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queenimmadolla · 7 months

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𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

“Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around.

Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

“I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.”

“Wha’?”

“Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

“Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair.

While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him.

Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him.

The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention.

Someone.

Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side.

Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie.

He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

“It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

NOW, 1989

“Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

“Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand.

When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying.

You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job.

You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan.

So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

Your mother was murdered.

Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional.

The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery.

Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself.

You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace.

The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells.

He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting.

So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead.

“Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

It was a little odd, but you did.

When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

“I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

“I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him.

You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

“Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

“Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

“YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring.

“He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

“Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

“Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.”

Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss.

“I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked.

“I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

“Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.”

You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

“It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that.

“That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.”

Didn’t feel like it.

Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

“No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

“Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

“You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands.

“And I can. Please, let me do this.”

You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

“It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it.

You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

“So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university.

Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

“See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?”

You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, spill.”

Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

“Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!”

This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush.

“Steve Harrington.”

“STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

“Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

“He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

“Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

“And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again.

“Does he flirt with you?”

“No.”

“See him flirt with any girls?”

“Nope.”

“Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

“Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

“He’s on the spectrum?”

Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

It got quiet for a few moments.

”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most.

She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

“Reefer Rick?”

“Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

Munson.

You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

“I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

“How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

“Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

“Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

“No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

“How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

“H-He’s your favorite…?”

“Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

“You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you.

“Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

“He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea.

“Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

Maybe a drink would calm you down.

You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

“The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now.

“What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

“Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

Oh, shit.

Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

”Funny seeing you here.”

You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off.

“It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

“I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

“Oh.”

He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

OH, THANK FUCK.

“Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

“So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

“Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

“Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

“Hey, Carol.”

Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

“You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl.

“Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

“Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

“I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

“Oopsie.”

But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

“Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy.

Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning.

You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

“You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

“You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

“Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

“You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

“I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

“Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

“Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it.

Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

“You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

“Wall.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

“Great Wall of China.”

Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

“Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense.

Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

“Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing.

“Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

“Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

“Does that feel good?”

You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.”

Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

“I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within.

She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

“Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you.

His right arm was out, palm up.

He was waiting for you.

You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

“Sissy. . .”

“Sissy…”

“SISSY!”

You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect.

What the hell?

“You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways.

You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

“It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

“Oh my god…”

“So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

“Ooh, your knees…”

You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

“I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

“Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

“You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist.

“Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once.

“Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

“It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

“Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

“Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

“It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

“Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

“That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

“Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

“I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

“─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

“And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing.

“That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning.

You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

“I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

“Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

“THAT WE DO!”

You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

“What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

“Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

“Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

“Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

“Mm. White wine?”

It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

“Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

“He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

You shot him a glare.

“Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers.

You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

Then your eyes snapped open.

Oh, god. You were a loser.

After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

“Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

“Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

“Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation.

“She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

“I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

“Yes, we got a free soda!”

Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

“Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

“Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

“Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

“You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

“All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.”

“Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

“I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

“I bet you can.”

After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house.

Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder.

And it was coming from outside your front door.

You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home.

You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

“Uuuhhhnng…”

This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

“Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

“OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!”

You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs.

You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

“Stop it!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Go away, I’m just a girl!”

The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located.

On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature.

You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it.

Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

“It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.”

He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation,

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

“Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

“I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

“Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

“Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

“C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Playing Dangerous

part 2 of Salvatore

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: sure, the fact that he’d schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. more upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very least—cautious) because your life was in ‘grave danger.’ most upsetting, however? that would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted him—badly.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; afab fem reader; mentions of reader having long hair; bratty!reader; brat-tamer!javi; alcohol consumption; smoking; pet names (baby, sweetheart, cariño, hermosa); some angst; dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, age gap).

word count: 10.7k (sorry again)

no use of y/n in this fic

hello here is part twooooo! thank you for all the love on Salvatore I absolutely love all of you so much. you don't rly need to read p1 to enjoy this, just know that: reader is the ambassador's secretary and is an asshole, Javi is also an asshole, they fucked for the first time a few days ago b/c he took her home after someone seemed to be after her life.

don’t forget to join the taglist if you’re nasty; feedback, asks, comments, smoke signals and carrier pigeons always welcome. kisses. -em<3

—

read part 3, Dark Paradise, here.

—

Let’s get in the back of your cop car, officer! - Playing Dangerous

“I am not speaking to you.”

Murphy’s eyes come alive with exasperation, a striking shift from their usual half-asleep, perpetually vacant gawp. Not quite at the point of impatience yet, his voice is soft when he responds.

“Please.”

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. An impassive sneer makes its way onto your expression.

Not a fucking chance.

Not only were you not planning on ever doing Steve Murphy—and especially, his asshole partner—even the smallest of favours throughout your remaining time on this godforsaken planet, you’d come to the conclusion (quite recently, in fact) that you’d rather dance barefoot on broken glass than be in the same room as either member of the pair.

And it was a shame, really.

After that (now regrettable, once incredible) night at Peña’s place, everything had been fine.

More than fine. Not even awkward.

For a glorious moment, waking up next to him, ruined and sore and bruised and satisfied, sharing a morning coffee and then a ride to work—peace (and the planted seeds of something else, too) had finally settled across the worn-in battlegrounds between you, solid roots spreading with each passing second spent not bickering. For crying out loud, when he’d gotten called away to Bogotá that very same day, you’d put yourself to work keeping his place clean, going so far as to anticipate his return.

Everything had been fine.

Until, of course, you’d gotten the old Chevy serviced.

“Car’s running fine, señorita. Put that missing part back, s’good to go.”

“Missing part?”

“The spark plug—wasn’t in there when we looked.”

And the missing pieces fell into place.

How he’d waltzed into your car earlier on in the day, running his fingers along the hard, hot plastic of the dash—analyzing, observing, and finally commenting on your shitty engine. Then, he’d been conveniently there, waiting for you in the middle of the night, watching you wrestle your hood open in the parking lot after work. Hell, he took you to his place after he’d told you he'd seen a shady truck parked in front of yours… and you’d trusted him.

Without bothering to check for yourself, you’d trusted him.

You had to hand it to the man; it was a clever plan. Wear you down during the day only to corner you while alone, vulnerable, and at night, with no possible avenues for escape.

All to get inside your pants.

God.

Murphy huffs, bringing you back down to Earth. “Listen,” he rubs his temples, exhaustion weighing down the curves of shoulders, “We just want to make sure you’re safe. You don’t have to stay with him, either; Connie—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you snap, narrowing your eyes in full view of his own. “I keep wondering, though... seeing as you're… thick as thieves, these days,” you lean forward over your desk, studying his swallow. “Was it you that shot off that gun? Or did he get someone else to participate in his little scheme?”

The agent tilts his head to the side, putting on the air of a wordless 'really, sweetheart?' before launching into a recitation of a sorely well-versed explanation.

But you cut him off, unforgiving in your suspicion. “Don’t bother, alright? Even if I did believe that, what, some 'cartel sicario'—” you emphasize the ridiculousness of the statement by tossing up a couple of well-timed air quotes “—was after me…?” and then you’re gesturing wildly to yourself, fingertips pointed straight to your heart. “I would rather die—really, seriously, die—than step foot into your home—or-or fucking Peña’s—Ever. Again.”

The mounting ire behind your breathless rambling finally wears him down; he surrenders his complexion to a look of genuine defeat. His arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp.

As you try to appear busy, fidgeting with the scattered papers and documents lying listlessly across your desk, Murphy turns on his heels, stooping toward the exit.

For a brief moment, he hesitates, coming to a slow halt halfway down his holy pilgrimage of freeing you from his fucking presence.

“Did you…” and he briefly trails off, anticipating your wrath with a wince. “Did you fill out that form?”

Irritation clouds your thoughts. Its manifestations in your body feel almost violent.

“What do you think, genius?”

You scare yourself with the aggression underpinning each and every word.

Inside the safety of your mind, your inner dialogue treats him even worse.

Go, motherfucker. Go, go, go, go, go or I’ll tear us both apart, I’ll explode, I’ll—

You hope that it’s Luck listening to your prayers (and not God), because as soon as your brain has time to register the nature of your wicked, near sacrilegious thoughts toward the man, Murphy’s yellow-dusted crown is drooping down in eventual resignation, leading the way as he trudges back to his corner.

A relief.

A short lived one.

Too short.

Because…

Well, because those fucking memories won’t stop replaying inside your mind, etched like crude Botticellis on the backs of your eyelids.

Overlaying the non-stop highlight reel of a vicious fight with Peña, just that morning—

“Well, I didn’t see a car. What I saw was you, whipping me over to your fuck-pad—and now? I see your whole... fucking masterplan to get me into bed.”

“You’re talking fuckin’ crazy. There’s no pussy in the world that’s worth pulling all that.”

—are flashes of his bare, glistening chest, an almost tangible haze of longing obscuring his eyes. You’d taken him in your mouth; you’d felt him all over: against you, with you, inside you.

And when you’re not seeing him, you’re forced to hear him, over and over and over again.

“You fuckin’ sing for me when you’re comin’ on my cock.”

So, you push certain memories away by calling on certain others, repeating every cruel word you’d ever exchanged with each other like a mantra, an affirmation.

They remind you of the man that Javier Peña truly was.

“You are the worst person I’ve ever had the shit-luck of meeting, Peña.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not too crazy about you, either. Got some serious growin’ up to do, sweetheart.”

A loud snap wrenches you back to your senses. You unfurl your fingers to reveal the broken remnants of a poor, innocent pencil you’d been white-knuckle-death-gripping.

What really had you ticking was that, after you’d hurled accusations and insults at him for the better part of an hour—totally monopolizing the space of the familiar, dusty old filing room—he’d had the nerve to continue on with his little act.

“You don’t have to stay with me—”

And his voice had been coated in poison, laced with the kind of fiery contempt that surely only a guilty man could achieve.

“—but do me a favour and just don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. It’s shit work, hiring new secretaries.”

He hadn’t waited around for an answer, leaving you alone with his final words and a mountain of your own unsaid ones.

So, you’d hissed a “fuck off” to the lingering ghost of his presence in the room, trying, in vain, to slow your shallow breaths.

You heave a sigh, forehead dropping to lay heavy against the desk.

If only you could take your brain out for the day. If only you could run it under cold water. Better yet, if only you could scrub it clean with bleach, put it in the dishwasher, run it with the damn laundry—anything to make it shiny and new and untainted.

Peña was lying.

He had to be lying.

What kind of shit sicario goes after secretaries who, beyond not knowing what they’re supposed to know about, don’t care enough to actually retain any of it?

Not a good sicario. Definitely not one who would still be alive in Medellìn, today.

It was all bullshit.

You weren’t the kind of person who attended work parties.

They always ran excruciatingly long. On top of that, you had to watch traumatized coworkers drink. A lot. Then, there was, of course, after-hours work-talk.

None of that had ever screamed 'best night ever!' to you.

Tonight, however, you hadn’t been given a choice: the ambassador had needed 'someone there, you know, just in case work stuff comes up’ which really meant that she was banking on you to give her a ride home at the end of the night.

Like that was happening. She hadn't been pleased when you'd made it clear to her that you were out of commission, off-the-clock, done-zo starting at fifteen to ten. You'd hoped that, at that point, she would've rescinded her original request.

She hadn't.

Still, Noonan had spent the week being remarkably kind to you—maybe her invitation was her (deeply misguided) way of trying to make up for the shit-storm she’d watched you face over past few days (whether she believed Peña’s dystopian, hitman fantasy was uncertain; either way, she’d witnessed your torment at his hands, and both realities seemed equally as emotionally taxing).

Despite all the hints you’d dropped about wanting the night off, she either hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, or thought you were just trying to be polite.

Come on.

She’d been your boss long enough to know there was no chance of you pussy-footing around out of politeness.

The event was meant to commemorate some big accomplishment—a narco sting gone right (or else, some big narco boss gone six-feet-under). The reason behind the festivities wasn’t of any importance to you—getting through the next few hours as quickly and as painlessly as possible took up all of the remaining (albeit limited) space in your head.

Because, afterwards? You were going out.

A good friend’s bachelorette, a shit-ton of dark tequila, and the warm lips of a total stranger.

God, you needed that. Every intimate spot on your body was in desperate need of a cleanse. Your tongue, the soft skin between your thighs, the peach-fuzz on your cheeks…

They remembered him.

They made sure you couldn’t forget him.

About half-way through serving your sentence in regulatory purgatory, someone turns on the stereo. A Queen song—the one that everyone knows. You’re looking around, trying to locate the source of the sound.

It’s mostly administrative and political bodies crowding up the office's stuffy foyer. There’s an odd clink of glass meeting glass whenever someone new walks in, or else when a deal’s finally graduated beyond the negotiation stage.

It’s too highbrow, too boring and white-collar for restless DEA agents, you remind yourself.

Slowly, slowly the hours trickle by.

The music helps—every Diaz song has the minutes moving double-time.

And after what feels like centuries of excruciating small-talk, of brushing off endless, casual condescension, of staring at the clock hanging off the wall, finally, it’s time to go.

First, a last minute change (you’re not wearing a damn button-up to the bar—it’ll be a tight dress and cute shoes or absolutely nothing at all) and a quick refresher in the bathroom. Then, you’re trailing a bee-line towards the exit with 'home-free' on the tip of your tongue.

Keep your head down. Nod. A chagrined smile to each pair of gawking eyes.

‘Cause soon? You’ll be dancing.

You’re straddling the office doors, left foot in, right foot out when an authoritative voice calls your name from behind.

Christ Almighty.

Turning slowly, you find yourself triangulated between Noonan and…

Fucking Steve Murphy.

That one looks apprehensive. The former?

A bit red in the face.

“Murphy, here,” the ambassador gestures sloppily towards the agent’s uneasy form, “Tells me he needs something. Papers, right? Think we can get that to him before you leave for your… little soirée—what do you say?”

She doesn’t catch it, but he does; your unbridled, aversive stare pierces him right between his eyes. Forcing it down (and oh, does it ever burn your throat) you etch a reluctant smile, nodding wordlessly to your boss.

God, if only money were an object. This damn job would be a short paragraph on your resume, a blip in your timeline on this Earth.

Noonan slaps Murphy on the back, harrumphing as though she’d just solved world hunger. Quickly, she finds someone new to accost (or be accosted by), swept into a different, equally-boring conversation before you can even begin to feel angry at her for putting you into such a… distasteful position.

And you whir on him.

Before the rush of accusations gets a chance to part from your lips, Murphy interrupts you, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“I didn’t say a thing.” He sounds serious, sincere. “Swear. She came up to me and just… knew all about it.”

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. Nonetheless, your fingernails slowly retreat from their burrows in the skin of your palm.

It’s not because of his earnestness.

No.

It’s because only a serious maniac would flaunt their under-the-table bullshit so publicly, flying it right under the ambassador’s nose. Whatever those records were for (and whatever the reason why Peña and Murphy so badly needed them), it was becoming increasingly clear that they were not intended to land in either of their hands.

Murphy hadn’t been nervous because of you. He’d been nervous because of her. A little less drink, a bit more curiosity, and Noonan would've been privy to whatever it was that the pair was up to.

“Fine.”

He exhales, shoulders relaxing, dropping like stones with the release.

Without another word, you make your way down the hall, charging toward the alcove harboring your desk. Murphy trails behind, five feet back at all times like a recently-scolded school-child.

Good.

It takes a few, long minutes to get the job done.

He waits around anxiously, fiddling with your stationary (until you slap his hand away from your beloved pens and planners) and pacing around the room.

When it's done, you don’t read the form, you don’t investigate. The less you know, the better.

And frankly?

You couldn’t give less of a shit.

As the papers slide out of the printer, you warn him: “You’re gonna need a signature from their side, you know. I can only get you so far.”

He nods, taking the precious sheets in hand. “Think we got that side covered.” Then, he’s reading them over, checking to make sure everything's in order. You stand with your hand on your hip, waiting impatiently for his goddamn approval. After an eternity (really—by the end of it you’re genuinely wondering whether the man should get tested for dyslexia), Murphy hums in satisfaction, giving you an awkward, “Thanks, again.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your half-exposed chest.

Didn’t even thank me a first time, asshole.

He spins around, aiming for the exit, when another body appears before him.

And the man stops Murphy in his tracks, deep-brown eyes trailing down to the packet of papers cradled between his partner's hands.

“Noonan came through, then.”

It’s all he says.

Your nostrils flare.

The skin on your face positively burns.

Of course it had been him. He was probably the entire reason behind the ambassador’s unusual tipsyness, too. Hell, he’d probably fed her Prosecco and half-compliments ‘til she’d been more than happy to do him a million favours.

Wasn’t that his M.O., anyways? ‘Get ‘em drunk and get my way?’

Three comfortable, familiar words find themselves sliding—easily—off your tongue.

“Fuck off, Peña.”

You surprise yourself with the cruelty of your tone, the biting emphasis of each word.

He settles his onyx eyes on you. They glaze over with hunger, with amusement, with danger.

Fuck.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart—I will in a minute,” and he nods at his partner, effectively dismissing him.

Murphy hesitates, eyes jumping between the stand-off taking place before him. Likely, he was trying to decide which one of you was going to murder the other first.

Finally, with his beloved form tucked under his arm, Murphy heaves a sigh of resignation, and then he’s gone.

Leaving you alone with Peña.

The corners of his lips pull back into an arrogant smirk as his eyes rake over your body—done up, dressed down, and positively fuming in your little kitten heels.

“You look hot.”

It’s all he says.

Some girls would’ve killed to hear those words from him. You’d spent years watching their eyes trail his movements in the office, listening to their puling voices—'is Javi there?'—over the phone.

But it just makes you want to scream.

Fearing the actual possibility of that coming to fruition, you keep your mouth sealed shut. Tight.

Silence won’t do for Peña.

“What’d you tell me, once?” He muses softly, making his way towards your desk. “Somethin’ about this place not bein’ a… a what’d you call it? A brothel?”

Dog.

He yanks a retort from your lips as if he had full command over them. “I’m going out, asshole.”

His face twitches ever-so-slightly, just enough for you to catch the hint of emotion. Then, it’s gone.

“No, you’re not.”

Casual as ever, he does that thing: runs a finger from the corner of his bottom lip down the length of it, looks up at you through thick, dark eyebrows.

You bristle at the sheer, unwinding effect it has on you.

“Yes, I am.”

He raps his knuckles against the desk in irritation; nevertheless, his voice is soft, imploring as he persists. “C’mon, baby. I need you to listen to me, right now. It’s..." and he undresses you with a mere look, "It's not a good time for you to be goin’ to those kinds of places.”

Just like any other man.

Probably, Peña’s ego was so over-inflated that the mere thought of any of his conquests colluding with another man had him on the brink of spontaneous combustion.

Because God forbid you fuck anyone else.

God forbid you even think of touching anyone else.

And this strange, uncharacteristic possessiveness, this… need for control—it was wearing extremely thin.

The man had zero authority over you. He certainly didn’t get to preside over the choices you made during your free time.

“Don’t call me baby, Peña—I’m not your baby.” The snapped retort makes you sound so young, to the point where, for a moment, you understand why the agent had called you a brat so many times that one, fateful night.

Still, you soldier on, focussed on freeing yourself from yet another one of the evening's grueling set-backs. “And I’m not gonna ‘listen to you’ just ‘cause you think you’ve got some sort of… machismo claim over me.”

A deft muscle in his jaw tenses. He rounds the desk, moving just a half-foot closer to you; that alone is enough to jump-start your heart, and you’re almost sure he can hear it, jack-hammering away inside your chest. You both know that being the first to step away signified weakness—concession—so you stay put (even when your legs yield to a slight wobble).

And he’s almost crooning. “You can spread those legs for half the country, for all I care, baby.” A condescending look, cast down at you over the bridge of his nose. “Not what this is about.”

Yeah, right.

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Still working that angle?”

He takes a step forward. “Is it so crazy to think that I could just be tryna look out for you?” Meeting your gaze, he speaks earnestly—pleading through his irritation.

“I don’t need you to ‘look out for me’,” Your back grazes against the ambassador’s doors—you kick yourself internally for having subconsciously conceded to a back-step. “Especially not since the last time I thought that’s what this was?” your fingers gesture wildly between the (lack of) space separating your bodies, “You totally took advantage of me.”

A pause as the agent fluctuates from bafflement to genuine offense.

“Took adv—are you being serious?” he scoffs, shaking the coarse, dark hair on his crown. “I gave you, like, one drink.”

Victory courses through your veins at the sudden, intense flood of irritation marking his tone, the vein popping in his jaw.

Anything to get to him, to make him tick, to scratch that itch.

Dig. Dig. Dig.

A shrug. “Maybe you put something in it.”

His eyebrows jump up, eyes widening with the movement.

Just. So. Close.

“And… you know, I am a lot younger than you—”

“—okay, enough.”

Peña’s growled response has your voice fizzling out into nothingness. Closing what’s left of the distance between you, muscled form looming, he flattens you against the ambassador’s office doors. As one large hand slowly splays out next to your ear, the other comes up to grasp your chin. His fingers wrap around your jawbone, all the way from one ear to the other.

You’re stuck, frozen under the weight of that dominant leer.

“Y’know,” he muses, deep and low, “It’s really fuckin’ obvious what all this is actually about, sweetheart.” Trapped in his glare, you watch his eyes grow dark, his gravelly voice falling into a register you’d never before heard it descend to. And he’s so, so close to you, close enough that you can smell him: that distinct, earthy scent of man that never failed to have your head spinning, your arms weak. “This… highschool bullshit you’ve been pullin’ since I got back… accusin’ me of all kinds of shit—"

You deny yourself the pleasure of looking at his lips when his words withdraw into an almost-whisper.

“Makes you feel real innocent, doesn’t it?

You don’t respond, concentrating on stifling the growing ache in your core, the thump-thump-thumps inside your rib cage, the lump forming in your throat.

A rarity, a miracle, Jesus turning water into wine: words fail you.

“Know what I think, cariño?” His fingernails press into your cheeks, digging soft indents. Not to bruise—

To hold you steady.

To assure himself of his command over your full, devoted attention.

When he finally continues, his smoky breath raises the hairs along your exposed skin.

God, it must be, like, nine-hundred degrees in the room.

“I think”—and he’s toying with you, near-black eyes dancing with amusement—“You’re just embarrassed.”

Leaning in, his lips brush against the ridges of your ear, slow words washing over you in big, heavy waves. “‘Bout how easy it was for me to get between these legs.” Male, calloused fingers ghost over the skin of your thighs, creeping higher and higher up the length of your body.

“Remember how wet you got for me, cariño? Beggin’ me to fuck you so rough?”

And for a brief, suspended moment—

You do.

He leans back enough for you to watch his eyes harden, uttering an “I remember it all, baby,” as his thumb leaves your jaw to trace the highest point of your cheekbone.

And his tone turns to stone.

“Especially when you’re acting like you need a fuckin’ reminder.”

Your cheeks grow red-hot. The ground feels unsteady under your feet—and the spell breaks.

Pig.

“You’re fucking vile, Peña,” you spit, wrenching his grip off your face. “And also, dead wrong.” Slamming into his shoulder, you aim to storm out.

He catches your arm, twisting you back around to face him. “If you go out tonight,” the man near-growls, lecturing down at you like a damn parent, “You’re putting your life and everyone else's on the line.”

You tear your wrist from his fingers, shrugging off his empty warning with a dramatic spin on your heels.

Strutting out, you leave him with a poison-coated, “Say ‘hi’ to the whores for me.”

And you’re gone.

It’s loud. Your feet are sore from dancing in your heels. A different, unfamiliar body is in reach in every possible direction from your own.

It’s perfect.

Five shots in and you still feel like you could take more, if only to forget the exhausting events of the day.

Less than 48 hours ago you’d been prepared—dear God, longing—to hand yourself over to a man you were now quite happy to never see again. With your hands wrapped around a stranger’s neck, you’re determined to cleanse yourself of his lingering traces.

He’s gazing down at you, male, hungry eyes gunning for the taking. Local, you guess, or at the very least South-American. After a daring look, you grab him by the collar, brushing your starved lips against his.

“Want to get out of here?”

The pronunciation isn’t great—but it does the trick. He nods enthusiastically, allowing you to take his hand in your own without hesitation. Too easy. The hard part is weaving through the agitated, bustling crowd with your nameless partner in tow.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid. But God, is it ever necessary.

Escaping your friends at the start of the night had been child’s play, and they could be counted on to be too fucked-up at this hour to notice your absence, anyway.

Good.

Your act of desperation would be remembered solely by its participants.

A gentle evening wind swirls around your tingling body, the day’s heat hanging thick in the air as you step onto the street, the syncopated thumps of Latin music fading unwillingly into the background.

Pivoting abruptly, you flatten yourself against the wall outside, pulling the stranger in close by the fabric of his blue button-up.

“Yours or mine?”

He smirks, gentle lines forming by his golden eyes. Internally, you commend yourself: the catch was quite pretty.

“Here is okay, I think.”

Then, his lips are on yours, parting you open in a sloppy, drunk kiss.

This could work.

His traveling hands already seem to be numbing some of the tension simmering under your skin.

This could work.

His rough kisses overwhelm your senses, slowly filling the hollow ache lodged at the heart of your core.

Please, God—let this work.

Just as a hand reaches up to cradle the back of your neck—

(let this work, let this work, let this work)—

Just as a pleased moan travels from your lungs into his own—

Tires screech against the pavement, slamming you back into your body, wrenching you straight into the dire moment. Tearing your lips from the stranger’s, you peer over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of a black Camino screaming to a stop right before you. Time stops; the windows are down, and what you know to be the barrel of a hand-gun pokes out from the backseat.

“Get down!”

Maybe it's in your head (after all, it would make sense for your psyche to summon his voice in a moment so violent); or maybe it's real. Either way, you listen to the command, hitting the ground without any reservations. And those stupid heels—you stumble, face-planting onto the pavement, scraping every exposed part of your body against hot, rough cement.

A cry of terror rips from your throat as the sound of bullets punctuates the warm, summer night—Jesus, it’s louder than anything you’d ever heard before.

Somewhere along the chaos, the pretty stranger from the bar books it down the calle.

Everything happens so fast. A familiar Cherokee veers in the way, separating you from the attackers. The surrounding air becomes rife with lead, a terrified chorus of male and female voices joining the symphony, and you really can’t tell whether the pain in your chest is from the friction of your own harmonizing screams or if it’s bullets tearing through your body. From the ground, you watch your attackers’ vehicle take off down the street, haphazardly parting crowds of cowering civilians in its wake.

When it all stops, it doesn’t really stop.

Violence persists, ringing in your ears like a doomsday clock going off, an A-bomb alarm siren. The echoes are happy to prolong your torment.

The Jeep’s passenger door swings open. You scramble back, scampering down the pavement as adrenaline claims you in never-ending rushes.

“Get inside, now.”

You nearly sob with relief at the familiar voice. It hadn't all been in your head. Jumping up on unstable legs, you lunge into his car, jerking the door shut behind you.

Without sparing a moment, his white-knuckled hands yank the wheel to the side, veering onto a road just off the main strip.

Javier Peña’s never looked so stressed.

“You’re not gonna follow them?” It comes out as a cry, a desperate plea for retribution.

He doesn’t answer.

Which doesn’t stop you.

You want to see them punished for making you feel so helpless, and for the scrapes and bruises decorating your elbows, your knees, your palms.

“Javi,” a begging king of shout, “Why aren’t we following them?”

“‘Cause you’re in the fucking car!”

In the heat of the moment, the cutting edge of his harsh tone doesn’t bother you. If anything, it’s gentle compared to the violent sensations stewing within your body and mind.

“So?”

He takes a sharp right, slamming your side against the Jeep’s hard interior.

“Been in enough…” He grits his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check, “Compromising situations tonight, alright? Now, just shut up ‘n let me drive.”

You pipe down, not awfully interested in getting yelled at again in your fragile state.

At first, it feels like the full-body trembles wracking your entire being won’t ever cease. And yet, by the grace of God, after a few minutes, the thundering behind your ribcage slowly subsides.

It helps that you’re still a little buzzed.

It especially helps when his driving slows and the streets begin to empty—when the shops and houses become more and more recognizable, when the night grows more and more tame.

You know where he’s headed. The safety of the intended destination has you relaxing, finally level enough to take deep breaths.

Eventually, he stops the car, cutting the engine in full view of his building's front door.

The rumbling stops, and suddenly, it's very quiet. Javier groans, leaning back against his seat, bringing a hand up to his temples. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes closed behind the palm of his hand.

And oh.

He’s pissed.

“Go inside, lock the door, don’t open it for anyone.” His command, though dripping with ire, is underpinned with genuine concern. When you don’t respond, he finally shifts his gaze to meet yours, fixing you with an intimidating, severe kind of stare.

“Do you understand?”

At first, your impulse is to respond with a bitchy retort, to meet his intensity head-on with your own brand of unpleasantness. You stifle that reflex, taking stock of the situation at hand: Peña had just saved you from a flurry of bullets.

Peña… had just saved you…

And the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

He’d been telling the truth.

Someone was really after you. Twice, now, they'd tried to take your life.

And, still? Your addled brain can’t seem to wrap itself around the idea of Peña’s innocence. Your bursting question takes you both by surprise.

“So, you didn’t take my spark plug?”

He stares at you, full mouth parted in genuine bewilderment. Then, he scoffs, breathing an exhausted exhalation. “No, I didn’t take your damn spark plug, sweetheart. That’s what I’ve been saying. If you’d bothered to actually fuckin’ listen for once in your life…” he shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “‘Could’ve avoided all… this.”

Shame tries its best to seep into your core. You resist it, scrambling for reasons to justify your actions to him.

To yourself.

You hated being wrong. That feeling had a tendency of overwhelming everything else—of overriding rationality, itself.

So, you turn to a classic defense, an ol' reliable: deflection. “After all the shit you’ve put me through over the years, can you blame me for not, just like, blindly trusting you?”

He scowls, angling his shoulders to square off with your own.

“Never asked for you to ‘blindly trust’ shit, though, did I?” He huffs, “Jesus.”

You try not to wince as he continues on, as the truth of his words and the seriousness of his delivery render you mute. “You’re a secretary, sweetheart. This is my job—my life—okay? When I tell you to be careful, for the sake of your own damn good, you need to listen to me.”

There’s a long pause as his words tease out your final, entangled threads of resistance.

He was right. You’d been stupid in your denial, putting yourself and dozens of others in danger.

Putting Javi in danger.

It takes everything you have to fight the tears threatening to well along your lashes. But there's no sense in allowing yourself to mourn your mistakes—at least not at this very moment.

No, now was not the time to work through your shame.

Now was the time to seek forgiveness.

To make amends.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to catch his downcast eyes.

And it’s true.

Javi shakes his head, resisting your apology. He says nothing, and your heart aches for him.

Whatever this man was—he hadn’t deserved a fraction of the hell you’d given him.

The hell you’d given him because…

Because he’d gotten close. Too close. Close enough to soften you, to see you in a way that not one single person had the right to. He’d been a novelty: the first man you’d trusted enough to be capable of handling the full breadth of yourself. And when that had started to feel volatile—as though he’d gained too much of you?

Well, you’d needed a reason to push him away. To wrench yourself back from him.

Because you’d been embarrassed.

Knowing that he’d been right about that, too, makes you feel so small, so young, and deeply naive.

Immature.

You lean over, crooning at his turned profile.

“I mean it, Javi.” His name is your weapon—you will it to wear him down—a reminder of what it sounds like leaving your lips. “I’m sorry.”

Again, silence.

It’s fucking unbearable.

Placing an unsteady hand on his knee, you trail it up his thigh—slowly. His chest hitches with the force of a deep, sharp inhale and yet, he still refuses to meet your gaze.

But you catch his reflection in the glass: a slight twinge of the eyebrows, a delicate parting of the lips, and a hint of longing within those furious eyes.

Wiggle room.

“Could you ever forgive me?” You ask timidly, seductively, fingers creeping towards the crease of his trousers and that big silver buckle looming right above it.

Finally, he turns, his expression meeting yours with a hungry (albeit still deeply annoyed) look.

That wanting you’d learned to recognize…

It excites you.

And as you tug at his belt, releasing it with tantalizing slowness, you keep your steady gaze on his undecided one, uttering a pleading, “I can make it up to you, baby.”

Wordlessly, he watches your fingers move to the button of his pants, then to his fly, working with dedication, with delicate care.

There’s movement as you reach your fingers underneath the fabric. He grows hard for you, burgeoning out of the fabric in a matter of seconds.

It’s all the invitation you could’ve possibly hoped for.

His skin is hot against your knuckles as they slide down his lower abdomen. Grasping the base of his cock, you use two hands to spring him free.

God, he’s even bigger than how you’d remembered him—bigger than even your guiltiest fantasies.

Javi groans softly when you pull him, releases a hot, shallow breath when you stroke him, and a low, breathy “fuuuck” when you finally, finally take him in your mouth.

He tastes like the salt of the ocean. This close, you can smell men's cologne mingling with sweat.

It’s heaven.

And you just don’t want him to be angry anymore. It’s all you can think about—lips cradled adoringly around his cock, tongue running up and down the long length of him—as he throws his head back in pleasure.

He eventually relaxes, conceding to the ecstasy you persuade him with. Almost drinking the uncertainty—the resistance—right out of him.

“Christ,” he groans, tangling his fingers in your hair, forcing you to take in every last inch of him. “Wanted to shut you up like this all fuckin’ day.”

It becomes a challenge to breathe, but air simply isn’t a priority with a man like him at your fingertips, as your responsibility. This, he knows, his heavy hand determining the slow, careful pace, the impossible depth, and the angle of your unspoken apology.

Growing wet and lightheaded at the same time, you loose a moan against his velvety skin.

Javi laughs, darkly. “Always got somethin’ to say, huh? Even with a mouth full of cock.”

You smile around him—taunts are good. Better than silence, anyways. “Mhmm.”

The sounds of his laughter rumbles soft and low throughout his middle—so different, so sweet and innocent compared to the wet, filthy ones produced by your mouth’s ministrations.

You give him everything you have, ignoring the droplets forming in the corners of your eyes and lips, the dull burning inside your lungs. When the tip of his cock lodges at the back of your throat, you keep him there.

Whatever Javi gives you, you take.

Happily.

Every last drop would find its home inside you, traveling down the length of your tongue and into all of your warmest places.

It was the least you could do for him.

But he has other plans. His hand bunches up your hair, tightening into a fist to pull you off of him. His cock pops out from between your lips; you’re guided up to face him.

He looks stern.

Dangerous.

Out of breath, tears sliding down your cheeks, lips glistening with the slick of your own spit—you’re a welcome sight to any man of his kind.

“Say it.”

He makes use of his free hand, wiping the coarse pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, clearing the string of saliva collecting there.

It’s not rocket science, figuring out what it is that the man wants to hear.

“I’m sorry, Javi.”

Neither of you had ever known how much an apology could sound like a prayer.

“Yeah?” Despite the gentleness of his tone, his eyes darken with lust to the point that you feel genuinely nervous about his intentions. “What are you so sorry for, hermosa?”

Fuck, the pet-names... the way his voice changed when reverting to its native tongue—rolling with confidence. At such an awkward angle, you’re forced to grip onto his forearms to keep balance. They feel strong and unbending beneath your fingertips.

Everything… everything about him draws you in.

He just makes you crazy.

Crazy enough to smile, to turn your profile to the side, laying a long, careful kiss to his palm. Crazy enough to answer his question in a needy, whiney whisper: “for being such a brat.”

He almost smiles, near-black eyes dancing with hunger, with approval, with a playful kind of ire.

Jerking his head to the right, he gestures to the backseat. “Wanna show me how sorry you are, cariño?”

You’re nodding before the question really even registers.

He releases his hold on you, deft fingers quickly untangling from your hair.

Victory. Victory. Victory.

Then, you’re stumbling out of the passenger side, opening the door to the backseat.

(You take a second to commend yourself for driving a man so wild, making him so impatient that he couldn’t be bothered to walk the ten feet required to fuck you inside his apartment. Or, maybe he just liked letting the neighbours watch.)

Before you can even step foot inside the car, you’re being hauled by your upper arms onto Javi’s lap. He manhandles you into his desired position, spreading your knees around his thighs until your dress is hitched up, only covering your ass half-way.

After snaking a hand between your bodies, the agent runs his thumb down the slick fabric of your underwear.

Already, you’re holding back a slew of pathetic whines.

“Next time you give me head”—God, the feeling of those fingers against your clit, the bliss of them pushing your panties to the side, assessing your readiness for him—“Wanna be able to see that pretty mouth while my dick’s inside it, sweetheart.”

His lust has him speaking a bit out of breath. It makes every crude, filthy word sound sweet, almost endearing to you.

Nodding in response, you work with him—lowering yourself onto his fingers as he pushes them between your folds.

“Jesus Christ,” he smiles, head falling back in appreciation, “You’re soaked.”

His fingers curl up, pressing to please in all the right places. Your answer arrives between gasps: “You tasted good.”

That pleases him.

“Yeah?” and he’s dragging his digits out of you, letting them trail through your folds and along your heavy, sore clit before leaving you wanting, leaving that needy cunt clenching around nothing. “I bet you taste even better.”

Then, his grip is on your jaw, pressing damp spots into your skin under his index, middle, and ring fingers. With the pad of his thumb pressed firmly to your bottom lip (and the row of teeth behind it), Javi eases your mouth open, wider and wider and wider for him.

“Show me—show me how good you taste.”

His index crawls onto your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking him in until his fingernail scratches the back of your throat. He wants to be shown, so you show him: gazing intently into his eyes, you watch his brow furrow as he studies your every movement, as he drinks in your every moan.

“Fuckin' hell,” he groans, commending your efforts. “You’d do anything I asked right now, wouldn’t you, hermosa?”

Your bottom teeth graze the undersides of his index as you pull off—“yes, Javi.” Almost instinctively, you’re reaching your hand down, letting it coast down the hardness of his chest to rub circles around the slick tip of his cock, still peeking out from his open fly.

“Not yet,” he clicks his tongue, pushing his index, and this time, his middle and ring, too, back through the opening of your lips, “Need to clean yourself off every one of these fingers, first—thaaat’s right.” You listen, obediently sucking everything he gives you. He instructs and praises, “easy—easy, cariño, there it is,” as he watches you glide up and down him in slow, big pulls, all the way down to his knuckles.

It’s fucking filthy, and he loves it, unable to keep that arrogant smirk off of his face.

He’s practically in paradise, coming up with a mental list of creative ways to shut you up.

Still, Javi allows you to multitask: all the while, your fingers continue to explore the exposed parts of his cock. Only when he’s satisfied, when his length couldn’t possibly get any harder—only then does he free your mouth, letting his damp fingers trail down the side of your neck.

The feeling sends a shiver up your spine.

Without warning, he yanks down the straps of your dress and bra, pulling them all the way down until you’re postured on his lap, chest fully exposed; his abrupt movement has you loosing a stunned "Javi!" He runs his palms over the most sensitive peaks of your breasts, a hungry smile teasing the corners of his lips.

Then, he shrugs. “Told you last time I wanted to see them. Got the prettiest fuckin’ tits, hermosa.”

You don’t have time to roll your eyes, to laugh, or to really even register the vulgarity of his words, nor the taunting, degrading way they’re delivered to you. Javi’s already holding both you and himself up in one arm (and, oh, how you’d simply ached for the feel of his strength) pulling down the waistband of his pants. He maneuvers you into the proper position to receive him in, two pairs of downcast eyes watching his cock spring free, tip curving in, grazing against the fabric of his shirt.

He rushes, but it still feels torturously slow. You’re craving, needing, as he uses the dark head of his cock to ease your ruined underwear to the side, guiding himself towards your dripping opening.

This time, he’s far too impatient to make you beg for it.

Ecstasy forces your back into an arch as he pushes himself between your walls, as you feel him filling you up, up, and up—wordless mouth falling open, your heavy head collapses aaall the way back.

Immediately, a hand is at the back of your skull, forcing your gaze back downwards. “No, no, no, baby, you let me see—let me see you when you ride,” and his voice is a little strained, a little desire-stricken, a little bit softer as he settles his every last inch inside your cunt.

Your irises could be forest fires as you set your sights on his own, seeing nothing, absolutely nothing but Javier in that moment.

Moving your hips in tandem, you set your pace.

Mother Mary—it’s hard, so fucking hard to keep your legs steady when he stretches you open—wide fucking open—and as his head grazes that spongy spot inside.

He doesn’t help, either. In fact, while your hands dig anchors into his shoulders (sometimes his chest, his neck, his waist) just to keep yourself upright, his own are trailing up to the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a pack of smokes.

You mewl softly at the heat building inside your cunt, loosing an indignant whine as Javi neglects his responsibilities toward your climax.

“Gave me such a hard time today, baby,” he muses, placing a cigarette between his fingers and tossing the rest aside, “Wanna hear a fuckin’ ‘thank you Javi’ every time you come.”

His words dance around you like streetlights passing in the night, barely registering inside your disintegrating mind. How could they? With the feeling of his thighs grazing the undersides of your own, the buttons of his shirt nudging against your aching clit… how could anything else even exist?

All you can give him is an “Mhm.”

He pulls a lighter out, smirking. “‘Tough-talker ‘til this pussy’s all full, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry, baby, I’m s-sorry.”

And he laughs. “Don’t say it, cariño,” he takes your hand, placing the light inside your fist. “Fuckin’ show me.”

He rolls his hips. Your weight collapses against his chest.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, pushing you off, straightening you up before placing the cigarette between his lips, “Aaall you gotta do is light up the tip. You got it, sweetheart.”

His hands travel down to your ass, giving it a rough squeeze before his fingers splay out. He spreads you open over his thighs, watching the etchings of your lust corrupt your expression as he fucks himself—slow, deep, hard strokes—inside you.

“Fu—please, Javi—I can’t, s’too much, baby—please—”

A smile, full lips parting around the dart. “S’wrong, baby?” The words are low, breathy, teasing, contorting around the smoke in his mouth. “Can’t focus?”

God, just make him happy.

It’s the only thought you seem to be able to form. His request doesn’t seem to be up for debate, either.

So, summoning every last bit of control still lingering inside you, you bring a trembling hand up to the unlit end, a string of moans and ‘Javi’s rising from your throat.

And fuck, he’s beautiful, brimming with playful passion, orange filter hanging off those pretty pink lips.

Trying to still yourself, you flick the lighter on—the flame dances between you, illuminating the expansive darkness lurking inside his gaze. It takes everything, everything you have left to light it for him, to make that white tip glow red hot, to stay steady enough, to keep from burning him.

And also, to hold your pace. That grip of steel wrapped around your hip serves as a constant reminder—

Keep taking it.

In those final moments, he picks up his pace, of course. Your simmering blood bubbles to a boil, the flutters inside your cunt graduating into pulsing throbs.

As the flame finally takes, you feel every muscle inside your core tense—when Javi inhales his first drag, you straddle the precipice of your orgasm.

Your weight falls onto his shoulder. One of his arms reaches up to ash the cigarette; the other wraps tightly around you, bouncing you against him as exhales a cloud of smoke into your hair.

“Baby—Javi, I’m coming, I’m coming, I'm c—”

Heat builds between your thighs, and as that bundle of nerves grows heavy, pulsing with the rush of your orgasm, his thrusts only deepen.

He pulls you in close.

“I know, cariño,” Javi coos, condescending into the shell of your ear, basking in the feel of your cunt near-strangling him in adoration. “Can feel you, y’know? Got such a grateful lil' pussy,” he places a kiss to the side of your neck, groaning against the soft skin. “Always lets me know how much you love having my cock buried inside it.”

As he speaks, you try to catch your breath. To come down from your high.

It doesn’t work. Not while his hips continue to grind against yours, not while cradled between his arms like his holy beloved, and especially not with his tip still pressing against every available, wanting spot on your walls.

Javi takes another long drag from the dart. “What do you say when you come, baby?”

A big, laboured inhale, and the words come out in one, rushed exhalation. “Thank you, Javi.”

He responds with a downright cocky laugh. “You’re welcome, cariño. Good girl.”

The praise… it makes you melt.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, nails grazing the skin of your scalp, he pulls you off of his chest. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the stale heat of the Jeep Cherokee.

You buck up, doing your best to keep pleasing him as he studies your devoted movements, as he leans back against the seat—groaning.

His hand—often glued to your rolling hip—provides you with only a mere hint of stability.

“That guy you were with,” he takes a drag from his cigarette, using his free hand to toy with one of your peaked nipples. “At the bar. You’d’ve done this for him?”

Your lips part, but no sound crosses the threshold of your lips. You’re dazed—still coming—and building to yet another peak. His unwillingness to move starts to ground you; the long length of every hard muscle beneath his arms, the round, bulging ridges of his shoulders… they become your salvation, places to lay your weight into. Riding him becomes second nature: you’re attuned to his rhythm and the desperate, commanding desires of your body.

Suddenly, you’re a part of him; when he exhales, the smoke creeps out of his lungs and into your own.

You burn right along with it.

He drops the still-smoking cigarette onto the seat next to your entangled bodies, bringing both his hands to rest against your dampened skin. One comes down hard, delivering a quick, harsh slap to your ass.

It would leave a mark.

“Tell me. Use that pretty mouth, hermosa. ‘Know you know how—used it—ran it all fuckin’ day.” Javi grunts, angling to bend over you, pushing into your guts as he wraps you in his arms, finally taking the burden of your weight off of your scraped up, wobbling knees. He continues on, “Tonight, too—been so easy, baby, lettin’ me put anything I want in there like a good lil' slut,” drinking in your cry of pleasure. He almost says it to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he reminisces, as your cunt begins to throb around his hardening cock once more. “You'd've done that for him, cariño?”

You swallow, trying to clear the stars dancing before your eyes, and that fuzzy sound of static. It muffles the symphony of Javi’s hoarse breaths, your own, helpless cries, and the filthy sound of skin colliding with—grinding against—skin.

He quickens, now, using you like a damn toy. Every rough thrust brings you closer to heaven; every ardent, breathtaking squeeze of his arms around your middle feels like angels sighing.

“No,” you breathe, closing your eyes. Your arms cling around his neck, fingers fanning through his thick hair—everything is him, him, him. He leans forward again, ducking down to kiss the hollow of your throat; you pull him in faithfully, moaning softly at the feel of his lips, his teeth under the valley under your jaw. “Only you.” It sounds like worship, sliding up an octave as that low ache worsens, as he compells a second climax out of your already-quivering body. “Only you, Javi.”

He growls, lips dragging up to your ear as the hairs of his mustache tease your cheekbone. “Prove it,” he breathes, deep thrusts growing even more erratic— needier, sloppier. You can barely hear him over your own noises, but he continues his gravelly coos inside your ear nonetheless. “Gimme another one, baby—wanna feel you comin' on my cock when I fill you up so fuckin' full, baby—show me that you’re mine—z’this pussy mine, hermosa?”

“Yesyesyes—oh God, y-yes—m’yours, Javi, y—”

Your legs seize as yet another release tears through your body. The skin of his neck anchors you in place, and you hang off of him like a rosary, digging your fingernails into the warmth of his flesh with every ounce of strength at your disposal.

He fucks you through your second climax, headed straight for his own.

“S-such a good girl, cariño—f-fuck—” Arms, wrapped around your waist, tighten enough to snap you in two as Javi crushes you against his chest, using the momentum of your entire, shaking body to finish himself off. He comes with a grunted “s-shit”—and you pay attention, wanting to commit the divine sound to memory. Swelling between your silken walls, Javi spills everything he could possibly give inside you.

A final, abrupt thrust, married with the non-stop, involuntary clench-and-release of your cunt works to cover every square inch of you with him.

When it’s over, the man refuses to let you part from him (not that you had any real desire to do so, anyway). A big, shaking hand keeps your head cradled in the firm crook of his neck, and he slowly, slowly softens inside you. He basks in the final, weak flutters of your cunt as you lose yourself in the smell of his cologne.

His heart hammers in his chest. You can hear it with your ear pressed to his neck. Going limp, your damp forehead rolls onto the hard roundness of his shoulder.

That aching, sore opening soaks the skin of his thighs. You shiver softly, dripping onto the base of his shaft.

“Say it, cariño,” Javi murmurs, laying a rough kiss to your temple. He runs his hands up and down your bare spine, fingers dancing along your sticky skin.

You loose a breathy laugh against his golden skin. “Thank you, Javi.”

And you pull back just in time to catch his genuine smile.

It fucking melts you. Adoration, pride… spreading like tree-roots under rich, forest soil throughout your still-heaving chest.

He rubs the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, wiping clean some of the going-out makeup that had no-doubt become a total, leaking mess.

“‘Pretty when you’re nice, y'know,” he mutters, moving to cup your cheeks between his warm, hardened palms. And then he pauses, reconsidering his words. “But fuckin’ hot when you’re mean.”

A breathy giggle. “What can I say,” you whisper, trailing a few appreciative fingers up and down his forearms. “You bring out the very best in me, Peña.”

He scoffs, but smiles all the while.

Off in the distance, there’s music. Sounds of debauchery and excitement travel through the warm summer air, audible even through the closed windows. The night is alive for the rest of the city; somewhere far, far away, an engine growls, rubber tires squealing against the pull of hard pavement.

It takes him away.

Javi grasps your shoulders, pushing you up and back to effectively slide you off of his half-soft length. “I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he says, yanking his pants back up over his hips, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Make sure you lock the door, alright?”

Pause.

What?

“You’re leaving?” You mirror him, hastily rearranging yourself—skinny straps find their way back above your shoulders, your short dress finds itself yanked down to its rightful place.

It’s awkward work, given the confines of the space.

The agent slips out from underneath you. He opens the door, rising from the backseat and straightening up with a groan. “Think I know where he was going,” he responds, mostly to himself. “I’m only, what…” a flip of his wrist as he checks the time, “Thiiiiiirty? Thirty-five minutes behind him?”

Before you know it, you’re bristling with irritation.

Again.

You throw your heels down on the street, unceremoniously shoving a cramping foot in each one. “Don’t be an idiot, Peña,” and you try your hand at standing, buckling slightly on a pair of Jell-o legs.

He comes around to your side, steadying you on your feet. Reflected in his deep-brown eyes is the same annoyance flashing across your own gaze. “D’you just expect me to be there, sweetheart? Z’that it? Every time your ass needs saving?”

Shame heats the soft skin of your cheeks. Your eyes trail down to the ground, volatile, incomprehensible emotions building with every passing second.

“It won’t happen again—I won’t-I won’t be so stupid, or-or—I won’t go out, anymore.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, well, that’s nice 'n all, but it’s sure as shit not gonna change anything.”

When you don’t respond, when you don’t look up, his edges soften. “They went to your house, sweetheart.” With his hands on your shoulders, he implores you to see sense. “It’s either we get them or they… get you.”

You exhale, hard. “You’re being dramatic.”

That does it for him.

After an exasperated shake of his head, he’s grabbing your hands in his own, placing a set of keys in the cradle of your palm.

His tone is low, demanding, unbending. “Lock the doors.”

Then, he’s turning to leave, walking to the front of the Cherokee.

Before rounding the corner, he turns his hardened profile to the side. The glare of the building’s lights dance on his tanned skin, turning the whole scene into a sort of lucid dream.

“Y’know, you’re really starting to piss me off with this whole… utopian fantasy you’re livin’ in.” He barely even addresses you, mumbling the rest of his sentiment mostly to himself. “I’m fuckin’ tired of being the only one looking out for you.”

Utopian fantasy?

You try to dismiss him—to call him ridiculous, to throw yourself into the familiar task of poking holes in his arguments—but… you can’t. Over and over, his words rush you in waves: “the only one looking out for you” “utopian fantasy” “the only one looking out for you” “utopian—”

Suddenly, you’re on a different street. In the same clothes, and in the same body, but somewhere far, far away, facing a different man. It’s somewhere very loud, where tires and knees come to a screeching stop against cement, where the downbeat of every Latin measure is punctuated by the sound of a bullet, inscribed with your initials, ripping through the static summer air.

Panic hits you like a bolt of lightning.

It doesn’t go away, either.

Not even once you’re back on Javi’s street, fossilized in amber, watching him move to the driver’s side of his Jeep.

All the fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel…

You’d forced him to shoulder it for you, instead.

But, inevitably, what goes around comes around. And he’s dropped your burden right back onto you with a few well-timed words.

Truth bares itself to you, settling heavy atop your bones like an ancient, primal wound. The result is a pair of unsteady legs, a perennial tremor in both, white-knuckled hands, and a crackling voice, resisting use.

“Javi…”

Only when you hear the sound of your own terror echoed back to you do you permit yourself to cry.

And there you stand. Disheveled, confused, broken—clothing misplaced, ruined, broken—

And you just don’t want him to leave.

Not now.

Not when you need him.

Not when you need someone.

Not when you think you’ve finally got it figured out, and especially not when you’re so damn close to speaking it into existence.

Realization. Acknowledgement. Expression.

It’s not a customary pattern, in your experience.

Javi stops in his tracks, stunned to a halt at the sheer emotion in your plea.

It stings when you clear your throat. “I just…” and you falter, strange, unfamiliar words sticking to your throat, sickly-sweet dried honey. Each vowel reverberates back to you, amplified by the acoustics of the empty street and their novelty.

Still, you’re not quite sure how he’s able to hear you, given that you can only bring yourself to speak a handful of decibels above a damn whisper.

“I’ve just never been important, Peña.”

You wipe a self-conscious hand across your face, clearing the sea-salt from below your downcast eyes.

Before you’re able to put a stop to it—it all comes rushing out. Averting his gaze, you ramble on in agitation.

“Not beyond being a-a pair of hands to make fucking photocopies—or as the butt of some sort of “prissy receptionist” joke or even just as some—as-as a kind of fucking challenge to men—men like you, Javier—because I… well, because I’m mean, and I-I guess it’s just fun for everyone to see how far they can take it before—before I…” You give your head a fervent shake, trying to reel yourself back in, trying to close off the monologue.

But the cracks had formed, and with nowhere to go, the mounting pressure of the seven seas washes away the rest of your weakened dam.

The agent can't even get a word in.

“Anyways, that’s-that's not the point. The point is that it just… it didn’t seem possible that anyone in this whole fucking country would even think twice about me—even if it was just to… to kill me…”

A lump forms, lodging behind your larynx.

You start to rush.

“So I really am sorry that I acted like such an asshole, but none of this makes a fucking lick of sense to me—I’m-I’m a secretary, for fuck’s sakes—I’m nothing, no one, I’m not—” and then you’re frantic—

The gunshots, the tires, the music, the spark plug, a Camino—

“Just please, don’t go, don’t—I-I know you’re mad, just—please, just don’t—”

It’s impossible to catch your breath. Every heaved sob racks your lungs, shaking you all the way down to your buckling knees.

You want to turn, to run and hide, to fling yourself into oncoming traffic—anything to end the interminable humiliation you couldn’t seem to keep from putting on display in front of Javier Peña.

And shit. No man could see a woman in the same way after this. No man would care for a woman like this, destroyed and pathetic and—

“Oh, cariño—”

And he’s there.

Those arms—so used to taking—they wrap you up, pulling you into the heat of his body, protecting you from the pointed echoes of laughter and song breezing through the night air. Those hands, the ones that bruised, slapped, grabbed—they hold—the right unburdens you of your oppressive weight, pressed flat against the small of your back. His left cradles the back of your head, laying your temple to the side of his throat.

“You’ve always been important to me, sweetheart.”

His soft murmurs tumble down your spine. That smoky breath envelops you; it reminds you of those blankets in the movies—the ones that the firemen hand out after the disaster’s over, the survivors rescued. In the denouement.

“S’okay, S’okay. I’m sorry, baby, alright? I’m not mad, cariño, it’s okay.”

Running his fingers through your hair, supporting your head like a delicate, sacred object, murmuring comforts against the softest parts of your neck—Javi goes on and on. Despite the frequent shifts between Spanish and English, you manage to catch the main gist of his crooning.

“I could never be mad at you, baby.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m not mad, cariño.”

“And I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I’ll stay.”

“I’m sorry.”

After an eternity, you feel calm enough to pull away. You’re a wreck, gazing up at him with big, silver-lined eyes.

And it’s then that you see him.

That you really see him.

The concern, the anguish, the affection… You’d punished him for doing the very thing that you were incapable of doing.

Protecting you.

Caring for you.

As tears continue to leak from your eyes, you take note of his beauty. Not just of his looks, but also in the sheer power radiating from him, towering like a knight over you. In those capable, caring hands—hands that had torn others apart, that had put you back together—there was beauty in them, too.

You wipe your face dry.

And you soften your tone, aiming to lighten the mood. “Stop trying to get in my pants, Peña." A sniffle. "I don’t sleep with cops.”

He rolls his eyes, the ghosts of a smile tugging at his lips. “Y’know,” he cups your face, drying the final, lingering remnants of your melt-down off your cheeks, “I waited outside that fuckin’ bar for hours tonight. Just in case.”

Oh.

God, you’d never even bothered to think about how he’d gotten to you so quickly.

Of course he’d been there.

That truth feels… warm.

He goes on. “Watched you… saw you with that guy.” He scoffs at himself, shaking his head. “Had to look away when you came outside. S’why it… took a minute. To get there.”

That has your gaze trailing off, eyes cast down in shame, studying the worn-in rubber on the Jeep’s tires.

It would have never worked, anyway. There wasn’t a man on Earth who could ween your mind off of this one.

With the pad of his thumb against your chin, he brings you back to him. Javi commands your full attention with the just the sincerity of his stare.

“Even when you want nothin’ to do with me... I’m there, alright? I’m here, baby.”

Those eyes… softened with affection, hardened with conviction. Javier always had a way of straddling both worlds at once.

He waits for your signal, your quick nod of acknowledgement.

Then, he’s kissing you—softly. Fingers curling around his forearms, you borrow his strength to keep yourself from swooning. He holds your face as tenderly as he caresses your lips, and with every synced inhalation, he speaks yet another unspoken word into existence.

After giving you enough to make you feel whole again, he pulls away.

With his great-big-palm to your cheek, he says everything you need to hear.

“Let’s go inside, sweetheart.”

—

part 3

—

TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmood @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @totallynotastanacc @dzaga890 @swedishscumfuck @killerrxger @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @julesonrecord @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @princessdjarin @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @jazzerbelle14

—

Officer Officer Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure The house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar (Well) I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking Tell me, do you always work alone so late? Gosh, I'm a little shy standing here in my night gown Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?

Looking at me, then suddenly

I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane

Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer You can ask me anything you want Anything, anything

Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger Well, that's interesting Have you ever thought of dating a singer?

The flames are getting higher So is my desire It's kind of exciting Don't you think?

Then suddenly he's uncuffing me

I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane

Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I can be the bad girl I'm getting you so hot You can be the good guy Tell him please stop

Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

You can be the good guy (Officer) I'm in love Tell him please Stop (Officer) (Officer) You can be the good good (Officer) I'm in love Love in a hurricane

—

#Javier Peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos #Pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal smut #javier peña x y/n #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos

4K notes · View notes

selfcarecap · 5 months

Text

Backseat [j.p]

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

summary: When Javi has to work late, you visit him to help relieve some stress during his break. Or, as Lana said: let’s get in the back of your cop car officer <3 (kinda)

warnings: my first Javi fic omg and first fic in general in like one and a half years sooo, smut (public sex technically (in/next to a car) but no one sees them don’t worryy, p in v, unprotected, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk (only from Javi though, reader barely says a thing oops) excessive use of ‘baby’, use of ‘good girl’, Javi comes on reader’s belly and face, established relationship, not tooo much aftercare but they’re both fine with it, Javi taps (not slaps) reader’s cheek during sex), I assume that’s clear but this is about the fictionalised version of him lol, brief mention of the reader’s (harmless) crush on Steve lmao, cute and romantic Javi

word count: 2.8k

The threat of rain lingers in the cool air as Javi takes you to his car, his greedy hand placed on your ass as you walk. He’s parked at the other end of the parking lot next to the station, in a roofed corner with walls on the sides shielding it, and no other vehicles in sight. He did say he’d make sure no one would see you.

You haven’t had sex in a few days, both busy with work and other things, and you were looking forward to him finally fucking you again come Friday night. When he called you to say he had to stay at work at least a few more hours, you knew you’d have to go to him if you still wanted sex today. Otherwise Javi wasn’t coming home before you were fast asleep, and you couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Javi was on board as soon as you asked if he had a few minutes to spare; he knew what your tone meant immediately and he missed the feeling of you naked in his arms as much as you did.

He unlocks the car and pushes the front seat forward to make more space in the backseat. You sit down in the back and grin, pulling him into the car by his jacket.

“Wait, baby, we better do it like this,” he says, pulling your legs to the side of the seat, the car door still open as he spreads you out on the backseat.

“You want to fuck me with the door open?” You ask.

“It’ll make it less obvious what we’re doing, and I can fuck you better like this.” You take in the position of him standing next to the car and think of him squeezing into the backseat with you instead. He’s probably right. You don’t mind as long as he gets on with it.

Javi takes off his leather jacket and drapes it around your shoulders, “You warm enough?”

You nod. The comfort of the car and the corner it’s parked in and, more importantly, the promise of Javi’s warmth provide a pleasant coziness. With a grin on his face, Javi finally bends down to kiss you, and you immediately push your tongue into his mouth.

“We gotta hurry up, you think you can do that?” Javi asks between kisses, and you nod desperately. As if you didn’t come all the way to the DEA station after your own draining workday just to get fucked. You’ve been waiting for this all week.

He pushes his thumb between your lips and you drool around it immediately. You respond to his questioning expression with an enthusiastic nod as he finds the hem of your short skirt and pulls your panties to the side. His wet thumb on your clit makes you gasp and arch into him. You can definitely make this quick.

Javi smirks at you, “You been waiting for this as much as I have? I’m all ready for you, baby, just tell me when you’re ready”. He kisses you and continues to rub circles over your clit as your pussy gets wetter and wetter, and you let out an incoherent string of sounds that’s supposed to let him know you’re ready.

He pulls back from the kiss and gently takes your face in his hand, squishing your lips into a pout, “What was that? You know that’s not enough for me. Need you to properly say it.”

You look up at Javi through your lashes, licking your lips, “Yes, I’m ready, Javi. Please fuck me.”

His face breaks out into a grin, “See, wasn’t that hard, was it? Or are you already too horny to speak?”. All you can focus on is his big fingers that have started fucking you, so you know better than to try and give an intelligible answer that would only come out as gibberish anyway.

Your stomach somersaults when Javi undoes his belt, the clang of metal making your pussy throb. You reach down to pull your panties down your legs, and seeing the wet spot on them makes you even more excited for what’s to come. Javi pushes your legs up against your chest with a hungry groan, and bends down to press a kiss to your pussy.

He decides to stay between your legs for a bit longer when he hears you sigh as he starts to lick sloppy circles against your clit, the taste of your wet pussy making him want to stay there forever.

“Javi,” you mumble, almost sounding as if you’re tipsy. You could easily cum from his mouth on you, but you know you don’t have much time before he needs to get back to work, and you need him inside you now.

He leans down to quickly kiss you as he unzips his jeans, and you break the kiss to look at his hard cock.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” you repeat before he can ask you to say it again. You lie back but he stands up straighter to scan the area and make sure no one’s there to see and you slump against the backseat, lying down.

You lean your head to the side impatiently and catch the scent of Javi in the jacket of his that you’re cuddled up in, and it makes you want him even more. He laughs when you reach out your hands to him and he finally puts his hands back on your body, grabbing you to pull you to the edge of the backseat. The space is tight, the car door opened as wide as it can be as he stands next to the car facing you, but he’s making it work.

Javi spreads your legs and stands between them, casting one last glance above the car, “We’re good but we still have to hurry before someone sees us,” he says and you grin, ready for him to finally finally start, but he takes your grin as something else.

He smirks as he puts a hand on your jaw to make you look into his eyes, “You like that, baby? You want someone to walk in on you getting fucked, huh? Maybe Steve… I know he’d like that. What do you think?”

You slap his hand away and fake-gasp; he’s been teasing you about your ‘crush’ on Steve ever since you made an offhand comment about him being attractive.

“Just want you,” you mumble, half wanting him to know he’s the only one you want to be with, and half bashful because, well, Steve is attractive.

Javi grins and leans down to kiss you, simultaneously sneaking a hand up your skirt again, “Don’t worry, I know that. I can feel how wet this pussy is just for me. Could get lost in you forever.”

“Then do,” you say, craning your neck forward as he slaps his cock against your clit. You start to open your mouth a bit. You just want one brief taste before he fucks you. He looks at you and gently pushes you to lie back down, and you pout.

“That has to wait until tomorrow, baby. You know I won’t be able to stop if you wrap those pretty lips around me,” he says and strokes his thumb across your cheek. You smile, satisfied knowing the effect you have on him.

You spread your knees as wide as you can in the small space, Javi stepping as close to the side of the car as he can.

“You ready?” He asks one final time, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your wet and aching pussy.

“Mmhm, yes,” you moan, your fingers reaching down to spread your lips for him. Javi adjusts his position and pulls one of your ankles over his shoulder and decides to give one last glance to your surroundings to make sure no one will interrupt him fucking you, even though, right now, you couldn’t care less who sees. His hard dick that rests between your legs and pulses against your clit is enough to make you forget about every other thing in the world.

“So needy, baby,” he taunts when you sigh dramatically to get his attention, and you can tell he tries to tease you a bit more but ultimately gives in after a few seconds and pushes his cock into you. It slides in all the way with how wet you are, and you let out a desperate noise that’s muffled by Javi’s mouth slotting over yours.

He puts one hand on your hip to direct your body better and his other hand holds the side of your face as he caresses it, “Don’t mind you being needy though, baby, so am I. So glad you came, spoiling me with your pussy during my break. I could get used to this, you know?”

His eyes close in pleasure as he starts to fuck you, “Always so tight for me,” he says, voice strained. Every time his hips drive into yours is accentuated by the loud sound of your wet pussy, taking every inch of your boyfriend’s cock as he ruts into you like he hasn’t fucked you in months.

“‘M not gonna last long so you better be quick, baby, yeah? Can you do that?”

You nod quickly, unable to form words and he grins devilishly when only a few sounds of pleasure make their way out of your throat.

“God, I love when you get like this, all speechless because you‘re too horny for me. Love how you take my cock, you’re so fucking tight”, he roughly taps your cheek three times and you lean into his touch, into the sting, as he fucks you harder.

He grabs your face more roughly and you moan as he continues praising you, “Always so fucking pretty for me, oh my— god”, he changes his pace and you feel the difference too, heat building up in your lower belly, the pleasure all flowing into the space between your legs that he’s fucking with what feels like all his strength. Javi puts two fingers in your mouth and you eagerly suck them, your mouth full, drool starting to spill from your lips.

“Fuck,” he moans, and starts hastily rubbing your clit with his other thumb, his wide body keeping your legs apart, “You wanna cum for me, baby? Being such a good girl for me.”

You moan as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy squeezing tightly around Javi and he fucks you through your waves of pleasure, “That’s it, that’s my girl, my good fucking girl”, he speaks to you through almost gritted teeth, trying desperately not to cum until you’re finished.

He can feel the exact moment it gets too much for you, taking his hand away from your clit but he continues fucking you, his hips relentless against yours.

“Show me your tits, baby,” he asks with a hoarse voice, the wetness of your pussy pooling between you both. You messily pull up your shirt, exposing your tits to the cool air, still feeling weightless and slightly out of your mind from your orgasm. He takes his hand from your mouth and greedily grabs one of your tits. He smirks seeing you bare under your top and starts playing with your nipple, making you arch your back.

Javi pulls out of you and strokes his cock only a few seconds before he’s spurting cum all over your belly and chest. As you greedily strain your neck to see every single drop that he’s cumming you get closer to him and some of his cum lands on your lips and cheek.

“Fuck,” you both moan into the space between you as Javi jerks off until he’s drained, and you quickly push your hand between your legs, rubbing your once again pulsing wet pussy.

Javi sees your hand on your pussy and slaps his still hard cock against your clit a few times. He then gently pulls your hand off yourself and replaces it with his mouth as he bends down to suck on your clit. Incoherent words leaving your lips, you grab Javi’s hair and grind your pussy against his face, your thighs around his head.

It only takes a few more moments of his tongue on your clit until you succumb to the weightlessness of your second orgasm as it shoots through you with a new intensity.

You let your legs fall around Javi's shoulders when you’ve finished and smile at him looking back up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. He shakes his head, unable to believe you just did this, right here and during his work break. It definitely won’t be the last time.

He stands back up and wipes the cum from your face with the pad of his thumb and you suck it off him until your face is clean again.

“I’m so happy you're mine, baby. Only mine,” he says before attacking your face with wet and sticky kisses. He tucks himself into his pants and gets baby wipes from the pocket of his jacket that you’re lying on.

“Did so good for me, baby,” he praises as he wipes your belly and tits, leaving kisses there after. He gently wipes over your face again, just to make sure, and cleans you up between your legs.

Afterwards, he pulls your clothes back in place and kisses you as he leans down over you in the backseat. You wrap your legs around his waist and let him just hold you, and you let out giggles as he kisses you all over your face again. You brush your hands through his hair to tame it, and just when you’ve deemed him presentable you hear Steve’s voice from not too far away.

“I’ve been looking for you. Break’s over,” he walks around the corner and sees you in the back of the car.

“No sex in our car,” Steve slaps Javi on the back and moves to the front of the car. He gives you a look when he sees the seat pushed all the way to the front.

“We were just cuddling. I missed him,” you say in an innocent tone and Steve seems to buy it, or at least pretends to, and pushes the seat back and sits down, pulling the door shut.

You give Javi a wide-eyed look at how close that was and he grins back, pulling you to sit upright. There really are worse people to walk in on you than Steve, but you’re still glad that he was a few minutes too late.

“We’re driving you home,” Javi declares, and makes Steve get in the back and sits you in the front. It’s not until Javi drives away from your little corner with the roof and walls protecting it that you realise it must have been raining for a while.

It’s a lot colder now and the streets are wet, a steady flow of rain pouring from the clouds. You pull Javi’s jacket around you closer and already dread having to give it back to him when you’re back home and he has to leave to work some more.

Once the car stops in front of your house, Javi walks you to the door. You pout but part with the jacket and Javi puts it back on.

“Now it smells like you,” he smiles and hugs your waist to pull you in for a kiss. Maybe you don’t mind giving him back his jacket after all. You tell him good luck with the rest of his work night and he doesn’t drive away until he sees the light on your floor turn on. Even if you’ll be asleep, he can’t wait to come back home to a bed warmed by your perfect body.

“Man, I’ve never seen anyone so in love,” Steve says, pretending to be annoyed, but really Javi knows he’s happy for you two.

Javi just smiles. He’s never seen anyone more in love either, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog and let me know if you enjoyed this fic, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

467 notes · View notes

sheisjoeschateau · 8 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut

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holylulusworld · 5 months

Text

Indecent Proposal (17.2)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: Jake Jensen

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, fluff, implied needy reader and Bucky, polyamory, making out, implied smut (mfm, mm)

Indecent Proposal (17)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“You are silent,” you chew on your lower lip. Since the doctor left, Bucky and Steve didn’t say a word. They exchanged glances and had one of their silent conversations. “Please say something.”

You sit on the bed; afraid they are not happy about the development.

“Steve?” You sniff. “You wanted more than one child. Both of you. I remember you said that you want to have another one.”

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, angrily looking at Steve.

“That’s your doing! We wanted to breed her again and now we are already having two kids.” He pouts and harrumphs.

“Buck,” Steve holds back a chuckle but fails. He snorts and holds his tummy. “Babe we can breed her whenever we want to. If these two pop out, we will stuff her full of cum again.”

You lick your lips. “You’re not mad?”

“Doll, we are happy,” Bucky pats your head, making Steve chuckle. “I’m only mad because we love to breed you.” He hums and drops his hand from your head to grope one tit. “Damn me, Stevie. Do you think she’ll leak even more milk?”

“I don’t know yet,” Steve gets his phone out of his pocket. “Let me do a little research while you cuddle our pregnant fiancé. I’m next, and I want her warmed up and ready for me.”

You smirk. “Cuddling…or cuddling,” you wiggle your eyebrows at Steve who searches the internet for information. “Steve?”

“Let him do his research,” Bucky jumps onto the bed to bury you under his body. He peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle and squeal. “What does your friend Google say?”

“It says that the milk is produced on a demand basis. If you are having twins the suckling of two little shits will tell her breasts to produce more milk,” Steve reads aloud.

“Hey, don’t call my babies little shits!” You grumble while fighting against Bucky’s demanding lips and fingers. “Buck…wait…you…” You giggle. “I need to scold Steve first. Don’t you have anything to say? He called our babies little shits!”

“The doctor said there is a slight chance we both got you pregnant,” Bucky purrs against your neck, before leaving another love bite. “The thought alone makes me rock hard. I need to fuck you both. You’re going to watch me destroy Stevie’s perfect ass after you had your fill.”

“Buck, you are always rock-hard,” Steve grins while watching his husband tug at your clothing. He loves that you are both insatiable. “Go ahead and ruin her cunt all over again. I like watching.”

Bucky lifts his head to smirk at his head. “You dirty bastard,” he playfully says before going back to nip at your neck. “She’s ready for both of us.” He snickers when you whimper in anticipation. “Oh, you’d love that. Right, doll? Stuffed to the brim by two fat cocks.”

“I want to watch you two too,” you whine. “I can’t decide what I want more.” You wrap your legs around Bucky’s waistline to grind against his clothed erection. “Bucky is already so hard, Stevie. Can you help him out?”

Steve cracks his neck. “Anything yet, Jensen? We don’t have all night.” He sighs and rubs his tired eyes.

Jake grins. He heard more than orders today. Your moans and Steve’s grunts echoed through half of the house this morning. When Bucky joined you, Jake believed he ended up in a naughty pornographic movie.

“I get it. With a pretty girl like yours around, I wouldn’t want to waste my time on looking for a cop either.”

Bucky’s features darken. “Careful, Jensen. We don’t want to regret that we trust you with this. Our girl is none of your concern. We want to know if you found the bastard.”

Jake bites his tongue. He’s a cocky man, but not suicidal. The last thing he wants to do is to mess with two of the most dangerous men he ever heard of.

“I did a background check first to find out more about Brock Rumlow. Sometimes you need to take a step back,” he explains. “I know, I know.” Jake hastily says. “You wanted me to find him. I believe it’s more important to find out why he’s obsessed with you.”

“Fine,” Steve sits down and crosses one leg over the other. “Enlighten us, Jensen. It’s your show.”

Part 18

Tags in reblog.

#Indecent Proposal (17.2)#stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x you #steve rogers #bucky barnes #mafia au #female reader #x reader

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strangererotica · 5 months

Text

Soft!dom Eddie x Sub!Reader • Dom!Steve x Sub!Reader • Perv!Dirty Cop!Hopper x Reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT, minors DNI • Includes established MFM relationship, mentions of drugs & incarceration, abuse of power, spanking, rough sex with aftercare, angst, sex in the Blazer. Hopper is a manipulative asshole in this fic; only proceed if you’re comfortable reading his character from that perspective. <3

Eddie sat down heavily, frustrated, on the edge of the bed. He’d been in a weird mood all day, but it seemed his negative attitude had reached a peak. “Over my lap,” he ordered. You smirked back at him in silence, leaning with your ass against the dresser a few feet away. You weren’t going to budge.

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted at your audacity, his big eyes blinking back at you in surprise. He sat forward slightly, palms closed over his knees. “Okay,” he conceded. “You wanna be a brat, that’s fine. I’ll tell Steve when he gets home, let him deal with you…”

You winced, knowing from experience that if Steve delivered your punishment, you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for days. Steve’s hands were bigger than Eddie’s, and he had fewer reservations than Eddie did when it came to leaving marks.

Eddie’s lips twisted into a smug grin as you reluctantly made your way over to him, pulling your panties down. “That’s what I thought,” he teased. Eddie guided you onto his lap, your stomach resting over his thighs, head dipped toward the floor. He lightly groped the fat of your left cheek, before drawing back his hand and spanking you.

The sting was minimal, but the burn left in the wake of Eddie’s hand radiated through your muscles. A little shiver ran down your spine as Eddie’s breath blew cool between your shoulders. “What am I being punished for, Sir?” you asked. Eddie chuckled above you.

“You really don’t know?” he asked, before spanking you again. “Thats kind of adorable. You take my hand so well-.” *smack!* “-And you don’t even know what you’re being punished for. Just that I know what’s best for you…” *smack*

Eddie was switching between both sides of your ass, rubbing away the sting each of his strikes left behind. You were grateful for Eddie’s punishment and not Steve’s, because unlike Eddie, Steve never participated in any kind of aftercare. That was Eddie’s job; Steve left the tenderness up to him.

After fucking you into a wet, contented mess, Steve would just leave the room. He’d pull out of whichever of your holes he’d just obliterated, leaving you sloppy and swollen, letting his cum drip all over the place as he staggered off to the shower. Eddie’s job was to clean you up, to soothe your wounds after a particularly rough session, and to make you feel safe. Eddie would lick you head to toe, cleaning Steve’s cum off your skin and from inside whichever hole Steve had used.

You’d sometimes come again while Eddie was cleaning you up, and he’d give you lots of praises and encouragement for doing so. He’d kiss your pussy and tell you, from between your slick, quivering thighs, what a good job you’d done making Steve happy, and making him happy, too.

Eddie would then pull you into his arms and cuddle you to sleep. You’d drift off in the safety of his arms, with the comforting feeling of Eddie’s cock pulsing against your ass. When he was sure you were asleep, Eddie would carefully exit the bed and go relieve himself in the bathroom.

“Such a good girl,” he said softly, caressing the sensitive skin of your ass. “I’ll bet when people see you out and about in Hawkins, they’d never guess what a little freak you are behind closed doors…”

Eddie groped your ass, messaging away the pain. You shifted on his lap, his stiffening cock poking uncomfortably against your ribs.

“I’ll tell you,” Eddie said. “Why you had to be punished.” He guided you off his lap and seated you beside him on the bed. You waited for Eddie’s explanation. “Last night,” he began. “When we were fucking…you called me Jim.”

It was difficult, but you managed to conceal the wave of dread that rushed through you. Shit.

“And it got me thinking…” Eddie continued, his tone cautious, displeased. “…Do we know anyone named Jim?”

You avoided Eddie’s eyes, fearing the look of suspicion you’d undoubtedly see in them.

“Or maybe the real question is…” Eddie sighed, wrapping his arm around you, a soft (but intentional) act of dominance. “…Who do you know named Jim?”

You swallowed, stalling, your mind scrambling to make up a suitable response. You wouldn’t tell Eddie the truth, of course. That you were secretly fucking a man name Jim behind both Eddie and Steve’s back…that Jim was Chief Jim Hopper. You couldn’t tell Eddie that you and the Chief had agreed upon an arrangement of sorts, one which existed in order to keep Eddie out of prison…

Your boyfriend was a drug dealer. Everyone in Hawkins basically knew this about Eddie; but he’d somehow avoided being charged for possessing or selling illegal substances. At least, until a few months ago. Chief Hopper had followed an anonymous tip that had told him where Eddie was currently crashing. The tip had brought Hopper straight to the door of your apartment complex. He’d parked his Blazer in front of the building, and waited for Eddie to emerge.

With every intention of arresting Eddie, Hopper had waited, and watched. But when Eddie did emerge from behind the door, he wasn’t alone. He was with you. And from the way you were hanging on Eddie, lifting on your tiptoes to reach his neck for a kiss, it was more than obvious to Hopper that you and Eddie were a couple.

A rather sinister idea was born in Hopper’s mind…that if you cared for Eddie as much as it appeared you did, you’d likely be willing to do whatever it took to keep him out of trouble. Hopper chose to postpone Eddie’s arrest until he’d had the chance to confront you in private. The following afternoon, Hopper waited for you to leave the apartment alone, and then made his move.

Under the guise of arresting you for drug possession, Hopper had gone through the whole cuffing process, making sure to grope you more than he needed to in his search for any ‘weapons’ you may have had on you. Hopper loaded you into his vehicle, but put you in the front seat beside him instead of the back. When you questioned him what evidence he had against you, Hopper explained that he was actually there for a different reason.

“That scumbag boyfriend of yours,” Hopper started, and left the sentence hanging as if it didn’t require a conclusion. You didn’t bother explaining to Hopper that you had two boyfriends, because it wasn’t necessary. Given Eddie’s reputation in Hawkins as a metal-loving, devil-worshiping, pothead deviant, assuming Hopper was referring to Eddie made sense.

To play off your nerves, you pretended not to know about Eddie’s drug usage or selling. Batting your lashes at Hopper in an attempt at naïveté, you hoped to throw him off any suspicion of Eddie (and by association, you and Steve also). “You mean Eddie?”

Hopper smirked back at you, digging a cigarette from his pocket. Your charm wasn’t working on him. “Yeah,” he replied dryly. “Who the fuck else would I mean?” Hopper rested the cigarette between his lips and held his lighter beneath its tip. You watched it bloom and crackle alight, your heart rate steadily increasing. You knew that if Eddie were to be arrested, the cops would likely have enough evidence to lock him away for a long time. And that terrified you.

Affirming the direction your thoughts were taking, Hopper explained, “Reason I’m here now, talking to you instead of Eddie, is because l see how much you care about him.”

Hopper exhaled smoke in front of him, looking ahead through the windshield as he spoke. “You don’t wanna see Eddie do time…hell, I don’t want to see the kid get locked up, either…”

That was a lie, and you knew it. Hopper didn’t give a shit about someone like Eddie. “But he does have some serious charges against him…some that could land him years behind bars.”

You shuddered at the thought of Eddie missing from your life. You and Steve would have each other, of course…but without Eddie’s softness, there would only be Steve’s roughness. The tenderness Eddie showed you, the cuddling, the warmth, the gentle punishment rather than harsh, would be gone. Your world would be a darker, lonelier place, without Eddie in it…

“So what can I do?” you asked, unprepared for what Hopper did next. “I mean, how can I help Eddie?”

The Chief removed his cigarette and licked his lips, a lecherous little smile replacing his former look of compassion. His tone was colored with a husky, suggestive darkness when he spoke, his hand moving to rest atop your thigh… “I’m sure you and I can work something out...”

You gazed down at Hopper’s hand, watching his fingers boldly trace further between your legs. He didn’t react when you called him a pig, and when you asked “are you really that fucking desperate for a woman to touch you?” Hopper laughed, unaffected.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he assured you, taking another relaxed drag of his cigarette. “I don’t need this…” Hopper slipped his hand deeper, till he was cupping your cunt in his palm. You drew in a shocked breath.

“…But if you want your loser boyfriend to stay out of prison-.” Hopper continued, slipping his fingers under the fabric of your panties. “-You do need me…”

There was a pause between you, as Hopper awaited your response. He let his fingers glide between your lips, gently spreading your labia apart. When Hopper’s thumb pressed against your clit, a soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it. He snickered callously; Hopper’s ego was boundless.

“Fine,” you conceded, after weighing your options (you had none). “If you promise to keep Eddie safe.” Your jaw was tensed in a look of defiance.

Hopper nodded his approval, a triumphant, sick grin on his face. He removed his hand from between your thighs with a groan, and placed it on the gear shift. “Atta girl,” he muttered over his cigarette, and put the Blazer in reverse.

Hopper pulled out of the building’s parking lot, and drove you somewhere private, a place where no one would see how he touched you, how his fingers pumped in and out of you in time with the rhythm of your hand around his cock. No one knew that twice a week for the past three months, you’d been fucking the town’s Chief of Police in the back of his squad car. And what only you knew, not even Hopper, was that you liked it.

You’d liked it the first time, and every time since. Hopper was older than Steve and Eddie, and with those years came an experience that was obvious in the way he fucked you. Hopper didn’t just lick your pussy; he made out with it, sloppy, filthy tongue-fucking you, smearing your slick, saturating his beard in the wet heat of you. He’d come up for air just long enough to breathe, before burying his face between your thighs again. Hopper smothered himself against your cunt, lapping long stripes up and down your slit, consuming you like a man taking his first meal in days…

Hopper was hung, and he knew how to use what Mother Nature had equipped him with. When you rode him, Hopper was always able to buck up into you without hurting you. He had a control over his body that few men you’d been with could claim. Being an exceptionally cocky, dirty bastard may have had something to do with Hopper’s confidence; but regardless, he’d obviously had a lot of practice fucking women.

You wondered sometimes how many women Hopper had been with. You vaguely recalled the rumors you’d heard whispered around town about Hopper’s reputation for pumping and dumping the women of Hawkins. But somehow, the rumors had failed to include the fact that Jim Hopper was a goddamn pro when it came to fucking.

The backseat of his police Blazer was cramped, but he fucked too well for you to mind the location. You would have let him have you anywhere, regardless of how uncomfortable, dirty, or inconvenient the place. Being folded up and pinned under the weight of Hopper’s body, his strong arms locking you in place, filled you with a sick sense of security. However toxic he was as a human being, Hopper’s ability to bring your body to rapture was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The twisted arrangement between you and Hopper had quickly begun to feel more like a relationship.

Even when you were being intimate with Eddie and Steve, you found yourself longing for Hopper. The bed your boyfriends fucked you in was soft and warm, all silk sheets and fluffy pillows, lavender-scented candles arranged at the bedside. It used to be your sanctuary, your favorite place in the world.

But now, what turned you on more than silk sheets was the feeling of your ass being rut into the sweaty, polyester backseat of Hopper’s car. In exchange of the soft romance of lavender, you preferred the scent of Hopper’s aftershave and stale cigarettes, the musk of his sweat dripping from his chest to yours as he fucked you...

— Eddie squeezed his arm around you tighter, and it shook you from your thoughts of Hopper. “So tell me, baby,” Eddie pressed, a poorly-concealed suspicion in his voice. “Who do you know named Jim…?”

You tried to laugh it off, telling Eddie he must have misinterpreted the sounds you were making. “I was moaning a lot,” you teased, trying to distract him. Eddie stared at you for a moment, as if waiting for you to confess something. When he realized he wasn’t going to get anymore information out of you, Eddie offered you his hand to leave the bed. “Doesn’t matter, pretty girl,” he said with pleasant tone. “What d’you say we smoke a little, watch some TV, then head to bed?” Eddie pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, there was a sadness in his eyes that the artificial smile on his lips couldn’t hide.

“I’d like that,” you replied, taking Eddie’s hand. He glanced at the clock beside the bed. “It’s late,” Eddie observed. “Better get our fun in now; Steve’ll be home from work soon...”

Steve Harrington wasn’t a jealous man. Or perhaps more truthfully, he was jealous and simply refused to acknowledge it. The relationship you and Eddie had together irritated Steve, because it was a level of intimacy he himself had never been a part of.

Unlike Eddie, Steve was able to hold down a full time job. Being away from the apartment the three of you shared for eight hours a day meant that Eddie had access to you that Steve did not. Eddie’s current employment status was, officially, unemployed. Unofficially, Eddie was quite a successful local drug dealer. Steve normally would have had nothing to do with the kind of guy Eddie was…but you loved Eddie, for reasons Steve could only guess at.

Maybe you loved Eddie because he was gentle, soft in all the places Steve couldn’t be. If there was an emotional switch inside of himself that Steve could have flipped, to make him the kind of soft dominant that Eddie was, Steve would have flipped it in a heartbeat. All he wanted, was to be wanted exclusively by you.

Steve had grown up in a home where affection was scarce, and almost never expressed. Watching the shit show of a marriage his parents had, Steve decided early on that he never wanted to be tied down to any one person. He’d constructed walls around his heart to protect him from any relationship a woman could offer him beyond sex. Meeting you had been a life-altering experience for Steve. Because despite all the years he’d spent hardening his heart, you’d entered Steve’s life and demolished them instantly…

The problem was, Steve still had so much emotional baggage to rid himself of, before he could love you the way you deserved to be loved. He didn’t want to be the mature, stoic presence in your life forever; but it’s all he knew how to be. Steve wanted to romance you, to spend his family’s generous fortune on something that mattered for a change: on your happiness.

But the man you loved, whose arms you drifted to sleep in every night, was a drug-dealing freak. The complete opposite of Steve, who’d barely smoked a single joint in his life, let alone tried the harder drugs Eddie was fond of using and distributing...

Steve left work for the evening and was grateful to be heading home, for the chance to be near you again. He drove his BMW to the apartment complex, pulling to a stop in his usual space. Steve would have entered the building as usual, without pause, if he hadn’t noticed a police vehicle pulling out of the lot just as he pulled in. Steve was always a little wary around cops, not for himself really, but because he didn’t want you to get in trouble for your association with Eddie.

Steve watched the car pull away, noting the lettering on its sides. “Chief,” he read aloud, and his anxieties multiplied. A standard police vehicle wouldn’t have concerned Steve as much, but the Chief of Police had apparently been to your building. Maybe Steve was being paranoid, but he needed confirmation that you were alright.

He walked briskly up the two flights of stairs to your apartment, and unlocked the door in a hurry. “(Y/N)?” Steve called into the dark front room. “Ed?” He rounded the corner to the bedroom and found you and Eddie asleep, in each other’s arms as usual. Steve lingered in the doorway, leaning against it, his heart rate slowing to normal. Of course he was only being paranoid, again. Whatever business the Chief of Police had at your building, it clearly did not involve Eddie. For the moment, anyway.

Steve sighed in relief, setting his briefcase on the couch. He loosened his necktie and made his way to the kitchen for something small to eat. After finishing his quick meal and a couple of beers, Steve returned to the bedroom. He watched your body softly sleeping, hair splayed in pretty waves across your pillow.

Steve climbed into bed beside you, and pressed his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss he knew you wouldn’t feel. “Sweet dreams, angel,” he whispered. Steve wrapped his arms around you and held you closer than usual, wishing he could give you this same tenderness when you were awake. But Steve knew he was too cowardly for that, too frightened of revealing his love for you.

He held you a little closer than all the nights before, curved his body securely around yours more snugly than usual; because finally, Steve realized, it’s how he should have been holding you all along…

PART TWO

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justmeinadaze · 4 months

Text

Little Girl Gone Part 6 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, I forgoed the heavy cliffhanger I wanted to end it on but still have one none the less so don't get too cocky! Lol <3.

Warnings: Dom Officer Harrington/Gangster Munson & Sub Doctor Fem Reader, no smut today, lads!

Lots of angst! Eddie was arrested and Y/N gets interrogated. Mentions of deaths involving gunshots, child abuse from Eddie's father mentioned, Eddie hurt pretty bad in this (black eye, bruises, and burns) but not mentioned in in-depth detail. Reader is attacked by someone in her apartment but is rescued.

Word Count: 4271

Series here/ Donate to my Ko-Fi

Falling out the side building, Steve looked around jumping to the ground and reached up for you to do the same. Taking your hand, you both ran to your car and he opened the door for you ushering you in.

After speeding away, he paused on the side of the road to catch his bearings and check his phone.

“Shit. They called me like 10 times. FUCK!”, he growls as he slams his hands on the steering wheel. “I could have warned him. I could’ve—”

“Steve, this isn’t your fault; it’s Gabe’s.”, you try to soothe as you rub his back.

“I need to see what they know and where they are putting him for the time being. Just go home and wait there, ok?”

“What if the cops come?”

The officer sighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“If they do, just remember what we taught you.” As you nod, he hastily leans down and kisses your lips. “Everything will be ok, honey.”

***

Two hours later, the cops did come for you insisting it was just to talk; not even putting handcuffs on you as you rode in the police cruiser to the station. Leading you to an integration room, you waited another thirty minutes before Steve and the detective you had seen him with before open the door.

“Hey Y/N. It’s good to see you again. I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”

“Detective Hopper…and this is Officer Harrington. I remember you two.”

“Good. Very good.”, he grins warmly. “Is there anything you need before we begin?”

“Begin what exactly? I was told I’m not under arrest so what AM I here for?”

“Huh. So you haven’t heard Eddie Munson was arrested this morning?”

“What? No, I hadn’t. You people woke me up to come here! Why did you arrest him?! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Your eyes narrowed as you faked shock.

“Calm down, Miss Y/L/N. We’re just asking questions, ok?”, Steve sighed your way with annoyance laced in his tone. “You are dating a gangster.”

“I’m dating a businessman. He’s not the monster you people make him out to be. And it’s DOCTOR Y/L/N, asshole.”

“Well, if I may doctor, do you know this man here?”

Detective Hopper slides an image of your ex across the table towards you.

“Yeah, I mean that’s my ex from college Gabriel Wiley but I haven’t seen him sense he went in almost three years ago. Why and what does this have to do with Eddie?”

“It seems he had some information in regard to your boyfriend that could put him away for a long time.”

“I hope you didn’t take him seriously because Gabe was a notorious liar.”

“Hm, well unfortunately we’ll never find that out from him or anything else he wanted to tell us.”

While waiting for him to continue your eyes flick towards Steve whose features seem to paint more than just worry along his face. He knows something but he hasn’t been able to tell you or Eddie yet. Sliding another picture your way, your eyes widen as you gasp.

“He was murdered sometime last night.”

A commotion suddenly erupts outside with officers shouting for backup. The door to your room flies open as the gangster quickly slides to your side and grabs your hand.

“Listen to me, Y/N. Don’t listen to a thing they say, alright? I didn’t kill him. I swear on my mother, sweetheart. I’d never hurt you like that!” As Eddie’s pleas tumble out, policemen tackle him and force the cuffs onto him again as they begin to drag him back out into the lobby. “I didn’t kill him, Y/N! Please! Believe me! I didn’t do this!”

Glancing towards Steve again, you notice he’s wearing that sarcastic smirk you had seen many times but it didn’t match the frightened look that reflected back in his own eyes. It was taking everything in him to be calm and appear unphased as his world fell apart.

“Don’t tell me you really think he killed Gabe? Edward Munson isn’t capable of murder.”, you growled. “Plus, we were together last night.”

“Doing what?”

“Take a guess.”, you spit.

“Control your tone, little girl.”, Steve sasses making the other officer roll his eyes.

“Harrington, calm down. Miss—Dr. Y/L/N—we’re still doing an autopsy to find out when Mr. Wiley was murdered but at this time we have to ask, you don’t think he’d kill him out of jealousy? I mean this is your ex threatening to expose him. Of course, he’d—”

“Of course…because he comes from a crime ridden family my boyfriend would HAVE to have it in him to hurt someone like that, right? Eddie isn’t like his father. Plus, something like this doesn’t reflect a crime of passion.”

“What do you mean?”

Again, your eyes shift towards Steve who now genuinely seems to be interested in your theory.

“Gabe was shot in the head from what I see here. It’s too clean…as if someone wanted to just do this job quick and get it over with. If this WAS jealousy there would be more signs of trauma or he would have used a weapon more personal like a knife.”

“So, who else would want Mr. Wiley dead then?”

“You said he was going to sell out Eddie and you believe Eddie took over his father’s empire…” Steve stands up straighter at your implicated as the detective seems more confused making you huff. “Jesus and you’re a detective? It has to be someone who was trying to protect Allen.”

“Someone in his gang you think?”

“Well…only officers knew Gabe was going to make a statement right?”

Hopper’s eyes darken as he glares in your equally angry irises.

“That’s a big leap you’re making, Y/N.”

“Is it, Jim?”, you ask sarcastically squaring your shoulders. “I want Eddie out of here now.”

“Once we can confirm your alibi for him with the time of death and we finish searching his building he’s all yours. You may leave now.”

Gathering your things, you fume as you stomp out of the interrogation room and head for your car. Purposely leaving something behind, you wait in your vehicle until Steve finally runs out with your phone in his hand.

“You did so fucking good, honey. Are you ok? I’m sorry. They just told me about Gabe before we walked into the room.”

“I know. I know. I trust you. We need to get Eddie out of there, Steve. He’s not safe.”

“I’m doing everything I can to hurry these results. Thankfully, he was able to get a message to Jeff and the guys were able to hide all the supplies so they haven’t found anything nor will they.”

“Do you have any idea who would kill Gabe to silence him?”

“No and I feel like a fucking idiot for not thinking of that. I can’t be the only dirty cop right?”

“Sweetheart, you protect him and me, not every criminal in Hawkins.”, you try to sooth as you lightly touch his hand that was resting on your car.

“I’m going to focus on getting him out. Go back to your apartment and hopefully the next time I see you…he’ll be with me.”

##############

18 hours.

18 long arduous hours past and you still hadn’t heard anything. You called into work siting illness and left one of your nurses in charge. You barely sat down for a moment, refusing to sleep as you paced.

When someone knocked on your door, you didn’t even hesitate as you ran to open it.

“Oh. Hi. Um, can I help you?”, you asked to the stranger in front of you.

“Yes, are you Y/N? Steve said I should wait here.”

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Wayne, Eddie’s uncle.”, he announced as he walked past you and took a seat on your sofa. “Fucking Allen. I tried to go to the police station to raise hell but they wouldn’t let my nephew go. I went to the prison to try and talk to him but his father spoke to me instead. Said that Eddie was ‘indisposed’.” At his words, your eyes widened in fear as you ran towards your phone. “Steve said the results came in so he’s bringing him here soon.”

“O-Ok.”, you stutter as you sit beside him before immediately rising to your feet again. “W-Would you like anything? Any coffee or?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Thank you. It’s nice to finally meet you. He talks about you and Steve all the time. He calls you two his Paladin and his Princess.”, he chuckles making you smile. “I’m glad he’s happy. After everything that boy has been through he deserves it.”

Your front door abruptly opens with Jeff and Steve carrying an unconscious Eddie over each of their shoulders with Gareth trailing behind. Your doctor mode promptly kicked in as they placed him on your bed and you checked him over.

“He passed out in the car. I’m surprised he was able to even fucking walk out of the station.”, the officer relayed with a shake in his tone. “I don’t know what they did to him but…”

“I imagine it was Allen. If your theory about an officer is correct, that same officer could have told him that he hadn’t followed through with killing the ex. This would be punishment.”, Wayne responded as he watched you work.

“It’s Eddie’s gang. He can do what he wants.”, Garth growled.

“Not to Allen, son.”

“Eddie, baby. Can you open your eyes and look at me?”, you asked in a stern but comforting voice as you caressed his cheek. He was littered in bruises especially along his stomach and face. His eye was beginning to swell and his nose had dried blood underneath it staining his skin. What killed you the most where what looked like cigarette burns on his arms. “Jeff, in my kitchen under the cabinet I have a first aid kit with some burn cream and bandages meant for burns. Can you bring that to me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I brought this from my apartment. I didn’t know if…” Steve hands you the medicine you prescribed him for his own bruises making you smile up at him as you kiss his hand.

“I don’t think anything’s broken but—”

“Can you boys go back to his building and assess what the police did? If anything is out of place or missing let Steve or myself know. Please be careful. If this is a cops doing…” Both men nod as they run off to do what Wayne commanded. Pulling the officer aside, they whisper to each other as you focus. “What did you find out?”

“Gabe reached out to the station from a hotel outside of town. One officer answered and two others went to pick him up. They were the ones who reported his body. Eddie’s guy dropped him off at 1am, he texted her at 3am… his time of death was estimated between 3 and 3:30.” As he said his last sentence, Steve’s eyes locked with your own.

You ex most likely texted you believing that someone was there to protect him before being murdered. You were the last person to hear from him. At the time they knew you wouldn’t but Eddie had offered to drive you to where he was. If for some reason you said you wanted to be with Gabe instead of them, you would most likely be dead to.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

You nod as you turn away and place an ice pack on the gangsters abs.

“I’m going to do some research on those cops. When did they report the ex’s body?”

“Around 5. They left the station around 4.”

“Ok…I’ll still do a check but…I’ll be back. Keep me updated, Steven.”

The officer nodded after him as Wayne left the apartment and grabbed one of your dining room chairs so he could sit near you both but not be in the way.

“What does he do; Eddie’s uncle?”, you mumble.

“He used to be a manager at one of the plants over here. Did that till Ed graduated. After, he got into private eye work helping families reconnect and shit like that. He’s actually really good at it.”, he smirks as his sad eyes watch you finish taping his partner’s arm. “Is he gonna be ok?”

“I think so. It seems like his dad…wanted to torture him…more than kill him.” As you begin to sob, Steve collects you in his arms and places you on his lap. “I don’t understand how a parent could do something like this.”

“Because Allen isn’t a parent; never fucking was. The Munson’s in those early years were extremely ruthless and vindictive. He killed for pleasure and ran his side of town like a fucking dictator. He was the same way with Eddie. From what he told me anyway. Abandoning him with Wayne was the best thing that asshole ever did for him.”

While Steve passed out beside him holding the gangster’s hand, you stayed awake constantly checking on his progress and making sure he was still breathing. Not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, you fell asleep in the chair beside him with your head against the mattress.

***

Waking up with a start, you gasped before calming yourself when you realized everything was alright, it had just begun to lightly rain outside. Steve was gone but left a note by your hand saying he left to go meet Wayne and get some more details but he’d be back in a few hours.

After quickly checking over Eddie, you headed down your hall towards your kitchen to get some water but as soon as you crossed the threshold of the hallway something hard collided with your face. Falling to the floor, you try to collect yourself but whoever hit you was faster, pinning you to the ground and wrapping their hands around your neck.

You tried to scream but you couldn’t breathe as you slowly began losing air. The world around you began to go dark and you knew soon you’d be gone.

The person above you abruptly howled in pain, falling to his side as you rolled over and coughed trying to collect as much oxygen as you could. You heard the struggle behind you before silence suddenly fell over the room. When a bloody hand touched your hip, you begin to limply fight back.

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me. Are you ok?”, Eddie asked as crawled closer to you.

A broken cry escaped you as you circled your arms around his neck and he clung you tightly to his chest. The door to your apartment quietly opened but as the officer came around the corner he was anything but.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened? Are you two alright?!”, Steve asked as he skidded to his knees and Wayne turned on the lights.

When he tried to touch you to check on you, you didn’t even look his way as you held on to the gangster tighter and buried your face in the nook of his neck. Eddie could feel your hands and body still shaking and it killed him.

“It looks like we were right, Steven.”, Eddie’s uncle sighs as he pulls his nephew’s knife out of the other officer’s back. “Officer Douglas…I guess he came here to finish Gabe’s job. He’s still alive. Was there anything else you wanted to get out of him or can we do this quickly and cleanly?”

“Leave him there.”, Eddie answered for him flatly as he placed his palm against the back of your head, petting your hair tenderly.”

“Edward, this is a cop. Are you sure you want to—”

“LEAVE HIM THERE!” Steve jumped at his loud growl, never hearing this particular tone before from the man he loved.

Giving him a final nod, Wayne patted the other man’s shoulder comfortingly before heading out the door and leaving you three alone. Unsure of what to do next, Steve kicked into the only other gear he knew, grabbing another one of your chairs from the dining room and dragging the knocked-out officer to it before tying his hands behind his back.

“Look at me, baby. Let me see you.”, Eddie cooed as his hands cupped your face and tilted your head back. You had a cut above your eye that was beginning to swell and purple bruises were starting to form around your neck from where the man had choked you. “Do you think can stand so we can sit on the couch?”, he whispered.

Without waiting for an answer, Steve bent down and lifted you into his arms, placing you on the sofa before coming back to take Eddie’s hand and guiding him to sit beside you. You both listened as he headed towards your room and came back with the first aid materials he saw you use on his partner.

While you watched the officer fumble with getting everything together, the gangster kept his eyes you, taking note of your silent but seemingly calm demeanor. Sitting on your coffee table, Steve cleaned your wound carefully trying not to cause you anymore pain. As he started tearing open the bandage, you reached out to stop him, lightly tapping his hand and pointing towards the gauze squares.

When he finishes his task, he glances over at Eddie, silently asking if he needs any first aid but the man shakes his head.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You two go lay down.”

After rising to your feet, you took the gangster’s hand and slung his arm behind your neck as you guided him back your bedroom. As you curled up in his side, his fingers absently played with your hair as he glared up at the ceiling. Not being able to control it, you began to cry again as he held you tighter to his body.

“Whenever my dad would scream and yell at men in our house, my mom used to hold me by her side just like this. After she died, he started screaming at me. I could never do anything right and he accused me constantly of being weak like her.”

You didn’t move or acknowledge you were listening but he knew you were, turning his head till his check rested on your forehead.

“That last year was the worst… he needed to get through to me, he said. He hired some of his goons to jump me when I was walking home from school to beat the shit out of me. When I was 12, Wayne said he wouldn’t tolerate this anymore. ‘Give me Eddie and I’ll take care of him.’ My dad dropped me off three hours later… I told myself when I took over that I would never treat any of my men the way he treated me and I don’t. He still has people though that are loyal to the ‘original true Munson’. They helped him carry out this particular punishment.”

As he murmured his last couple of words, you pushed up on your elbow to look at his face and his sad, heavy eyes met yours.

“I think it’s my turn to punish Allen… starting with that fucker out there…”

There was a darkness that clouded his eyes then. Something you had never seen before, rattling you slightly as you blinked and laid your head back down against his chest.

###############

That morning when you woke up, you were alone but you could hear their voices as they spoke in your living room.

“How many more cops work for Allen?”, Steve asked angerly to the man tied to the chair.

“You know, Harrington, I never would have taken you for dirty. You could have been making way more money if you picked the right Munson.”

Ringed fingers grabbed the other officer’s throat violently as Eddie pressed his nose to his own.

“You attacked and almost killed someone important to us. No matter what you aren’t going to leave this building alive but you’re the one that gets to choose if it’s quick or a slow, agonizing, painful death. Be lucky you’re getting the fucking option.”, he spat he let the man go and punched him hard in the stomach.

“What does it…matter…freak?”, Officer Douglas coughed. “Your father has allies everywhere. That bitch was marked for death and it will happen. Wait until he finds out you’re fucking a cop to. He’ll probably follow through with finally killing your ass!”

“Did you kill Gabe?”, you asked as all heads shift your way.

“Fuck you.”, he cursed causing Steve to punch his face, spraying blood on the floor.

“She asked you something. Fucking answer.”

The other man chuckled as he threw his head back to glare your way.

“Yeah, I killed him. I’d like to tell you he went out like a man but little shit cried begging, fucking BEGGING, for us to spare you. ‘Please! Please! She’s a good woman! Leave her be! Wa-wa.’”

You have no idea what came over you but you flew towards him, swiftly taking Eddie’s knife in your hand, and pointing it at the man’s throat.

“You won’t do it, little girl.”

“Oh yeah? You killed someone I cared about, tried to kill me, and then you and your little fake gang of nostalgic assholes hurt one of the men I love. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re weak. Just. Like. Them.”, he grumbled sassily.

Who you were and you were becoming began fighting within your brain as the knife began to quiver in your grasp. You wanted nothing more than to hurt this man like he had you but you were scared. A steady breath warmed the back of your neck as Eddie’s palm slid down your arm and he wrapped his own hand around yours holding the weapon.

“Don’t think about it. If you think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it.”, he whispered.

“Eddie—”

“Shut the fuck up Steve.”, the gangster growled as his other arm wrapped around your stomach and pressed your back against him. “You can do it, pretty girl. You aren’t weak are you?”

“No.”

“Louder.”

“No, sir. I’m NOT weak.”

“Then do it, princess. Do you think he was going to show you any mercy when he had his hands around your throat? No. He was going to fucking kill you. Return the favor.”

Before you could do anything, a loud bang from Steve’s gun filled your ears as they began to ring and Eddie lightly pushed you away from him, taking his knife from your grasp.

“I know you’re hurting and these last few days have been rough but that does not give you license to play with her like that.”, Steve sneered in anger towards his partner. “If she wants to kill someone, that’s up to her. If she wanted to kill him, I would have let her but what you just did…trying to force her…”

“I wasn’t forcing her. I was encouraging.”

“Bullshit.”

“She needs to become stronger for what’s in store, Steven. More people are going to come after her until it gets through to Allen that I’M in charge. I know the line has been blurred because of our relationship but let me remind me of something, babe. I’m the gangster and I run a business. Jason was smart enough to back away but my father isn’t and it’s my turn to teach him a lesson. ANYONE who is loyal to that man will be put down. I’m done playing nice guy.”

“Edward Munson—”

“What, Steven Harrington? Are you going to throw me in jail and turn yourself in? Yeah, now we know what your police force does with people like that so give it a go.” The officer cocks his gun again and points the barrel towards his boyfriend’s head. “What are you going to do, sweetheart, huh? You’re gonna kill me?”

Tears stung Steve’s eyes as his hand began to shake.

“Please, honey, don’t do this. If you do, I’m going to lose you anyway because Allen will kill you.”

Standing up straighter, Eddie, pressed his forehead further into the weapon as if to challenge him.

“So be it.”

Another gun cocking echoed through the apartment as you held it up towards the officer in front of you.

“Drop it, Steve.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

“Now, Steven, or I swear to God…”

Feeling defeated, the officer lowered his weapon and tucked it back into his holster as you turned your own on the gangster himself.

“I understand why you feel like you need to this and I’m not going to try to stop you but you need to heal and you need to be smart about this.”

“I don’t need to be anything, little girl. I already told you that neither of you have a say in what I do and this will not stand.”

Growling low in your throat, you place the gun on the counter.

“And I already told you that I’m involved whether you like it or not. Someone just tried to kill me again but this time they almost succeeded. Now, you will get back in bed and rest while Steve cleans up the mess here. Do I make myself clear, little boy?”

Steve’s eyebrow quirks as Eddie’s eyes darken further.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Matching his stance, your chest comes level with his as your glare up at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon

162 notes · View notes

scuddisher · 6 months

Text

LET'S GET IN THE BACK OF YOUR COP CAR, OFFICER.

Steve had found you working so many times, was so diligent about turning a blind eye and letting you walk away—but this time he had to make a report, unless you could convince him otherwise.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — steve murphy x sex-worker! gender-neutral reader GENRE(S) — one-shot, smut. WORD COUNT — 2.7k WARNINGS — mature content, pet-names used: honey & baby, a bit of dark! steve murphy, quick plot & ending. SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, multiple references to sex work, oral (reader receiving), quickie, unprotected intercourse, creampie, exhibitionism (semi-public spot) RELEASE DATE — MARCH 22ND 2024

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this man is rotting my brain so you guys have to rot with me. need him carnally. also yes I've had the song the title is from stuck in my head with scenes of him on repeat. save me fictional steve murphy.

His cologne engulfed you first, telling you exactly who was behind you. His hand on your shoulder turned your skin from smooth to bumpy with chills just before he spoke. “Haven't I told you to get a better career?”

You were used to Steve Murphy’s smartass comments tossed aimlessly, especially in trying times like the situation he found you in. Leaving the bed of a man who paid—someone Murphy was out hunting down and just-so-happened to find you with—all while unsatisfied and disappointed in such a rich man who played up his sex-life like he ran the bunnies at the playboy mansion.

“He doubled his pay just to get me here.” You sighed, a tell that Steve knew well.

He knew what happened by the scent of the room he had walked into, thankfully putting a stop to the madness you got yourself in. It was always an older man who picks younger lovers to tame, but as Steve saw your underwear as you lifted them back up your legs—he saw they were dry.

“Such a shame, pretty thing like you comin’ all this way for nothin’.” Steve's eyes wavered, you knew what was bound to happen next. “Especially since I gotta take you in this time.”

Your tongue was between your teeth, attempting to not curse at the man for doing his job. It wouldn't be long before others showed up for this bust.

Peña leaned against the wall with his arms folded and eyes darting between you and the rich man he had just put cuffs on—the numbers in his head already adding up to what Murphy was planning to do. It was a man-in-power advantage, one that had Javier smirking to himself.

Steve's hand had left your shoulder moments ago, the skin still feeling the warmth of his touch. But the solid grip on your upper arm, one that tightened lightly as he pushed you forward to walk with him, that was what truly made your heart skip a beat.

“Let's go downstairs and get you out of the house before any cameras show up trying to catch a glimpse of this guy.” His voice was low as his head moved closer to yours, eyes on Peña while passing him with a nod in response to the ‘alone time’ plea. He knew the drill.

You moved at the same beat as him, legs attempting to take strides similar to his so he couldn't tell how nervous you were. For once, with Steve wearing his badge, you tasted what felt like unfairness of the system.

“Honey—” Voice soft and still as low as before, he spoke. “I really didn't want you doing this shit anymore.”

You heard it, the sound of a man disappointed. Steve had saved your ass nearly three times now, almost four if he hadn't let you slip out the window before anyone else saw you. You knew your time working the streets was coming to a close each time the DEA team was let loose on the customers in the area.

“I thought you said you were looking for more work last time?” His baby blue eyes caused your heart to skip when he turned his head to look into your gaze, his hand on your arm helping you dodge doorways and decor as you made it out the front door and towards his undercover car.

“I was. And I found it.” Your voice was even smaller than his, his grip stopping you right beside the large vehicle just before turning you to face him.

His scent was so loud: cologne, a drink or two from after lunch, the smell of ink from files and paperwork that he had been flipping through until they got a lead stained on his fingertips. It made your head swim. It always did.

The clink of his hand on the car window startled you from staring at him, wishing only to close your eyes and take in having him so close. And he was close—so close with his eyes on you and only you, that his voice made your body vibrate with every word. “You know I don't have any more ‘get out of jail free cards’ right? Your DNA is gonna be on that guy when we run him through the system. There's no getting out of this one.”

His body leaned into yours, almost pressing you into the black SUV like you were part of the paint. Steve's eyes were filled with a glaze that could only be a lack of sleep and a buzz from his earlier drinks, matching the scent of liquor on his breath as he breathed on you softly.

“M-Murphy…” You squeaked, wanting to fade into him and feel every muscle and scar along his skin. “Can't you do something? Anything?”

You saw the flash in his eyes. The way his tongue poked from his mouth to lick his lips. His eyes darting behind your head and to his own reflection in the tinted back window of the car.

It was only for a moment, the click of the door handle and the breeze of the back door opening—Steve’s eyes never leaving yours. “Get in the back.”

Your skin felt the leather as you shuffled into the car, the backseat big and welcoming compared to most vehicles you've been in the back of along with the rough slam of your door being shut. His cologne hit your nose once more, finding you through a waft of air once he made his way into the backseat with you and closed his door.

His jaw was locked, eyes steady adding things in his own mind, that of which you wish you could see or hear. Steve was hardly ever this quiet, always planning something aloud and letting you in—he didn't want to make you feel unsafe around him.

But this—this was different. You were a link in his finding, a witness in his case that could cause you to have to be taken to the station and questioned—and not just for being involved with a rich criminal like your client. Being known as a solicitor would ruin your reputation. It would open you up to a world of all the ruined cops constantly trying to take advantage of those they take in. And even worse, put your name in the eyes of the big men who actually run this city—men way over Steve Murphy’s head.

The sound of his breathing speeding up made your fingers shake, gripping at the clothes you wore to try and hold onto something. “Officer Murphy?”

His name rolling off your tongue made his head snap in your direction, blue irises darker in the dim streetlights far outside from the car you sat in.

The few times you had called him that, you were truly scared. Eyes jittering in your head, hands running cold from anxiety, chest heaving with every breath you took. It was hard for him to look away—almost impossible, and all he could do was scoot closer to you until you were between him and the door.

Little to no room to move around, his scent so deep in your nose that you could almost taste him—and his lips captured yours. Kiss soft, promising, and fulfilling of everything you didn't get in that room upstairs in one swift motion, you moaned into his harsh taste until you felt his tongue trying to lick at your own.

His hand moved from his thigh to your neck, fingers pressing into your warm skin and recreating the same chills he felt rise on your body earlier. You could feel the twinge of his smirk in the kiss, but you fell so deep into his touch that you could hardly focus on anything else.

The groan he released was loud when your hand moved onto his leg, feeling at his rough jeans that ran too right in his crotch at times like these. Something that had never seemed to cross your mind, ending up in such a position as this—Steve desperate to touch you, you desperate to get out of this mess—it almost had you crawling on top of him.

And right as the idea popped into your mind, your hand grazed his hard-on just in time to know how badly he wanted you. He hardly got a noise out, “Fuck.” being the only thing he said.

But it wasn't what was in his head. It wasn't the idea that had made his tongue lick his lips or his eyes catch a glimpse of the black car that would hide your heated bodies doing sinful acts.

His touch turned warmer as his hand on your neck slid down your front, feeling at all the parts of you he knew he'd get sounds out of. The most beloved sound, one he had dreamed of hearing, was that of the wetness he felt as his hand slipped into your underwear.

Your eyes rolling back at just a hint of friction had him pulling back from your mouth just to watch. The whites of your eyes were all he could see for a split second, and he had barely started.

Steve seeing you crawling your way out of that king size bed, picking up your dry underwear that showed zero signs of you being the least bit interested in the man you were just in between the sheets with—it made his bottom lip go in between his teeth at the thought.

Before you could blink, his large body was shuffling until his hands took you at your waist and pulled you sideways on the seats. Your lower half was right at his face, his breathing scattered as his eyes gleamed up at you in the soft orange haze of the streetlights all around the driveway of the house. His fingers left your wetness to latch at your underwear, pulling that and your pants down past your knees.

Your glistening body has his eyes glassy, drool nearly pooling from his lips as they quivered and tried to form a sentence. It wasn't forever ago when you noticed his ring had gone missing. It wasn't even a month ago that he had found you again, his grip on you tight as he walked you out—he held himself back like a gentleman all this time—but now he was a starved man.

“C-Can I?” His face was darkened, yours lit up in the light. All you could see was him chewing in his bottom lip in anticipation before you nodded.

And that was all he needed. The plunge into you was more satisfying than you had felt the pleasure of someone else's touch in forever, his tongue wet and lapping and licking like a dehydrated dog to its water bowl.

Your hand covered your mouth as a scream nearly ripped through you, unsure of how sound-proof the vehicle was. His eyes moving up at you to see your eyes rolling back again was enough to have him stirring an orgasm from you at any cost.

All the times he had peeled you away from a man who only wanted his own pleasure, ignoring the fact you looked like a wreck that hadn't actually orgasmed from anything they had done to you—just to end up in the back of his car with him in between your thighs.

His tongue moved against you in waves, his hand and fingers coming into play only minutes later to help push you to your breaking point. “Steve, for the love of God!” You whined into the quiet car, barely being able to call to him over his whimpers and moans as he collected your wetness and swallowed with vigor.

It wasn't until your body began to shake, and an orgasm threatened to roar that the blue and red lights flashed into the car. Steve's cheeks had run pink from his focus and the heat now causing you both to sweat in the confined space.

The man rose up, his hands on his belt trying to loosen the restraint quickly. He could hardly pull his cock out before he saw others moving into the house, his tip pressing at your entrance just in time for you to cling to him and beg. “Stop stalling, Murphy!”

You had nearly bit your tongue at your own words leaving your mouth—they were fuel to his fire. Every inch of him that sunk into you had your nails digging into his shirt on his back, almost causing them to cut through the cotton as you clung to him for dear life. “Oh shit. Oh, shit!”

Steve believed he thought of everything. Knew you were unsatisfied, knew if he got you alone that he could show you a good time. But what he didn't account for was how long it had been since you had been fucked right, your hold on him tight enough to already have his precum spilling into you until he could hear every sound you made when he filled you.

You were whining, no—whimpering, at how much he filled you. How easily he found your spot deep inside your walls, the curve of his cock making you see stars the moment he bottomed out in you.

By now, the car's windows were steamed up. If anyone was actually paying attention—looking hard enough into the SUV’s windows that were clearly a DEA regulated vehicle—they’d see Murphy's hand sliding down the back passenger seat’s window before finding a better hold on the leather seat inside.

You felt him raise his hips, felt the shake of the car each time he jerked them into a deep thrust, and most importantly of all—felt your gummy walls rush with more wetness and vibrate with your orgasm. Shivering, you took hold of his shirt until he was sure that Peña would get a good laugh out of the wrinkles it now holds.

But Steve was a stallion, racing for his own release like the car shaking and almost rattling at his rough thrusts was the last thing on his mind. Your eyes had shut in wonder for when the knock on the window would come, moaned at the feeling of his head falling into your neck to take a deep breath of your scent, and completely went limp feeling his seed gush into you.

“F-Fuck, honey.” His voice was so unstable, hair wet and stuck to his forehead as he tried to catch his breath. “Warn a man that you're as tight as leather pants on a sweaty rockstar before he puts his dick in you.” His words were comical, the smile he wore growing larger on his face as he sat back in the seats and tried to tighty himself up.

You cackled, sitting up and stretching your neck from the harsh position you had been in. Finally, your mind was clearing—but now the entire driveway was filled with cops, and you were still on the scene.

Once your eyes caught Steve's, his face showed more seriousness while he glanced around at the amount of people leering into his case. Someone had talked, gossiped, or corruption spun its web and leaked into Murphy’s current world.

And here you sat, having fucked the lead DEA detective of the case—guilty eyes finding his again.

“You'll still be found out when he gets put into the system…” He claimed, signing as he put an unlit cigarette between his lips. “But as long as I have a hold on it—” He had a way out of this all along. “—I can make it like you were never in the house. You met him somewhere else, maybe for a blowjob or a quickie—hmm?” He spoke with confidence, pulling a lighter from his pocket and lighting the cigarette.

He was going to make it go away, he just wanted to know what all the hype about you truly was. Needless to say, curiosity got the best of him.

“This is your last shift at this job, isn't it?” It wasn't a question, it was a demand—and his voice had turned cold. His breath fanned over your face, blue eyes watching your mouth fall open at his sudden change in demeanor. “Want me to make it all go away, baby?”

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

#boyd holbrook smut #steve murphy smut #steve murphy x reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #boyd-a-thon

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sushywritez · 2 years

Text

Lockeroom | Cop!Steve x Fem!Reader |

Notes: This is a gift for my bestie @rollergirlworld , happy birthday to Steve’s wife! We both love a sweaty and dom, Steve. I wanted to try and do something new plot wise and environmentally unique, plus I know this will really be fun to write. So rollergirl and others please enjoy.

“Go, Steve!” You clap your palms together cheering loudly with the other wives and their partners, but Steve, he was all yours. Admits the mess of bodies you find his hazel eyes, cramped by strands of his damp chestnut locks. You were his little cheerleader and he fed off it.

He sends a wink your way and returns his full focus back to the game, white sneakers screeching against the court as the team works to get the ball. Occasionally him and some of the other officers got together to play a few rounds of ball and would somehow convince you to tag along. However, it didn’t take much convincing when his head was between your thighs, plus the sight of him like this was enticing.

The way his muscles tensed beneath the grey fabric of his tee drove you something akin to horny. A need was deeply present in between your legs. Reminiscent of the earlier events of the day. “Steve is something isn’t he?” Martha breathes — the wife to the chief — eyes him up. A tinge of jealous coils within your gut and you huff.

“Sure is, Martha.” You reply, shifting in your spot on the bleachers. She was a nosy twit and always had it out for your fiancé because Henry couldn’t put it out. She scoffs and turns her nose upward, turning her gaze away from you. Steve was simply all yours and it taken time to get where you were now. Hours went by until the game was called and the guys rushed to the showers. One by one the other men went, followed by their wives chasing them out the door, until you were alone.

No sign of your Steve. Odd. You gathered your things and rushed into the locker room calling out for your partner, “Stevie?” You push the door upon with your hip, shoving the handle down and entering the large back room. Another call out for his name is met with a small grunt and you rush around the corner towards the lockers, heels clacking noisily against linoleum tiles. Steve was seated on one of the benches, still clad in his gym shorts, his shirt discarded and a towel slung loosely over his shoulder.

Your shoulders slump in relief, “There you are. I thought maybe you died back here.” There was a lightheartedness to the tone, but Steve didn’t respond. You slowly lower down to your knees before him palms splaying out over his cheeks, “Stevie?”

He snaps out of his daze and his hazel eyes meet with yours, “I heard from Chief White, you had a little spat with his wife. Care to explain your attitude?”

Your aghast and a little embarrassed. She was always such a tattle and a bit prudish, “She was making comments and staring you down, Steve. I didn’t like it.”

“But I’ve warned you about that attitude, baby. Many times.” His eyes are focused on you now, jaw hardened beneath your hands. Calloused fingers brush over your own hands and push them down and away. “I think you need to learn a lesson.” He pats his thigh and your throat grow drys, gulping down your fear and standing back to your full height.

Awkwardly shifting on your feet, before sinking stomach down over his lap, hands gripping onto his forearm. His other hand helps steady your bottom, heels providing an extra support, but not comfortably. “Count every single one. We’ll start with ten, then see how well your bruised ass helps get that attitude in check.” He works your skirt up over your ass and admires the choice of undergarments.

You knew what was coming next and it thrilled you to no end, but at the same time it would be painful.

They always said that love hurts, and knows no bounds.

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve x female reader #steve x fem!reader smut #cop!steve #steve stranger things #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #x reader smut #steve harrington smut #cop!steve smut #cop!steve x reader smut #cop!steve x fem!reader

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grimoireofhayley · 1 year

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Word Count: 1k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07 @octaviablakeslove

A/n: YES, two chapters in one night? Let’s gooo! I was squealing and kicking my feet like any normal 23 year old would writing Fanfiction, lmao. This is by far my favourite chapter ever written, let me know what you think! Did I get Billy’s personality a-okay?

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 9

Billy ignored your attempt at trying to help him, though, it was true, it wasn’t entirely…

He did kill Casey and Steve that night, but he didn’t do it alone, Stu was with him, he did just as much as he did. After the slaughtering was done, he made it clear to Stu that he needed an alibi, hence his short and brief sexual encounter with Sidney before he went to your house for ‘help.’

Billy hated how you were covering for him despite not knowing what was happening, you were smart, but stupid, stupid enough to believe him. You knew better than to do that. However, what he didn’t get was why Stu decided to go to your place, when he knew Billy was going to try and murder Sidney tonight.

He overheard other officers talking about another incident involving the ghost face that took place at your house, something about a heart in a box and a mask that was found… But how could Stu be this dense?

“Officer, I didn’t kill anybody.” Billy defended himself, not wanting to stay the night locked away, especially with his slip up at Sidney’s and Stu’s arrogance because the cops now know there’s two of them instead of one.

“This is bullshit.” You slammed your fist down, startling the taller-male. “He didn’t kill anyone…” Your ears started to flare red.

Officer Brinks drummed his fingers on his lap, “I’m sorry, are you his girlfriend or something? Why are you still here, interfering with my interrogation?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of ‘girlfriend.’

“I-I’m not his girlfriend…” You stuttered, “You couldn’t tell by the way he was talking about Sidney? Sidney is his girlfriend…” You licked your lips, looking away, confidence coming back. “I’m just a really good friend who strongly believes he didn’t do it… I mean, the evidence is there. So, why would he try to kill his girlfriend?” You gave the officer a side-eye.

He coughs, clearing his throat, ignoring your comments.

“We’re gonna have to hold you, son, until we get those phone records.” Brinks explains, making Billy look down, upset. A small tear rolling down his cheek as he shakes his leg, nerves taking control of his body.

“This is crazy,” Billy murmurs, turning away, looking at Sidney through the glass pane. “You know that? I didn’t do it.” He finishes.

You step in front of the window, closing the blinds, shielding Billy from Sidney’s scared gaze. “Bil, look at me…” You mumble, taking your index finger and placing it under his chin, tilting his head upwards to look at you. “Can you two give us a moment…” You asked both Hank and Brinks, “Please?”

They nodded, understandingly, leaving the two of you alone.

“I know you didn’t do it and the police will find out soon enough that you didn’t do it, that you didn’t make those calls.” You reassured your friend, trying to cheer him up, “I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding; you know, wrong place wrong time.” You smiled, and for a second, Billy’s eyes softened, his big-brown orbs looked at you with a glint of love and temptation; a hint of possessiveness lingering in them. If only you knew that it was him, that he was the Ghost Face, that these tears and sudden relations with Sidney was all a facade, nothing but lies, he wanted you and only you, he wanted this to be all done, but his revenge was far greater than any feelings he ever had, or was it?

“Billy, honestly, I know you better than any of them; better than Sidney, your father and the police…” You pucker your lips, a small giggle falling from them. “If it was you, I’d know, right? You’d call me to come help with the bodies.” You joked, “We’re a team. We always will be.” You ran your hand through his hair, playing with it, “I would do anything for you.” You blushed, still playing with his strands of brown.

Right then and there, he knew.

“Forgive me…” He whispers.

You were confused, but that quickly faded as his lips crashed into yours.

Your grip tightened in his hair out of surprise as he cups your face, kissing you with such force you’ve never seen him do with Sidney.

He knocked the chair over with his body, tumbling forward in the process. His lips never leave your now plump and swollen ones as you kiss back.

You stumbled into the window from Billy’s movement, a quiet thud emitting around the atmosphere.

He moved his hand from your chin, pressing you harder against the pane, the blinds moving ever-so-slightly, but not enough to reveal the heated session surfacing.

He roughly grabs your sides, making your gown shuffle upwards, his thumbs pressing into your skin, leaving dents. It was painful, but also very rewarding. There were sure to be bruises there tomorrow.

“B-Billy…” You moaned, feeling him press his knee against your cunt, a shrill of excitement bubbling inside the pit of your stomach

He continued to kiss you, his face pink with lust, his eyes undressing you, slowly devouring you whole.

“You have no idea how long I waited to do that…” He started breathlessly, letting go of you, but not completely as he fiddled with the hems of your nightgown.

‘God, why am I now just noticing what she’s wearing?’ He thought, biting the tip of his thumb, soaking in your beauty, his one hand never leaving its grasp on you.

You bit your lip, realization finally hitting you in the face like a bunch of bricks.

“Oh, god…” You whispered, “I-I… We can’t…” You mumbled, pushing away, “I have to go…”

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#fanfiction #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #billy x you x stu #scream franchise #stu macher #billy x stu #stu x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher x female reader #stu macher imagine #billy loomis imagine

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bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!reader

Part 16: All Along the Watchtower

series masterlist playlist

18+ONLY

There is a lot of healing in this chapter, some smut and allusions to smut, alcohol consumption, lots of love, but also some new characters drop into the scene and there will be some angst at the end. If you have come this far in the story, you know what to expect. There will be song lyrics from the band Tool. Steve with an OC character. Mention of healing wounds, a dead body, chemo treatments, and plenty of unprotected sex.

word count: 6.8k

a/n: I mentioned in a post the other day that, instead of 2 final chapters of 10-11k, that I'd be splitting them up and doing four more posts with less words, so there will be several more parts to come. I know it's been almost 2 months since the last chapter, but I'm looking forward to giving this most of my attention for the rest of the year. I have so much love for those of you who are still with me.

"There must be some kind of way outta here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief..."

-- Jimi Hendrix, All Along the Watchtower

The aftermath of everything that conspired in the parking lot that night was a whirlwind.

There were way too many witnesses for the cops not to get involved, but there was also an underlying mutual respect for an outlaw level of revenge justice when someone hurts one of your own. When bystanders and club members were questioned as to who made the final killshot, there was a contagious memory loss that made everyone shrug and shake their heads.

Collectively, no one saw anything.

Everyone saw Wayne, but also—no they did not.

Wayne was going through chemo treatments and hadn’t been an active member of the club for years; no one in law enforcement would ever expect him to be involved, and everyone silently agreed to keep it that way.

Charlene caught a stray bullet in the shoulder, and even lied straight-faced to the police about what had happened. She waited for someone to blame her, somehow, for Craig’s death, but no one pointed fingers, they all just acted like their memories had been erased. Inside the ambulance on the gurney, she caught Steve looking across the parking lot at her just before the EMT’s shut the doors. His expression remained unresponsive, but he stood and watched the vehicle leave the premises before turning to limp over to Astrid’s truck.

Steve was not in great shape, either, and he almost fell twice when he first tried to stand. Robin caught him on the second stumble and had him brace his arm around her shoulders. The EMT’s tried to get Steve to the hospital, but he refused. Partially because he hated hospitals, and also because there’s no way he could afford a meat wagon escort, let alone whatever bill he racked up while in their care. A handful of ibuprofen, a bag of frozen peas, and some patched together magic from Astrid’s medical bag would have to do.

Before the medics arrived, Eddie grabbed his leather jacket out of one of the saddlebags on his bike and had it wrapped around your shoulders as he pinned you close to him with both arms, as tight as he could without hurting you. “Baby baby baby I’m here, I’m here…never gonna let you go…” he hushed it over and over, trying to calm himself as much as you. You found his eyes were wet when he tipped your chin up gently with his finger, pressing kisses across your skin that was sprinkled with dried blood. He parted your mouth with his tongue, just slightly, letting it graze your top lip. His voice trembled when he said he loved you before sealing the words with another soft kiss.

Still observing from the steps of the hotel, Melanie watched the interaction between you and Eddie, and the realization that he would never be hers ever again finally sank in, hitting the pit of her stomach like a lead weight.

Eddie sat next to you on the back of Hopper’s Bronco and held your hand while you told the Chief about your abduction. Anger curled Eddie’s lip when you recited the horrific events, and his eyes narrowed on Craig getting zipped into a body bag, wishing it were possible to kill someone for a second time.

You sprained your ankle, and had a few surface cuts and bruises, but most of your trauma was internal. You told Eddie you were fine, but he wouldn’t rest until the EMT’s checked you out.

Eddie got the shower temperature at your place just right before helping you in with him so that he could gently wash the blood from your face and shampoo your hair. He took his time soaping every part of you; even had you put all of your weight on him so he could clean your feet with meticulous precision, being extra careful with your bad ankle. He wanted every trace of Craig and all that had happened to be washed away. You swept his wet hair back from his face as he stood to full height, and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring his forehead to yours.

Things got slippery and before you knew it, you were moving Eddie’s hand down between your legs as the steam rose up around you. He didn’t think you’d be ready, not after such a traumatic experience, but then he could feel the slick that had nothing to do with shower water. He ran his big, calloused fingers through your folds, and then worked that button at the top of your slit until it hardened under his fingertips.

You clung to him, letting go of erotic sighs between deep, sensual kisses that felt like you needed each other’s oxygen to survive. “I’ve missed you so much,” you said into the crook of his neck, grabbing the hard curve of his cock to pump at the tip.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he hushed, dipping two of his fingers inside to give your muscles something to clench around.

A few deep thrusts and then he spun you around, holding you tight so that you wouldn’t slip. The fingers of one hand found your clit again, rolling in circles there, while his other hand came up to cup your breast and pluck at your nipple. You shuddered and tilted your head back so he could suck and nibble at your throat.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you mine.”

You writhed in his arms, reaching back to hold his head, while his fingers kept pace and your cunt fluttered. You could feel your knees giving way.

“That’s right, my baby, give it all to me.”

“Fuck!” One more whimper and the orgasm shattered you, making you tremble and sink against him. The thought never occurred to you that you would fall because he had you locked so tight in his embrace.

His hard length rested between your asscheeks, and you turned around to take it into your hand and face him. He held your chin and found your mouth again, pitching his hips into your hand until ropes of his cum were shooting against your leg and into the tub. You took the head of his cock and rubbed it along your slit to spread his seed there, and then took your fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean. Eddie groaned at the sight, grabbing your face again to kiss you long and hard.

The rest of the sex that night was slow and tender, full of breathy words of devotion as your bodies met and became one. Fingers laced, and your legs wrapped around him. Eddie rolled his hips so that you could feel every inch of him inside of you, and you matched his movements, watching his eyes flutter before they opened to meet yours again, lips grazing. For a moment, it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, and you wanted to stay like that forever.

Even though Craig was gone, Eddie was still reluctant to leave you, and he came by several times a day while he was working the tow truck. He brought you soup from the diner, and picked up a potted plant, because he didn’t want you to have to watch flowers die in a vase. He even got special tuna treats for Charlie and stopped off to rent videos for you to watch with you on the couch after he showered and returned from his place.

Besides the time it took to talk to Katie and let her know what happened before she went over to Robin’s, Eddie was the only person you interacted with for the week before it was time to go back to work. You tried to return sooner, but Shana refused. You needed the loud music and the crowds of the Velvet Hammer, they were such a welcome distraction from your thoughts.

It was a part of Eddie’s routine to buy groceries for Wayne every so often, now that he didn’t have as much energy because of chemo, much like Wayne used to do for him back when he was a kid, and his dad would disappear for months at a time. You pulled together the ingredients for one of your grandmother’s favorite casserole dishes and made dinner for them both at the trailer one night, sipping on wine, and listening to your boyfriend and his uncle reminisce on stories from back in the day.

You were taking everyone’s dishes to the sink when you heard Wayne say to Eddie, “that one is a keeper,” and it made your eyes water, for whatever reason. Maybe because you know how much his uncle’s opinion meant to him.

—----

Steve had to be back at work the same night as you, and an hour before, Astrid straddled his lap in one of her silk robes to apply some ointment on his face while he ran his scarred hands up and down her bare thighs. Her skin was soft and smelled of cocoa butter, and her long, curly hair draped over their shoulders like a curtain to keep them safe.

“Don’t punch anyone tonight, okay?” She whispered, scooping hair behind his ear as she tended to the ugly gash on his cheek under the ugly yellow coloring around his eye. “Your fingers need a chance to heal.”

Steve had been at her place on and off since the incident. He’d stay the night, and then be up before the crack of dawn to be back at the house when Oliver woke up. For the first time ever, he canceled a few tattoo appointments so that he could get the rest that the girls had been begging him to take. He hated not having something to do; it made him bounce his knee and grind his teeth so that the muscles in his jaw bulged.

Steve worked a piece of gum inside his mouth and took in Astrid’s face from under hooded eyes, scooting her hips flush to his body, digging his fingers into the meat of her thighs. “Why don’t you come by and see me tonight? I’ll buy you a drink. Maybe I’ll put you on the sink in the bathroom and have some fun like old times.”

One side of her full mouth lifted in a grin. “Tempting,” she leaned in to touch her nose to his. “But I think I might sit this one out.”

“You can sit it out on my face, sugar,” he brought the bright green gum between his front teeth and held it there until she took the chewed piece into her own mouth.

“We’ll see,” and then she slid off of him, resisting his tug on her arm to pull her back down.

He rolled his head along the back of the couch, watching her walk behind him. “Can I at least have my gum back?”

“No,” she answered flatly, disappearing into the kitchen.

—-----

You and Eddie rolled up to the Velvet Hammer just after Steve, and he was finishing a smoke, still straddling his bike in the parking lot when he offered you a raised eyebrow and a two-finger wave. Eddie slid into the spot next to him, facing the red brick exterior, and shut the engine off, planting his feet on either side to keep the beast steady.

“What is this? Bring your old man to work day?” Steve snaked his tongue out over his bottom lip, exhaling smoke from his nose. He had his sunglasses pushed up on his head, squinting against the glow of the sunset, one arm crossed over his chest.

You giggled to yourself while you dismounted, pulling your leg through to avoid the sissy bar that had been at your back. You were used to Steve and his banter. If he was teasing you, it meant he cared about you; it was a bit of a rite of passage. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were special to him now—you were family, and he would look after you like he looked after his own.

“Well,” Eddie took his helmet off and tucked some hair behind his ear, giving his friend a pointed look. “I hear that the security here really sucks.”

“I told him he didn’t have to babysit me tonight,” you piped up, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder that had all of your work clothes inside. Eddie curled his fingers at you, asking for your helmet, so you passed it to him. “But, what can I say? He’s growing on me,” and then you pressed up against his chest, making him puff air out of his nose at the sudden contact, and you kissed the side of his neck.

“I’ll grow for you sweetheart, if you keep it up,” he mumbled.

Steve snorted and threw the butt of his smoke to the pavement. A wave of sudden melancholy washed over him at the sight of the two of you.

He’d been battling with himself the past few days, fighting the urge to call Charlene, to make sure she was okay, even though he hated her guts for what she’d tried to do to his family and everyone else. There was a deep pit of loneliness in her, and when he’d stared into the void, the void had stared back. He recognized a part of himself in her, like a dark foreshadowing for his life 15 years down the road. A life of jumping from partner to partner, trying to gather every crumb of attention because he refused to let one person love him. He told himself that Robin and Oliver were all he needed, but one day Robin would have her own life with a partner, perhaps with Katie, and Oliver would move out and become his own person. He thought about Astrid, and how his mere presence in her life held her back from finding someone who could commit to her and give her the comfortable life she deserved.

“See you inside, freaks,” Steve pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes and favored his right leg with a hitch and a hop on his way to the building, making his wallet chain bounce out to the side.

“Should he be riding his motorcycle with that bad leg?” You asked with your mouth on the leather of Eddie’s shoulder.

“Probably not,” Eddie breathed, watching his friend go. “But you can’t tell Steve shit.”

Eddie escorted you to the back door in the alley and waited for you to be inside before he went around to the front to take the bar entrance. He didn’t plan to stay the whole night, he’d leave for a bit in the middle of your shift and go do some work a the shop, but the fear of losing you—as he had so many people in his life—was still lingering like barbs in his heart, and he only hoped you didn’t get tired of him being around all the time.

In the narrow locker room, you shared a space with Jackie who was also getting ready for her shift. She hugged you violently, and it startled you, because she was not prone to physical displays of affection.

“Bitch, you had me scared to death,” she gushed. “I almost puked from relief when they said you were okay.”

She had her heels on and her already tall, voluptuous frame towered over you. “I missed you too, hooker,” you gave a lopsided grin once she stepped back to look at your face, noting the healing cuts over your lip and eyebrow. “You think my battle scars will milk some extra tips out of people tonight?”

The comment made Jackie scoff a laugh, but her eyes were glossy with emotion, giving a few light squeezes to your shoulders. “You sure you’re good to work tonight? I know Shana would let me cover for you.”

You heaved a long sigh and clanked the metal of your locker open. “The last thing I need is to be at home with my wheels spinning for another night.” Everyone was treating you like glass, and all you wanted was to feel normal again.

Even though you were relieved that the terror that Craig had put you through in your life was finally over, you mourned his death in your own way. He had a mother and a sister out there somewhere who loved him very much and would be devastated by his passing. You’d also never watched someone get shot and killed right in front of you before, and you hoped that you never had to see such a thing again.

Jackie adjusted her red and black Velvet Hammer cap sleeve tee that was tucked into her leather miniskirt, and moved over to apply her maroon lipstick in the mirror, making her mouth into an O shape. The music from the main room was loud when someone opened the hallway door to head over to the kitchen. “That guy John was here asking about you the other day. Remember the big tipper who wanted to be your sugar daddy?”

“I think so,” You said it absently, as if you weren’t sure, pulling your tiny red shorts up your legs.

“He came in alone, sat at the bar for a drink, and I overheard him asking about you, if you were okay,” she unzipped her purse and dug through it. “I guess he heard about what happened.”

Yes, you imagined that he had heard about what happened. You wondered how much Charlene had told him.

Jackie punched her beige time card into the machine on the wall and you followed suit, deep in thought over why John was trying to track you down at the Hammer instead of calling you on the phone.

“Honestly, I’ve missed the fuck out of you,” Jackie said over her shoulder, pulling open the hallway door to the sea of cigarette smoke and the song Wave of Mutilation by The Pixies. “The new girl gets on my nerves.”

You barely had time to ask who the new girl was before a familiar face framed by a platinum blonde bob stood in your path wearing a matching shirt with a tray full of what looked like Jägermeister shots.

It was Erika.

“Oh, you must be the new girl,” you were a bit flustered, but on your list of worries, she was very low. You could tell she was nervous to see you, and wobbled the tray, chewing her gum nervously.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said in a rush. “That I got a job here, I mean. My sister is friends with Shana and I really needed the money because—-”

You shook your head and gave her a genuine smile that harbored no animosity. “Of course I don’t mind,” you shuffled around her to get to the bar, thinking about how she seemed a bit afraid of you, and there was no need to be. “Did you say hi to Eddie? He’s here.” You reached around to tie a short apron with pockets around your hips.

Her mouth gaped like a dying fish a few times. “Well, I, no…not yet…I mean, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t mind,” you glanced up and caught Eddie’s eye at the bar. You thought about all of the obstacles, all of the crap life had tried to throw your way to tear the two of you apart, and you’d both weathered the storm to find you were closer than ever. You trusted Eddie with your life, and you knew that he only had eyes for you—he proved it to you every day.

“I wanted you to know that what you did the other night was really badass,” Erika leaned in, eyes sparkling when they met yours. And there it was, an understanding, a mutual truce, an unlikely friendship broadening on the horizon.

Well, a friendship was unlikely, but a truce, at least.

You didn’t know how to take the compliment, but you thanked her, and told her that you liked her earrings, and then you winked at Eddie before heading over to check on your first table. He was at the bar having a Coke and talking to Thumper, who was also a patron that evening, and you could see that he was nodding, pretending to hear what his friend was saying, but all the while, his attention kept shifting to you.

It was one of the last warm nights before the fall weather hit, and so Steve was sitting on his stool out on the pavement, propping the door open with the weight of his back. He surprised himself by realizing he wasn’t in a flirtatious mood. A few hotties who smelled like heaven were basically ready to gobble him up if he let them, but he barely gave their ID’s a glance and waved them through.

He had a thick rubber band from the cash register that he was playing with, stretching it wide with his thumbs. Caught up in one of his daydreams, the rubber band accidentally shot out and almost nailed the person who was stepping up onto the sidewalk.

Astrid ducked just in time for it to zing through her hair instead of nailing her cheek.

Steve experienced a bolt of recognition a second too late and was on his feet, almost knocking the stool over. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” but then she started laughing, and they were both smiling when they kissed, teeth knocking together.

She took two steps back so that his eyes could drink her in; the dark maroon dress with a slit up the thigh and generous scoop neck, it was one of her many handmade pieces to make room for her ample hips and hourglass shape. Instead of a shawl, she had on a jean jacket this time, fingers and ears adorned in subtle gold jewelry.

He pushed some thick curls away from her face and planted his lips on her forehead as he spoke. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” she tilted her head back to lock her dark eyes onto his. “I came to make sure you behave yourself.”

His smile was rueful—dangerous, even. He wiped his tongue over the point of his gold tooth. “You can’t come here in a dress like that and expect me to behave, sweetheart.”

A group of partiers went to try and stumble through the door, but Steve was quick to shove his hand against the doorframe, blocking them with his tattooed arm. “Need to see ID’s first,” his tone was suddenly that of gruff, tough bouncer Steve, and not the sweet little loverboy from a few seconds ago.

Once he’d given them all a stern look, he hurried back to grab for Astrid’s hands again, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “What’s your poison tonight darlin’? Just tell Shana to put it on my tab.”

She wasn’t about to let Steve pay for her drinks, but she nodded. He tucked a padded stool from the bar just inside the door close to him while she was ordering her gin and tonic, giving Eddie a shoulder squeeze as she waited. When she looked over at Steve again, he patted the seat a few times eagerly so that she would know where to go.

—-------

A while later, as the bar filled up, Eddie was moving his head to the beat of the Muddy Waters tune “I’m your hoochie coochie man” when you came over to give him a back scratch and tuck his hair so you could smooch his ear. The 1958 film The Crawling Eye was playing on the screen above the bar.

“What do you say? Can I be your hoochie coochie man, babe?” he muttered. And then, dropping his gaze to his drink he added softly: “My mom loved Muddy Waters.”

One of the many layers you had yet to peel back on the onion of Eddie Munson was his relationship, or lack thereof, with his mother. You always got the feeling that he didn’t want to talk about it, but more and more, you could feel him opening up on the subject and referencing her, wanting to finally let you know more about that facet of his life. From Robin you knew that she passed away when he was young, but that was the extent of it.

“Your mom had good taste,” you tipped his chin so that he could see your sincerity. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

“Me too,” he blinked his glossy chocolate eyes a few times and took a hard gulp. “I think I might head over to the garage for a couple hours, but I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“You should stay,” Shana, sporting a freshly shaved head and a new tattoo just above her ear, slapped the flat of her hand on the wood of the bar in front of him to get his attention, and then she gestured to the stage. “Divine Filth is playing tonight.”

You could tell that finding out that one of the local bands, Divine Filth, was playing at the Hammer was a welcome surprise for Eddie when you saw his face light up. They were another metal/rock band from a few towns over, you found out, and one of his friends was the lead singer. They’d played dozens of shows with Corroded Coffin over the years, and Eddie used to play lead on a few songs with them.

“They just got back from Pedal to the Metal,” Shana continued. Even you knew that Pedal to the Metal was a huge 3-day rock festival that happened every year up near Chicago, and even Eddie’s band had played there once.

You saw that Eddie was contemplating the news, and weighing his options, gnawing on his bottom lip. You decided to slide down closer, resting your elbow on the bar. “Can’t whatever you have to do at the garage wait? Or maybe one of the guys can handle it? I’d love for you to stay.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and his response was quick. “Yeah, I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to.”

That was all he ever wanted, for you to tell him what you needed. For you to say that you needed him.

You put your forehead to his, fingers twirling in the baby hairs at his neckline. “Stay and be my hoochie coochie man.”

He mouthed a few words to the song against your lips before sinking in for a kiss.

Then, he pushed his soda aside and ordered a beer. Thumper caught wind that he suddenly had a drinking buddy and gave the signal for two shots of “their finest”.

—-----

Meanwhile, at the other end of town, Katie was at Robin’s again. She’d been staying there every night since it all happened. Partly to give you and Eddie some space, but also, on her trip, she’d realized that she didn’t want to be away from her girlfriend any longer than she had to.

She was in love, like head over heels, for the first time in her adult life.

Once Oliver was fast asleep in his bedroom, the two were hustling to take their clothes off, gushing words of love in breathy whispers in the dark, needing to be as close together as possible. Robin was three fingers deep when Katie admitted that she’d never loved anyone this much before, and it made Robin go still, to ask her if she meant it, and to tell her she felt the same.

After their orgasms, Robin was straddling Katie’s lap, tasting her own release on her girlfriend’s tongue, when she decided to finally open up about what had been on her mind lately.

She’d meant to work it into conversation, but instead, she blurted it: “Do you want to move in here? With me…with us?” Her mouth dried up after she asked it, wondering if it was too soon, too ridiculous. She swallowed hard, making a click noise in her throat. “I talked to Steve about it. I haven’t talked to Oliver yet, but I will.”

Katie bucked her hips up so that their swollen lips brushed together, still dripping with cum. She was quiet as she let the idea sink in.

Robin tucked some hair behind her ear and glanced down, reading her silence wrong. “I know it’s not a huge house, and we only have the one bathroom, and I get that it’s not very glamorous to shack up with a woman who already has a kid and a life partner. But I think that I, I think that we, could—”

“You know I’m not the glamorous type,” the other woman interrupted, catching Robin’s chin to run her thumb along her bottom lip. She locked eyes with her. “We could always get a bigger house one day, down the road, all of us. I’m not worried about that.”

“So, you’ll think about it down the road, maybe?”

“Robs, I don’t want to spend another night without you in my bed.”

“You don’t?” She was surprised, but also, not sure if she’d answered her yet or not.

Other than her brother Dan who lived across the country, and a mother she’d never been close with, Katie had rarely known the comforts of family, but she had found what she’d always been missing within the cleave of the Harrington-Buckley clan. It wasn’t a living situation that would suit everyone, but the idea of making a life in that corner of the world had her insides glowing. She’d need to discuss it with you, and give you plenty of notice if you were okay with it. The way things were going with you and Eddie, Katie had a good feeling that the two of you were considering the same merging of households, anyway.

“I’d understand if you didn’t want to. I know this is an unconventional situation, and I wouldn’t blame you for—”

Katie cut her off and put her hands on either side of Robin’s face. Her words bubbled in her chest, a smile soft on her lips. The “yes” she spoke was followed by a nudge of the nose, a suck on her bottom lip, and then she was repeating it over and over as Robin pushed her to the bed and got on top of her.

—--------

You were able to catch the way Eddie’s demeanor softened once he started to relax and ease into the evening. He was laughing at Thumper’s theatrics, chuckling so hard, the apples of his cheeks turned pink. Steve led Astrid by the hand to one of the only two bathrooms at one point, and the next thing you knew, there was a line of 3 or 4 people waiting to use it, so you had to give the door a polite knock, loud enough to be heard over the Jimi Hendrix song that was playing.

Astrid came out adjusting her dress, with no lipstick on, and Steve followed, wiping his mouth suspiciously, and palming the bulge in his jeans. He chuckled at the way your head was cocked, and mumbled a cheeky, “I was on my break,” before heading back to his stool.

When the members of Divine Filth showed up from the back entrance with their instruments, you could tell who the lead singer was immediately; she had a distinct presence. She was small but poised, hair dyed black with one side of her head shaved, and the other side long down to her shoulders. She had on leather pants and a ripped shirt cropped at her waist, with tattoos on her biceps.

She looked around the room, taking stock of the place as the other members went to set up. You were standing to full height after setting some drinks down at a table full of Hell’s Belles when you watched her spot Eddie.

She let out a squeal and headed over to him with a bounce in her step. Eddie sprang off of his stool to return her embrace, lifting her up off her feet in an enthusiastic hug. The second her feet touched the ground again, Eddie was waving you over, wanting to introduce you.

“This is my girl,” he pulled you flush to his side the second you were within arms reach. “Baby, this is my friend Nancy, the lead singer of Divine Filth.”

Nancy Wheeler stuck her hand out for you to shake and told you that she’d already heard a lot about you.

“Yeah, from who?” Eddie was curious because it had been almost a year since he’d talked to Nancy.

“Robin,” she said, and of course, Eddie should have known. She shrugged, “we catch up every now and then. Steve gave me some new ink a few months ago.”

There was melancholy in her voice, and you’d find out later that Robin and Nancy had a brief thing once, back in high school, back when they were always in detention together for destroying school property. Nancy was a pyro in her own right. She had fond memories of letting Steve practice tattooing on both her and Robin in her parents basement while drinking beers they stole from the QuikMart.

“Robin couldn’t make it out tonight,” Eddie let her know in a cautious tone, wondering if she’d had her hopes up.

“Oh I know, she told me,” she said in a rush. “She’s with someone and she’s happy and I’m happy for her.” And if she wasn’t, I’d do something about it, she thought to herself.

You couldn’t tell if she meant every word, or if she was trying to convince herself as she spoke them.

“So, big boy,” Nancy put a hand on her hip, wanting to change the subject, and raised an eyebrow at Eddie, clapping him on the arm. “You going to grace us with your presence on stage tonight?”

Eddie immediately started shaking his head to decline, but you were quick to turn to him with those wide, hopeful eyes, and it made him pause. “Maybe,” he mused, noting your intense interest, and then turned his attention back to Nancy. “My girl has never seen me play before.”

“No shit?” Nancy was genuinely surprised, jaw going slack. “Dude, your man kills it up there. He’s got star power, and I wish he’d get his head out of his ass and come out to do more shows with us.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a little thing called running your own business, and I don’t recommend it,” Eddie grumbled, as one hand reached for the next beer Thumper was passing him and the other smoothed circles on your back.

There were tables waiting, and more people coming in, so you excused yourself and snaked your arm out from around Eddie. He took hold of the back of your neck and guided you back to kiss the side of your head one more time before you were out of reach again.

There was one dancer shimmying down the pole to the song Stinkfist by Tool, and it was the last performance of the evening before Divine Filth started their set. Nancy was up on the stage riser helping to situate things where she wanted them, and the tips were flowing into your pockets just as fast as patrons were knocking back shots. The front door that had once been propped open by Steve’s body was shut now, locking the bar in a dim, red glow, billowing in a smog of nicotine fumes.

“… Just not enough, I need more

Nothing seems to satisfy

I said, I don't want it, I just need it

To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive…”

Astrid had gone home by then, and Thumper was casually watching the door as Steve made his way over to see Nancy, and every time the door opened, you took a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to clean out your lungs. This time, when you felt the gush of cool breeze flush your skin, you were on the way across the room with a drink order, and you absently looked up to see who was coming in.

“… Finger deep within the borderline

Show me that you love me and that we belong together

Relax, turn around and take my hand…”

You stopped in your tracks when you saw who it was, one foot paused in the air behind you, mid-stride.

There, silhouetted against the backdrop of the street, stood Charlene.

The black bodysuit she had on made her look like Sandy from Grease, but her shoulder was wrapped in a bandage, and standing next to her was a guy in a red shirt, jeans, a wallet chain, and a leather MC kutte with the insignia for Lucifer’s Own on it. He was maybe 30, looked like a blonde version of Rob Lowe, and he had his elbow out for Charlene to hold onto.

Now, you didn’t know all of the politics about biker etiquette, or any “turf” battles like they sang and danced about in musicals, but it was well known that the Hammer was a Coffin Kings bar, and you’d never seen another insignia step foot in the door, other than Hell’s Belles and Eastside Reapers, since you’d started working there.

Thumper caught sight of the guy who had just come in the door and spun on his stool, about to stand up, but Eddie snatched his arm, and you were sure he stiffly told him to sit back down. Eddie found your eyes over a few shoulders that were pressed together in the crowd, and you exchanged a weary look of disbelief.

The blonde biker gave Thumper a feral grin, wiggling the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Charlene seemed more reserved than normal, not as full of herself, and she was very preoccupied with searching the sea of bodies.

You had a good feeling who she was looking for.

You were glad that Erika was there to motion them over to a table that she had just cleaned off. It was in the corner, further away from the bar.

You were just about to go over to ask Eddie who Charlene was with when a customer blocked your path and gave you a multiple drink order out of the blue, and you had to tell them to give you a second while you caught your bearings.

Now you were trying to see where Steve was, to play interference, but it was too late.

“… I can help you change

Tired moments into pleasure

Say the word and we'll be

Well upon our way

Pain and comfort, deep within you

Till you will not want me any other way...”

You spun on your heel to find that Steve had already spotted the newcomers. You watched the muscles in his face tense, standing with his fists balled at his sides for a few seconds, and then Eddie was there, in his face, pushing him back, trying to get him to keep his cool.

The blonde biker at Charlene’s table put his feet up on the seat next to him and lit a cigarette, seemingly without a care in the world.

“It’s not worth it, man,” Eddie grumbled to Steve, holding his hand on chest. “Let’s just have a good time tonight, forget about them.”

Steve’s eyes were locked in the distance, sunglasses now hooked onto the front of his shirt. “What the fuck is she doing here with Billy Hargrove?”

“Who knows what kind of game she’s playing,” he moved to try and block Steve’s view of them. “Listen, if he crosses a line, we’ll bounce him, otherwise we let it ride, got it? There’s too many eyes on us here tonight to cause a scene, especially after last week.”

In a strange turn of events, Shana, the manager, came out from behind the bar and went over to greet Charlene and her companion. She shook both of their hands, and the two women appeared to know each other.

“...Knuckle deep inside the borderline

This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to..."

“Hey,” you squished your way in between some people at the bar, and caught Shana’s attention when she returned. “How do you know those two?”

Shana cracked open a few beer tops as she spoke. “She’s some rich lady, I only met her yesterday. Stephen, one of the owners, sold his share of the Hammer to her and moved to Florida literally in the middle of the night.”

“… I'll keep digging

Till I feel something

Elbow deep inside the borderline

Show me that you love me and that we belong together…”

You made a sour face, trying to understand what Shana was telling you, but then, realization dawned just as she was sharing the final bit of information with you:

“Charlene Gregson is part owner of the Velvet Hammer now.”

Part 17

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I love you all! I have some fun things planned for the few final chapters of this story, I'm even working on a holiday special💗 Your thoughtful commentary and reblogs always mean so much to me.

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Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system @secretdryrose @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson series #I'm on Fire #biker!eddie munson #biker!steve #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson in love #Eddie munson angst #Steve Harrington angst #biker au #stranger things au #Eddie Munson au #older eddie munson

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Craving You

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff (amab)

WandaNat x F!R

Picture Steve x Nat in CA:TWS, but astronomically better because it’s You, the reader. Also, Wanda and Nat have already met/were established. 😏 | 5,646 Words

Warnings: Violence/Injury | Emotionally Stunted R -> Sad Natasha -> Mean-ish Wanda

18+ | Minors DNI | Labeled / Please Don’t Report

"Kiss me," Natasha commanded, yours eyes widened, but soon they fluttered shut as she yanked you in with her hands on your face.

Natasha groaned as you parted your lips, tongue sliding over her shivering bottom one. She prays that you don't feel her desperation to let you in so you could devour her whole. Fuck, she wanted nothing more than to indulge you, but this was only a failsafe on a mission.

It wasn't real. At least not yet, she hoped.

—

There was no time to become distracted, two Avengers on the unexpected run from Hydra tripping over each other in a mall is the opposite of the objective. Once she knows Rumlow is gone she's reluctantly, but swiftly removing her lips from yours. It's almost mechanical in nature; self preservation is what it invokes within you, it also feels regretful.

You're just unsure if it's because she detested your touch, or for having to pull away already.

"Keep focused Agent Y/L/N," she suddenly rasps, then clears her throat of her arousal. But she only makes yours worse as her hot breath fans across your face. Then the smell of vanilla hits you, and you quietly gasp, keeping in stride with her, "My coffee didn't spill, you finished it while I was getting my croissant!"

Natasha bites back her chuckle. You were such an idiot, which is why she glares back at you. "I said keep focused you wannabe mall cop."

You giggled, "Pipe down Romanoff." Natasha desperately wanted to—to do that to you.

She shook her head, refocusing on the task at hand so that she and Wanda can make their move on you tonight. With a soft smile hidden by the hoodie over her face Natasha allowed herself to wonder if you'd finally break and ask instead. At this point it came down to if you or Wanda said something, she was too nervous.

Once the two of you made it to the location you knew something wasn't right. There was an uneasy haze around the abandoned army barracks. It took a moment, but between the both of you you found a building that looked new, appearing to be a recent development.

Then just as your gut had tried to warn you, there was a whooshing noise that gave you mere seconds to tackle the redhead and shield her from the incoming explosion. Natasha hit her head, knocking her loopy, and leaving you to safely evacuate both of you from the rubble.

Every muscle in your body ached as you made it back to New York, and into your apartment. Steve was waiting there, with his kind looking friend you learned was named Sam. You flashed the new guy a smile, then took Nat to your bedroom so she could decompress.

"Here." You passed the dirtied woman a towel, and a pair of your shorts and a loose tank top. Natasha beamed internally, the woman more than excited to wear your clothing. Then you kissed her cheek. Nat's stony resolve that she couldn't let crumble just yet nearly shattered.

"Th-thank you." Shit. She couldn't even keep it together. The sight of your smirk had Natasha moving the clothes in her hand over her crotch. There's nothing seamless about it, it was an obvious boner block. Your feathery soft affection drove her wild enough to get hard.

You bit your lower lip, and whispered: "You're most certainly welcome my dear." It was hot, and incredibly unfair, but fuck, Natasha so badly wanted to kiss your smugness away.

Natasha brushed passed you, catching a whiff of you that only made her throb harder.

Whenever you got too close, she could feel an overwhelming need. She'd smell Wanda's Chanel *5 that you stole last Summer, and it works. It blends in so harmoniously with your natural scent. It's romantic to her, in the way that yours and Wanda's differ so much, but both entice her immensely. Your scent leaned more towards the floral, hints of Rose and Jasmine prominent. Whereas Wanda's scent was more woodsy, a mix of amber and vanilla.

Natasha got off to the thought of you three times in the one day you were involved on this hopeless mission together. The first being right after she made it to the bathroom. She'd taken a strikingly cold shower and worked to release all the built up tension the kiss had caused.

The next time came when you called her name in your sleep that same night, an incoherent little please falling from your lips before you had also whimpered her lovers name. Natasha came without even so much as a few thrusts.

Her boxers were ruined, but they were her only pair. And all you had clean were thongs. She had to hand wash them in your sink, slip into your shorts commando, and wake up by 6 so she could beat you to the morning routine.

Then the last time was when you were kneeling down on the ground a few hours ago on a nature walk meant to inspire solutions to the mission. For some reason you stopped, then the next thing the redhead knows is your face is eye level with the soft bulge in her pants.

You picked up a penny, "Heads up Natty. Make a wish." Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics, then she had to stop from rolling them all the way to the back of her head when you tripped and palmed her dick through her shorts.

Natasha waved away your apologies. Tears welling up in her embarrassed eyes. You tried to follow her on instinct and she became more frantic. Then you realized she needed privacy; a silent understanding, so you let her venture off into the shadows of the nature paths where nefarious things like this happened every day.

You shared a reassuring smile when she came back, she returned it easily, then in a blink you were in a battle, peace far from obtainable now.

Then the next thing she knows is she's trying to find you while the Winter Soldier hunts you all down. Already successful in dividing, so now she prays, hoping that he fails his conquest.

Fortunately he failed, but not without taking the both of you out, totaling Sam's car, and bringing up a conglomerate of issues for Steve.

She was just trying to go back, maybe if she made the wish in lieu of skepticism then you'd still be fighting the good fight. Instead of for your life. She wants to go back to her reddened cheeks that indicated something naughty, not the ones she wears now with tear tracks.

To before you got stabbed, she got shot, and Wanda came in hot on your tails as you were wheeled into the medbay in shit condition.

Wanda was shaking, forcing the sobs back. She couldn't afford to lose it. You both needed her.

Nat ensured you, the unconscious one, with the three gushing stab wounds, got assisted first over her, with the one bullet wound that was imbedded and staunching the blood flow.

They'd insisted you go next, she grunted and sent murderous glares to anyone trying to get her into Cho's cradle. Noting that she was of a higher rank, making her scoff, "If she dies I'll use that rank to make sure you all disappear."

It was sickening, you were no less valuable for having less secrets. For being less corrupted.

She vowed to Wanda she'd get them all fired. She was fierce in her expectations, so you went in without any further fight. You were safe, for now that is. While Natasha stood guard, the witch went straight to Hill to ensure there was a safe house set up. She got the key, and returned to see you had woken up. Your groggy voice made her smile fondly. She imagined wanting to hear that sleepy voice every day.

In the heat of the moment Natasha tried to kiss you but you evaded it with fear in your eyes. It landed on your cheek and you scurried across the room. Unaware of how much that hurt the both of them. You were afraid to be loved, it was obvious how deeply your ex affected you.

It didn't excuse your reactions though...

Wanda glared at you from across the room. She held Natasha's defeated face against the soft cotton over her abdomen. It's virtually heatless, but it's scary enough to leave you wondering what she's mad about anyways.

The kiss? It was a mission, you might've savored the moment, but you knew it wasn't anything serious. Nat would never cheat on her girlfriend. Surely Wanda understood that...

The bombing? You didn't know until you did. Then you did all you could to protect Natasha.

The evasion? You weren't clueless, you knew they wanted you on some level, but based on how often Nat relieved herself you were sure it was only carnal. All your returned flirting and teasing aside, you just couldn't do it, even if your body craved them just the same, your heart would positively shatter if it was just sex.

You just weren't sure, Wanda's eyes were void of answers, and you didn't stick around long enough to find out. Her icy stare hurt. You softly called out a goodbye to them once you knew Nat was going to be okay. Then you just left, missing the look of longing both women were throwing at you. Wanda was only furious she didn't get to kiss you first. Your lips looked delectable, plump and hydrated. It was sinister how she wanted to tear your perfect smile into one indicating a rough night. It made her wet.

Natasha whimpered, looking up to the witch with tears in her eyes. The redhead was in love with you, Wanda knows that kiss hurt her more than it pleased her. Outwardly Wanda seemed like the soft one, she had such a friendly smile and Natasha mostly offered grimaces. Except for when she looked at you or Wanda. Her face always lit up at the sight of either of you two. She'd always been the romantic one, she loved, love—she wanted to kiss you under the stars.

Not on an escalator in perceived falsehoods.

"Get some rest detka," she whispered against her lips as she pecked them. "We'll make her understand when we get to the safe house."

When you made it to your spare room at the compound you found Hill there with a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" You groaned, and she feigned offense. "Is that anyway to speak to your commander?" You rolled your eyes. "Last time I checked Shield has fallen, as have you. I'm not sure what you want, but I have to change and get back out there to help Rogers."

"Nuh-uh, the witch and widow benched you," she teased. "You'll be staying with them in a safe house until Rogers and his friend fix this."

"No." You shook your head, eyes widening at the idea of being locked up with them.

"Which is why I have a bag of your things, I went and collected it all by myself. Made sure to even throw in a new set of lingerie of yours."

"Isn't Fury dying?" You exasperated and she snorted, "Not as fast as your sex life has."

"Knock it off," you whined, and the woman merely chuckled, "You first." You glared at her and she sighed, "Stop running. They want you."

"Maybe I don't want to be wanted like that."

Maria's features softened. "Y/N, they want you far more than like that. Wanda nearly killed me with a glare after you were rolled by on a gurney, and Natasha wouldn't let anyone near you while you were healing. Stop letting your past relationship dictate your happiness now."

"I'm trying," you sniffled, Maria moved to wrap her arm around your waist, you leaned against her shoulder. "I love them so much, of course I want them 'Ria, but I don't want to burden them with these feelings if they're unwanted."

"Y/N..."

"No," you cut her off. "Darcy only agreed to go out with me because she felt bad for me. Then she let me believe it was love for six months."

Maria squeezed your hip, you put a hand over hers, and felt the numbness fade at the touch.

"I loved her Maria, but to her I was a chore."

"Darcy's a bitch," Maria matter of factly stated. "Wanda and Natasha have their moments, but in the end they're total teddy bears. I'm telling you that you have nothing to worry about, they want you, but if on the 1% chance I'm wrong, they wouldn't hold your feelings against you."

"It would still be embarrassing," you whined, and she pinched your hip to draw out your babyish response. "Take a chance on yourself, I guarantee you won't strike out my dearest."

Maria stood up as soon as you'd sat back up. "Don't be a hopeless fool Y/N, return happy." You rolled your eyes. "That's an order Y/L/N."

"Wha-." The door slammed in your face, you were stunned. Maria is a walking HR Case.

Fortunately for her Shield was crumbling.

You began to sort through the duffle bag, you were planning on showering, because Cho's machine doesn't remove blood or grime. You looked for an outfit to change into, your hand suddenly stopped, and your fingers traced curiously over the lace of your lingerie set.

You lifted the set from the bag to see it was your newest. It was a lush swirl of pinks and reds on the bra and panties, each with a pretty pattern in white lace to enhance the pieces.

You'd thought of the couple when you bought this set. The deep colors and delicate lace just made you think of the women. Both were publicly headstrong, but behind only your closed door they were lovable goofballs.

For a moment you gave into the temptations Maria left at your door, and took a shower. You'd pulled a pair of cotton grey shorts over your butt, then pulled a V-neck shirt over your head. Offering a glimpse of white lace.

You took a few deep breaths as you packed your bag and as you made it down the stairs.

When you reached the bottom you found the couple waiting for you. Both with steeled features, picture perfect stoicism on display.

Soon you found yourself entering a cottage, judging by how long the flight was you're assuming it's Norway. The gorgeous green mountainsides and surrounding pools of a beautiful deep blue water also an indicator.

It had been a quiet evening, the couple spent most of their time avoiding you. Wanda was holding up better at the game, Natasha didn't want to be far from you, even if she was supposed to be mad at you. You were the most beautiful person around, with a heart of gold.

Who finds that and doesn't go absolutely nuts?

As soon as you left the kitchen with a sad smile Natasha whined. Wanda was right behind her a second later, her hand wrapped around her throat from behind. "I said let me handle it."

"But mommy, I need her." Wanda sighed, "I know detka, believe me, I do. Be patient."

Wanda had a plan, but it was only going to work if she got Natasha out of the way, so with a gentle push she guided her lover to the room.

"Take it all off detka, and wait on the bed for mommy," Wanda instructed, and Natasha moved with obedience while the witch went to the dresser drawer they'd just filled with toys.

Natasha sat pretty on her knees, with her hands clasped behind her back and her cock laying against her thigh. Wanda returned pleased with her, so she softened for a brief moment as she connected their lips for a kiss.

"Lay down detka," Wanda purred, hands gentle as they eased her into the mattress. "Mommy hates to have to do this." Wanda feigned remorse, but truthfully she loved doing this. "But since you won't let me handle Y/N alone, I have to restrain, and gag you." Wanda sent wisps of red across her lovers body that latched onto the headboard and encased her wrists.

Then she placed her legs into a spreader, her limbs instantly ached as she was forced apart. Her butt barely touched the bed, so her arms and legs were strained with her body weight.

"Mommy please," Natasha begged, but it was of no use, her words now muffled as she placed a ball gag into her mouth. "Shh, it's okay..."

Wanda lazily jerked Natasha off, getting her cock to stand upright, her tip slowly coating with pre cum. The witch ran her thumb over the slit and felt the warmth spewing out. She removed her hand then, just as Natasha was about to blow. The redhead had tears running down her cheeks now, and Wanda had never seen anything more beautiful. "I'll be back."

It didn't take long for the witch to find you, she knew that you'd be in the living room once they went to bed. She caught you off guard, you tried to get up to leave, not wanting to make her anymore upset, but she didn't let you.

Wanda flicked the TV off, and held you to the couch with her powers until she straddled you. She smirked as you groaned, feeling her wetness through your thin sleep shirt. Wanda was in a faded guns n roses tee, with nothing on beneath so you felt her wholly. "Wanda..."

"Shut up, Y/N." Wanda ignored your weak warning as she slammed her lips into yours, and immediately the room was spinning. You closed your eyes tight to try and calm down your system, but no matter what you couldn't get your heart rate back with Wanda on you.

Her velvety tongue slid over yours after she broke her way in with a harsh bite to your lower lip. You moaned unabashedly, there was no fighting how good she felt against you.

"Fuck, I've wanted to do that for so long," she groaned against your lips. "I was so mad that Nat got to you first, I wanted that honor."

"I can fuck you first," you blurted, it was a shock to the both of you. The willingness and subsequent confidence materialized out of thin air, and it had the desired effect, because Wanda was drenching you through your shirt.

"Or you can let me fuck you first," Wanda countered, her eyes dark with sinful desire. "Nat will be jealous, please let me taste you."

Your answer was a pitiful whimper, then you lifted the both of you from the couch and ran to the bedroom where you found a glorious sight.

Natasha was tied up and desperate, her eyes wet from a never ending stream of tears. You tossed Wanda onto the bed, then moved to kiss Natasha's cheek with a blink of tenderness.

Wanda internally aw'd, but in the moment she snatched you, and laid you down beneath her.

"Can I touch you sweet girl?" You nodded, then whispered a pleading yes. Wanda kissed you softly then her hands turned devilish as they roughly tore your clothes from your body. The witch hummed lowly at the sight of your lingerie, it was beautiful, you looked delicious.

Her fingers traced over the lace, feeling the intricate design as she held eye contact with you the whole time. Her hand eventually wiggled beneath you so that she could unclasp the bra, and blindly toss it across the room.

"That's new," you whined, and the woman chuckled around your nipple, sending a sharp shiver down your spine. "I'm sure it's alright."

The witch continued lavishing your breasts with attention, helping you to forget your concerns. Slow, and methodical as she sought to tease the woman to her right. "You smell so good detka, bet you taste even better." Natasha cried out, disappointment running its course through her as she watched Wanda eat you out.

*Keep your eyes on mommy detka,* Wanda called out to her telepathically, *Don't look away and I promise you'll get fucked by her.*

Natasha forced her eyes back open, watching as Wanda's tongue drove into you repeatedly, she wished to taste you from the source herself. To have her tongue be the reason you were whimpering and writhing on the bed so hotly.

Natasha came with a hump to the air as you did the same on her lovers tongue. Wanda cleaned you up with slow, precise strokes of her tongue, teasing you in the direction of another orgasm, but after a minute she pulled away with a grin.

She kissed up your body slowly, her breaths labored as they brushed across your skin.

Wanda whispered in your ear, "Go on detka, tease her while mommy catches her breath."

You hovered over her face, your body to her side as you removed her ball gag. A line of spit connected her to the plastic until she began to cough after taking in a breath too eagerly.

You waited for her to calm down before your hand slowly trailed down her body. Natasha watched you warily, her lower lip trembled as you fisted her bulge while gazing into her eyes expectantly. "Tell me what you want baby."

Wanda chuckled airily, "Good luck with that, she is a brainless whore when stimulated."

"Is that right Natty?" She nodded timidly, you smirked. "Good, I prefer my whores dumb."

Natasha's eyes crossed when you straddled her spread thighs, your slick warmth blanketed her erect cock. You giggled at the feel of her throb. "Fuck Nat, you're so desperate." Her hips bucked in acknowledgment, fighting against the restraints to hopefully slip inside you.

"Want you so bad Y/N/N," she whined, "I want you to fuck me, milk my cock, please detka."

You looked to Wanda who gave you a nod of approval, she watched you both intently. Nat however gulped as she watched you as you lowered yourself onto her. The both of you sighed when your hips finally met, and she moaned when you began to slowly rock yours.

"Look at that detka," Wanda whispered, her nose nuzzled into the redheads. "Y/N's finally riding you, how does it feel?" Natasha smiled with pleasurable tears in her eyes. "So good."

The way she said finally had you rocking even faster, knowing this was a fantasy of theirs had you ready to fulfill it in the blur of a moment.

"You're so big Natty," you praised, voice sultry as you felt the building pleasure from riding her. "Can't wait to feel you let go inside of me."

Natasha's cheeks flushed a bright red, and Wanda looked at you with wide eyes, her shock lasted a few seconds before she was smirking. "You hear that? She's gonna let you breed her, but only if you make mommy cum first."

Natasha grinned cheekily, she pushed out her tongue, and Wanda chuckled heartily at her enthusiasm. The witch then waved her hands, relieving the persistent ache in Nat's shoulders as her upper body was released from the magical bonds. She swiftly slung her leg over her face and lowered her dripping cunt down.

Wanda had made sure to ride her face with her back to the headboard so she could watch you. Her hips harshly ground into Nat's obedient tongue as she watched you slowly falling apart.

A burning sensation on your clit had you opening your eyes, you met Wanda's crimson set and knew what was happening, the pit in your lower belly tightened impossibly, and you bit your lip hard as you tried to ride the wave.

"You gonna cum for us pretty girl?" Wanda asked, her voice dripping with desire as she watched you struggling to hold on. "Let Natty know how good she feels, I wanna see you come undone for us, help mommy out, yeah?"

Wanda crooked her finger, and you eagerly leaned in to kiss her like you both desired. It was sloppy as you couldn't stop moaning with the new angle. Natasha was incredibly strong, so the spreaders didn't keep her from thrusting up into you, her bulbous tip hit your g-spot with each thrust of yours she managed to meet.

The brunette bit your lower lip suddenly, the heat from her powers intensified, and her hand wrapped around your throat. "Let go detka."

"Fuck," you clenched, trapping Nat's cock between your pulsing walls as you saw stars. Wanda watched in awe as your slick gushed and painted the reddened thighs of her lover. Her own hips stuttered, and she came hard on her tongue as she screamed both your names.

Wanda fell onto the bed, causing it to shake as Nat was still being fucked by you, tears fell from her eyes as the jolt pleasured her deeply. She was already desperate to release, but the promise of letting go in your womb made it much harder to hold back. "Mommy please."

Wanda looked at you, you nodded once again, and she felt her heart flutter at the thought. Of you finally letting these walls drop, and letting them love you the way they've always wanted.

"Let go," she purred, "Fill Y/N to the brim."

A scream was ripped from your throat as you felt fresh hot, spurts of cum painting your walls. Natasha's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she came even more as Wanda squeezed her balls and tweaked her nipples.

Your body collapsed onto hers, lips crashing into hers as you sought the grounding touch. Natasha smiled into the affection, her heart was beating wildly with love as you made out. Moans never stopped leaving you, the feel of her throbbing inside of you kept you aroused, and it only got better as you got to taste Wanda's tangy essence on her plump lips.

"Holy fucking shit," Natasha gasped, you had gently removed yourself from her body, and the sound of your combined cum sloshing against her thighs made all of you go still.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed as she scooped some of your combined essence up, and brought it to your lips expectantly. Natasha leaned up on her elbows to watch, your lips parted, and you instantly gagged as Wanda fucked her fingers into your mouth, paying no mind to your throats existence, that was her goal after all.

“Isn’t she pretty Natty?” Natasha nodded, smiling softly as her hand reached out to wipe away the tears Wanda was causing to fall. Her lips then pecked your cheek. “The prettiest.”

Wanda slid her fingers from your mouth, a soft pop rang out in the room. The tension was palpable as she kept her eyes on yours as she seamlessly moved them over into Natasha’s. The redhead hummed around the intrusion, happily engaging in the swapping of spit.

“Mommy loves a set of good girls, ” Wanda beamed, then she leaned in to kiss you slowly as Natasha suckled and gagged on her fingers. Then she tapped the redheads face with the wet digits, and whispered, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

The rest was a blur, Wanda was nothing but gentle as she removed the toys, and moved to clean you up, all the while you cleaned Natasha up by way of a sloppy blowjob. The redhead stood no chance against your lips, so after she came down your throat it was lights out for her.

Wanda scooted Natasha to the center of the bed, and then clambered in behind her, she placed a kiss to your temple, then another to Nat's before she settled into the mattress for some much needed sleep after the long day.

The night was perfect, but the longer you laid there the more you felt an urge to run. It felt great in the moment, but now you felt used. As if bedding you was the goal here, you ignored the obvious loving touches, and the buff arm that was wrapped around you protectively.

Your mind was like a cataclysmic battlefield.

Wanda groaned softly into her pillow as the sound of scuffling roused her from sleep, she gently removed her arm from over her lovers waist, then she walked over to your rapidly dressing form. You rushed out the door, but you didn't get far as she wrapped you in her powers, and softly shut the door for Nat's sake.

"Why don't you get it Y/N?" Wanda's tone was tired, you shrunk as guilt washed over you, "This wasn't just some quickie, and it's hurtful that you'd think that." She shook her head in emphasis of her negation. "We love you Y/N, Nat fell asleep with thoughts of taking you on a date. She loves you beyond words, as do I, so why can't you let us, hm? Stop running."

"I-I," your voice was unbearably hoarse, thick with emotion, "It's all I know how to do..."

Wanda's defensive resolve fell, you sounded so dejected, your pain obvious, so she lowered you to the ground while briskly approaching you.

"You're not on the run anymore malysh," she whispered the words against your temple as she kissed your skin tenderly. "You're safe here with me and Nat. It's okay to trust, I promise we won't break it. Please, just let us love you."

"I want to," you admitted quietly, "I just don't know how." Wanda nodded, she understood wholeheartedly how life after Hydra can be.

She also remembers your ex, the wench that took your love, and squandered it. Who took your hardly given trust and broke it for all.

"We'll take it slow," she soothed her hand down your back before returning it to cup the back of your head, guiding your face to her chest while her other arm wrapped around your waist

"Whatever you need," she reaffirmed, Wanda wanted nothing more than to make you happy.

You hummed thoughtfully, "Fresh air sounds nice." Wanda grinned. "I'll make us some tea."

"Moya lyubov's?" Natasha called out, her raspy voice now deepened from sleep cracking as she broke out into a yawn. You and Wanda shifted so you could look at her. It melted your heart to see her pouting, eyes glimmering with unshed tears brought on by the both of your absence.

It wasn't hard, nor suffocating, to feel the love.

"Shh dorogoy," Wanda coo'd as she beckoned her over. Natasha waddled, navy green blanket wrapped so tight around her body that all you could see was her face when light cast through the shadows of the hallway and onto her.

Natasha sniffled pitifully, "I was all alone."

"We're sorry," Wanda relayed genuinely as she leaned in to kiss the redheads wetted cheeks. "Our love here needed some fresh air, so I was just about to make us some tea. Wanna come?"

Natasha beamed, head nodding quickly. "We can share my blanket!" You snorted, this was such a beautiful, new side to the redhead for you to see. She'd always been softer with you, but she was also evasively abrasive when she felt as if she needed to keep her guard up.

But now, under the glow of the moon you saw her in totality. Natasha was a sweetheart. Dangerous to nearly all of mankind, but she's cracked open and vulnerable for the two of you.

"That sounds perfect Nat," you replied nasally, Natasha swiftly dropped her blanket and looked between you and Wanda with concern. She pulled your face away from Wanda, and settled it right before hers. "What's wrong?"

Natasha might very well be feeling softened and subby, but she wasn't clueless. She was a spy for goodness sake. You shook your head, lips brief as they kissed her palms, one after the other. "Nothing sweetheart, let's go cuddle."

The redhead squealed as you scooped her up, giggling soon following as you kissed all over her face, the feather light touch tickling her pink. She hummed as your lips firmly pressed into hers, her tip throbbed but her cock stayed motionless. Her body was far too spent.

"Where's my kisses?" Wanda asked in offense. "I'm not making the tea until compensated."

Natasha twisted in your hold until she was on her tummy and able to crane her neck, offering Wanda her pursed lips. The witch breathed a laugh through her nose. Then she leaned into the contortionist with a passionate lip lock.

When she pulled away Natasha rolled back over with her eyes closed and lips raised. You leaned down to kiss her forehead and she purred while shifting closer to you. Wanda soon gripped your face, she waited for a go ahead, and once you nodded she kissed you.

There was a hunger to the way her tongue slid in your mouth, but it was heatless. She sought a moment of deep intimacy as she caressed the back of your teeth with the tip of her tongue. It was surprisingly sweet. Your heart beating out of rhythm when the tip of her tongue pushed down your throat. As you gagged she pulled away with a glistening smile. A tethered string of spit that connected you snapped as her lips had curled up. You mirrored the action.

"Go get comfy on the patio now loves," she commanded tenderly, "I'll be right there."

When Wanda followed ten minutes later with a tray full of everyone's favorite snacks, and warm mugs of tea you felt this foreign feeling of comfort roll over you. Their bright smiles, and warm caresses insinuations of love, and for the first time in a long time you willingly felt it.

But more importantly, you began to embrace it.

——

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keeksandgigz · 11 months

Text

lavender syrup (part one of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: Eddie is the owner of the most popular cafe in his small town, "The Mad Alchemist," you are the owner of the rival cafe "Daily Drug". You obviously hate each other, but when a pipe bursts into your cafe that might take months to repair, your contractor assigns you and your coworkers to work with Eddie in order to keep your job, just until "Daily Drug" is ready to run again. Is tolerating him really that big of a feat?

cw: 4k words, swearing, modern setting, allusions to smut but nothing explicit (yet), Eddie calls reader a bitch a couple times and he's such a condescending asshole but in a hot way, i feel like the sexual tension needs its own tw, Steve is also in this <3

a/n: pls like and reblog and feedback is always so very much appreciated!! my requests are always open if u wanna chat <3

divider by @benkeibear

Eddie Munson wasn’t the type to want much from life. He was content in his little town, managing the coffee shop that kept it alive. From the early morning crew of truckers, farmers, nurses and cops to the 9 am rushes of the corporate job workers from one town over to the yoga moms, the high schoolers after the ring of the last bell. Eddie Munson did not have any big plans for his life. The little coffee shop made him enough money that he was able to take care of his uncle, now retired, and live by himself in a small apartment with his roommate, Steve.

He got an associate’s degree in business, and after that he opened “The Mad Alchemist Cafe,” a DnD themed rustic coffee shop filled with beakers, lights and plants. The exposed brick the “interior designer” (it really was just a friend who had a good eye) begged him to paint over was instead littered with posters of announcements. He would host poetry slams, band performances, most importantly DnD campaigns he'd have to close down the cafe for in the evenings. For a few years he had also been hosting Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners for those who didn’t have a family to go home to for the holidays.

He hired his roommate and closest friend, Steve to be the baker. Straight out of cooking school, Steve Harrington took care of the sweet and savory. The thousand- layer croissants that would melt once slightly placed on the tip of the tongue. Airy, buttery pastry that made Eddie's customers sigh with every bite, as they lingered on the wooden bar, conversing with the baristas. The lunch hour crew, asking for meatball sandwiches and messy pasta bowls. He’d make turkeys for the dinners at the cafe, during the holiday season, along with insurmountable potato dishes and stuffing.

Eddie's life was littered with small sprinkles of joy. Everyone knew him as the kid from the cafe, with his long hair, sticking out of the messy bun he would wear to work. It started off as a joke in middle school, when Eddie's hair was buzzed due to a lice epidemic. Steve had miserably beat him at the arcade. He had grown fond of the long hair though, and added to the mystique of his coffee shop. It was also metal as fuck.

He felt like he was the main accessory to his lovely brick building; there would not have been “The Mad Alchemist Cafe” without Eddie Munson, something that both staff and customers knew. The cafe would also not have been the cafe without the three years long rivalry with the only other cafe on their side of town, “Daily Drug” that opened a year after Eddie’s. The brand new establishment that started taking customers from him, claiming that their chai lattes and breakfast sandwiches were to die for.

Eddie had not interacted much with you, the owner of the cafe. Your bossy, stuck up and overall terrible attitude were a house trade mark there. He had been in the cafe though, and understood why “Daily Drug” was such an incredible contender to his establishment. The ambiance was different, like a Pinterest board had come to life. The pink and blue tile that decorated the walls as well as the ironic bitchy posters that ranged from a snarky “What are you looking at?” to a direct and curt “don’t be an asshole” decorated the walls.

It was nothing like the cafe Eddie had imagined, the colorful palette contrasting with the caricaturistic mean and sarcastic ways of the staff, whose bitterness might have actually improved the taste of their coffee, as their lavender lattes tasted way sweeter, the syrup not overpowering the taste of the coffee, perfectly blended with the best milk for the beverage, which he found was almond.

You could have easily spat in his cup, but you serve him with feigned kindness as you make sure to make him hear a soundly “UGH could he be any more annoying?” to a blonde haired coworker, whose name he finds out later is Colette. Colette erupts in laughter as she serves his lavender latte with an egg and sausage burrito with a side of aggressive side eye. You had definitely spat in his drink.

A fifteen- minute car ride later, Eddie enters his cafe begrudged by his inability to master a lavender latte. The taste of his in- house lavender syrup is too artificial, while “Daily Drug”’s try as he might is a flavor that he had never encountered.

The lavender provides a sweet flavor to the drink that pairs perfectly with the bitter coffee and the creamy taste of the almond milk without the artificial aftertaste. He beelines to the back of the building, to the room he called his lab, setting down his bag on a stool next to him as he takes a bored bite out of the egg and sausage burrito. Hm. Steve's is better.

He jots down some notes in his journal. Try lemon for lavender syrup. Fennel seed in the sausage. Paprika maybe? Definitely garlic. He should have listened to his uncle and he should have gone to cooking school before he had opened the restaurant. He knew that he had the talent for it, Steve had even asked him to apply together, but he felt like it was not his true calling.

“Your true calling is bossing everyone around, Ed” said his uncle with a laugh, one of the many sleepless nights he had spent mulling over the cafe during its early days. A knock startles him from his reverie. It's Steve.

“Hey, didn’t see you come in. Are you still stressing over that lavender syrup thing?” he leans on the doorframe, half smiling at Eddie. He came in too early. Him and Steve were kind of the same in that regard, once haunted by an idea, they would not rest until it was executed.

“What was it this morning? Strawberry frosting on matcha rolls?” says Eddie taking another bite out of his stale burrito.

"Nah, it's for the Halloween special, I'm trying to figure out the menu. We need to remember to add more nutmeg to the pumpkin spice syrup this year" Steve says, crossing his arms.

"Shit, yeah, I almost forgot. Also, this" Eddie shakes his burrito towards his friend "does not compare to yours by, like, miles. The sausage is too dry and the egg too cooked" Steve shrugs and fixes his glasses with a smug smile.

"Knew it." Eddie laughs at that, then proceeds to scribble in his leather bound notebook. Then the phone rings.

"Hey Steve, do you mind getting that?" Eddie says, not moving his head from the notebook.

"You got it boss" Steve heads towards the phone in Eddie's office.

"'Mad Alchemist Cafe' Steve speaking...Mhm...yeah, Eddie's in...oh shit" at that, Eddie turns his head.

"What is it, what's wrong Steve?" his tone alarmed as he paces towards the phone.

"Yeah no he's here you can talk to him, Jim" Steve passes the phone, making a face, the corners of his mouth pulled as if he were in trouble. "It's Jim" his contractor. Fuck.

Eddie presses the phone to his ear "Hey Jim, what's up?" his tone tense and cautious.

"Hey, kid, I don't know how to tell you this, but a pipe burst at 'Daily Drug'" Jim sounds scared, but Eddie is still struggling to figure out what that had to do with him, other than the fact that he would finally get back his traitorous customers who had gone to the dark side when “Daily Drug” opened.

"Yeah, ok, and that's my problem because?" he's annoyed at the ominous way Jim called at 8 in the morning concerned for his rival cafe's burst pipes.

"Are you sitting down, kid?" Ed rolls his eyes, he's getting seriously pissed off at this whole mystery thing his contractor's getting at.

"Yeah, Jim. Fuck sake just spit it out"

"Alright, alright no need to get aggressive" Jim takes a deep breath in "In order for the girls at 'Daily Drug' to keep their jobs you need to hire them, at least until the shop is up and running again." Oh shit indeed. Jim trails off, waiting for a reaction.

"How long Jim?" Eddie's fuming.

"It could take up to six months, really, the pipe fucked up the whole kitchen so they need to redo the back and stuff, hell it might take a year knowing how slow these fuckers operate" Jim exhales, he's probably shaking. Eddie did not make his contempt for “Daily Drug” unknown.

“Jesus Christ Jim you can’t do this to me. You know how much that- that bitch hates me. Everytime I go there I'm pretty sure she spits in my coffee. I'm actually convinced they all do, Jim" he's spiraling.

"C'mon kid, don't be stupid. That would violate an incredibly long amount of regulations and they would need to close down if it were true. Which I don't think it is" Jim sounds like he's finding this amusing now.

"This is not funny. And- and then what? The owner just comes in here and she starts actin' like she owns the place? We start sharing responsibilities? That's real cute, Jim, y'know that? Incredibly cute." Only then Eddie had notices how hard he had been gripping the phone. And the armrest of his chair.

"Eddie, you're throwing a tantrum. The owner doesn't hate you, they're hired under the agency and I just pulled some strings because I know you and these girls- these girls have families to support and I didn't want to scatter them all across town. I know they will be in good hands, they're not your employees, Eddie. Get it in that thick skull or I'm closing your shit down" Fuck. He's backed up into a corner.

"Alright. When do they start?" He grabs a pen and a piece of paper and scribbles Daily Drug start dates.

"Okay, so we have eight employees. Four of them are going across town, I have that cafe there. The rest are going to you- Virginia, Colette, Chrissy and the owner are all going to your cafe. They start tomorrow at 9 am. Better brush up on those training books, kid." Jim snickers.

"You're hilarious, Jim y'know that?" he quickly jots down the names and the time, stopping at your name for a second, before putting an angry face next to it.

"Aw, come on, kid. Maybe it might be a great way for you all to bond and put this stupid rivalry behind"

"Yeah- yeah no, and then we're gonna ride on the rainbow towards a pot of gold and do a little jig. Of course, Jim. I am healed already. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow after everything- if that bitch doesn't put a knife at my throat, speaking of, I should hide them" he seethes.

"Don't stress Ed. You'll be okay, what matters is that-" Jim never gets to finish that sentence, blocked by the violent slam of Eddie's phone back into its socket.

"FUCKING SHIT" he yells, kicking the bottom of his desk.

"I take it wasn't good news?" Steve leans on the threshold of Eddie's office.

"Steve- God I want to punch something. The owner of 'Daily Drug' in here. She's gonna kill me. Hide the knives"

"If I didn't know you like the back of my hand I'd say you're a little scared of her, Ed."

"Have you seen her? She's terrifying. So mean. I'd be turned on if she wasn't my archenemy" and he does have eyes, he thinks you're attractive. He's fantasized about putting you in your place, sometimes. About shutting your mouth up, see how witty you were after he'd make you go dumb from a few rounds.

He shakes his head. He has to stop.

"Well, maybe you can be nice to her so we can steal her lavender syrup recipe" Steve suggests. And as morally wrong as that sounds, you've spit in his drink before, so what's a bit of foul play compared to an FDA violation?

"Steven you might be onto something, but for now let's just worry about surviving tomorrow- God I know it's gonna be awful" Eddie says. As he said that, one of his employees, Jeff, comes knocking at his office.

"Eddie, the owner of the other cafe is here, she's asking for you." Eddie's eyes widen. The fuck is she doing here?

"The fuck- Okay thank you, Jeff. Send her back here." He dismisses his barista and Steve follows him back into the kitchen.

There is no hiding you're angry. Starting a job at a place where you knew everyone hated you seemed a bit of a cunt move from Jim, and there you are. Heading towards Eddie Munson's office, walking like you own the damn place.

"You look a little too sure of yourself for someone who lost their cafe, sweetheart. What is it, hm? What are you doing here?"

His condescending tone only stokes your anger more.

"I just came here to see the place, see if I have to dumb myself down. Maybe you guys don't know what cortados are" Feigned pity in your face.

"If you've come here to be a bitch you can go right home. One call to Jim and I can end this arrangement as quickly as it started, let's not get like that, m'kay?" his smile is devilish and god it's so hard to not find him attractive even when you want to rip him to shreds for threatening you.

"I didn't come here to bitch. I wanted to pick up our aprons? You guys have cute aprons. At least you have good taste in something" you scoff, and he shoots you a look. Fucking brat.

"Yeah- um" Eddie stands up from his desk and reaches for a box in the corner of his office "I'll give you two each. Try to keep 'em clean, I don't like dirty aprons. I've seen how messy you guys are at the cafe, that won't fly here 'kay? We really value cleanliness and order here"

"How clean can a cafe run by a man really be, huh? that's probably why your lights are so dim" he wants to kill you, but also pin you against the wall and shove his tongue down your throat so you can stop talking.

"You've had a long morning, sweetheart. Why don't you go home and sleep it off? I'm afraid you're letting off all this negative energy here and we don't want that. Not here" his tone's more stern rather than joking "I'll see ya bright an' early tomorrow morning at nine. Please don't come late, yeah?" he winks at you, cueing you to leave.

As you cross the threshold of the cafe you cannot possibly fathom what was it that left you so flustered and with an insatiable hunger between your thighs.

You pick up your coworker Colette on the way to work the morning after, presenting her with a bagel and all your rage directed towards Eddie.

“No, Col, you don’t understand. He threatened to call Jim for a little remark. You know how insane that is? He’s gonna use whatever sick power he thinks he has over me to make me stay in line. Nope, no sir not with me” you say, turning into the parking lot of the cafe.

“This Eddie guy really is an asshole, huh?” Colette remarks, getting out of the car.

“You have no idea, it’s like he thinks he’s the shit or something just because the whole town loves him”

“Everyone does love me, sweetheart. Good morning ladies, I’d recommend getting in, you have five minutes.” Eddie's right behind you, closing the trunk of his van, wearing one of his dumb satanic shirts. It's black, arms covered by a ratty black leather jacket. His hair is down and a messenger bag littered with button pins is slung over his shoulder, resting on his hip. All it takes is one snide remark and then he's gone inside the shop.

You don't realize you're staring until Colette pinches the back of your arm, you reach for the affected area. “Babes, not him. Literally anyone but him, you have literally spent the whole car ride talking about how much of an asshole he is”

“I have eyes, Col. He’s hot, and as much as I’d love to sleep with him, my hatred for this asshole is a bit too strong. I’d probably punch him mid- act anyway” you snicker and follow Eddie inside the store. Virginia and Chrissy are already inside, you shoot them a comforting look and a light touch to Virginia’s arm, who seriously lookes like she's about to cry.

“You okay, Gin?” you ask, lightly elbowing her arm.

“No, I- I’m okay. Just nervous, also a bit scared. The boss seems mean” she trembles. She's only seventeen, after all. She's been working since she had been able to, if not before. Taking babysitting jobs until she turned fifteen, then just started taking customer service jobs, until she stumbled inside “Daily Drug,” with the extensive resume she had, she had been easy to hire.

“He’s an asshole, but don’t let him intimidate you. He can’t do anything without Jim’s approval, just remember that, hun” you squeeze her arm as Eddie enters, having shed his jacket, putting his hair up, and tying the purple apron around his waist. A small, golden tag says his name on the right side of his chest.

“Good morning, ladies. My name is Eddie, the owner of this fine establishment” he bows, smirking. “The crew at “Mad Alchemist” is deeply sorry about what happened at your cafe. We will do everything in our power to make you guys feel welcome for your short stay here” at the mention of “short” his eyes dart at you. You’re not the only one who hopes this bullshit will be short, dickhead.

You step forward, putting your best polite face on. “Thanks, Eddie. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to keep working, and we hope to learn from our time here” you say through gritted teeth. Even being that nice to him feels like nails on a chalkboard on your brain. “These are my baristas- Virginia, Chrissy, and Colette, my baker” you point at each of your girls.

“Oh Colette, you’re gonna want to meet with Steve, then- He’s my baker and pastry chef. I’m sure you both have a lot of things to talk about, and a lot of work to do since our Halloween special will be dropping in a week from today” a taut smile appears on his lips.

The guy in the back with the gorgeous head of hair and round glasses whom you assume is Steve waves his hand and Colette shoots you an assuring look before she runs to him, disappearing in the back, where you assume the pastry shop is.

No one to run to now.

"Perfect, shall we begin?" Eddie's voice feels muffled in your ears as he assigns each one of his baristas to one of yours for training. The cafe has just passed its early morning peak time, meaning that in a couple hours you will have a lunch rush. Everything feels like it's moving too fast.

The noises around you become clear again when Eddie grazes the bare skin of your arm. You shiver. Unbeknownst to you, his hand flexes at his side.

"Scared, sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost..." his mouth is moving, but you can't understand anything of whatever he's saying. You're unconsciously rubbing the area Eddie had touched, his fingers warm yet rough, from all the times he's had to wash his hands throughout the day.

You haven't noticed until now how thick his fingers are. Suddenly, the feeling of a phantom limb reaching out, wrapping a hand around your throat, gently feeling its way down your neck, your shoulders, your clavicle, down your stomach and into-

"You wanna follow me to my office or what? I have a couple questions for you" Eddie breaks you out of your sick reverie, leaving you a bit flushed in the face, afraid to look at him in the eye.

"Yeah-uh sorry. Lead the way" you say, and suddenly the floor becomes very interesting to look at.

Quickly, everyone gets to work. The girls being taught the house drinks by the guys at the bar, whilst you follow Eddie in his office.

“I just need to know if there’s any schedule preferences from the girls, just in case there’s any conflict. I was thinking, since the Halloween special will be dropping, one of these days you might need to sit in here with me and I’ll give you a proper training of what that entails. Y’know tastings and such.” His demeanor has switched from snarky to utterly professional, for which you thank whatever entity in the sky, allowing you a break from his abrasive behavior.

He sits down at his desk and pulls out a notepad and a pen. He looks at you with waiting eyes.

“Yeah, um, Virginia has school during the week and can’t work until after three and she can only work four hours on weekdays, three days a week and usually a full shift during the weekend. Chrissy and Colette can work whenever, but please don’t schedule Col at the early hours of the mornings, she actually cannot function. She’s more useful to you awake” you let out a breathy laugh, remembering Colette putting salt instead of sugar in a batch of banana bread muffins.

In the meantime, Eddie scribbles on his notepad. You feel uneasy in a room with him without the loud tensions of an argument looming, the blood booming in your ears.

“And you?” he raises an eyebrow, lifting his face from the notepad.

“Oh, I’ll just come in whenever you need me. I really don’t mind, I just need a good amount of hours. I um- I have my dad to take at the hospital on Saturday mornings, but I can come after” you say, your face tinging a bright red.

He scribbles that down, embarrassment visible on your face as the tension in the room becomes suffocating.

“Alright, I’ll have those schedules ready by the end of the day. I need you to come in tomorrow through Wednesday. Opening shift Monday and Tuesday, you’ll close with me and Chrissy on Wednesday. Sounds good?” he keeps writing down in his notepad, you nod. He tuts “I need words, I can’t see you nodding or shaking your head if I’m writing, can I?”

“Y-yeah, that sounds good. Sorry” You feel even more embarrassed, the tops of your ears tinging red.

“Don’t apologize. Just do better next time” Eddie thrums a ringed hand on the edge of his desk. He's never seen you this docile and it puts him off. He was hoping for some snide remark, but you're looking around nervously, playing with the laces of your apron, which he finds enhances the curves and features of your body. Wondering what you’d look like in nothing but that apron, all the exposed skin of your back, shoulders and–

“Are we done here?” there she is. The snarky question makes him jump, thanking the desk for covering the lower half of his body.

“Yeah, I can go train you now, just gimme a sec, I’ll meet you outside” I need to get rid of that boner is what he means, but you don't budge.

“Fuck no, you’re not training me. Gimme someone else” you remark, crossing your arms.

“God there I thought you weren’t gonna be a bitch today.” He exhales. “How many people do you see in the staff, huh? It's Steve, Gareth, Jeff and I. Not much of a merry group. You either let me train you or the door is that way.” you can tell he’s had enough of you, which only stokes your fire even more.

“Literally anyone but you. You can train Virginia, I’m sure you have a bit of heart to not be a dick to a literal child. Not that she even needs training, she has more knowledge and better work ethics than you assholes” you spit, and you’re sure Eddie wants to kill you.

“I don’t tolerate this kind of language in my store. I’m sure that’s what attracted all my customers to your store, but you can shut that filthy mouth in here. Now, you’re gonna go out and wait for me to train you, understood?” he's seething.

“Or what? You can’t do shit Eddie. I’m not your little employee, you can’t fucking threaten me” you're winded, this argument is stupid and you want to punch him.

“Alright” Eddie stands up abruptly and stalks towards you. “train yourself then.”

His tone is calm and collected, which makes you tremble. He's close. Really close.

“I wanna watch you crash and burn and struggle to make a dragon’s breath latte. You don’t want me to train you? Fine. Perfect. The less time I have to spend away from your bitch mouth the better my day will be. Recipe cards are on the counter. Have fun” he taps his hand on your shoulder and gives you a pulled smile, then walks back to his desk.

He's fucking brutal.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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creedslove · 1 year

Text

DESERVE IT - PART FIVE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You and Javier are sent to a conversation with Messina who determines you get relocated to another department, which means you are drifting away from Javier even more and that makes your relationship even more complicated

Warnings: a tiny little bit of fluff in the beginning, mentions of smut, angst, jealousy, disappointment, kind of stalker!javi

A/N: I wasn't sure if Javi's boss would be Carrillo or Messina because honestly I didn't pay attention to the plot of Narcos at all, because I was busy with a slut agent and a certain drug dealer (yes Wagner Moura I am talking about you), so I just picked Messina because I guess she would handle the situation better

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

• PART THREE

• PART FOUR

5k words

You sat on the chair looking away as Murphy handcuffed Carlos and made sure he wasn't going anywhere.

Some other cops came over to find out what was happening but you just wanted to disappear from that place and never come back.

You couldn't leave, you would have to formally declare a statement explaining your side of the situation as you'd been attacked by a co-worker. Technically, according to the DEA and the Embassy rules you hadn't done anything wrong. What the agents did when they were off duty was none of their business and it didn't matter to them if you had set up for Carlos or if he was just unlucky to be caught by his wife during one of his escapades.

With the war against Pablo Escobar getting worse each day, the organs couldn't care less if an agent was having an affair.

However, they did care about agents attacking each other. That was why Carlos was immediately suspended and had to hand in his badge and gun, which made you more relieved than you'd like to admit. Now, you'd gotten away with the situation but Javier was still unclear of what was going on. He'd immobilized the attacker and saved the day, with a lot more violence and strength then required, he held him at gunpoint in front of an entire office and that was something that didn't weigh in his favor.

You both would have to talk to Messina later that day, but all you wanted was to go home and lock yourself up. You wanted to shower, change clothes and pretend that never happened, you began feeling sick, nausea and shivers traveled through your body. You hated how your emotional state affected your physical health. It'd always been like that: at the smallest sign of emotional inconvenience, your body would take a toll on it.

You rubbed your arms in order to warm up, as the tip of your fingers were ice cold but as someone had read your mind, a leather jacket had been placed on top of your back. You looked up and found Javier trying to make you wear his jacket.

He had a cup in his hand and he lowered himself "have this Y/N… I asked Colleen to make you some tea, your stomach is probably upset" he said with those stupid brown warm eyes "Messina wants to see us soon, so you gotta be alright, cariño" he cupped your cheek gently and got up again so he could handle Carlos with Steve's help.

Fuck Javier.

Fuck Javier Peña.

How dare he after all he did to you, after all he made you go through, after breaking your heart just try and sweet talk you with this cheap act of pretending to care?

Yes, he had saved you, and you were thankful to him, you were not an ungrateful little bitch, but he could have done his job without crossing any lines. Now he was offering you tea and jackets as if he cared, as if he hadn't treated you like a total stranger for the past month, after being so cruel and humiliating you like you never expected him to do.

You were not gonna let him win you over that fast, but first things first, you had an appointment with Messina that could cost a lot to you, maybe not your job, but if she decided to punish you somehow you'd be screwed.

Murphy walked to you and was just as gentle as Javi was and for a moment you almost felt sorry for giving him the cold shoulder, so you thanked him for his reassuring words

"We'll go to Messina's in a while, I just need to go to the bathroom first" you informed them and disappeared into it, locking the door and throwing some water onto your face.

You sighed deeply, watching your own reflection as you shook your head in disbelief at the warmth you felt between your folds.

For a second you had hopes your period had come unannounced so you got into the bathroom stall and pulled your panties down.

To say you were wet was an understatement.

You were soaked.

You couldn't believe yourself, you felt a mix of anger and shame at the realization Javier's display of protectiveness and violence turned you on. The way he just went all feral towards Carlos, punching him, using all his strength against him just to calm down and cold bloody point a gun at him, for you, was enough to have you like a little puta for Javier.

Maybe Carlos was right on one thing: you were a slut, too bad you were it for the wrong man.

If none of that shit had gone on between the two of you, you'd certainly spend the night alternating between sitting on his cock and sitting on his face as a thank you.

You felt your clit twitching at the thought and immediately pulled yourself together, getting decent again and washing your face once more, blocking these kinds of thoughts as best as you could.

•••

You and Javier were placed in front of Messina for the past hour. The two of you giving your own accounts of what had happened. She never interrupted you and eventually took notes here and there. You'd downed the third glass of water by then, feeling nervous at the whole situation. It felt like you were sent to the principal's office and while Javier handled the situation smoothly throwing his charms at her here and there, you were obviously tense.

The woman analyzed the situation carefully, she knew the behavior on all parts were extremely inadequate and even scolded you for coming up with your little devious plan. What agents and employees of DEA did in their free time was their business, but they expected those activities to not interfere in the daily routine of the investigations. You swore you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't ask her the same applied to Javier using the contributors' money to pay for hookers with the horrible excuse of informative intel.

But you decided it would be best if you didn't make things worse than they already were.

Messina, on the other hand, was a powerful woman who had to struggle a lot to accomplish things and work twice as hard just because she was a woman. So she definitely knew what you went through with Carlos and though she couldn't really take sides, deep down she was satisfied with the lesson he learned.

She scolded Javier some more for his reckless actions and reminded him he had better ways to handle the situation, but when he promised he wouldn't do it again, she finished the meeting.

"Uh, Y/N… before you go, I must tell you your request to be transferred to another country was denied" you nodded shyly and saw when Javier's neck head snapped at you, shocked to hear you'd asked for a transfer, he swallowed and licked his lips, as he couldn't get his eyes off you, listening carefully as his heart raced and dropped at his toes to know you'd asked to leave the country.

"With this war we have going on against the narcos we can't afford losing any members of the team. You do a very good job and your reports are essential for us" she explained "however, with this situation, you will be assigned to another department, the lower floor, you can work for a couple of months in the crime division where things aren't as stressful as your current job is… it is temporary, just so the gossip dies and you find a break from all the stress" you nodded silently accepting her decision. On one hand you were disappointed to know you weren't leaving Colombia any sooner, on the other hand, you were thankful things went way better than expected, of course it was a demotion but you wouldn't have to work directly with Javier anymore.

You excused yourself and left her room, going outside the building as you pretended you didn't hear Javier's voice calling your name.

You stood at the sidewalk waiting for a chance to cross the street and felt his grip on your wrist, pulling you to him and making you look at him.

"Goddamn it Y/N, not even today you can actually look at me and talk to me?" He asked frustrated and pinched the bridge of his nose, when all he got from you was an eye roll.

"So you were just gonna flee the country and not tell anyone? One day I'd wake up to you gone? Is it because of me?"

You sighed and looked at him, feeling a mix of exhaustion, sadness and impatience.

"I hate my job, Javier. I hate the people I work with, I hate Colombia. I know I sound horrible when I say this, but I don't care about Escobar or what he does, I just stopped caring about all this, I just stopped and asked myself what I was doing with my life, I'm not happy here, not anymore, I have nothing to hold me back, so what's the point in staying anyway?"

He shook his head, he had no idea you felt like that, of course he knew he had hurt you, pretty bad, but not to that extent. He felt a wave of guilt and regret.

"But what about us, cariño?"

You smiled sadly "there is no 'us' Javi. There never was. Listen, I'm very thankful for what you did today, you saved me, you risked your physical integrity and your job just to make sure I was safe, but we can't pretend things haven't happened between us" you explained to him.

"Cariño, listen I want to apologize…"

"I don't wanna hear your apologies Javier, you don't mean them, it doesn't change how you feel about me, so let's just get over this okay? Eventually I'll leave Colombia hopefully it will be sooner than later and all this will be a fun story to tell your friends or something" you shrugged.

Javi didn't let go of your wrist, he looked into your eyes, searching for some kind of breach he could find affection or softness but there was nothing.

"No, you can't leave, I'll mi-"

"If you miss me you can just call that hooker I met the other night, she looks a lot like me, you won't even notice the difference"

You turned your back to him and walked away, leaving Javier standing there, watching you slip away from him even further.

•••

Your first day in the crime division started out great just by the fact you didn't have to see Colleen's stupid face. You didn't know why you began hating the woman, she hadn't done anything to you, in fact she'd always been kind of nice and very polite. But then, a memory hit you: the day Javier complimented her nails and how every week after that she would show up with a different nail polish, in hopes he'd pay attention to her again. Every time he took a coffee break she would be there, lingering around like a ghost until she would find a pathetic excuse to go and talk to him.

Then she would laugh too hard at his dumb jokes and would place her hand on his bicep, pretending it was an innocent touch.

You groaned annoyed at the sudden memory and at the fact you were actually caring about that, when you were literally not seeing them again. Of course you could still run into them in the building, and mostly run into Javier in your apartment building, but you would have a break from them from 9 to 5 and that was a good enough reason to be happy.

You shook your head clearing your mind and telling yourself you were just anxious about working in a new division. Of course your tasks would be the same, but out go Escobar's files and files and in come other police occurrences such as thefts and physical aggressions, mostly coming from drunk guys who always got into fights with each other, or so you've told.

You were so distracted you didn't see a tall figure approaching you, you only felt that figure when you bumped into him and almost lost your balance thanks to your high heels you put on earlier in the morning trying to cause a good impression.

Of course you never hit the ground because the figure held by the waist, preventing you from falling.

"Lo siento, señorita" he said and helped you up.

And then you looked at the mysterious figure.

He was taller than you, strong and had beautiful brown eyes. Not like Javi's, Javier's eyes were from a deep brown, they made you think of chocolate, hot chocolate in a cold morning to be more specific, but this guy… his eyes were light brown, the kind of color that shifts according to the lights of the room, making them even greenish, and the eyelashes were pretty long for a man, giving him an expressive look.

You were lost in his eyes. You fell for the stranger's eyes right there and then and your heart raced when you noticed he had his hand on your waist.

"You must be Y/N, I'm agent Manuel Herrera, but you can call me Manu if you want" he gave you a smile and you smiled back.

Manu explained you he was the one who was supposed to welcome you in the division but he ran late after a new case came up.

You assured him it was fine and thanked him when he led you to your desk, helping you empty your box and organize your working material.

"You know, Y/N, news travels fast here and we all know what happened to Carlos and rumor has it you were responsible for it" he saw how you blushed and though you didn't deny or nor confirm it, he could tell rumor was true. "Well, I just want you to say we are all relieved he's not around anymore, he was an unpleasant guy and especially the ladies in the office really appreciated what you did… or what you didn't do" he winked at you and excused himself.

And just like that, you realized you had a crush on Manu.

It happened fast, but it was so refreshing to know you could move on, you could get interested in other guys. He was nice, smart, painfully handsome and for the first time since you arrived in Colombia you hadn't thought of Javier's whereabouts or felt a pang of jealousy to wonder if he would pick up a girl at a bar for the night or just call a brothel and have his fuck delivered like chinese food.

After the first week, Manu gathered enough courage to invite you for lunch, he assumed you would just hang out from the DEA people, but when he saw you were about to stay at your desk during your lunch break, he invited you out.

First, he decided to take you to a small restaurant down the street, the food was good, the price was reasonable but having his company was better.

Then, the next day, he took you to a small place that sold the best arepas you'd eaten in your whole life.

Turns out, Javier really liked Arepas and he decided to have some for lunch, but when he was about to step inside he saw you had another guy. He thought he'd seen the man before but he couldn't remember exactly when, he knew he was a cop, but he just hadn't paid attention, unlike you who had been clearly paying a lot of attention to him.

Javi felt his blood boiling at how beautiful you looked when you smiled at him and kept telling him whatever you were so passionately talking about. He hadn't seen you since the day at the Embassy, of course he'd caught glimpses of you leaving the building or arriving when he was still in his car. He'd heard you at home, dragging your furniture around for your monthly clean up, or when you put on some record and probably spent the evening singing along. The smell of your cooking almost every damn night taunting him but none of that was worse than when he caught just a whiff of your perfume in the hallway.

It was the worst part to him, because it reminded him you were still there, across the hall, a few meters away from him, and yet you were no longer in his life. As if you were just a memory, a ghost of his past, you were so out of reach it broke his heart.

And when he saw you smiling at that guy just like you used to smile at him, it gutted him.

He turned around before either of you could spot him and walked back to his car.

Javier couldn't believe that. You were really going on lunch dates with that guy? Sure he was attractive, he figured, but didn't you like him? Then why were you out with that guy?

It just didn't make sense to him, he didn't want to believe you'd actually move on from him. Javi hadn't really thought of the future, he knew the healthiest for you would actually move on, you deserved someone good for you, someone who could make you happy, who could treat you like you deserved being treated, someone that could give you a relationship where you loved and you were loved, where you could trust your partner, where you could have a family, get married, have kids, not someone who would screw things up in the first opportunity.

But it stung.

Javier had no idea it would sting that bad. Saying had always been easier than doing, and while he kept that protective speech over you, things were alright, but the moment the possibility of it becoming true was presented before his eyes, god, that hurt.

He was at a loss of actions, he didn't know what to do or what to say. The rest of the afternoon he spent off his game, with Murphy having to repeat himself over and over, Javi asking the same questions, dropping his pen, fuck, he even spilled his coffee once. Because all he could think of was you.

He decided to leave early and wait around until it was time for you to go home, feeling a pang in his chest when he spotted the guy, Manu, he soon afterwards learned, walking you home.

He hated that scene but he also couldn't look away, you seemed so happy, you talked and smiled like you hadn't done it for months, like you hadn't done since he screwed things up.

And for the next few days that was what his routine turned into.

Javier would wake up early and watch you go to work, then he would take the stairs to the lower floor when it was lunchtime and watch from afar as you and Manu went for lunch together, then when you would come back, usually with a popsicle or a lollipop in hands, a treat he always got you for dessert. On the weekends he would watch through the window as you went out, knowing you were out to meet him. It was a habit that was consuming him, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, it was like smoking a cigarette, no matter how harmful it was to him, he just couldn't stop.

He only convinced himself it was time to let go when he saw Manu kissing your lips in front of the apartment building. He wanted to yell, to drag you away from him, to make you understand you shouldn't be with that guy, you should be with him, but he couldn't. There was nothing he could do about it, he had lost you for good, he knew that, so he grabbed his wallet, his car keys and drove downtown. He parked in front of the brothel he knew so well and walked to the reception.

"Quiero a Mari y solamente a ella esta noche" he commanded, not wasting time in being polite or flirty. He wanted a service, and it wasn't cheap, so he wasn't going to pretend he was a nice guy. He wasn't one.

Mari showed up about fifteen minutes after, she had just washed her body and smiled at him with fiery eyes, walking to the man and kissing his lips.

There she was, the version of you he could actually have, all he had to do was pay for it. She resembled you, you both had a similar body type, similar hair and if he got intoxicated enough, he could close his eyes and pretend he had your body against his.

"Vamos cariño, voy a llamarte de Y/N hoy" he whispered into her ear, pretending it was your neck he kissed.

As they were both in the room, Javi sat on the bed and pulled her to his lap, kissing her and burying his face between her breasts.

But she didn't smell like you, she didn't feel like you, and no matter how hard he tried focusing and thinking of the night you'd kissed him, nothing happened.

Javi gasped and looked down ashamed and then back at the woman, who got off him and didn't say anything. He ran his hands through his hair as he groaned in sheer frustration, he just couldn't get hard.

She even tried to get him to action, but it wasn't happening, Javi was dragged each time to your kiss with Manu. How he cupped you cheek and kissed your lips at the same time you his tugged the hem of his shirt and pulled hid body closer to yours.

Javier left the brothel livid, he'd paid for the service he couldn't get and smoked a cigarette on the street, blaming it on you and that man for everything bad that was happening to him.

•••

On Monday you separated a couple of files that had been sent to the wrong department and got ready to take the elevator and go to upper floor. Ever since you started dating Manu, you felt more confident about yourself and seeing Javier wasn't necessarily a problem. You knew you'd made things pretty clear between the two of you and of course Colleen being the envious puta she was, spread the news you were seeing a coworker to everybody, it wouldn't surprise you if even Pablo's sicarios knew about your relationship.

It wasn't the first time documents had been misplaced and all you had to do was to leave them on Murphy's desk and return, so you wanted to get things over with.

You passed by Colleen without giving her the time of the day, she annoyed you in a way it was beyond words and you always preferred to think she didn't exist.

"Y/N!" She called a couple of times, making you stop and turn around "Steve and Javi aren't here, so just you know…" you gritted your teeth and faked a smile.

"Thank you for your great service Colleen" you said and kept walking.

Your threw the files on Murphy's desk and couldn't help but glance at Carlos' old desk. As you'd heard, apparently no one had been hired or promoted to take over his job, instead, all of his investigation and internal job was assigned to both Murphy and Peña.

There was a time you would've probably got a great part of it, so you would help them with the ridiculous amount of work coming in, but that time was gone and now you didn't have to take over anyone's jobs, just doing your own and worrying about leaving work in time to meet your handsome Manu.

However, you noticed some files and a big yellow envelope on his desk. You looked around and saw the department was almost completely empty as it was almost time for the end of the shift.

You didn't know exactly why you got so curious and let alone why you began fumbling through those documents that certainly didn't concern you. But the yellow envelope dragged your attention in a way you just felt attracted to it, as if your intuition was telling you to check it.

You battled with yourself whether you should open it or not.

Correction: you shouldn't open it and you knew it, but for whatever reason you were so curious about it and all you could read was 'CARLOS' written in capital letters, in red ink. You told yourself it would be fine, just some intel from whoever Carlos' informant was. Worst case scenario it would be something boring and you would just leave it on Steve's desk.

So you took another glance around the room to make sure no one was watching you and opened the envelope, gasping at the content inside.

After the stressful meeting with Messina, both Javi and Steve were in low spirits, Connie still hadn't returned and the American agent had no motivation or reason to be home early, so he invited Javier for a few drinks. However, Javi wasn't in the mood for that. He was tired, stressed and the days seemed to be dragging on. He felt lonely and the less thing that still brought him some pleasure was a delicate matter as he hadn't been able to get hard for any women.

Sure, he could still rub one off thinking of Y/N, but each time he tried doing it with a woman, it felt like he had some kind of block that wouldn't let him go further.

He dropped Steve off at the bar and drove home, shrugging at the idea Y/N was probably out with her boyfriend on a cute date he'd rather think, because it was way more comforting than picturing you sucking another man's cock.

He looked at your table and thought of knocking on it, maybe just to see you, hear your voice, but he immediately gave up.

He got his key but frowned when he noticed his door was unlocked, which was alarming as Javier was sure he'd locked the door before. He immediately got his gun, getting inside silently and walking around, checking every dark corner for threats or unpleasant surprises.

Javier went speechless to find you sitting on his couch. It took him a moment to process how the fuck you got inside, but then you remembered how you two had exchanged spair keys to your apartments and completely forgot about it.

He was about to question you, when he heard your sniffs and saw you were crying. He went completely soft and walked to you.

"Y/N" he whispered and knelt in front of you, concern flooding through his body as he cupped your cheek and stroke it so gently. He wiped your tears with his thumb and you only then realized how big his hands really were.

You shook your head and looked into his eyes, disappointment shattering your heart as you gathered the courage to speak.

"What happened, cariño? Talk to me? Was it your boyfriend? Did he hurt you? Carlos?" He asked as he stared at your with the biggest warmest brown eyes you'd ever seen.

You handed him the envelope and watched as Javi emptied it on his coffee table.

"Los Pepes, Javier?" You finally asked, as you both stared at pictures of him meeting up at a bar with one of the group's sicarios.

"Since when you've been a double agent, Javi? Is all this a lie? How long have you been lying to the DEA? To me?" You asked him, and the disappointment in your voice just ripped his heart apart. You thought he was a dirty cop, he shook his head, feeling despair spread through his body as he looked for words to explain to you the mess he got himself into.

But took his hand away from your face and wiped your tears.

"After everything that went on between us, I thought that at least you were a good cop, Javi… I thought at least you would keep safe, but once again, I see I'm wrong" you swallowed.

Javier couldn't handle you being that disappointed in him, it broke his heart and he just couldn't live with you hating him as a whole.

He ran to you, pressing you against the wall and using his own body to trap you. He looked at you and buried his face in the crook of you neck, taking in your intoxicating perfume, his nose ghosting against your skin before you could feel his lips on it.

He mumbled something under his breath but you couldn't actually understand, you tried using your arms to break free from his grip, but his kept yours in place.

He looked at you as he dragged his face over your cleavage, just in the curve of your breasts he buried his face again, spreading small kisses all over your skin, he pulled your blouse down exposing your cleavage a little more and kissed your breasts gently.

You were taken aback by his soft, gentle and desperate touch. Your body felt on fire but you needed to fight that urge of submitting to him.

"I-I'm not gonna tell anyone, Javier. I promise" your voice was weak but you finally pushed him away the moment he got distracted when he tasted your skin gently and panted.

"I'm not a dirty cop, Y/N. I'm not" he said looking just as broken and you realized that was what he was mumbling against your neck, against your breasts. Javier was lost, when you finally fled his apartment. He sat back on his couch, after pouring himself a scotch. He spent hours staring into the void. There was nothing he could do to win you back. He had lost everything, but most importantly, he'd lost you.

_____

A/N pt1: this last scene wasn't planned at all. I don't know what happened, I just started writing the end and it popped into my mind and I had to do it.

A/N pt2: yes, I named Javier's hooker after myself lmaof

A/N pt3: face claim for agent Manu Herrera is mexican actor Alfonso Herrera

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xmasterofmunsonx · 1 year

Text

Got Your Number

Summary: You’re Steve Harrington’s older sister and after a rough and tumultuous breakup, you’re back in Hawkins, Indiana.

Pairing: harrington!reader x Eddie Munson

Author’s notes: Potential S4 SPOILERS! For all intents and purposes of this story it’s September of 1986- Eddie is 21, almost 22, reader is 23. Post season 4, and the upside down did happen but we’re pretending the ending was how we are all talking ourselves into how it actually ended, aka Eddie lives. I started this story about 6 months ago after S4 ended, got extremely sick for a few months, and have had major writer's block over this fic because I was so unhappy with the rushed feeling of it. I hated how I’d thrown random details in there because I hadn’t thought it out well enough. So we’re taking our time the second time around- so if the storyline seems familiar, it is, it’s because it’s me rewriting my own story! Enjoy my rewrite and I appreciate any and all feedback as always ❤️

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI!!), language, drinking, mentions of past abusive relationship, possibly triggering bad mother/daughter relationship (comments about weight, looks, etc.), eventual smut/sexual relationship.

Word count: 7k+

You groaned as you walked through the front door of your childhood home, the familiar smell bringing back memories of years past. Your slightly younger brother Steve had flown out to you to help you pack up and drive a moving truck to move back to Hawkins. You arrived back home to an empty house, which was nothing new to either of you. Your parents were due back from a business trip any moment now, and you actually weren’t too upset that they hadn’t arrived yet.

“You remember where your room is?” Steve joked as he plopped one of your suitcases down in the large foyer.

“Hasn’t been that long, Stevie.” You both rolled your eyes at each other and you grabbed the suitcase from him and traipsed upstairs.

Your room had looked the same since high school, the floral wallpaper only dulled over the last five years. You hadn’t been home much since you graduated in ‘82- you had moved away to the University of Chicago and graduated with your high school (not-so) sweetheart Charlie, who quickly became (even more of) a controlling, toxic boyfriend as soon as you were alone with him in the big city. He wasn’t always so controlling of what you did- he limited your trips home to Hawkins to strictly seeing his family only, or just skipping coming home for the holidays completely because he convinced you that your school load was too much for you. Things had gotten worse over the last year as he became increasingly more abusive and violent, and you had to get the cops involved and took out a restraining order against him.

You browsed around your room, not having many moments to yourself to look around the times you had been home and smiled at some of the high school memories that still hung on the walls in frames and in photos.

“I went ahead and trashed the ones of him so you didn’t have to see him anymore.” You turned around to meet the eyes of your brother who shared the same kind eyes as you- he hadn’t always been the same either. You both were kind of jerks throughout high school but you’d heard everything Steve had gone through when he confessed it all to you back in the spring. Scars littered his face, and you felt bad you hadn’t been home for him, but you had to be careful about leaving Charlie.

“Thanks. You can just leave everything else in the moving van, I’ll get the rest of my stuff out tomorrow and we can return the van.” You smiled at him and he dropped the bags you’d packed with your essentials and favorite clothes. You had too much stuff to fly back with, and it was only a three hour drive across the states to come back home. It gave the two of you plenty of time to talk in person, and you were shocked at how well the little town had been put back together after the “earthquake.”

Steve left you alone and you were quick to unpack, wanting to make sure your room felt like yours again as quickly as it could. You had some artwork from your apartment in Chicago you were itching to hang on the walls, but you were going to wait for that until another day.

“There you are!” Your moms screeching voice echoed through your room and you greeted her with a hug- one of the first ones in a year, and quickly gave your dad one too. Neither of them were happy about you and Charlie’s split, especially since you were due to be married in December, but once you spared the details of the relationship they were understanding and welcomed you back home to get back on your feet. Your mom used to be close with Charlie’s mom, and apparently still was, so you two had bickered a few times before moving back saying she needed to understand the severity of the situation and that you were to not have any contact with his family if you could help it.

Being a Harrington had a lot tied to it. You were one of the better known families in the town- your dad was a businessman who dealt in everyone’s business in the town, so in turn everyone knew your business too. You were the pride and joy since Steve had not made good enough grades to attend a better university, but now you knew it was because he was too busy fighting in an underworld dimension similar to that of your Dungeons and Dragons days.

That’s right- you used to be a nerd. Before you were graciously accepted onto the cheerleading squad your freshman year of high school, and welcomed into Hawkins High royalty, you’d been best friends with Eddie Munson, he was a grade behind you but the two of you were inseparable since you were young. The “freak” of the town as he was known now- but you hadn’t seen him since you left, and even before that you two hadn’t spoken much unless it was your old friends, saying mean things and pretending that you didn’t care about him. Your family name pressured you into becoming what you had- a scholar, a cheerleader, and one of the queens of the school. But all of that was behind you now. You barely scraped by your last year of college because of your horrible relationship, and you were back at home living at your semi-absent parents house. You knew they were disappointed in you, but they hadn’t exactly expressed that just yet.

“Dinner should be ready by 6, I’ve just got to throw a few things together.” Your mom told you, you knew she wanted you to come down and help her but after being in a car for three hours, that was the last thing you wanted to do. She excused herself with your dad and left you alone in your room again. You hung up a few dresses in your closet and came across your old cheerleading uniform that was still hanging in the back corner, untouched and still perfectly ironed. You scoffed as you pushed it further back, hating the memories tied to the article of clothing.

“Hey, we’re all going to watch movies tonight at Eddie’s house if you wanna come. Robin’s picking out a few from the store and I said we’d grab some beer on the way.” Hearing his name stopped you in your tracks. Steve had told you Eddie had been in on the Upside Down shenanigans in the spring- told you of how he had almost died, but the thought hadn’t crossed your mind that the two actually still hung out together even though Steve had mentioned it before. You felt sure Eddie wouldn’t want you there, not after how mean your friends had been to him in your four years of high school, so the suggestion made you feel odd about going over there.

“I uh- I hadn’t planned on seeing him, really. Does he know I’m back?” You pushed the empty suitcase underneath your bed and twisted a piece of brown hair around your finger nervously.

“Yeah, he knows. He seems… open to you coming over to hang out. And you need to meet and see everyone because they’re going to be your best friends too.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Pfft, who else do you have to hang out with?” You scoffed at his remark even though it was true. You had no desire to talk or see anyone from your past. Whether it was out of shame or anger, you were not really planning on rekindling any old high school friendships. Once you had some clarity of how much you had changed yourself to fit the Hawkins mold they wanted you to fit, you felt angry that you’d let your parents control that much of who you were despite how little they were actually involved in your life. “Right, so we’ll leave after dinner.” He patted your door frame twice before he trudged back to his room.

Dinner was awkward as expected, your parents were the worst at small talk and even worse at being comforting. You avoided talking about Charlie all together, thankfully, and your parents weren’t rushing you to search for a job anytime soon to give you a little bit of a break after school.

“So you’re going to the Munson’s house?” Your mom asked you with her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, Robin picked out a few movies to watch like we do every Thursday.” Every Thursday? You eyed your brother and he averted his gaze to the candles in the middle of the table.

“So you see hi-them every week?”

“Week? More like every day. Those kids can’t get enough of Steve. He’s always chauffeuring them around town.” You’d heard about him and the “kids,” but you were still a little shocked to know that your brother was that good of friends with your old best friend who you were pretty sure hated you- he’d left that out.

“Always the babysitter.” Steve muttered to himself as he cleared his plate.

“Are you done yet, sweetie?” Your moms sticky voice chimed in as you looked at your food that you hadn’t yet finished, “you can come to some aerobic classes with me if you want so you can work off that college weight.”

“Yeah, I’m done.” You pushed your plate forward and got up, eating a few bites as you walked the plate to the sink. “Jesus Christ, now I remember why I hated coming home.”

“Yeah, they haven’t changed much. Don’t let it get to you. You look fine.” You knew you did, but your moms comments had always been so negative about your appearance and your weight. Steve definitely got the better metabolism of you two, and your mom tried to control your eating habits all throughout high school the best she could. Charlie was no help either, so when the two of you broke up you had sought therapy and had been working on your own eating habits since you were on your own for a few months after the breakup. It was freeing, so it was going to be hard to be under the watchful eyes of your mom again- when she was home. “C’mon, let’s grab some beer.” Steve grabbed the keys to his BMW and you followed him out, saying a quick goodbye to your parents.

“Fuck them.” You sighed as you buckled your seatbelt.

Steve agreed as he drove to the corner store and grabbed a pack of beer, driving to Eddie’s house.

“So, Eddie and Wayne’s trailer got destroyed in the uh, thing.” Steve haphazardly waved his hand in the air, “and Hawkins basically paid Eddie and Wayne to keep their mouth shut by giving them a new home.” He commented as he drove in a different direction than what you remember his old trailer being. Eddie hadn’t always lived with his uncle Wayne- his mom had died, and his dad was a felon and lost custody of him at a young age. You’d known him before he moved in with Wayne and stuck by him through all of the years he had trouble adjusting, and had grown close with Wayne since you were at their house so much.

You pulled up to a small brick house that looked much homier than the trailer they used to rent, and you could see amber lights glowing from the inside. You took a deep breath before you stepped out of the car and followed Steve to the front door, walking around a few other cars that were parked in the yard.

“He’s not mean and scary- you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re the mean and scary one to him, remember?” Like you needed reminding- your plan for the night was to blend in and remain quiet, and go as unnoticed as possible.

“HARRINGTON!” The boy’s voice was unmistakable. It was deeper than you remember, but still somehow the same. He greeted your brother with a huge hug and you were unsure of what to do, so you quietly passed by the two guys and stepped foot into the kitchen hoping someone else was in there. Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin were all standing in the kitchen with beers already, and they greeted you similarly with big hugs and smiles. You’d known them through your brother and the few times you had been “allowed” back home.

“How was the drive?” Robin asked you as she took the beer from you and put it in the fridge, but not before you grabbed one for yourself and Steve.

“Not nearly as bad as dinner with my parents.”

“Ugh, I can’t imagine being stuck in a car with Steve for three hours. Working with him for that long is bad enough.” Robin remarked and you all laughed.

“Shut it, Buckley. We work 8 hour shifts together all the time.” Steve brushed through the kitchen to grab a drink for himself and you handed him his as Eddie peered around his shoulder.

“Hey there.” Eddie wiggled his fingers at you in a wave, and you hesitated before you walked over to him to give him a small hug.

“Hey.” Was all you said as he froze before he returned the hug, matching the lightness of the embrace you gave him. You noted that he still smelled the same, except you could smell weed and cigarettes on him now that he was older, and it seemed like he’d tried to cover the smell up a little with some cologne.

“So, I got a few different movie genres for us tonight, come on!” Robin broke the awkwardness and you jumped back from Eddie, avoiding his gaze and followed Robin into the living room where the rest of the kids were already lounging waiting for your arrival. You were introduced to everyone, a few you recognized and a few you didn’t. There was a large age gap, but you knew all their names from Steve’s storytelling, and a few from their faces when you’d been back home briefly.

You felt the tension in the air as you watched the people file into what you assumed were their normal seats until all that was left was a two seater leather chair. Eddie held out his hand for you to sit, “it’s usually mine, but you can take it tonight.” You sat down in it and took a few sips of your beer and motioned for him to sit down.

“I don’t bite, you can sit too.” You continued sipping your beer as the kids sorted through movies and finally decided on a horror film, and Eddie made himself comfortable beside you. You noticed he had tattoos and scars peering out from the sleeves of his Iron Maiden t-shirt as his arms rested comfortably at his sides beside you.

“Long time no see, Harrington.” He said as he shot you a charming smirk, and you were met with the same chocolate brown eyes as you remember from your childhood.

“Can say the same, Munson.” You brought the cold bottle up to your lips and finished off your first beer with a smirk. He grabbed the empty bottle from you and took it to the kitchen, and returned quickly with another one for you- already opened.

“Before the movie starts I’m going to step outside to partake in some real fun. You’re more than welcome to join, or you can stay inside- the choice is yours.” He invited you in his dramatic voice, and you chuckled to yourself as you followed him outside.

“Thought I smelled weed on you.” You muttered as you stepped out onto the back porch.

“Oh, you smoke now?” He smirked as he lit a joint and took a big hit before passing it to you.

You inhaled the weed into your lungs and held it there before you could even think of something to say to him. Do you apologize? Shoot the shit with him? You literally hadn’t spoken a kind word to him since freshman year, so this felt painfully uncomfortable for you to be out here. You were quickly regretting your decision to follow him.

“Yeaaaah.” You took another hit and held it in before passing it back to him. You watched as he propped himself against the porch railing and looked at you with his eyelids hooded, “Eddie, I don’t even know where to start.”

He held his hands out beside him, “I got all night to listen.”

“You’d want to?” You were shocked.

“I mean, I do believe- if I remember correctly, you owe me a bunch of apologies.” He seemed like he was unphased by your presence. You felt more intimidated by him than anything.

“Ha, yeah.” You sat down in one of the porch chairs, “Just so you know, first off, I’m really sorry for how much of a bitch I was to you.”

“Go on.” He motioned to you as he sipped his beer with a proud smirk on his face.

“And I totally understand if you hate me.”

“Well, I don’t, so…” He said through a chuckle.

“I don’t know what got into me in high school. I let myself be bullied into being a bully and I hate that you were one of the targets. You didn’t deserve that. I realized I was being who everyone else wanted me to be and not who I really was, and lost the people that actually cared about me the most. All of those friends were so fucking fake to me- and would you believe Charlie came home on a ‘work trip’ and cheated on me with Grace of all people?”

“I sure would. What a cunt.”

You let out a groan, “I can’t believe I wasted so many years with that jerk.”

“So, what’s your plan now that you’re back?”

You shrugged as you sipped on your drink, and held a hand up to the joint being passed back to you. “I guess just see what I can find to do here with a degree.”

“You always were such a smarty pants. I finally graduated, you know?”

“Yeah, Steve told me.” You leaned back in the chair and looked up at the night sky. “He actually told me everything. Like, about-“

“Oh shit, I didn’t know that.” Eddie moved to the seat beside you, a tiny table separating you two.

“I wanted to come back, and see you and make sure you were okay but Charlie wouldn’t let me. That was kind of the end of it all. I had to push through graduation, get a new place, and get enough evidence on him to get a restraining order against him before I could get all my stuff and go. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get one when you’re with someone like him.” You let out another scoff, “sorry- you didn’t need to hear that.”

“You can still talk to me.” He kindly smiled at you and you returned one to him.

“I was really nervous about coming here tonight. Thanks for not being a jerk, like I was.”

“I mean, you definitely hurt my feelings some but I knew that wasn’t really you. Been called a lot worse than freak.”

“I can’t believe the whole town thought you were a murderer? I mean- you?”

“You’re telling me. I still don’t know how Hopper convinced everyone it was Jason and got me cleared.”

“I just feel so bad I wasn’t here for everything going on, I always knew this place was cursed. How… bad off were you?”

Without saying a word, Eddie lifted his shirt up and showed you. You could see the scars in the dim light of the moon and the porch light, and you can only imagine the pain he’d been in recovering.

“Bats did that?”

“No, fucking demobats. They were huge. Had these long crazy tails, and I thought I could fight them off to save your brother and the others some time.” Eddie’s voice was not his usual expressive tone, he was more somber and serious.

“You did though.” You pulled your feet up into your seat and looked over at Eddie adjusting his tshirt back into place.

“Yeah, and barely made it out alive. I blacked out and woke up in Hopper’s cabin in the woods. Couldn’t get real help in the hospital because I was wanted for murder still, somehow avoided infection and am left with these killer scars.”

“Pretty badass looking if you ask me.” You said, feeling the beer and weed loosening you up a little bit.

“Eh, I had to take a break from playing for a little. But we’re back at the Hideout now - we got moved to Saturday nights since we draw such a crowd now. It used to be Tuesday.”

“Yeah, I remember.” You said quickly.

“Do you?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Just because I was a jerk to you didn’t mean I didn’t know anything about you Eddie. You were my best friend. I kept some tabs on you even though I was in a different crowd. I snuck into a few shows my senior year and hung out in the back.” You blushed at the admittance. “What year was that for you? How did they even let you guys play so young?”

“We were just that good, sweetheart.” He let the nickname roll off his young so easily it caught you by surprise. Wayne used to call you that and you readjusted in your seat at Eddie using the endearing name for you.

“So you’ll be playing this Saturday?”

“Mhm. Got Hellfire Club tomorrow night at the record store.”

“What?! You still play?!”

“Still play? I’m the dungeon master. We have club every week at the record store on Friday nights. I kinda run the store now. Like, uh, that’s my job. I manage it and teach guitar lessons. Just started lessons about two months ago and my afternoons are booked solid.” He was beaming with pride and excitement when he met your eyes.

“That’s amazing. Can I come by? It’s been a while so I might just watch, but I won’t get in the way.”

“Absolutely.” He squeezed his eyebrows together. “You’re welcome Saturday night too.”

“Ah, I may be booked. Have a lot of friends to reconnect with, you know?” You both laughed at your sarcasm and let the silence become comfortable as you both looked around at the quiet piece of land Eddie’s house was on. “Thanks again for not being a jerk. I really do deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. I appreciate the apologies and I missed having you around. Steve’s not my favorite Harrington, believe it or not.”

“I still am?”

“No, your mom is.” He said with a serious expression before he busted out laughing at the shocked look on your face. “Just kidding. I’m willing to put the past aside if it means I can have my friend back. I know a lot of things are different now, but I don’t think you need to be alone right now, you could use a friend, yeah?”

“More than you know. Thank you, Eddie.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Wanna join them or just stay out here all night?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t mind staying out here if that’s alright with you.” You spoke quietly as you crossed your arms, the September chill was setting in but you were not going to ask for a blanket, and you were too comfortable to get up.

“I’ll grab us another drink and blanket and we can just stay out here? Don’t go anywhere.” He held his hands out for you to stay put and you laughed at his silliness, his welcoming personality hadn’t changed much and it was just what you needed tonight.

He returned moments later, “your blanket, my kind lady.” He draped the warm fleece over your lap and you thanked him as he opened the beer bottle for you.

You and Eddie spent two hours together talking and laughing, sharing stories and filling in puzzle pieces where your lives had gone different paths. As the night came to an end you realized you weren’t so mad about having to come back home, and you were glad your path had crossed Eddie’s once again.

“So, seems like you two got along pretty well last night.” Steve said as he drove you back home from dropping off the van you had rented.

“Yeah, I guess. He said he’s going to pick me up before Hellfire tonight so we can go get dinner before the game.”

“I’ve got a date tonight, so you think he can bring you back home too? I might be gone all night, who knows.”

You shrugged at your brother, “Probably so. I don’t see why that would be a problem.” You two walked into your house together, the echo of the door shutting could be heard throughout the house. Your parents had already left to go out of town on another business trip, too busy to stay back and spend any time with you - but you honestly weren’t even bothered. It was a relief to know you wouldn’t have to hear their remarks about anything.

The hours passed quickly leading up to the time when Eddie said he’d pick you up, and you heard the front door squeak open and closed again. Heavy footsteps were heard going up the stairs and you tried to pretend like you were still getting ready when Eddie knocked on your doorframe.

“Safe to come in?” He asked, pushing the door open to look inside.

“Wouldn’t matter, you’re already opening the door. Just finishing up getting ready, then I’ll be ready to go. Steve’s in his room if you wanna go talk to him.” You pointed to his room and Eddie stepped inside of your room instead.

“Nah, I’m here to see you.” He walked around your room with his hands on his hips, looking at all of your old posters and pictures that remained on the walls. All of the ones with him in them had been replaced by ones with your high school friends- the fake ones.

“I’m going to get around to taking those down. I don’t need any reminders of the past, Steve already took down the ones with Charlie.” He nodded quietly as he inspected each of them like he’d never seen them before- which, come to think of it, he probably hadn’t.

“You really changed, huh?” He said as he admired your senior prom picture with the group of varsity cheerleaders. You had worn a hot pink dress and your hair was teased to the high heavens. “You look uh, more like yourself tonight.” He motioned to your outfit- some light wash jeans and a fitted black tshirt. You had found an old black denim jacket of Steve’s so you had decided it was now yours since he decided to store it in your closet.

“Feel more like myself now too. You ready to go?” You touched up your light layer of lip gloss as you stood up from your vanity, and little to your knowledge but Eddie had to recollect his thoughts before he could answer.

“Born ready. Let’s go eat. Diner or pizza?”

“Like that’s even a question. Diner.” You said with a smile as you followed the tall boy with crazy, curly hair out of your room.

After you two finished your greasy burgers and fries, you walked to the old record shop. It had survived the town splitting in half, but barely, and it had been repainted black instead of the old ugly brick it used to be. Eddie unlocked the front door, turned the lights on and held his hands out to welcome you to the store.

“Welcome, welcome. If I may be of any assistance to any record purchases, I’m available for help. If not, I’m going to be in the back setting up for tonight. If any of the kids walk in, just send them back here.” You nodded as you found yourself picking through the labels of the records. They’d been nearly categorized by genre, then alphabetical order. You browsed while you heard Eddie rummaging around in the back room, and decided to go watch him.

He didn’t notice you had walked in the room, and you were all but mesmerized by the way he was neatly unpacking and setting up the game table for tonight in the spacious back room. He was talking to himself and checking things off his checklist in his mind, and you thought it was endearing how much thought he was putting into the set up. It had become a lot more complex from when the two of you had first started playing as kids.

“Like what you see?” His voice caught you off guard and you shook yourself out of your trance and walked further into the room. “Wanna join in?”

You shook your head as you felt your ponytail bounce, “no, I’m fine just watching tonight. Maybe another time.”

“Beer’s in the fridge, grab me one too.” He asked and smiled at you as you fetched the beverages for yourselves. He was moving chairs all around, and added one to beside the one at the head of the table, “you can be assistant to the DM tonight- how’s that sound?”

“Perfect.” You sipped on the cold beer and smiled as he handed you the plan for tonight’s game, and you read over the pages containing gameplay details that you hadn’t thought about in years. You looked up from the papers to find Eddie staring at you, and it was his turn to blush- except he held eye contact with you and didn’t look away, which made you blush harder than him.

You didn’t know why Eddie was being so kind to you. He had let you back into his circle again, no questions asked and no hard feelings that you knew of.

“What?” You asked, the room was quiet and he was still staring at you.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He shook his curly head of hair and proceeded to go to the front of the store to wait on everyone’s arrival.

One by one the kids all arrived and you were happy to see Jeff and Gareth too- they were hesitant to greet you, but one look at Eddie and they knew you weren’t there for the wrong reason.

You took your seat beside Eddie at the head of the table and listened as he told them about the new campaign they were starting tonight. You were captivated by his deep voice and his animated actions as he told the details of the storyline. He plopped back in his seat as he watched everyone around the table decide on their first move. He had one of those full face smiles on- the type that reached the crinkles in his eyes, and you realized he’d always had those, but they were much deeper now than you remembered.

“This one’s gonna be good.” He turned to you and you nodded, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just glad to be back. Feels a little weird.”

His hand patted your thigh with what felt like searing heat, and he rested it there for a few seconds, “Relax. I already told you that it’s all okay. We’re starting fresh, but not really, like we talked about last night, m’kay?” You nodded, and he lightly squeezed your thigh before releasing it and turning back to the table.

The game went on for hours, you were so entertained by the enthusiasm of the kids and Eddie, it was really a heartwarming night for you after the previous night had started off a little awkward and rocky. It honestly felt like so many years had passed.

“You seemed like you were having fun.” Eddie said as he started up his van.

“It was fun to watch again, I seriously don’t think I've played since… well, since I made the cheerleading squad for freshman year.”

“That’s a damn shame. You were always the best.”

“No way! I was only decent. I sucked at cheerleading. I only made it because my parents funded the school’s athletic programs, paving the way for me and Steve to be successful.” You joked, picking at the rips in your jeans. “Thanks for picking me up and taking me home tonight, I really appreciate it. I had fun, the record store looks amazing too.”

You watched Eddie’s face blush pink, “Not a problem. It’s uh, it’s been nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah, it has.” You looked out the window and watched as your surroundings became more familiar the closer you got to your house. The rest of the ride was silent except for Eddie’s radio playing Metallica in the background, and his thumbs drumming along to the beat of every song. When you pulled up, your driveway was empty. You had assumed Steve’s date had gone well. “You wanna come inside and hang for a bit? Steve’s on a date, my parents are on another work trip, and I’m not feeling like being alone in the big house. If you need to get home, I understand it’s late but-”

“I’ll come in. I’ve got nowhere else to be. Wayne’s working tonight.” Eddie turned the ignition off as he parked on the street in front of your house, and you waited for him to round the front before you walked in together.

“Help yourself to a beer if you want another one, dad’s got plenty in the fridge. I’m going to head upstairs and change into pajamas and I’ll be back down.” He gave you a thumbs up and you heard the fridge door rattle as you made it up to your bedroom. You changed into an old pair of shorts and oversized shirt, headed downstairs, and found Eddie had settled onto the large leather couch in the living room with the tv on. The clock read 1:30, but you weren’t feeling too tired.

“Think Steve will make it back tonight?” He asked without looking up from the screen.

“No idea. It’s still early, I don’t know what he can find to do in Hawkins this late but more power to him if he’s out there.” You said as you sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap. He’d settled on some movie and you were paying attention to it, when he nudged you with his beer bottle and you took it without question and had a few sips, then handed it back to him.

“What’s going on in that head?” He turned to face you and you sighed.

“Not much, honestly. I feel defeated to be back here. There isn’t much here, no offense, and I didn’t see myself ending up here again. But here I am.” You sighed again, a little anger appearing in your chest, “I’m just so mad at Charlie, you know?”

“Are you mad at Charlie, or mad at yourself?”

You shot your eyes at Eddie and gave him a look. “I-I’m mad at…him. He was a piece of shit, Eddie. Everyone warned me. Well, not everyone. But Steve did. You didn’t like him. None of the people with a single brain cell or more liked the guy. I can’t believe we were engaged.” You shivered as if you were grossed out at the thought.

“Engaged?! I didn’t know it was that serious.” He took a swig from the beer.

“I mean, I moved to Chicago for him. School was just… the excuse. I was pretty serious about him, we were supposed to get married in December but I called it off in the spring. ‘Good’ family, reputation, all that shit my mom cares about.”

“But nothing that you care about.” Eddie finished your thought.

“Bingo.” You said as you scooted closer, grabbing the beer from him. “I don’t even know what I care about anymore now that I’m out of the relationship and that shitty situation.”

“A shituation is what I like to call that.” You busted out laughing at Eddie’s joke and it felt good to let go and laugh like that. You hadn’t in a while. Well, you had last night but that was several beers in so you would’ve laughed at almost anything.

“You asked me what my plans were, what are yours?” You turned the subject around on Eddie.

He shrugged, “I hope the band takes off soon. It’s taken me a while to recover from… everything. I still haven’t really come to terms with all of it, so it’s hard to think too far into the future.”

“That’s fair.” You stole the beer and took a sip, then handed it back to him. “What about you and the ladies?”

He scoffed and threw his head back “I mean, it took me three years to finish high school, I play D&D in the breakroom of the music store weekly with kids that still go to high school, I play in a metal band, and my body is covered in scars. Doing really great for myself in that department, Harrington.”

You felt bad for asking as he finished off the beer and got up to grab another, but you genuinely had no idea. After you moved, you hadn’t heard much about Eddie so you really didn’t know. He reappeared with two more and offered one to you with raised eyebrows, and you took it. When he sat down, he was a few inches closer to you and you could feel the warmth of his legs against yours.

“Sorry, I-”

“You didn’t know. It’s okay.” He seemed to have calmed down quickly, but you still felt bad. “There’s been a few, but nothing serious. Not really much to offer here.” You wanted to say there was because you knew Eddie better than most did, but you kept your mouth shut and moved on.

“I can’t believe that there was just this whole other world below Hawkins this whole time… and none of us knew it.” You stared at the coffee table in front of you. “I wish I-”

“No, no, no. Don’t you say you wish you could’ve been here.” Eddie was getting riled up as he readjusted on the couch, “I wouldn't have wished what I saw on anyone. Especially you.”

“No, I mean, I just hate that I left here without any care. I just wish Steve would’ve told me that it was going on.”

“Probably scared you would’ve tried to come back. Harrington's love to try to be the hero, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah. So I’ve been told.” You let out a scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“Jesus, you two are so much alike.” Eddie commented and you hadn’t realized he was staring at you. “Such an attitude on both of you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You challenged him.

“Yeah.” Eddie tucked a leg under him and turned to face you, scooting even closer. “Big ole heads full of pretty hair, ego, and a whole lot of attitude that comes along with it.” He reached out to push a few pieces of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your ponytail throughout the day, and drug his thumb across the edge of your jawline.

“But my hair is prettier, right?” You asked quietly, feeling the nerve to see what you could get away with.

“Oh, absolutely. Everything about you is prettier.” His hand lingered on your jaw and he quickly drew it back at the sound of a car door slamming shut outside. He kept his eye contact with you, as if he were timing exactly how long it would take for Steve to walk through the front door and he was spot on as he jumped back and sunk into the couch as if you two had been sitting feet apart the whole night.

“How was your night, Stevie?” He asked with a smirk as Steve shut the door.

“What are you doing here so late, Munson?” Steve asked, annoyed at the presence of his friend.

“Just keeping me company since this house is so empty. Stole a few of dad’s beers, I don’t think he’ll mind.”

He looked between the two of you before he scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I’m going to bed. ‘Night.”

“There’s that Harrington attitude we all love!” Eddie yelled up the stairs and Steve held up his middle finger in response. “I think I’ll head out now.” He announced as he stood up and stretched, his shirt rising a bit above his plaid boxers you’d already spotted a few times tonight during the game.

“See you tomorrow night?” You asked as you walked him to the door.

“Yeah? I’ll pick you up again if you want. I don’t think you want to go there by yourself. Usually Buckley and your brother show up at some point but who knows with the stick he’s got up his ass tonight if he’ll come tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. What time? I’m free…” you looked at your watch, “all day.”

“Well, some of us are contributing members to society now and have jobs so, I’ll come pick you up when I’m off at 2?” You blushed, realizing how eager you were seeming to see him. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“Yeah, uh, two sounds great.” You stuttered out.

“Perfect. We have practice at Gareth’s before, I can have them move it to 3 so I can have time to get you.” Eddie seemed unphased by your nervousness, or at least he was playing it cool and not pointing it out.

“See you then, Munson.” You waved him off and watched him walk to his van.

“Later, Harrington.” He yelled out without looking back at you, just giving a wave to the air.

You shut the large wood door and collapsed your back against it, closing your eyes and sighing. “Fuck.” You were screwed. Since when did you feel like this about Eddie? How did you feel about him? Why did he make you blush, and so nervous?

“No game, big sis. No game at all.” Steve spoke from the top of the stairs.

“Oh my God, Steve. Go away!”

“You’ve got a crush. A big one. Don’t you?”

“Steve!” You yelled his name after you locked the front door and turned the lights off, Eddie’s grumbling van could no longer be heard outside. “I do not.”

“Do too. And he does too.” He pointed at the closed door, “He always has. You’re just blind.”

“What?” You felt like the air was gone from your lungs.

“Uh, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows as you walked up the stairs to your bedroom and where Steve was perched. “I read your old diaries while you were gone. There’s way too much in those about Eddie for you to not have a crush on him. And he, get a couple more beers in him and my God, the boy will not shut up about you. He was non-stop talking and asking questions about when you were gonna be back and what you would be doing and-”

“Okay, chatty Cathy. I get it. But I don’t have a crush on him.” You pushed past him and made it to your bedroom, “How was your date?”

“Not answering that until you confess your crush on Munson. Night, sis.” Steve shut his bedroom door before you could say anything and you followed suit, your hands immediately reaching to feel the blush in your cheeks.

Maybe you did. But that was fast, or was it?

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