She felt really, really bad for the kid. None of this was right at all. She should be at home right now, not locked up in some mansion in the middle of nowhere in Massachusetts.

“What do you… want?” The girl croaked, her voice trembling. “Where’s Joey?”

Sylvie sighed, carefully taking a seat on the edge of the bed, making sure to keep her distance. The last thing she wanted was to make the kid even more afraid than she already was.

“I just need to ask you something,” Sylvie explained, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just need to talk to you, okay?”

Reluctantly, the girl slowly nodded. She still seemed wary of Sylvie, but not as much. Well, that was a good sign at least.

“Has anyone else been in this room?” Sylvie then asked.

Abigail paused, then shook her head. “N-no… just you and… Joey… and the man with the glasses…”

Sylvie slowly nodded. Only her, Joey, and Frank had been in the room, apparently. Just to make sure that Abigail was being honest, she decided to press a little more. She knew how scared kids could lie, speaking from her own experience. Sylvie had personally lied a lot as a child to protect herself. If Valdez had come in here, there was the possibility that he could’ve threatened Abigail into keeping his name out of her mouth. Hopefully, that wasn’t the case.

“Are you sure?” Sylvie asked, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Abigail gave a quick nod.

Sylvie sighed. “Nobody else has been in this room, is that correct? By the way, you can be honest. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Abigail shook her head. Sylvie tried to search her expression for any sign of hesitation, but… she appeared to be telling the truth. Sylvie couldn’t detect a single sign of dishonesty.

She was about to get up and leave the room when Abigail suddenly spoke up.

“He’s gonna hurt me.”

Sylvie turned around to look at her, noticing how the girl seemed to be completely frightened again. She paused, feeling her chest begin to tighten with concern.

“What do you mean? Who’s gonna hurt you?”

“The man with the glasses.” Abigail continued, her voice growing more panicked. “He said he’s gonna hurt me.”

Sylvie could feel her chest start to tighten even more. “Wait, hold on. Are you telling me the truth?”

Abigail frantically nodded. “Yes! I’m serious… I’m serious. Please… please believe me. I’m really scared. He said I need to keep a secret, or… or he’d hurt me.”

“What secret?”

What she said next made Sylvie’s heart just about drop to her stomach.

“He said he works for my father… he said his name’s… Valdez.”

Fuck.

Sylvie didn’t know what to believe. Sure, Frank was a cold-hearted bastard in all honesty… but a ruthless murderer? Maybe she was just in denial, but she couldn’t picture him doing what had been done to Dean. She wasn’t sure if he was that sadistic, that cruel. The idea of Frank working for Lazar and being a brutal killer was enough to make Sylvie sick to her stomach.

If it was all true… then what else did Sylvie not know about Frank?

“You’re not just saying that, right?” She carefully asked.

Abigail looked so afraid that she seemed as though she was about to break down in tears. She fervently nodded again. “I’m telling the truth, I promise!”

Sylvie had to get out of there. She couldn’t bring herself to hear anything else. She didn’t want to hear anything else.

But, as she started to head for the door, Abigail spoke up again.

“Why are you surprised?”

Sylvie was starting to feel increasingly agitated. She turned around again, suddenly sick of hearing the child’s voice. “What the hell do you mean?” She asked, sounding almost irritated. She instantly regretted it.

“He’s a very bad man. I think you know that.”

Sylvie had enough. Quickly, she rushed out of the room and shut the door, her mind struggling to process everything she had just heard. None of it made sense. None of it seemed… real. She leaned against the door, trying to steady her breathing.

What am I supposed to do now?

As Sylvie remained there, her back pressed against the door, she tried to think. As she reflected on Abigail’s words, she thought about what she said about Frank working for Lazar. As she thought about it… she reluctantly realized that it made sense. She remembered back to when she and Frank were talking earlier, how he had admitted to leaving his old life behind.

What if he had been referring to working for Lazar?

The more Sylvie thought about it, the more sick she felt. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Maybe the kid’s just lying because she’s scared.

But… why would she say something like that?

Why are you surprised? He’s a very bad man. Those words kept repeating in Sylvie’s brain. But… what confused her the most was Abigail’s next words after that, “I think you know that.” What the hell had she meant by that? I think you know that? Sylvie didn’t even know who the fuck the girl was.

What was even worse was that she was right — Sylvie knew that Frank wasn’t a good person. But… “a very bad man?” What the fuck— nevermind. She was done thinking about this bullshit. The more she thought, the more confused she became.

As Sylvie continued to lean against the door, she heard voices coming from one of the rooms down the hall — Joey and Rickles. Quickly, she hurried down the hall and into the room, clearly interrupting a conversation. Upon seeing the worry on Sylvie’s face, though, Joey and Rickles both became concerned.

“What is it?” She asked.

Sylvie drew in a shaky breath. “Something is really fucking wrong.”

Joey narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Sylvie couldn’t bring herself to explain. “If you want to know, go talk to the girl yourself. I don’t… I don’t know if she’s being serious or not.”

Joey and Rickles exchanged a disconcerted glance before looking back at Sylvie. Joey slowly nodded. “Alright. I’ll… be right back.”

Once Joey disappeared, Rickles glanced at Sylvie again. “You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” He commented. “The hell happened?”

Sylvie shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it. If she tells Joey the same thing she told me, I swear to God…”

Now, Rickles just seemed confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Look. Are you sure there’s no other way out of here? I need to get out of here. I… I want to go home.”

Rickles sighed, crossing his arms. “Trust me, I wish there was. As far as I know, we’re all locked up in here for who knows how much goddamn longer. I’m not buying the ‘twenty-four hours’ bullshit. I guarantee this is a trap.”

Sylvie nervously tapped her foot against the floor, her eyes darting around anxiously as she waited for Joey to return, anticipating what she would say. Seconds ticked by, and they were starting to seem like hours at this point.

“You believe Valdez is real, right?” Sylvie then asked.

Rickles slowly nodded. “I’ve heard too much shit about him for him not to be.” He answered, his voice taking on a grave tone.

“Do you really think it’s possible he’s here right now? Like, one of us is actually him?”

“Dean’s head was ripped clean off. That’s some bullshit that only Valdez is capable of,” Rickles explained, “and if the girl’s Lazar’s daughter… gives him more of a reason to be here.”

“Have you two seen Frank?”

Sylvie and Rickles turned around to see Joey briskly walking towards them. Her expression was difficult to read, but she did seem rather pissed. At least, that’s what her tone of voice suggested.

“I can go look for him.” Rickles then offered. “Why? He the next victim?”

Joey scoffed. “No. Actually, he might be the killer.”

Rickles’ eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and shock. “Wait, what?”

Sylvie felt like she was going to vomit right then and there.

“Frank is Valdez.” Joey continued, her voice cold. “He told the girl.”

Rickles wasn’t exactly buying it. “He wanted to leave. That doesn’t make any sense.”

He had a good point, Sylvie thought. If Frank was really Valdez, then why the hell did he seem so adamant about leaving after talking to Abigail?

“He acted like he wanted to leave.” Joey then said.

“If he’s Valdez and Lazar’s his boss, then why kidnap his kid?” Rickles questioned.

Sylvie was relieved that at least Rickles was skeptical… but at the same time, if Frank wasn’t Valdez, then who was? Jesus Christ… none of this was making any sense.

“Maybe he and Lambert are planning a power play.” Joey suggested.

Rickles let out a sigh. “You’re telling me that skinny motherfucker rips people apart?” He scoffed. “Something doesn’t add up.”

Sylvie decided that she might as well offer her opinion. “I know he’s an asshole, but I can’t picture him doing some gruesome shit like that, y’know?”

Joey seemed reluctant to believe Rickles and Sylvie, her expression wary. “All I know is that Frank definitely isn’t an amateur. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.” She spoke. “If Frank really is Valdez, then he definitely knows how to get out of here, which means so would I if I spend about six minutes with him.”

“So… what’s the plan?” Sylvie asked.

Joey sighed, clicking her tongue as she tried to think of something. “You two split up and take the main staircase. I’ll go south. We’ll meet in the middle.”

Reluctantly, Sylvie slowly nodded. “Alright.”

Rickles tried to offer a small, reassuring smile. “We gonna get through this.”

“I have to.”

“You have a kid?” He asked.

Joey nodded. Sylvie felt a pang in her chest. God… she definitely did not belong here. Silently, Sylvie hoped that Joey’s son was safe and well back at home.

Rickles placed a comforting hand on Joey’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure you get home.”

As Sylvie wandered through the mansion, she started to feel unsafe now that she had lost sight of Rickles. Now, she was by herself, and suddenly… everything seemed eerily quiet. Where was he, anyway?

Sylvie stood there in the hallway, her eyes anxiously darting around as she tried to see if she could hear or spot any sign of him. Yet, there was nothing.

And then, she heard what sounded like gurgling coming from the distance. Her heart starting to race with worry, Sylvie dashed toward the direction of where the sound was coming from, leading her to another room. As she stood in the doorway, she saw Rickles standing there, his back turned.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Sylvie asked, her voice cautious.

Then, Rickles suddenly collapsed, and that was when Sylvie caught sight of his face — it was horribly mutilated and looked as though a fucking dog had ripped through his face. His cheek was torn open, and she could see his teeth through the gaping, bloody hole. The wound went all the way down his neck, dark blood staining his shirt.

Covering her mouth, Sylvie took a few steps back, desperately fighting the urge to vomit. She immediately wanted to break down and cry right there, just… scream. “What the fuck…? No, no, no…”

Two people had just brutally died in this mansion. Already, two people were gone in only a brief span of time. Sylvie didn’t know how much more she could handle. Who was going to be next? That was all she could think about.

Quickly, Sylvie ran to the nearest bathroom, opening the toilet seat as she retched. Nothing came up, so all she could do was let out painful dry heaves. Once she was done, she closed the seat and staggered to her feet. Suddenly feeling a rush of anger, she slammed her fists against the wall, as though she was trying to knock some sense into herself. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and she’d wake up from it.

“Wake up… fucking WAKE UP!”

She continued to punch the wall, but nothing happened. She only felt pain… which meant this was either real or a hyper-realistic nightmare. Unfortunately, it was beginning to seem like it was… real.

“Hey, what the fuck’s the matter with you?”

Sylvie whipped her head around, her senses on high alert. Any movement, sound, or voice was enough to make her jump out of her skin at this point.

When she turned around, Sylvie saw Frank standing there, looking at her with a mixture of annoyance and… perhaps a bit of concern, which was rather rare to see from him. It seemed more like an annoyed type of concern, whatever the hell that meant.

Upon seeing Frank’s face, Sylvie didn’t know how to react. One thing was for sure — she didn’t feel good.

“Get… get away from me.”

Frank narrowed his eyes, his annoyance growing. Instead of listening to Sylvie and backing away from her, he only stepped closer to her. She flinched as he moved towards her, almost as if she was expecting him to hurt her.

Frank let out an irritated scoff. “Jesus Christ, would you calm the fuck down? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Why don’t you have any… blood on you?” Sylvie asked, her voice shaking.

Frank looked taken aback by the question, his eyes widening slightly in a genuine expression of shock. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You… you’re Valdez. The girl… the girl told me.”

Frank went from shocked to annoyed in seconds. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You’re seriously listening to her?”

“Rickles just… Rickles just died. Rickles and Dean are both dead. You…”

Frank rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sylvie, for the love of God. You don’t have a single clue what you’re fuckin’ talking about, do you? I know you’re smarter than this.”

“Well, can you please tell me what the fuck is going on? I just saw two people die. I’m scared. I want to get out of here.”

“What’s going on?” Frank repeated. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Please tell me the truth. The girl said the same thing to me and Joey, that you’re… that you’re Valdez.”

Frank let out an annoyed huff. “Did she, now? Well, I don’t appreciate people trying to tarnish my fuckin’ reputation.”

Sylvie swallowed, trying to steady her breathing. “So… she’s lying?”

Frank chuckled, the sound devoid of any humor. “No fuckin’ shit. Children love to lie… but lying about something like this? I’d say that somebody needs to be put in their goddamn place.”

“But then… who did it? Who’s… killing everybody?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. That’s what we’re all trying to figure out, right?”

Letting out an annoyed grumble, Frank turned around to walk away. Just as he was about to leave, Sylvie spoke.

“You’re not going to let anything happen to me, right? Just… tell me everything’s going to be okay. I don’t… I really don’t want to die. Not here.”

Frank paused, looking back at Sylvie for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but he seemed slightly caught off-guard by her sudden vulnerability. In the time that he knew her, he never once heard her ask him for reassurance. Frank had always known Sylvie as a defiant, feisty little brat… yet, here she was, frightened to death because she didn’t want to die. It was a side of her that he had never seen before.

No, don’t let her get to you.

Frank remained silent for a few moments, trying to think of how he would respond.

“You’re not gonna die.” He simply answered, his voice matter-of-fact. Cold. Emotionless.

And then, he left.

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