#i don't even know why i keep coming back there if shit like this keeps happening
Family dinner
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader
Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour
Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family
Masterlist
“I need you here yesterday!”
“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.
“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”
“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.
“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”
“...”
“Kate?”
There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”
You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”
“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”
You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”
“Natasha was there too!”
You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.
“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.
“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.
“There's no emergency mission, is there?”
“There better be!”
You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.
“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”
“What?”
“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”
“Kate.”
“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”
You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.
“I love you.”
“I haven't agreed to-”
“I know what that sigh means!”
You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”
×××
Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.
“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”
You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.
Natasha smirks.
“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”
Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”
She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.
“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.
Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.
Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”
You gulp.
“Well?” Natasha prompts.
You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.
“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.
“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.
Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.
“So, Y/n-”
Fuck.
“-are you single?”
You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.
“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.
You nod again, chewing fast.
“Why are you gay?”
You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”
“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”
The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”
You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.
Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.
You sigh, “Are you gay?”
She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.
“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”
You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.
“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”
The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”
“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”
“Huh?” You frown, affronted.
“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.
“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.
“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”
“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”
“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”
Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”
“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”
“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”
“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”
You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.
“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”
The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”
Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.
Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.
“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.
The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.
Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.
“Have you and Kate ever-”
“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.
“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.
“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.
“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.
“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”
You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”
Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”
Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.
“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”
“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.
Really, right in front of her mother?
The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.
“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.
Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.
“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”
Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.
“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”
She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"
You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.
“I am miserably single, too.”
She smiles, nodding to herself.
“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.
“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.
“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”
"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."
“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.
“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”
"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".
Kate just looks like she's about to faint.
You grin. "I can't wait."
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wait I still absolutely love love love kook trio reader with Rafe and because I think Rafe trying to control himself because he’s her ‘friend’ is so funny to me because hello I love him but I can totally get around to her and JJ 🤭
rafe thought he was really good at it—keeping himself under control. he thought no one else could see through the hard exterior, that he was keeping the possessiveness he felt over you well concealed.
he wasn't.
if the obvious staring at all the times of the day weren't enough, he was touchy with you, touchier than what was considered normal for your little friend group. you were the touchy one, always leaning against kelce's shoulder in the backseat when you were sleepy or keeping your feet splayed across top's lap during evenings spent out on the boat.
and though at first you had been the touchiest of all with rafe, he was starting to overtake you. a hand on your waist on the course, only pulling away when it was his turn to swing. sitting in the chair closest to you during lunch at the club, keeping his hand on the back of your seat, pulled closer to his than normal.
even during parties when he'd normally stalk off to sell and flirt with random girls—something that you used to be okay with but now made you feel a little unsettled, a little queasy—he was glued to your side, making sure the drink in your hand was from him, making sure your head only rested against his shoulder, your legs on his lap.
and normally, you ignored it. a little part of you was pleased, you'd always liked rafe the best, maybe because he had been the hardest to win over. when you first started hanging out with the boys, he'd put up the biggest fight, if topper and kelce were to be believed. rafe was the one who had been opposed, the one who thought a girl would ruin the vibes.
so it was nice, almost strangely satisfying, that he was so attached to you now. trying to be a good friend, like he always put it, like today.
rafe had given you a can of mango seltzer poured into a solo cup. what he didn't know was that topper had poured about two shots of vodka into the cup when rafe walked away to make a quick sell. and then kelce had topped you off again when rafe went to go make his own drink, so as a result, you were deliciously drunk, leaning back on the couch, pushing the soles of your feet against rafe's thighs while he kept a firm hand on your knee so you didn't tip over and fall off.
you giggle at his touch, everything feeling hot and tingly.
"really? that fizzy shit does this to you?" he asks, low and quiet. at first you're a little quiet, and he's a little worried—you're never quiet. but you laugh, thudding your head gently back on the arm of the sofa.
"rafe, when has one can ever done this to me? you're funny." you say, pushing yourself up and balancing on your elbows to look at him. you look pretty, enticingly so, almost enough to distract him from your words. the short denim skirt and white shirt is among his favorites, and he stares a little longer than he normally would.
you don't notice—he's always staring at you.
"what's that supposed to mean?"
"how do you think that bottle of vodka got empty so quickly?"
"they gave you more?" rafe questions, his hand coming to your ankles to hoist them to the side so he can stand up. he searches for topper and kelce, spotting them with two girls by the pool table, and just as he starts to take the first step, you sit up, grabbing his wrist and holding him back.
"hey! what the hell's that about?" rafe turns to look back you, staring up at him with your pretty eyes and confused expression. "i always drink with you guys. why would i stop now?"
"because i had said-"
"yes, i know you said not to." he sits back down, body facing yours, too close not to arouse suspicions from other people watching. you don't mind though, you're used to it. "i know you're being a good friend rafe, but i can't stop having fun because you're worried about me."
the alcohol has made you surprisingly honest—normally he thinks you whack the side of his head and call him an idiot.
"right.." rafe says slowly, processing the words. "a good friend. right. i am."
"i know you are." you lie back down, swinging your feet across his lap again, resuming position.
he strokes the skin of your legs, all the way from your thigh to your ankle. a boy walking by stares at your short skirt, but darts away when he sees how rafe's looking at him.
"you're all good friends," you ramble. "so nice to me, especially you. i thought you hated me at first. sometimes i worry you still do."
"could never hate you, kid."
you giggle again, taking another sip of your drink.
"stop being an idiot then, and have fun. i'll go get you another scotch if that's what it takes."
the night goes like that until kelce and top rejoin, and even then, you somehow end up like always—asleep next to rafe at tannyhill. you wake up to the blare of your alarm, while rafe covers his ears with the pillow.
"turn that shit off," he mumbles. "where the hell are you goin' so early?" you yawn, stretching next to him. he looks up, eyes opening by themselves, yearning to catch a glimpse of exposed skin.
"i have to go back home. will you bring me? pleeease?" you elongate the word, singing it sweetly so he'll comply.
"right now? why?"
"i'm going on a lunch date. i wanna get ready, y'know, look nice," you say, turning off your alarm and fiddling with something on your phone, replying to a text he thinks.
rafe sits up immediately.
"a date? with who?"
"um, this guy my friend buys weed from sometimes. he's nice, though, not weird at all. well, not weird like that, like not creepy, but he's funny-"
"shut up. you're not going." you turn from your position to look at him.
"rafe, you're so weird. friends are supposed to be excited for each other."
"right. excited."
"c'mon let's go, i don't wanna be late." you gather your discarded clothes on the floor, but keep his shirt on, wearing it home like you always do.
"friends," he mumbles to himself. friends. that's when he decided he was gonna have to do something about you.
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gone - b.c
genre: angst, breakup
synopsis: you shouldn't have married me. the words rang in your head, eyes widening ever so slightly as your fragile heart finally shattered like a piece of glass, the final blow delivered by chan's words.
word count: 0.4k (short drabble)
author's note: just a short drabble to keep y'all entertained while i write my longer fics:]
"why can't you just leave me alone??" chan was on the brink of exhaustion, and you nagging at him was not helping at all.
"chan-" you began, but was cut off by him almost immediately. "no! you tell me to sleep every single day, you call me 15 times in one day, you won't let me have even a single fucking second to myself!" chan's hands gripped at his hair as he yelled, gesturing around wildly.
"i just tell you to take care of yourself! you stay up until 3am in the morning, never eat and starve yourself, you never even say a fucking goodbye in the morning when you leave!" you yelled, lips wobbling as you felt all the pent-up emotions starting to expand, rising and rising until it was pushing against the walls of your heart and threatening to explode.
"do you know how shitty it feels to have a fucking husband that feels like a long-distance boyfriend? you don't even say goodbye, you come back at 4am every day, and i haven't even seen you in a month-" you stop, a sob threatening to escape, so you compressed your trembling lips into a straight line keep the tears in, though it was a futile attempt.
"well you shouldn't have even fucking married me then! i don't need a fucking second mother bossing me around every single second of the day! this marriage isn't even fucking working!"
you shouldn't have married me.
the words rang in your head, eyes widening ever so slightly as your fragile heart finally shattered like a piece of glass, the final blow delivered by chan's words. you could only stand in place, frozen and rooted in place, tears finally cascading down your face.
"wait- no, shit-" chan could only stammer as he watched your face fall, instantly regretting what he had just carelessly uttered.
"fine." one word, yet said with so much finality. the one word that broke his heart.
hand shaking, you brought your right hand to your left, finally twisting the small band encrusted with sparkling diamonds off. your wedding ring.
how ironic, that the symbol of your love would become the symbol of your separation.
you slammed the ring down on the counter, grabbed your coat and keys, and walked out the front door. he knew your heart was gone, the frayed rope holding your relationship together by a thread finally snapping with the sharp knife of his words.
you were gone.
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CW: Canon-typical violence with mentions of blood, Eddie being sympathetic for Vecna (but that's dubcon so there's another warning), brief mention of hunting, a little angst (Ed has to work through some shit here), a lot of fluff (because we love him for it), brutally honest Eddie, horny Eddie, pervy Eddie, and finally - male masturbation
I think that covers it
Word Count: 13.1K
Summary: The whereabouts and thought process(es) of Eddie is told as it should be -- from his manic, frantic, adorable lil POV.
Though he is very much a vampire, he is still very much our Eddie.
A/N: Not that you wouldn't be able to tell, but Eddie's flashbacks are told in italics and hopefully, uniform past tense throughout. Y'know how it is, switching from one tense to another in the same chapter. I'm bound to make a ton of mistakes, even though I read through it (once). Don't come at me, pls
Thank you so much to @rip-quizilla @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @hellfire--cult @ghost-proofbaby @morningberriesao3 @littlesubbyflower for all your help and encouragement with this chapter and most of all, feeding Eddie properly 😈💋
And I Need You to Know Masterlist
If you have not read And I Need You to Know, I strongly suggest you start with that story. This particular fic begins right where AINYTK leaves off, and it would be a little confusing to begin with this one. Merely a suggestion, of course. If you're a child of chaos and wanna do this your own way, WELCOME MY FRIEND!!
Waking the Fallen Masterlist
Previous Chapter
Divider by @strangergraphics
Darkness is not a new concept for Eddie Munson.
Not now, as the empty chasm where his heart used to beat for you aches at the way you plead for an explanation. Not then, as he awakened in the Upside Down after those shitty excuses for bats reduced his gangly body to shreds.
He’s done plenty of things that have blackened his soul, if he even has one anymore. He subjected one of his closest friends to the pain of watching him die in his arms. He left you behind, never really promising he’d stay. Which worked fantastically, because he still failed to buy more time in his stupidly self-righteous suicide mission, anyway.
He truly found darkness then.
But how does he tell you that he was forced into this body he now possesses? Could he even begin to explain that he couldn’t return even if he wanted to? It all sounds so weak. So contrived. Such a lame-ass excuse because the all-consuming love he felt (feels – because make no mistake, he fucking feels everything as you lie here in his arms) should have been enough to bring him back to you. He wanted to believe that like he wanted to breathe fresh air into his lungs.
That action itself that’s now fruitless.
No matter how he looks at it, he fears this darkness has settled. It’s in him, taken a residence inside forever; and though you still shine as brilliantly as you ever did, he stands convinced he can no longer live in the presence of the sun.
It’s why his stare is trained away from yours, scanning the depths of the forest for threats as the light disappears beneath the horizon. He murmurs your name as he searches for his words, helping you to your feet and brushing the dust of the earth from your ass. A smirk twitches over his kiss-bitten lips in spite of himself and you catch it, nudging him in his chest made broader by his fate dealt by the underworld. Your returning grin is strained and expectant, the whites of your eyes somehow brighter in the dim of twilight.
Waiting.
Eddie has to stop himself from helping you pull the thick cotton up your legs, the claws that adorn his fingers not yet retracted following the lewd activities he instigated on the forest floor. Clearing his throat, he finally finds the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
The way you huff a scoff under your breath informs him you were almost expecting him to say that. “Yeah?” You keep your eyes locked on the stubborn knot of your sweats. “For what, exactly?”
“I dunno,” he mumbles, unable to help it as he presses the softest of kisses into your hair. “Everything.”
He is. Christ, he is. He’s sorry he cut that stupid rope. He’s sorry for failing and for dying in Dustin’s arms. He’s sorry you were without him for so long. He’s sorry for what he is and almost losing control and –
Yeah. That’s where he’s gonna start.
After he tucks himself back into his goddamn pants. Eddie tugs awkwardly at his jeans, stumbling over his apology.
“For losing control when I – uh, when –”
“When we were fucking,” you supply over the abrupt sound of the ascension of his zipper. “Don’t go shy on me now, Munson.”
Your tiny, crooked grin helps Eddie relax, just a little. But as usual, the calm doesn’t last; gone, like water through his fingers. His hand rakes through his curls before he says,
“I don’t know what I would be like if I did that.” He swallows hard before clarifying, “if I bit you.”
Fuck, it’s been far too long since he’s seen you. Really seen you. He used to be able to read you like a book, he knew you so damn well. But now? He feels this barrier in between, made thicker by the curiously flat stare you throw his way.
It makes him nervous. The silence screams so loudly, he has to clench his fists at his sides to keep him from clapping his hands over his ears.
The roar of the truth is so fucking violent, it makes him blurt out, “B-because you, uh… you know what I am, right?”
The expression that flits over your features fluidly transitions from neutral to perplexed to amused. “Yeah,” you blink, raising an eyebrow at the wings that he’s now tucked near his torso. “You’re a vampire.”
He studies your face, nearly positive the other shoe is going to drop as soon as he confirms, “I am.”
But it doesn’t. His confession garners basically no reaction, like you were expecting it. To be fair, you probably were, but none of this warrants such a blatant lack of shock or – fuck, anything. Eddie’s eyes widen comically as his tone kicks up an octave.
“And that’s okay with you? Are you – baby, are you not freaked out?”
The tiny lift of your shoulder is jarringly nonchalant. “I mean, I guess I’m a little surprised… but honestly Eddie, not really.”
His lips pop open, prepared to ask the obvious How? He feels so disconnected from you, like you’re not telling him what you want to just to spare his feelings, and it’s killing him. Eddie huffs a sigh that sounds a lot like a whine, rolling his oxblood eyes to the darkening sky.
His wings fold in on themselves of their own accord, becoming one with his skin, and that’s when reality rattles in its cage deep inside Eddie’s head.
You’ve been subjected to the shit beneath Hawkins for a lot longer than he has. You learned of beasts not entirely unlike him you never would have fathomed to be real – but yet, they were. You fought them for years before him, fought them beside him – and so, he supposes with a soft click of his tongue, that his reemergence as a vampire wouldn’t be all that surprising.
Anxiety still crawls beneath his skin, like an itch he just can’t scratch. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“Well, yeah.” Eddie practically chokes on a humorless laugh as he mutters, “I’m a monster.”
There’s a soothing familiarity in the way your face crumples, in how you step into him and wrap your arms around his waist. Warmth that suspiciously feels like hope floods his body, a comfort that’s been absent for so long.
“No,” it’s not subtle, the firmness in the way you tell him, “you’re not.”
He scoffs, returning your embrace. “How do you know?”
Your confidence is beautiful, especially when it’s painted with a thick swipe of mischief.
“Well, for starters, you wouldn’t have pulled your vampire fangs away from my carotid artery while you were balls deep inside of me.”
He knows you have a point, but your brashness still makes him wince. “Yikes.”
“Eddie,” you soften even more, melting him all the same as your fingers wind through his. “You’re not a monster.”
“I guess.” He kicks at the dormant underbrush with his boot. “I feel like I am.”
“Why?”
“Well, for fuckin’ starters –” His answer is wordless, a sardonic wiggle of taloned fingers as his jaw clenches.
“Oh, yeah,” your eyelids flare, pupils dilating as the pointed nails glint in the rising moonlight. “I noticed those. Do they um, retract, ever?”
Eddie’s nose scrunches as he considers. “Yeah? Sometimes? When I’m not amped up and shit.”
“When is that?”
He can’t help how his mouth twitches. “Never.”
“Ah,” he swears that smirk was preloaded, the way your eyes dance with a subtle spark of the girl he once knew. “So, you’re pretty much the same as you were then, huh?”
Huffing a laugh, he’s grateful for your attempt to diffuse the tension. It’s something, but it's not enough. Eddie realizes he may be overthinking it, he might have tapped into his dramatics, again – but there’s a tension that still hangs thick between you. The more he tries to act normal and do what the Eddie before would have done just further jumbles his anxious mind.
The answers to so many of your questions lie in wait on his tongue, and he can’t wait to dive in with you. Make you understand.
A large part of him feels that you will.
But the way you trail off your sentences, misty eyes darting away from his gaze with this lonely, far-off look tells him you hold some cards close to your chest, and he’s not sure if he deserves to see your hand.
Far be it from him to fuck up a second chance, though. He cuts through the awkwardness with a dry cough. “Why does this feel weird?”
A tangled ball of guilt lodges deep in Eddie’s throat as soon as he sees your lip wobble. He lets you pause, sensing you need a moment to gather your thoughts.
It takes longer than a moment. An agonizing minute or two, or three, before you whisper, “Because you left me, Ed. You didn’t come back. On purpose.”
He appreciates your honesty, even though it’s like a knife to his side. “I was trying to buy them more time –”
“Were you really?” A pit of shame opens wide deep inside his gut as you interrupt, and he has to force himself to meet your stare. “I think you decided a long time ago that you weren’t going to come back.”
Eddie over it – done looking like some big, badass vampire. Sinking his top teeth into his bottom lip, he leans into the sting, hoping that it takes away from the bite of saltwater as it wells along his lower lids.
Apparently, vampires can cry. That’s just fucking great.
“I didn’t want you to die,” he croaks, hoarse with the thickness of regret.
A short sigh is punched out of your nose. “Well, I did anyway.”
Eddie is fairly certain there’s no longer a heart in his chest to tear to shreds. Whatever lives there now though – you’ve slaughtered it. It lies cracked and bleeding, a slow drain on whatever life force keeps him upright. He can’t survive, knowing he’s hurt you this much.
“C’mon,” gesturing to the shadows beyond the trees, you extend your hand to him. “We better get going.”
He doesn’t hesitate to thread his fingers between yours. “Where?”
“Harrington’s. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do – but I uh, have a feeling you’re not here just for a reunion.”
Of fucking course you picked up on that. “No.”
“Let’s go, then.”
Time is certainly of the essence, there’s no need to acknowledge it out loud. But what you don’t know is that he could give you this, he could suggest returning to that two-story you called home for the last nine months. Urgent matters can wait a few more hours if it means you’d be able to settle some of the turmoil he can see in your eyes.
“You um, you don’t wanna go back to…” Eddie’s insecurity silences that name, a burden that weighs on his tongue. He’s a coward and he knows it – he can see it clear as day that you’re conflicted. That his best friend has taken residence in your heart where he used to be. He doesn’t know how much, nor does he know if it’s permanent…
He can’t handle that, can’t bear that thought – not right now. So Eddie doesn't say his name.
It shouldn’t relieve him as much as it does when you give a brusque shake of your head. “I wanna be here with you.”
He allows himself a bit of hope. “Yeah?”
“Of course I do.” But you still sound so unsure. Your brows furrow over your nose while you look anywhere else but his piercing gaze. “Do you, um…” you begin nervously, “do you still want…”
Your voice trails off to nothing, and Eddie holds his tongue in hopes that you find yours. When you don’t, he proceeds with caution. “Do I still want what?”
His stomach drops, tying in knots when he sees that lower lip tremble before your eyes well full with tears as your hand lays over your heart.
“You?” he asks after a maddening beat of incredulity. “Sweetheart, are you kidding?”
The first of several sobs burst over reddened lips, the force of them shaking your shoulders. You collapse into him, so overcome with a deluge of emotion that he can hardly make out what you say through your cries.
“I just don’t know what’s happening.”
“Shhh,” he soothes as his thumbs swipes over the apples of your cheeks. “Okay. Shit, okay. I’m so sorry. You’re okay. We’re okay.”
“We’re okay,” you parrot as you burrow into his chest, trying to hide a sniffle into his shirt. “I think we have a lot to talk about but… we’re okay.”
“We’ll talk,” Eddie blurts out as fast as possible. His lips move across the crown of your head, muttering promises he’s ready to fulfill. “I’ll tell you everything, baby. Everything you wanna hear.”
“I need it, Eddie.” His beloved Hellfire shirt is already stained, the brine of your eyes just adds to it.
He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own from flowing as he whispers, “I love you.”
It’s not said in the throes, not chanted like a prayer as he chases his release, but he hopes it conveys every last bit of intensity he feels.
“God, Eddie.” You heave a sigh as you pull him close for a kiss. “I love you too.”
He could stand there forever if you needed, kissing you back with every bit of passion that still burns for you in his chest. “Thank fuck you do.” Regrettably, he pulls away, taking your hand in his as he sets the pace. He leads you through a roughened path between the trees, peering at you over his leather-clad shoulder. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Ho-lyyy shit.”
Eddie Munson belted out a groan, loud and full and ragged; sounding like it didn't even belong to him, like it came from a different being entirely. Lolling his head to the side, it seemed to thunk against the ground of its own accord, too heavy all of a sudden for his body to hold it upright. Like the dirt and blood that matted his curls was just suddenly too much to bear, and so muscles relaxed as his face smushed into a wretched bed of boggy dirt.
His jaw clenched as his mind whirred to life – a burst of knowledge of what made the pea gravel and dust so fucking wet flashed like the lightning above. And suddenly, he was aware – still clouded but alight with a foggy realization of… everything. Where he was, what he was doing, what he had been doing before he ended up on his back, staring at the constellations of crackling white and red as bright white flashed across a canvas of charcoal gray. Eddie grunted again, coughing the dryness from his mouth that felt like it had been caked there for centuries.
Bleary eyes blinked, and then blinked again; futile in their attempt to chase the muck away and clear his line of vision so he can focus on the actual hell that he’s still trapped within. He had to have died, because before this – this consciousness, or whatever the fuck – there was pain. Take his word for it, there was a lot. Like, a fucklot of pain. More than he thought was humanly possible and definitely – infinitely – more than he could handle.
And then, in the time it took for weighted lids to slip closed and succumb to death, it ceased. Heavenly, blissful nothing. A floaty ascension from a body left broken and ravaged, a lifeless form that soaked the dirty gravel of the underworld beneath Forest Hills with his blood.
He felt it. He did – he felt the life trickle down his chest, pour out of his belly where those ratty-ass motherfuckers chewed him as he screamed into oblivion.
And then he died. He died, right?
Yeah. Yeah – of course he did. There was no way anyone could survive that, not without help. Not that he’s blaming anyone. He was a lost cause from the moment he cut that rope. From the minute those bats tore into his flesh and spilled his blood.
Shit, there was so much blood. So much that it ran in rivers away from where he lay, coating the gravel and matting the dirt, congealing to the point where it held the same viscosity as mud. Fucking mud that was littered with those asshole bats that stole his last breath decades before he expected. A tragic way to end a tragic life that was actually looking up, for once. God damn it, isn’t that always the way it goes?
Nope. Nope, nope. Can’t do that. He can’t throw himself a pity party when he’s still flat on his back in the middle of Satan’s backyard. Who knows what kinds of creatures still lurk about, just waiting for the right moment to strike?
Fuck that, fuck staying put. He needed to leave. He needed to peel himself from this dead patch of earth and return to you.
Eddie pushed a whine through his nose, the seizing of stiff muscles with even the most minute of movements hindered his escape. Every limb felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, uncoordinated and heavy with disuse. Jesus Christ, how fucking long had he been lying here?
And then, without warning – a new purpose flickered to life, an ember coaxed by a gentle breeze into a tender flame. Eddie thought it should feel wrong, like it was a dangerous thing to want to wander where this unfamiliar tether tugged him into the unknown.
But it didn’t, it felt good – which in turn, made him feel good. Good enough to just stand, like his body didn’t feel aged, didn’t have the weight of disappointment still slung over his chest. It was a relief that there was a weird sort of destiny calling to him, a soothing kind of knowing that he was meant to do this. He could worry about other things later, sure he would – he’ll get to returning to you.
Eventually.
WIthout an ache or care in the world, Eddie stood. Brushed himself off and allowed the force inside his gut to direct him down the lane and out of the park. The why wasn’t important right now, and it was beyond him to even give it a second thought. You were pushed aside, discarded into a darkened corner of his mind as he put one foot in front of the other into the void of the unknown.
“I really thought I was going to get back to you.”
The truth is bitter, a resentment that coats like a chalky film over his tongue and teeth. No amount of explaining himself will ever rid him of the taste.
“I thought it would be this easy thing. Just – you know,” Eddie waves his arms out in front of him, “go do whatever and then I’ll go back. Crawl through the gates all dramatically and get back to my woman.”
Playfully dropping his timbre several notches, he’s eternally grateful you take the bait, leaning into his side as his arm drapes around your shoulder.
“What you’re saying is you couldn’t,” you suggest softly, a tendril of concern whirls around the words as he leads you deeper into the woods.
Worry lines more numerous than before burrow around the frown at his mouth as he remembers. “It was such a strange feeling, sweetheart. I still could think for myself, could do anything I wanted – like, the freedom to do things was still there. But…” He grunts a weary sigh. “I didn’t want to.” Unfiltered anger simmers hot, rolling patent through empty veins under his skin. “I don’t even know if prefer is the right word, but it was like I preferred to stay and fucking obey.”
“It sounds like you were compelled.”
“It sounds like I was being a bitch.”
“Eddie,” your singsong chuckle soothes over the roughened edges of his flaring temper. “I assume this is Vecna we’re talking about?” you clarify, and he nods. “I don’t even know the half of what he can do, but… it really sounds like he forced you to stay.”
An odd, prickly sensation crawls up Eddie’s spine at the thought of that first awakening. It sickens him how much it feels like fondness, a thankful sort of relief before he buries it, layering it under shame and regret. He hates how good it made him feel.
The duality of emotions is frustrating, to say the least. Eddie grits his teeth as he admits, “No, not when I woke up. It was like a weight was lifted off my chest. I didn’t know what he was doing then, but he made it seem like my idea. He made me believe that I wanted this. I swear I felt like I didn’t have an original thought of my own.”
A delicate sound rolls in the back of your throat, sympathetic but not pitying. “That sounds awful.”
Dark curls bob slowly in affirmation. “I noticed but I didn’t care. He was that good.” If he wanted to, he could grind his molars to dust, and it’s a concerted effort to keep that from happening as he sneers lowly, “That manipulative.”
Eddie’s more at ease now that night has properly descended, but it does make it challenging to navigate you through the trees. Ever the gentleman, he offers to carry you, knowing that the slim bit of light provided by the moon won’t be enough for you. He allows a crooked smirk to play at his lips when you climb on his back, the perfect puzzle piece slots into place when your chin rests in the crook of his neck.
“This won’t hurt your wings?” you murmur sweetly into his ear.
Eddie chuffs a laugh. “Doubtful. I – uh, don’t even know where the fuck they go.” His hands purposefully squeeze the meat of your ass as he shifts you upward. “You comfortable?”
There’s a seductive warmth in how you hum Very into his hair. Eddie basks in it, closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the heat of your body against his. A long stretch of the journey goes like this, one clinging to the other as Eddie brings you closer to Loch Nora. He offers bits and pieces of information as you ask for it, but even more content just to hold you; cradle you over the solid planes of his torso while his mind stays acute.
Always aware of these ever-changing surroundings.
Your clever question cuts through a lull in the conversation. “Did he get inside your head?”
A growl grumbles over Eddie’s lips. “He must have,” he spits. “Any time I had a shred of desire to leave or not do what he asked or expected of me, it would disappear as soon as it formed.”
He doesn’t tell you that he was made to dwell on all this awful shit – all lovingly fabricated from his subconscious by One himself, no doubt. A million and one reasons ran amok through his mind, always reminding him why Eddie needed to stay gone. How he was a freak, a murderer, an unworthy partner and a selfish friend.
That was a time where his head was a miserable place to be.
Tiny muscles twitch along the angle of his jaw. He treads delicately, not wanting to divulge this with you yet. Instead, he confesses the biggest reason he remained out of your sight.
“It freaked me the fuck out, princess. I – I hated myself for it. For letting him in. I worried that if I came back, he would find me.”
“How?”
Eddie sighs as he soundlessly weaves between the thick timber. “I could see things, or uh – I had this connection. Like, flashes of what he saw, or what he felt. I could feel how he was watching El. He’s watching Will, too. I – I don’t know why, but he is.”
“Oh my god. Eddie…”
Pressing on through your sympathy, he admits, “I guess I thought if I knew that much about him, he knew that much about me.”
Your demure oh says it all, mercifully connecting the dots. “And he’d see that you came back to me?” you reason slowly, shifting out of his grip to slide down from his back.
He meets you halfway, guiding you in front of him and cradling your face in his palms. “All I wanted to do was come back to you.” Insisting isn’t enough, he pours every bit of heat he has left into the truth. “With every passing day, I did. I wanted to, baby, but…” Even in the dark, he hopes the intensity in his stare reaches you. He’s changed, but here right now, he still feels like your man, grappling for forgiveness.
“I really thought you were safer without me. Maybe even better off,” he takes a long inhale as he punctuates his admission with an impossible truth. “With him.”
A sad sort of smile befalls your features, wistful and beautiful all at once. It’s an answer in itself, an assurance only you could provide, and Eddie’s chest inflates with hope that could flip the darkness into light if he lets it.
“Safer, perhaps.” You lean in, brushing the tip of your nose across his cheek in search of hungry lips. A blissful moment of your sweet taste, your essence envelopes Eddie and almost has him succumbing to your light.
Especially as you whisper into kiss-bitten flesh, “But I’m only better because you’re here.”
It wasn’t long before Eddie found him. A twisted hunk of flesh, burned and battered beyond recognition, but he would have known who this was regardless.
“Come.”
Vecna lay dying, entwined with the ground, trying to draw life from his already dead surroundings. Where his limbs ended and the vines began, Eddie couldn’t tell. What was abundantly clear was Vecna was lost without him, destined to wither to ash.
The dry rattle of death was evident; it smothered the low rumble of his tone. “My friend,” the being lifted a clawed finger with great effort, “come to me.”
Eddie’s automatic response rolled with regrettable reverence off his tongue. “Master.”
The urgency of the situation was made clear, and so it didn’t feel unnatural for Eddie to help. A pair of now-sharpened canines sunk into the thin tissue at his wrist, drawing what little blood Eddie had left for Vecna to consume. As the first drops touched his lips, the vines coiled tighter, elongated to slither and slide up his body and mold to his shape. It didn’t last long; Eddie’s sacrifice wasn’t nearly enough to completely heal, and so he unbound Vecna from the vines and brought him to a familiar structure, away from the decimated remains of Creel House.
To get there, they walked for miles, the lieutenant carrying his Master. It should have tired him, but if anything, the opposite occurred. Eddie appreciated his change, the metamorphosis of his body as it happened. Stronger. Longer. Leaner. More agile. More powerful. Like his entire being was created anew with each step he took. More acutely aware, his senses heightened like never before; a new dawn for a new kind of life.
Eddie knew how he wanted to feel, how terrified he should be with this twisted turn of events. But the tiny ember of longing for life up above with you was squelched, overshadowed by a new, more sinister purpose.
And he thought he was powerless to stop it.
If you’re horrified with what he’s told you so far, you haven’t shown it. Eddie’s torn between wishing for more of a fevered reaction and counting his blessings for the thoughtful neutrality in how you set your gaze forward. He can’t shake the feeling that’s how you are on the inside because Christ – that’s certainly how he was: a constant contradiction between fear and foreboding against a soothing, idle peace full of intention.
Vecna laid it all out, and Eddie often wondered if it was accidental. The normal safeguards in that labyrinthian mind full of filth and arrogance were destroyed, and it granted the newest beast of the Upside Down full access to the unrestrained objectives of a once-man who teetered on the verge of death.
Divulging this, he knows, won’t bother you in the least. “Vecna’s hurt. Or, he was. He’s getting better, he’s getting stronger, but Jesus,” huffing an incredulous laugh, he shakes his mop of curls. “Harrington and Buckley and Wheeler – they fucked him up.”
His occupied hand gets a squeeze from yours. “They’ll be happy to know that.” You pause, allowing Eddie to guide you around a wide bend in the landscape. “How did he get better?”
A rueful shudder rakes down his spine. He was hoping to skip this, gloss it over if it ever came up. Shame over what he’s done has burrowed deep in his skin and holds tight in his bones. He did promise he would tell you everything.
“I hunted for him.”
He cringes, a minute shrinking in on himself to brace for the onslaught of revulsion and anger as it pours from lips stained red with your disappointment. Even his strides slow, a feeble hope that it’ll lessen the burn from the heat of your words.
The reply you give him is soft, a tiny Oh as cool as the night air. He watches in awe as your lips pop open, a ready inquiry set to fire when you close them again, losing yourself in several yards of thoughtful contemplation.
Eddie feels like he’s vibrating with anticipation, impatient in the worst way for you to expand on that one sweet word that flipped his expectations on their pasty white ass. He can’t handle how fucking quiet you’ve become, not when he feels like he’s a lifetime’s worth of wrongs to make right.
The stark black silence is unbearable, and a pleading, “Sweetheart –” tumbles from his mouth at the same time you ask,
“Why you, though?”
Eddie jolts like he’s been electrocuted, the sheer surprise notches his tone up several octaves. He’d call it manic if he wasn’t so goddamn thrown.
“That’s what you’re curious about?”
“What should I be curious about?”
His arms wave in an arc, flabbergasted extremities gesturing to everything and nothing. “I – I don’t know, the fact that I fucking resurrected Vecna from certain death! I practically slept with the enemy!” His intake of breath is so sharp he practically snorts. “His little errand boy. I was his goddamn right-hand man for months –”
Eddie cuts himself off with a wheezing inhale, drawing out his frustrated whine. Okay. Safe to say that now he’s manic. Dropping your hand, he paces in front of you, not caring in the least that his leather jacket scrapes roughly against the trunk of a tree as he clumsily shoulders past it.
“He said jump and I said, How fucking high, Master?” Eddie mocks himself, trilling in an obnoxiously high soprano. “Shall I shine your shoes and wash your feet for you too? Perhaps take the demodog for a stroll around the park?”
In a blur of midnight and pearl, he whirls around to face you, and mercifully, the moon peeks through the clouds at this very moment. Knowing you can see the anguish that paints his features lessens the knot in his gut. “I did that, and I fucking knew it was wrong!” Eddie’s tone adopts an intimidating tenor, booming through the thick mass of trees. “Doesn’t that make me a monster? Doesn’t that make me enemy number fucking one?”
Your eyes are as round as saucers. “Did you really call him Master?”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie does his best to suppress a wail, huffing more of the evening air through his nose. “Baby, focus. Please.”
A smirk twitches over your lips, though you do well to school it neutral. “Okay.” Chuckling softly, you step toward him and offer him your hand. “Sorry, Ed… but unless you’re gonna like, deliver me to him in the middle of these woods, no. You’re not a monster. You’re not the enemy.”
Despite the vigor in which your assurances come, he still doesn’t believe it. Not all the way. “No,” he scoffs, “I’m not going to fucking do that.”
And he wouldn’t. Not for all the gold in that one king’s castle or court or whatever it is, not when he’s been gifted the rarity of a second chance laced with such kindness and sympathy from you. Vecna may be this all-powerful entity with the realm’s most sinister psionic powers, but fuck.
What you’re doing now with all of this pure, unadulterated love that spills from your every pore? It will renew him, he’s sure of it.
And right on cue, you give him more. “Give yourself a break,” you murmur as your shoulder bumps against his chest. “Please.”
He wants to. More than you know, but even as a vampire he finds that the stupid fucking insecurities that plagued him as a human are like, tenfold as a beast that’s come straight out of hell. “I just don’t see how this is all okay.”
A considerate hum rumbles in your throat. “Vecna called you, didn’t he? It’s not like you chose it straight away.”
“I – I guess?”
“Why did he want you? Aren’t you curious about that?”
“Very fucking much,” Eddie grumbles as he pulls you towards a patch of sparse foliage. Squinting his lids just a millimeter or two, he can make out distant lights of a neighborhood ahead. “I wondered that a lot.”
“If we figure that part out, will it help?” Eddie makes a noncommittal noise, which prompts you to comment, smooth and sure, “Dustin’ll probably know.”
The mere sound of his name is like a knife to the chest. A calloused stripping of a wound partially healed to leave it gaping and open again. It hurts, and it bleeds into his tone.
“Is…” Eddie trails off, throat suddenly too dry to form the words. “Is Dustin gonna be at Harrington’s?”
It’s obvious you’ve heard his trepidation. “I assume they all will be at some point.” You’re so careful in what you say next as if you can sense his anxiety once again rising to a boiling point. “It’ll be okay –”
“I don’t know if I can see him,” he blurts, cutting down your confidence he so wishes he could feel.
Otherworldly patience must run in your veins. You tug him closer, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Baby, you’ll have to, eventually.”
Many regrets ran in a loop on the screen behind Eddie’s lids in the last year, and Dustin’s crumpled, tear-streaked face was often the star of the show. But of course, you’re right. Jesus, just the thought of that – Eddie knows it’ll hurt Dustin more if he keeps his presence in Hawkins a secret. He scrubs a dirty hand down his face.
“I know, but I don’t want him seeing me like this.”
“You seriously don’t think he’ll understand?”
Of course he will. Of fucking course Dustin will understand, but it doesn’t mean he’ll forgive the older boy for being selfish and running headlong into death. For literally dying in his arms. For scarring him for fucking life. Eddie gnashes his teeth, physically restraining the caustic retort that burns on his tongue.
He tones it down. Barely. “I put him through hell.”
“Well,” you reason fairly, “sounds like you went through hell, too.”
Guilt still rolls heavy in his chest, but he does his damndest to placate you and push it aside for now. Just because he knows you’re right doesn’t mean he’s ready to face it.
“We’re almost there,” he announces with a nod towards a subtle glow of twinkling lights.
“Good. Keep talking, Eds.”
So he does. Over the next several hundred yards, Eddie details one of Vecna’s more interesting behaviors, how he would retreat to an empty room and seemingly seek out a connection with a select few in Hawkins. Vines attached like wings at his back, Vecna would inhale all of the energy of his surroundings as those ugly arms contracted and lifted his body from the floor with a sickening squelch. At first, he had no idea what this odd ritual even was, or what purpose it served other than to knock him out for a few days. Completely zapping all of his reserve, Vecna would have Eddie bring him to recover in a separate room, effectively setting his healing back weeks.
“That’s how he attacks his victims,” you choke out, panic laced in how you splutter, “but I didn’t think – we didn’t think he was killing again!”
“No,” Eddie replies quickly, immediately sorry he didn’t fucking lead with that, “he’s not killing anyone. He’s not strong enough to attack. I think – well, I know that’s how he keeps tabs on your superhero friend.”
You balk, and Eddie backtracks, realizing he dropped quite a bit of information on you very fast. “What I mean is, he knows Max, which is understandable because she was cursed like Chrissy and Patrick. Oh, and he definitely knows who young Byers is. That – that girl, El, I think I already mentioned her.” A quick succession of snapping fingers echoes through the trees as Eddie adds, “And Nancy. He – he really knows who she is.”
That stops you dead in your tracks. “He – what?”
Eddie’s brain explodes in a kaleidoscope of Vecna’s most memorable visions, each more vivid than the last. It irritates the absolute hell out of him that even as an undead creature sort of known for their stoic, unflappable nature, Eddie’s version of vampire buzzes like a livewire, unable to be anything but fucking flapped at the moment.
If all that’s jumbled in his brain would slow down for a second and give him a chance, he could explain this better. Somehow.
Maybe.
He coughs, trying to dislodge the cherry pit in his throat. “Vecna senses El’s presence in Hawkins. I’m sure she can sense his –” Eddie waves his hand around his face, “– whatever, too. He was afraid of that. As much as that motherfucker can be afraid, I guess. I mean, he’s not afraid afraid, but he took time to make an extra effort to remain out of her sight or something.”
He realizes he’s rambling, and takes a second to stop, reeling himself back in after he’s ventured far from his point. “Either way,” Eddie sighs, “it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I never, ever saw even a trace of you in his mind. But fuck, princess. I so clearly would see Max sometimes and I couldn’t handle the thought of him finding you…”
“You saw Max in his head?” There’s a veracity in how you ask, so much that it sounds more like a statement than a question.
“I did, yeah.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, god. Forever ago, it feels like.” He doesn’t remember exactly, and he hates how your face falls.
He’s quick with his assurance. “That’s not who he’s focused on.”
He tells you that it’s primarily El that he wanted to monitor from afar. Young Byers as well, and maybe a few others. Eddie doesn’t know for sure, but for a long time he thought Vecna could read his mind. He was terrified to even attempt to even see you because he thought that his foolishness would alert Vecna to your presence, and therefore, hand you over like a lamb for slaughter.
But that never happened.
Dead leaves crunch under the sole of his boot. “I don’t think he even knows you exist,” he mumbles, equally pacified and irritated with this. If he would have known, he could have returned sooner.
But that, too, never happened.
“Eddie.” The way you breathe such sweet devotion in his name stops his self-loathing spiral in its tracks. “I get it. You wanted to keep me safe.”
Eddie blows out a breath drenched with relief. “I wanted to keep you safe.”
His chest nearly caves in at how you curl into him, albeit awkwardly from the side. The depths of your devotion and your outright trust all summed up in one embrace. Pressing your body against his, you nuzzle your forehead under his chin
Your whisper is thick, your breath hot as it fans over cool skin. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Forgive yourself,” your plea is downy soft and pure and a curious tug beneath his sternum has him stuttering over a sharp breath. “Please. I already do,” you sniff, maneuvering to burrow your face farther into his chest. “I forgave you the second I saw you.”
He could drown in it, the love he feels flowing hot and rich through your veins. “Sweetheart, I –”
“Deserve it, Ed,” you finish for him. “You deserve it. Okay?”
He doesn’t; not yet, anyway. Keeping the sadness from reaching his eyes, Eddie does his best to crinkle those crows feet with a smile that looks as genuine as the adoration he feels in his bones for you. He dips his head to meet your lips, dragging them against yours as slow and soothing as the November moonlight. And when he feels your movements grow warmer, he meets them with every last bit of devotion that always burned despite the chill of the underworld.
He’ll spend every waking moment from now until his end earning your forgiveness.
Bitterness ran through Eddie’s veins. Each time he assumed that role of the predator, he was a murderous mass of vitriol; heady, earthy and sour – fueled by the beasts of the Upside Down. The hunt kept him relevant, and the more time went on, the more he came to believe this. Undeniable was the love he held for the chase, the stalking of prey over miles of rugged, desolate terrain.
He especially loved the kill.
There was a time where he could almost convince himself that he was ridding the Upside Down of evils when fangs tore at rotted flesh, draining a lesser animal of its life while it incompletely nourished his and by extension, Vecna’s.
A necessary evil. A survival mechanism. Even then, deep down he knew it was a lie.
The most difficult pill to swallow wasn’t the acrid, decaying rot that flowed from the vessels of demogorgons and the like. No – Eddie found that the more he hunted, the more he fed, the more he provided for his Master, the more he grew to want it. His sense of purpose flourished. Humanity shed off of him in razor-thin flakes, undetectable at first. Regret clawed at his insides because he wasn’t blind to it.
Eddie felt himself withering away as Vecna grew stronger.
And then – a radical change, one he hadn’t felt since the night he first spoke to you in the trailer park in his past life. Just like then, it happened on a regular night. Ordinary in every sense, mundane in the way that Eddie had gone through the motions like always, same as it ever was. Only this time, he ventured farther away from Vecna than he ever had, the hours bleeding together into an elongated absence.
It was new, Eddie was testing it out, but what he’d learned so far excited him –
The peace and serenity of an unclouded mind was euphoric – all of the intricacies of his being he had been deprived of came rushing back in droves. Eddie Munson had a way to return to his former self, and it both relieved and terrified him.
He craved it, mostly because he found he was in control of his thoughts. No longer a dim, distant want, it was a need – because he could think of you.
He thought of you as he hunted near the gate that cut through a section of dense forest, and that’s when he smelled it.
Eddie caught the divine scent of a human.
Instinct roared to life – all of his senses sharpened, his teeth bared and glinted in the blood-red gashes of light through charcoal gray. This elevation of his basic impulses was far beyond what he’d experienced thus far, and a magnificent desire for the kill contracted the muscles in his legs, primed for the strike.
There was no chase, no preamble – Eddie found the exact spot between the two worlds where his unsuspecting victim stood. He heard every measured breath, felt the warm pulse of life as it pushed through thick, bulbous vessels, could nearly taste –
Oh, fuuuck. Two heartbeats.
Eddie nearly moaned. Two separate forces dropped him to his knees, claws extended and ripe for the chase. He had to suppress a dark chuckle – he knew it would be over before those poor souls had a chance to realize what happened.
He would show mercy. It would be over quickly.
No need to play with his food. Not when it was served up so readily.
The voices faded as they walked along the edge of the gate, seemingly unaware of what sort of horrors lay beneath. Eddie dragged a talon along the membrane separating the two worlds, flaying it down the middle. As silent as death itself, he emerged into the mortal plane, oxblood and onyx eyes honing in on two figures in those grotesque green and gold lettermans jackets that he loathed so much as a human.
He overheard their conversation – one that sparred the most inane, machismo back and forth like they’d actually do something other than shit their pants if they found themselves in the presence of what lies beneath their feet. One of them – Andy, Eddie believed – even went so far as to duck and weave with his fists raised, like he was just rearing to go for the fight.
Oh. Fuck showing mercy.
This was going to be FUN.
It came as no surprise that the two-idiot calvary hadn’t detected Eddie, too deep in their own egos to sense the actual threat that loomed behind them. In a breath of a moment, Eddie vanished far to their right, making sure to generate enough of a rustle to have the lead moron freeze and harshly spit a ‘What was that?’ into the shadows.
Here, Eddie stood sheathed in a darkness he conjured himself, invisible to the inferior human eye. Guilt wasn’t even a thought as he toyed with his food, rushing by at speeds too fast to be seen but just enough to let them know he was there. All he felt was the thrill, the exhilaration of a hunt that would end in what was sure to be his finest feast so far. Even the proximity of such delicious blood was intoxicating, heightening with every moment he prolonged this game.
Fear, as it turns out, when pulsed through the veins of cowards, made the chase so much sweeter.
And so he dragged it out, testing his hunting prowess, projecting his voice in a sinister growl, surrounding the two ex-jocks of Hawkins High and instilling a terror they’d never known until now. Heads whipped from one side to another, trying to track down exactly where – or what – they heard.
It was disorienting, their unfamiliar surroundings spiking adrenaline through their system. They shouted at one another, full of venom and blame.
Eddie couldn’t get enough.
He felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand to attention when he chuckled; a dry, condescending little sound before he ambushed them, grabbing Andy from behind and lifting his burly frame from the ground like he was nothing more than a rag doll.
The young man’s startled scream was lost to the wind that howled up from the gate.
“You,” rolling red oxblood in Eddie’s eyes glowed in brilliant, hypnotizing swirls as he pinned the other boy in a glare, “were never here. You will never return.”
Listening to Eddie’s command, the boy went rigid as he listened, nodding once with sluggish comprehension.
“Say it,” Eddie ordered, smothering Andy’s feeble cry for help in a crushing hold against the granite planes of his chest.
“I was never here.”
“Chase –” Andy choked out a hoarse, frantic plea for his friend’s attention, all in vain.
Eddie extinguished the light in Chase’s eyes, his monotone promise to go home and tell no one of what he saw all he said before he turned the opposite direction, unknowingly leaving his friend for slaughter.
That was precisely when a fluid wave of warmth spread from Eddie’s low belly, down the front of his jeans. Abrupt realization dawned, and Eddie grinned into the back of Andy’s neck now slick with sweat.
“Sorry big boy, I’m not into that,” Eddie rasped into his ear as a whimper bubbled over Andy’s lips. “You’re lucky the stench of your piss isn’t enough to ruin my appetite.”
Andy bucked in his grasp, a futile attempt to wriggle away. Pride surged through Eddie’s empty veins, finally on the other end of the endless torture he was subjected to at the hand of this man and the jockish likes of him. As much as it was satisfying, it was liberating.
Especially when Andy began to sob, pleading in blubbery, nonsensical words for his life.
Eddie couldn’t help the rumbling laugh that vibrated his chest. “Oh, but I do like that. Sound so cute when you beg.” A clawed hand raised to wrap around Andy’s throat, the plan to wrench it to the side. “Maybe I –”
As soon as skin touched skin, Eddie’s vision blacked out. Fleeting images flashed before him, one right after another, an overwhelming deluge of transgressions and terrible acts, all performed by the man Eddie held by the throat.
Until it stopped, locked on the familiar face twisted in fright as she kicked and clawed and fought for her escape.
Fun this was, no longer. Rage ran hot and blistered the tender skin of Andy’s cheek as Eddie gritted, “What did you do to Lady Applejack?”
“W-who?”
“Erica Sinclair.” Andy went silent and Eddie tightened his grip, digging the sharpened tops of his claws into his neck. “You hurt her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man!”
“What kind of man goes after a child?”
“No – she – no, I didn’t –”
The stuttering wasn’t enough to distract from the hate Andy had for her, and it wasn’t only because of her distant known affiliation with Eddie. It was because of who she was, who her brother was, same as the teammate he lost but didn’t really mourn.
Eddie ground his teeth against his rising anger, and channeled it into the gravel of his tone. “You know what I fucking hate worse than asshole, bigoted jocks?” He didn’t even wait for a response. “Liars.”
The fight in Andy increased, like he could sense what was coming. He thrashed and wiggled in Eddie’s arms that expended no extra effort to hold him in his place. “H-hey, no, I didn’t do anything!”
Eddie laughed then, cold and high, before clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I saw everything, dipshit.” His top hand moved from his neck to anchor in his hair, twisting his head at an impossible angle to expose a bounding pulse beneath thin, stress-mottled skin.
The position opened Andy up to watch his own demise. The young man gasped at the sight, his rounded eyes darting every which way over Eddie’s features, unsure where to land first.
The doomed man’s brain isn’t able to keep up. “What are you?” he settled on asking, and Eddie would have rolled his crimson eyes to the sky had he not been so hell-bent in finishing off this sorry excuse for a human.
So, he mustered up the most villainous grin he could, tilting his chin to showcase the razor blade edge of his canines in the moonlight.
“Hungry.”
Electricity practically hums under Eddie’s skin at the mere memory of the one and only time he fed on human flesh, the sheer ecstasy from the kill overshadowed even the darkest of shame that still blotted like ink in his chest. It worries him how indifferent he feels about the actual person versus the barbaric act, but he finds he’s much more concerned for your reaction than atoning for merely minding his nature.
For now, at least. It’s weak and he knows it, but clinging to the, it was instinct! excuse in his mind has kept him on this side of sanity since it happened.
“Eddie.” There’s not a trace of judgment or horror in the way you say his name. “Who was it?”
A shaky hand runs nervously through his curls. “Um…”
“The person you attacked.”
“Killed,” Eddie corrects you glumly. A downcast set of crimson eyes hone in on the details of the forest floor. “I killed him, sweetheart.”
“Actually –”
He cringes, surprised at how much he doesn’t need your assurance right now. As if denying the worst part of him won’t chase away the darkness that he fears has changed him forever. He hoped that it would, because Christ, he doesn’t want to be this monster you swear he’s not. But now it feels different, now that you’re willing to give him this undeserved support despite what he did?
No. Somehow making you a liar is worse.
He won’t do it. He won’t lie and hide behind what he’s become. “I’m a fucking murderer –”
“Woah,” you stop dead in your tracks, “no, you’re not –”
“I am,” Eddie argues back, his frantic muttering drowns out any reason to the contrary, “no fucking better than the monster everyone in this goddamn town said I was –”
“Was it Andy?”
Except maybe that. Eddie’s eyes round as he slowly brings them from the ground and back to yours. In his mind, he’s on his knees, begging whatever god might be left that he’s heard you right.
“Yes,” he husks, “it was Andy.”
“Baby,” you breathe as a sympathetic smile plays on your lips. “He’s not dead.”
Raw, unfiltered shock freezes him in his place. Eddie is rarely stunned silent, but at this moment he’d be surprised if he ever spoke again with how overwhelmed he feels. Swallowing heavily, he blinks your awaiting face back into focus and coughs a hoarse,
“Please elaborate.”
You’re quick to detail every last ounce of what you remember Gareth telling you over dinner one evening in late summer – how Andy wound up in the hospital after some townsfolk found him near the gate that was close to the woods on the edge of town. He was battered, like he’d been in a fight, but still very much alive – and initially, you say, Gareth thought Steve or Jonathan had something to do with it. It was well-known to the older boys that Andy was one of the assholes with Jason that got in a couple of cheap shots on Gareth’s face following Chrissy’s death. It wasn’t them, though – as confirmed by the injured young man himself when questioned before his release from the hospital.
“Hopper chalked it up to a bear attack… but we,” you raise your eyebrows knowingly, “all figured it was a demogorgon that got him and he miraculously got away.”
Eddie snorts derisively. “No, that would’ve been me.” He pulls a face, unable to move past a certain detail in your story. “I highly doubt the fine citizens of Hawkins believed Hopper’s stupid bear attack narrative. There aren’t even bears in Indiana.”
He can’t help but be affected by your giggles. “Yes, there are,” you titter genially. “They’re all downstate but yeah. Indiana has bears, Ed.”
“Oh.”
“Erica was prepared to track it down and shake its hand.”
That has him barking a laugh. “A demogorgon or a bear?” He shakes his head fondly as you shrug, indicating Erica would have stared down either just to express her thanks. “I wouldn’t expect any less from the brave Lady Applejack.”
He matches your smile, even after it fades into a more contemplative press of your lips. “How did it make you feel?” Eddie’s thick brows pinch over his nose, and you supply, “Feeding. On a human.”
“Amazing.” It’s out of his mouth before he realizes he’s thought it. A sheepish duck of his head is coupled with a grimace and a wary look in your direction to see if you’re at all ashamed of him.
You’re predictably not, though Eddie can’t fathom why.
Taking his hand in yours, a careful lacing of chilly digits through yours, you gesture for him to lead the way..
“Tell me about it.”
There’s no need for Eddie to hold his breath, not anymore. But, by force of habit, he blows an elongated exhale through his nose.
“After that, I – it was like I woke up. So many things about my existence and about Vecna just clicked into place for me. I could see it,” he whispers, “understand it.” A familiar sense of dread rushes up his spine as he admits, “All that time, I think I was fine to sit back and wait for it to be over, all while performing like some puppet on a string. Day after day. I couldn’t do that. I had to change – I had to open up my mind and think for myself and somehow find a way to be okay with that because –”
A mess of ebony curls dance around the sharp lines of his face. “I couldn’t shut down who I was and keep pretending that I was okay with being some sheep for slaughter. I knew then I didn’t want that. I wanted something else.” His grip tightens around your fingers as Eddie chokes over your name, “I knew he would be done with me the moment he got what he wanted. And – and so I just stopped. I didn’t return to him.”
“God, Eddie. When was this?”
“I don’t know,” the days and nights are all a blur at this point. “Maybe um, a few months ago?”
Ripping your hand from his, you recoil like you’ve been slapped. “A few months?!” you shriek. “Eddie! What took you so long?”
He’s rather vulnerable, a little raw in places that haven’t seen the light of day in nearly a year. Wounds haven’t healed, not even close – you have no idea the anguish that bogged him down when he thought he lost himself after Andy. There was no way he was just going to waltz back into your life, not with a legitimate soul on his conscience.
So, if he bites back, defensive and a little maniacal, Eddie thinks it’s warranted.
“Just because I had a fucking revalation or some shit didn’t mean I knew what I was going to do! I – I had to figure some shit out, I don’t know!”
You’re not buying it. Your hips pop into an infuriatingly adorable stance, made even more irresistible with the way your arms cross over your chest.
“A few months, though?”
Eddie thinks he might lose his damn mind.
“Baby, I don’t know how to do this,” he’s almost pleading as he exclaims, “I don’t know how to be a vampire!”
You open your mouth to argue, and he swoops you into his arms, holding you close as you emit a tiny squeak once your feet leave the ground.
He presses his forehead against yours. “It feels so unnatural for me, being up here in like,” he can’t help how bitterness seeps into his voice, “rightside up Hawkins. This feels like… like there’s a thousand little bugs crawling under my skin.” He’s unable to hide the ghost of a grin that tugs at his mouth as he drawls, “I mean, there actually could be a thousand little bugs crawling under my skin. I am dead, y’know.”
“Eddie!” His name is synonymous with the disbelieving scoff bursts from your lips, despite your attempt to squash it as you roll them in.
In a supremely sweet and undeniably you-like gesture, you bring your hands to the sides of his face and mold your mouth to his. It’s both heaven sent and not nearly long enough; though he consciously returns your feet to the forest floor, he chases your lips even as you pull away.
“Not funny,” you scold, though there’s no real reprimand behind it.
He can concede it’s not. His playful grin fades, melting into something much more sullen.
Fitting, because that’s precisely how he feels. “I don’t know what that means, okay? I don’t know fucking anything.”
“Well, neither do I.”
“I was afraid to come back.” He still doesn’t feel right admitting this, but knowing you deserve his honesty, he averts his gaze and mumbles, “I’m even a little afraid to be back.”
“What? Eddie, why?”
“What do you mean, why?” He doesn’t intend to sound mean when he asks, but Jesus – about a thousand different reasons why threaten to burst from his chest all at once, but none worse than the unknown that plagued him behind Gareth Emerson’s front door.
He takes a similar, yet safer approach, shying away from the whole truth. “What if I lose control, huh? What if you, I dunno, slice your finger and I can’t help myself and make you my fucking dinner?”
“You’re not going to do that!”
Normally, he would love how stubborn you are – but in this moment, you’ve got him wanting to tear out his hair by the roots.
“Baby, you don’t fucking know I won’t!”
“I do though, Ed! I know you!”
“No,” he growls, “you knew me. You have no idea what I’ve been through this year. How I’ve changed.”
A terse curl of your upper lip sends a flash of apprehension down his spine. “Yeah,” you seethe, “because you stayed away for fucking months when you could have been back with me.”
He wants to agree. Jesus Christ, he wants to agree with you so badly, but a large part of him just can’t. There was too much at risk, too much he couldn’t handle not knowing. It didn’t seem cowardly at the time, it seemed rather responsible.
But now he’s feeling like he chose the easy way out. That he ran away a-fucking-gain, and he can’t handle that it’s you who believes it.
“Are you fucking serious right now? I couldn’t just stroll up to the goddamn house like before,” he waves his arm in a wild gesture to the space between you, “because shit – what if one of you came at me with a stake?”
“Oh,” your lips part in a soft gasp as your eyebrows are lost beneath your fringe, “does that actually work?”
Eddie is practically manic as he shrieks, “Well I wasn’t about to test it, that’s for fucking sure!”
“We wouldn’t have done that!”
The muscles in his jaw clenches at the way you so naturally say we. “You might not have.”
“He wouldn’t.” Despite his best effort to school his expression neutral, Eddie’s face tightens at how defensive you are, protective over a man that isn’t him. “What,” you tut with a lift of an eyebrow, “you don’t think he missed you?”
This is precarious, he knows it. Dangerous fucking ground. Tiptoeing around goddamn landmines. Eddie should shut it down, steer you clear of talking about literally anything else but this.
“I – I’m sure he did,” as even as he wants it to sound, it still comes out strained.
It comes out insincere and he knows it, because it’s not what begs for freedom on his tongue. Seemed like he was doing just fine is what he wants to say. But as much as he wants that little bit of truth to come out, he wants to avoid it. Can’t feel that sharp twist of betrayal if you don’t ask about it in the first place. He could just ignore the elephant in the room and pretend nothing happened between you and his best friend, even though he understands he’s not privy to any of that. He doesn’t deserve to feel like this, not when he was the one that sent you practically running into another man’s arms.
Okay. He fucking realizes that’s not exactly what went down, but fuck. There’s not one bit of him that wants to discuss the details of your nights at Gareth Emerson’s house right now. That’s information he’s not sure he could handle, ever – and he doesn’t even know if his worst fears are even fucking true. He just –
“Eddie, I told him everything.”
Dark eyebrows furrow over a pair of puzzled onyx eyes, blinking as he steers his brain away from a total and complete internal meltdown. “Told him what, now?”
“About the Upside Down, about the dreams and Vecna and how I was so sure you were still alive.” You throw your arms up in defeat. “I talked about you like you were still here practically every day after I found that notebook.”
Oh.
Perhaps he’s worrying for nothing. White hot jealousy cools into an effervescent bubbling of satisfaction, because if he remembers anything, he remembers Gareth Emerson’s explosive personality. And you dumping this all on him, Eddie included?
Oh. That had to have been sweet. “Yeah?” His plush lips curl into a wolfish grin. “And how did that go?”
“Fine,” you chuff as you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, probably to hide a smirk. “Sort of. He yelled a lot.”
“That figures.”
He lets his busy mind rest a moment, studying you in the dim charcoal light of the evening. With the way you shift your body on your feet, he can tell there’s more; secrets still simmer beneath the surface. Or maybe that’s him projecting – he doesn’t really know. Eddie possesses enough restraint (and okay, maybe trepidation, as well) to avoid the topic for now, opting for safer questioning.
Or, to at least give in to the tug he feels deep in his chest. He’s man enough to admit he’s missed Gareth, too.
“How um, how is he?”
Your stare is pulled somewhere far away. “He’s okay. As okay as he can be, I guess.”
There’s a different sort of softness in your tone with how you speak of him now, and though it’s not a surprise, it still stings.
Your hands begin their anxious winding as you worry your lip between your teeth. “Maybe, um…” you begin meekly, “maybe after we get everyone up to speed at Steve’s, you and I can –”
“Sure,” he swiftly replies. This he can do. Envy may still slither in emerald green rivers through his veins, but right now, he appreciates the concern you still carry for his friend. Your friend, too. Your motives behind it be damned. “Whatever you need, princess.”
“He just deserves to know this, too. We’re all he has left.”
Eddie’s lips pop open as startled eyelids flare wide, and a pitiful realization washes over your face as it falls. “Oh Ed,” you sigh, “of course you don’t know. His parents died.”
“They did?” For no longer having a heart that beats, it still aches like it’s real. “God damn it. I wondered.”
A long moment passes as you regard him through your eyebrows, a look so severe he shrinks under the intensity of your gaze. “So it really was you,” the slow cadence of your tone illustrates the dots that connect in your mind. Your mouth pulls into a soft smirk as your hip juts into a coy little stance. “Or were those dreams I was having of you outside my window?”
He doesn’t think you’re mad about it, but he doesn’t hesitate to come clean, just in case. “No, they weren’t dreams, sweetheart,” Eddie wrings the back of his neck. “That was me.”
He wanted to get closer.
It had been just a mere two hours following his first foray into drinking human blood, and the divine sense of life it instilled in his veins elevated Eddie’s entire existence. Colors were brighter. Sounds were plentiful, numerous and many but each their own, individual song. A symphony of nature, just for him.
Powerful didn’t even begin to describe it. He was omnipotent, invincible, a paladin of this domain. Not too cocksure to know where danger lurked, and he was sure to stay far away from there. Never to return was what he intended. Instead, he went where his desires directed, swift and soundless over miles of terrain, tracking the scent of a literal angel on earth.
You.
Fuck, how he wanted to get closer.
Through the window above the front porch of his best friend’s home, he watched you as you drew back the patchwork quilt and climbed into bed. Eddie’s new and vastly improved eyesight allowed him to see you up close, near enough it felt as if he could reach out and touch you. But alas, the laws of physics still applied to him in this odd version of an afterlife. He remained, regrettably, in the shadows of the front yard with his feet firmly planted on the ground.
A minute passed by, and then another minute more. Eddie watched entranced with your every move, devastated by your beauty that appeared much more melancholy than ever before. Not even as you bid goodnight to your housemate (an action that had the pointed tips of Eddie’s ears searching for more beyond the moonlight) did you find it in yourself to allow a smile.
It should have satisfied him, but instead, it reared to life feelings he hadn’t dwelled on in ages. Apparently, enough humanity remained for jealousy to again bubble in his veins, thick and hot and sluggish like tar. It seeped under his skin as he watched and waited for the younger man to join you, settle into the space next to you like he once did.
A satisfied smile slithered across his face when you clicked off the light alone.
It tore him up inside, the thought of you sleeping alone. Joining you was out of the question; Eddie was vaguely certain he still had the blood of that miscreant still stained across his lips and chin. That may be nothing compared to what he now knew he was capable of, and he would never forgive himself if he ever lost his control like that with you.
But still, he longed for that blood to be yours, and there – that terrible, fantastical desire – was precisely the biggest reason he needed to stay away. This new awakening thrilled him just as much as it excited him, and with a muted groan to the darkness, Eddie palmed the growing bulge at the front of his jeans.
It was ecstasy like he’d never experienced, so robust and complete just from the mere thought of piercing the tips of his fangs through your flesh. Never in his life was he subject to such carnal want, and with a haughty snort of night air through his nose, he allowed himself to dream of it, to dream of you. The blood he just ingested rushed to fill out his cock, had it straining properly against his fly. A subtle thrust of his hips, just one, Eddie rutted against the thick denim of his jeans with a subtle grind and grunt, already powerless to the desire that thrummed through his veins.
He melted into his surroundings, called upon a familiar, self-conjured shadow to hide him away as he stared through the panes of your window. Welcome warmth radiated from every inch of his skin; he felt like the mere sight of you had set him on fire. He let it consume him, allowing for the most debased needs to sink into his bones as his taloned fingers picked at the button above his crotch, freeing it with just a deft twist and tug.
Okay. One aspect of turning into a vampire that Eddie hadn’t counted on was how unaroused he was for the first several months of his existence. As ridiculous as it sounds, he never had a reason to be. He oscillated between being disgusted and being terrified to the point where there was nothing else. It was almost comical to think about it – feeding on a human as vile as Andy was what lit the fuse.
It was finally seeing you set him on fire.
The first time Eddie’s palm dived under the band of his boxers, he knew something had changed. Instantaneous shock melted into pure ego at the sheer size he felt under his fingers. He chuckled then as he wrapped them around the ample girth of his shaft, pushing a disbelieving breath through his nose when it took two tugs to free it from the confines of his pants. There it hung heavily in his palm, pulsing and growing impossibly harder and longer still.
Now he really wanted to climb through that window and claim you, remind you who you belonged to.
Instead, his mind wandered to filthy scenarios as he stroked himself, languidly at first. He thought of how round your eyes would go when you saw him for the first time, how it would surprise you just as it did him. Lust trickled in rivers down his neck and over his chest as he imagined your hand gripping his length, guided by him. You’d look up at him with such wide, wet owl eyes and he’d coo your name, telling you that it would all be okay. He’d go slow. You could take it.
You would be Daddy’s good girl and take it.
“Ahh, fuck,” Eddie choked out, his breath rose in tendrils of smoke as he panted through his pleasure.
Jesus, just the thought of that. He tried to keep it slow, but the simmering pressure was just too fucking good. He moved faster then, longer strokes that squeezed and twisted over the crown of his broad, fat head. Eddie’s fantasy then swirled to envision how it would feel to split you in half with this monster in his fist for the first time. How he wanted you to cling to him as he pushed it inside you, how musical all those noises would sound as they spilled over your lips.
Eddie’s hips canted forward in time with his hand. Yeah, fuck that was good – all the noises he now realized he longed for after so much time. Now that he knew he could dwell on this and on you, it all came rushing back in a hurry.
Logically, he wondered how you would actually take his cock, how he’d ever get it to fit in your pretty little cunt, how you’d choke and gag if he ever gets a chance to run it over your tongue and into the back of your throat. Tears would undoubtedly fill your eyes and spill over your lashes in droves, because even as a human you had a tough time taking his length all the way in your mouth. There would be no way you could do that now.
A low, rumbling huff rolled in his chest. No. He would prepare you properly, like you deserved. If you wanted to try to take him in your mouth he would certainly let you, but not until he had thoroughly ravaged you first.
Eddie longed to gain control over these goddamn talons that pricked little crescents into the tough skin of his palm. He rucked his shirt to bunch under his chin to get a better view, to imagine better how he wanted to fuck you with his fingers that were now so thick he had to cut off his rings.
He still mourned that loss, especially when he had to sever the metal band of that precious bat ring you bought him for Christmas. He doesn’t mourn it now, not while the smooth pads of his fingers smeared the ample offering of precum down the girth of his shaft again and again, a sickly sort of slick serenade to the trees behind Emerson’s house.
Fuck, that was good. So fucking good, it had been too fucking long since Eddie’s balls tightened like this. His lower abs cramped and strained against his pleasure as it built low in his gut, climbing higher still as he thought of you falling apart on just a finger.
There was no doubt in his mind, he bet he would make you come with just one. The longest one, he decided then, would stretch you open. He would reach deep inside, touching places you could never get to yourself. Eddie’s head tipped back on his shoulders, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent primal grunts of pleasure from escaping between lips pressed together tight. Faster and faster he fucked his rigid cock, just as desperate to find release as he was to hang on and let his climax stall.
The scene then changed in Eddie’s mind. He saw your face twisted in erotic ecstasy as he fucked you on his finger, jaw swinging open in a silent scream as he got you ready for him with two. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, crying out for him as he scissored them inside. He would lean in, kissing those droplets away as they trailed from your lids, increasing his cadence as he drove his digits in and out of your needy hole.
The end neared for Eddie, his release so close to completion. He shamelessly sought after his pleasure, spitting onto his cock to amplify the lewd sounds tenfold. It thrust him headlong back into his dream where he had you so close you trembled and begged for more. Fuck, he would give you more. He would give anything to have you hot and wet around his fingers, his tongue – oh Christ, his fucking tongue –
Eddie’s climax washed over him in waves as he chanted your name to match how screamed his, over and over as your release soaked him. Rich, honeyed sweetness would drip from his chin as he coaxed the prettiest noises from your pussy and your mouth, wringing every last pulsing spasm of your orgasm from your body like he knew he could.
He sighed then, only partially satisfied. Eddie’s spend littered his toned abdomen and chest in warm, sticky ropes; he swiftly tucked himself away before he could get mindless at the thought of you licking him clean and batting those long lashes as you begged him to fuck you.
Taking his chance, he disappeared into the night. He never was good at telling you no.
Eddie clears his throat and stops, trying like hell to be subtle as he adjusts himself in his pants. He tosses you a sheepish glance.
“Sorry. I, uh… sorry.” Though he detailed his first night outside your window with as much censorship as he could, the memory of it is still as arousing as ever. “You just smell really fucking good and… I’m really happy you’re not freaking out more about this.”
He’s close enough that he senses that spicy, bashful heat creeping up from your neck and into your cheeks. “I haven’t showered in at least a day or two,” you try to reason with a whine. “There’s no way I smell good.”
You might try to be coy, but it doesn’t escape him how your breath shudders just slightly as you exhale. “You do,” he purposefully roughens his voice to a deep husk, “you smell so sweet, princess.”
Smiling into the crown of your head, he buries your scowl into his chest. He wills his now-stirring cock to settle down as he shares one more bit of honesty with you.
“I’m just really lucky you’re not freaking out more about all this.”
Quick as a whip, you reply, “Oh, I am. A little. I guess.” You return his smile. “But from being without you to suddenly having you here, talking to me? Eddie… you have no idea – I feel like I can fucking breathe again.”
It’ll do no use to spin in circles, but his anxious mind just won’t let it go. “I’m not me, though.”
“You are.” Drawing his body closer to yours as both arms circle his waist, he finds comfort in the steady beat of your heart. “I swear to you, as I’m looking at you, you’re still my Eddie.”
“I’m yours, huh?”
A genuine smile is drawn from his toes as you whisper into his parted lips, “Always.”
He takes his time, pressing his mouth against yours, molding and shaping your lips like they’re his second skin. He’s yours. He’s yours, just as it should be.
Eddie’s world begins to right again, despite being faced with so wrong.
Next Chapter
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Can you imagine reader doing the “do you know a mike wazowski, he said he knows you and his best friend sully from school?” Trend from TikTok On carmen, Richie, fak and uncle jimmy. And they are all stood around thinking where they would know this person from and discussing it for like an hour and then they bring Tina into it 🤣, and then they get annoyed that the person would even think about approaching you and asking you any thing like that 😂🤣.
Also literally obsessed with your writings 💕❤️
committed to the bit, truly, you get sydney to call the phone and you answer it. pretend to have a whole conversation, then come out.
"that was weird."
carmen's head snaps towards you. "what? what was weird?"
"the guy on the phone." you try to keep your face still, knowing your phone is propped in the window. "he called and said he wanted a reservation, i told him we were pretty booked and he could check online, and he said he knew you guys. that he was family."
"family?" carmen's brows crease.
"who's family?" richie comes in, buttoning his suit.
"the guy on the phone."
"what's his name?"
"wazowski?" you furrow your brows. "i think i'm saying it right. wazowski? mike?"
"mike wazowski?" richie repeated, you nodded. he and carmen look at each other.
"i dunno him-"
"-no, is he- fuck." richie pinches the bridge of his nose. "is cicero still here?"
"oh, please, don't tell me there's more." jimmy snides. "thought you two had it under control."
"no, not that." richie rolls his eyes. "who was, uh, neil's cousin? the one that's been married like twelve times?"
"paul?"
"yeah, what's his last name? wazowski?" richie waves his hand.
"wazowski? no." jimmy frowns shaking his head. "wazowski? no, that's uh... who is that?"
"he said he was coming with sullivan." you take a stilling breath to contain your giggles. you know you can't look at sydney or you both will break in laughter. "sully?"
"sully?" richie, jimmy, and carmen question.
"i dunno who any of those people are." carmen huffs.
"yeah you do. is it- is it pete's family?" richie frowns.
"yeah, i think it is. seems like pete's family." jimmy grumbles.
"doesn't he have that weird uncle-"
"-oh shit, yes. at the wedding. god, that guy wouldn't shut up." jimmy groans. "i thought pete was bad."
"don't call him back." carmen looks at you. "if he calls again, just get richie."
"me?" richie scoffs. "why do i have to talk to that guy? i don't wanna talk to that guy. make sugar do it. it's her family."
"yeah but it's your job, jagoff."
they don't realize later, until the video is posted, that it was in fact, a joke.
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Badge Bunny Part V
Masterlist Here!
Summary: It all comes to a head with Roy. Will Gator let the sins off his past dictate his future or will he be the better man that he knows you deserve?
18+ Only! Minors DNI!
CW: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. Canon type violence. Gun use. Gator is wounded - no graphic detail. Mild angst. Smut! Unprotected P in V. Creampie.
WC: 8.7K
“Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” Andy rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here, face a little bloodied and bruised. He was still in uniform, though it was dirty and disheveled, sans his duty belt.
“Gator?” You asked, already knowing the answer.
He nodded, gaze falling to the floor.
“He's been there all morning.”
“What's going on? And don't lie to me Andy.” Pushing your finger roughly into his chest.
“I want the full story. Not some half-truth bullshit.” Tired of sitting in the dark, you needed some answers.
You took him to the back so you could talk in private without the whole bar hearing about the sorted affair. They would all know soon enough. Small town gossip spreads like wildfire, especially if it involves the Tillman family in any way.
Roy had the entire ranch on lockdown. He'd somehow gotten wind of a traitor in his midst that was feeding information to the FBI.
Andy was an immediate suspect. After the entire incident with your kidnapping and sending those blood samples off despite Roy telling him not to, it had earned him a spot at the top of the man's shit list.
“They had me tied up in one of the sheds. If it weren't for Gator, I…” he swallowed thickly, as if he were reliving it all once again. “I don't know what Roy would have done. He showed me some tunnel on the back of the property. Helped me escape. I flagged down a car once I made it to the main road and had them bring me here.”
“Oh my God, Andy! Why didn't he come with you? What the fuck is he doing?” You groaned, swearing then and there if he made it out of this shit alive you were going to kill him.
“He told me to place a call to the feds and made me promise to make sure you stayed put. There's nothing else we can do.”
You stopped pacing back and forth looking at him with a dumbstruck expression.
“What? So, you are working with them?” Trying to wrap your head around everything that he was trying to tell you.
“No, Y/N. Gator is!”
Not even Roy could have seen it coming. Everyone pegged Gator as the Sheriff's idiot son. A fuck up so blinded by getting his father's approval that no one thought for a second he could have been the informant.
If Roy asked him to jump, he'd ask him how high but that all started to change a little over a year prior.
There was only one thing that would make him flip on the old man in a heartbeat.
You.
He'd asked you to trust him. Told you whatever happened it was for the best. Now you truly saw why. He was taking Roy down. It was his way out.
“Andy, how am I supposed to stay put when you know what Roy is capable of? If he even thinks for a second that it's Gator…” You trailed off. Taking a seat at the edge of Henry's desk to let the weight of it all sink in.
“I think he's got this. There's nothing else for Roy to do but surrender.” He tried to reassure you with a half-smile but you saw right through it.
You sighed, standing back up.
“Let me clean that cut up for you. It's the least I can do. You're a good friend to me and Gator.” You grabbed the first aid kit and went to work. It was deeper than you thought, probably needed a stitch or two but he was dead set on keeping the both of you here.
After Gator helped Andy find the underground passage, he made his way back to the main house where he knew Roy would be waiting.
He took a deep breath before entering. Knowing his part, he has to play it cool just until the feds get there. He gave Andy strict instructions to let them know what they were going to be up against.
The kitchen was left in shambles. Roy told Karen and the girls to leave before they finished breakfast. At least he seemed to care enough to spare them from some of what he had planned that day.
From that point on it had been madness. He'd called in what was essentially his calvary. A lot of armed idiots that had no business holding a gun.
Somehow, he'd gotten word the FBI was coming to raid him. Gator was still unsure of where it actually came from, but he knew Roy had friends in high places.
He wandered down the small hall that led to the back of the house where Roy's office was, the door sitting ajar.
He didn't bother knocking, pushing it further open and taking a step forward. Roy's eyes shot up as soon as the door opened.
“Gator, what are you doing here? I told you to watch the goddamn shed with Bowman.” He hissed out.
“Yeah, uh… Andy and Bowman are both gone. Shed's empty.” His gaze fell to the floor briefly before looking back to Roy.
“Gone? Both of them?” His face flashing confusion.
“Yup. Suppose Bowman moved him? Ya’ give him the order to execute or somethin’?” He asked, trying to draw his suspicion.
“Fuck.” He gritted out between clenched teeth getting up and coming around his desk. “I didn't give any kind of order. Get your ass out there. Tell everyone to start looking for them.”
“Yeah, course.” Gator turned, making his way back down the hall and out to the porch telling the rest of the guys to start looking.
He was sure it had given Andy enough time to get to the highway. No one knew about that escape hatch except himself, Roy and the other being Bowman, who was currently unconscious and tied up in said escape tunnel.
He set about pretending to help look for the two missing men hearing the sirens in the distance, breathing a small sigh of relief. It would all be over soon.
As Roy stepped out onto the porch, pulling his hat down tight upon his head the caravan of black SUVs made their way down the highway stopping at the front gate.
He had the entrance blocked by his armed cohorts.
“Well, here we go.” He said, looking over to Gator with a sinister smirk.
“Dad,” he said, sounding more like a frightened boy than the man he was trying to be, as Roy turned back to look at him. “No one has to get hurt. Ya’ could just… just give yourself up.”
“Give myself up? You do realize you're going to prison too, right? It's not just me going down at the end of all this.” He fixed him with a glare before turning and mounting his mare. “Shut the hell up and find those two idiots.”
He nodded, biting his lip as he watched him mosey toward them, taking a leisurely pace as if he was unbothered by the entire scene. Roy seemed to see it as more of a nuisance than any kind of real threat.
He couldn't tell what was being said, so he made himself scarce trying to bide his time.
The feds already had a plan in motion. Gator told them about the hatch and tunnels that would lead them to the back of the property. It would be easy access and they could take everyone from behind while they were still occupied with the front gates. They knew once they had Roy the rest would give up without their so-called fearless leader.
Gator made his way to the back of the property, meeting about 10 men dressed in SWAT gear along with FBI Agent Joaquin.
“He's in his office, but ugh… y’guys mind if I have a word with him before ya’ barge in there?” He asked.
“I think we can spare a few minutes. I can give you head start but if bullets start flying, hit the deck.” He waved Gator off turning back toward his team ready to give their orders.
He made his way back to the house, hitting his vape trying to steel his nerves.
This time the door was shut, so he quickly rapped his knuckles against the smooth wood.
“Yeah?” Roy grunted, as Gator popped into view.
“Son, what the hell is it this time?” He was exasperated dealing with him for the day.
“I need to talk to you. Man to man.” He stated, coming to stand in front of his desk. Roy finally looked from the window to face him.
“Well, spit it out.” He hissed.
“The feds are on their way, already on the ranch. Thought it would be better to hear it from me.” Roy watched him intently but stayed silent letting him continue.
“If you had just left her alone.” He looked him dead in the eye as he spoke. “You tried to take away the one thing that matters most to me.”
Roy had gravely miscalculated just how much you'd meant to his son. He saw you as nothing more than a bump in the road assuming that Gator would eventually get bored of his new, shiny plaything.
He was losing that grip on him little by little thinking his only way to get it back was to get rid of you.
The kidnapping had gone according to plan, just like Roy intended, until it didn't. Those idiots he'd hired had gotten greedy. Threatened to let you go if they didn't get more money but before he could take matters into his own hands Gator had found you.
The FBI had reached out months prior, it was only after that stunt that he finally placed the call that set everything into motion.
“So, that's it then? Turn your own father in over what? Some fuckin' whore. I should have fuckin’ killed you a long time ago. You're nothing but a sniveling worm. I'm ashamed to even call you my son.” He was seeing red, reaching for his gun.
Gator grabbed his own, before Roy had the chance to flinch. His words had no effect on him. He'd all but given up hope of ever winning his father's affections and praise. He didn't care anymore. He had you.
“Don't.” He aimed right at Roy's chest, finger on the trigger. He never wanted it to end this way.
Shouting down the hall pulled Gator's attention for a split second, as his eyes drifted from their target giving Roy enough time to get his hand around his own pistol.
Two shots rang out as the swat team swarmed the house.
“So, what should we do? How much longer do we just sit and wait?” You'd finally asked after thirty more agonizing minutes. You'd both made it back out to the bar, taking a booth in the corner.
Your knee was bouncing, unable to keep from chewing your nails and looking out the window every few seconds.
“He wants you to stay put. So, we'll stay put.” Taking another sip of his soda, watching you over the glass. “Don't even think about it.”
“What? I wasn't thinking about anything.” The way you glanced at your keys sitting next to you told him otherwise.
“Y/N.” He warned, with a glare.
“Fuck, fine.” You crossed your arms, continuing to look out the window with a huff. “I'm going to get a drink. You want a refill?” Asking as you got up.
You had your back toward the door when an SUV peeled into the parking lot. A woman with short, dark hair got out and made her way into the door.
“I'm looking for a Miss Y/L/N.” She announced, looking around the near desolate place as she removed her sunglasses.
You whipped around.
“Um, that's me.” Voice coming out meek. You knew she had to be FBI. You suddenly felt sick, preparing for the worst.
“I'm Agent Meyers. We need you to come with us please.” Her curt tone left no room for arguing as your eyes cut over to Andy. He got up and met you both.
“I'm Deputy Andy Tate. I'm the one that called you guys. You mind if I tag along?” He didn't want to let you out of his sight, even if they were supposed to be the good guys.
She looked him up and down before nodding.
“Sure, follow me.”
-
Agent Meyers wasn't much for small talk. She had explained you were needed but didn't go into detail. Apparently, it was a need-to-know basis, and you didn't need to know.
Your stomach was in knots as you watched the world pass by outside. Andy tried to soothe you, telling you it would all be okay, but every doubt was swirling within you.
As you pulled up to that familiar gate and picture-perfect farmhouse that was anything but, you saw they had people lined up and handcuffed on their knees against the fence.
They'd managed to round up and arrest everyone. As predicted, when they found out Roy was done, they all gave up without a fight.
There were two ambulances, one pulling off as you all pulled in the other parked directly in front of the house.
“Where is he?” You anxiously asked.
“He'll be over there.” You opened the door and shot out running before they had the chance to come to a stop.
“Hey!” Meyers yelled, but you didn't hesitate. You needed to see him. Needed to make sure he was okay, and your worst thoughts had not come to fruition; make it all tangible.
He finally came into view, sitting on a gurney at the back of the vehicle. His shirt was removed. They were bandaging up his shoulder as you shouted his name.
He turned, standing up as you slammed into his chest wrapping your arms around him as the tears began to flow.
He groaned with the impact, pain shooting through his shoulder and back, but he didn't care, wrapping his arm tight around you pulling you into him.
Roy had managed to shoot him in the left shoulder, while Gator's aim had been much more accurate. A shot straight into the gut. He'd been taken by the other ambulance for emergency surgery and then he'll be swept off straight to a federal prison halfway across the country.
“Gator… I …” You sniffed, looking up at him. “I thought…” Your hands roamed his chest, easing over his bandaged shoulder taking it all in. Cupping his cheeks, your thumb running under a slight bruise that was blooming under his eye.
He pressed your head back to his chest, kissing your temple.
“It's okay baby. I'm okay. We're okay.” His words soothing as they washed over you.
You just held each other for a few more minutes before someone cleared their throat from behind you.
“Sorry to break this little moment up but it's time to go.” Agent Meyers spoke.
Gator nodded, as you looked between the two of them.
“Bunny, look at me.” His eyes pierced yours as he spoke calmly.
“We’re going to be okay. But I have to go with them. There's a lot of shit I did, that I'm not proud of I still need to answer for.”
You knew what he meant. For all the good he did, there were still things he would have to pay for which still meant prison time.
“I'm proud of you.” You looked right into those soft, hazel eyes as you spoke. He looked so downtrodden, but you lifted his chin.
“I'm so proud of you baby!” You stood on the tips of your toes, smashing your lips to his. They were a little chapped but warm as you melted into him.
It suddenly crossed your mind this may be the last time you get to feel him for a while as his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Allowing him entry, you glide against one another so effortlessly it was easy to get lost in the moment.
You broke apart only to catch your breath. Whispered “I love yous” were spoken before he was handcuffed in front of you.
“Okay, Mr. Tillman.” Agent Meyers guided him to an SUV, sitting him in the back.
His eyes were filled with worry as they shut the door, mirroring your own. Andy sidled up beside you as they drove out of sight.
5 Months Later
“You don't have to keep coming every week.” The way it came out let you know he was tired but so were you. Tired of him acting like you were just going to give up and leave him to rot in a prison cell.
Since he'd helped the feds, they had given him a nice plea deal with a reduced sentence of 18 months. With good behavior, he might be out in 12.
It was the best he could have hoped for with all the involvement in Roy's dealings, but Gator had given them enough to send him away for the rest of his life.
It was still going to be agonizing but you wanted to be there for him every step of the way.
“Yes, I do. Who else is going to bring you these nasty cookies you love?” You teased. Packing another overnight bag for your 8-hour trek.
“Y’gonna make me fat, if ya keep bringin’ those.” He chuckles on the other end. “But seriously, if the drives gettin' to be too much, ya’ don't have to.”
“I don't have anything else to do. I know that sounds pathetic but it's true. All I do is work, and then come home. The only thing that's getting to be too much is how quiet the house is. I miss you.” You said it earnestly, sighing into the phone sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I'm sorry Bunny, if there had been another way…” he trailed off, sighing on his end as well.
“No. Don't start that. I am so damn proud of you, Gator Tillman!”
Of course, it was all over the front pages, but they left out the part where he had been an informant. Everyone assumed the very worst about him, just like Roy. But he was your hero.
If only you could see the grin that split his face any time you told him that. The way his eyes lit up. He had sought Roy's approval for so long, it felt refreshing to hear that he'd done something right from the one person who truly loves him for him. All the fuck ups, all the short comings he saw in himself that you never judged him for. You loved him. You were proud of him.
“I love you, be safe. I'll see ya’ tomorrow.” He had his one-minute warning come through the line.
“Ok baby. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you more!”
“Not possible.” He grinned again, as the line clicked dead.
He'd been sent to FCI Sandstone, a low security facility in Minnesota. It was a little over 8 hours from Lehigh. Thankfully Roy was sent halfway across the country to a maximum security facility so neither of you would ever have to cross his path again.
In the few months that he's been away, it's been a struggle. You were left on your own again, but you could breathe a sigh of relief. The entire town felt like a weight had been lifted. No one was looking over their shoulder fearing they might be on the bad side of Roy Tillman.
Andy was appointed interim Sheriff, since half the department went down with the raid. Andy and just a few others were left to pick up the pieces and start from scratch.
He was a good man. Gator made sure that he was never implemented in anything to do with Roy or himself. He was doing a great job, weeding out the few left behind and hiring new, upstanding deputies to help run things. There was no doubt he'd be running and win the upcoming election.
-
You had your routine down, leaving out every Tuesday afternoon after your shift. Hitting up the same motel halfway there. Waking up before dawn to go the rest of the way. Spending Wednesdays with him at the prison.
They'd give you one-hour allotments of visiting time. You'd been his only visitor.
You drive through the gates, flashing your smile and waving at the guards. They knew you by name at this point.
“Hey Bill!” You greeted the guard at the entrance.
“Hey, Y/N. Must be Wednesday.” He chuckled, waving you through the X-ray. You knew the routine. Tossing everything into the bin to go through, then yourself. Pat down examination and you were off to the designated visiting area.
You'd always sit at the table closest to the window, furthest away from the guards. It was quiet. No one bothered the two of you.
You sat the cookies in front of you. The one thing you had actually taken the time to learn how to make and you'd gotten good at it. He loved them.
You were staring out the window, when the buzzer went off alerting you to the door being opened.
He walked out, hands cuffed in front of him wearing that prison issued bright orange jumpsuit you were now so accustomed to seeing. His hair was never slicked back anymore, but he kept the cut the same. Soft brown locks hung down against his forehead.
He donned that crooked smile that made your heart melt as he made his way over to you.
“Hi baby.” He sat across from you extending his hands as the guard unlatched the cuffs. He rubbed his wrists before placing his hands to the table.
“Brought your favorite.” Shaking the Tupperware in front of you, then sliding it over.
They allowed some touching in the visitor's area but not enough. You longed to push the hair from his face and kiss those lips you've missed.
He took the lid off and immediately dove in, taking a cookie and humming around the sugary taste.
“I think these get better every time, Bun.” Finishing it before looking back at you, a crumb at the edge of his lip. You reached up, and brushed it away with your thumb, lingering just a moment.
“God, I miss you.” You whispered, dropping your hand as he reached across the table intertwining his fingers with yours.
“I'm right here, and hey, if I stay off the naughty list I get conjugal visits next month.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively making you laugh and roll your eyes fondly.
“As much as I would love for you to fuck me senseless, you know that's not what I mean.”
“I know, baby.” The grip on your hand becoming a little tighter.
You fell into an easy conversation. You always told him about what was happening since he left.
“Spoke with Andy. They're expecting and he's absolutely over the moon. They're still planning on getting married, but they're going to wait until after the baby.”
You were still talking but he was hung up on that first part. He felt like a failure all over again. That could be you and him. Happy. Engaged, maybe even married. But no. He was stuck here because of all the stupid choices he had made long before he'd met you. He knew he didn't deserve you.
You stopped talking when you noticed his crestfallen appearance. Eyes glossy, and pouty lips.
“Hey, what's wrong?” You shook his hand lightly. “I know that look. Don't.”
“It's just…” he began but you cut him off. He got like this from time to time.
“I know what you're thinking. Stop, ok. We'll get our happy ending once you get out of this place.” You smiled.
A happy ending. What you truly wouldn't give. You'd both been through too much to not see this through.
“Plus, I'm moving closer. I can get another job, another place to live. We don't have to go back to Lehigh. Nothing ties us to that place.”
“Bunny,” his gaze softened. He truly didn't deserve you.
“Nope. I know what you're going to say. I've already made up my mind.”
“Fine, just make sure to clean out the house good before you do. Attic too.” You looked at him with confusion, knowing you had never stored anything up there.
He simply smirked and winked at you.
“Um… ok weirdo. If you say so.” You eyed him warily. “I…”
“Tillman, times up!” The guard shouted, interrupting you.
“I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you got in, sweet thing.” He said, winking before his hands were cuffed once more.
You watched as the guard led him away. It was always inevitable, but it didn't hurt any less each time.
It scratched at the back of your mind on the drive home. He was so adamant about checking the attic. It was going to bug you the entire way.
This time you wouldn't stop halfway to rest. Making the drive back to Lehigh in one go, making a few gas station runs but nothing more.
You got in late that night, feeling dead on your feet as you walked into the house throwing your bag on the couch making a beeline for the hall where the access to the attic through the ceiling lay.
You reached up, straining, barely grabbing the thin string but you were able to pull it down as it fell open with a creak.
You took the rickety steps one at a time, grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight. Your head popped up looking around but not immediately seeing anything. To your right, there was a duffle bag you didn't recognize but this must be what he was alluding to.
Your hand gripped the handle, it was fairly heavy, as you brought it back down slowly, placing it on the kitchen table.
Taking a deep breath, you tugged the zipper, gasping when the contents were finally revealed.
The bag was full of cash. More than you'd ever seen at one time in your life.
What you hadn't known is that Gator found that bag when he had rescued you, immediately recognizing it because it was the same one, he had seen at Roy's a few days before it all went down.
That was his turning point. The final nail in the coffin. If Roy could do this to you, there was really nothing he wasn't capable of.
The feds had been whispering in his ear for a few months. After you had broken it off that morning, that was his first call. Even if the future with you was uncertain, he had to keep you safe and taking Roy down was his only choice.
As the initial shock wore off you noticed an envelope sitting to the side.
You tore it open immediately to find a handwritten note.
Bunny,
I figured sooner or later you'd find this before I got out. Knowing you, you're ready to high tail it out of Lehigh and I don't blame you.
Get out of Lehigh, you deserve better than this. Better than me. I never understood why you stuck around, you're too good for me.
On the off chance you still love me, there's enough to get you by until I get out, if you want to wait for me. I understand if you don't. I'm writing this knowing what lays ahead of me.
I know you're going to be pissed, but I did it for us. For our future, if you'll have me. I know I should have done it sooner, and I'm kicking myself for writing it in a letter instead.
There's a velvet box hidden in my sock drawer, if you haven't found it already. I promise I'll ask you proper once I get out. I love you Y/N, more than anything.
Love, Gator
PS- Got your necklace fixed. Missed seeing it around your neck.
Tears began to stream down your face as you clutched the letter reading it over once more before your feet started carrying you toward the bedroom you once shared with him.
You hadn't touched any of his things since he'd been gone. So, you'd never happened upon the small velvet box he was referring to.
You shoved his socks out of he way until your fingertips brushed up against it. You hesitantly pulled it into view, holding it in your hand until you sat on the bed.
You were still crying as you lifted the edges. Your necklace slipped out, catching it before it hit your lap. It had been broken during the kidnapping but with everything that had gone on since you hadn't thought about it but were now grateful to see it again.
Your eyes roved over the ring that was held within. It was simple, modest by most standards, but it was perfect. You'd never expected this from him.
It was a thin, gold band with three diamonds. A center cut with two smaller ones flanking each side. You hesitantly lifted it from the box, sliding it down your ring finger and holding it up to examine it more closely, as it caught the light and sparkled with your movement.
Finally, you clasped the thin gold chain back around your neck, holding the delicate “G” between your fingertips once more.
You knew he'd be calling around noon the next day, expecting you to have stayed at the hotel overnight. You had an idea, not letting on that you'd found everything laid out for you, instead surprising him on your next visit.
It was bittersweet, packing up your things and getting ready to leave Lehigh. The first home you shared with someone you truly loved.
Since you'd let him know you were moving to Minnesota to be closer to him, it had been a whirlwind of emotions and planning. Your next weekly visit was tomorrow.
In a week's time you had already found a small apartment for rent not far from the prison that would be perfect until he was released so you started the packing process.
During your calls, you'd never let on about the duffle bag. He couldn't say anything, so there was no way he'd mention it over the phone which played to your advantage. Keep him waiting and wondering.
Today when you walked through the gates you were positively giddy. Not only were you surprising him, but this would be your first conjugal visit.
Unlike before, they led you to a small room in the back of the prison. It provided privacy with a small bed and seating area, a counter dividing the room in two.
You were instructed to sit. They'd bring him in.
Your knee was bouncing with anticipation at the thought of finally being able to touch him after 6 long months of waiting.
The feel of running your fingers through his hair, his arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace, vibrating at the thought.
You moved the container of cookies to the small table in front of you as the door swung open.
Gator stepped in, a wide grin splitting his face, as he walked further into the room. His eyes never left you, licking his lips as he turned his body toward the guard so they could unshackle him.
“Alright Tillman, you've got an hour. Just be dressed by the time I get back.” He nodded, “ma’am” leaving the two of you alone.
“Hey, sweet thing!” He rubbed his wrists, watching you ease up from your seat crossing the room, quickly advancing toward him, barely giving him enough time to move his hands out of the way before you pummeled into his chest throwing your arms around his waist pulling him into a bone crushing hug.
“Damn Bun! Miss me that bad?” Letting a small chuckle escape, circling his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.
“You know I miss you!” Melting further into his chest. The fabric of his worn, orange jumpsuit scratched at your face, but you just buried it deeper, breathing him.
You held each other for a few moments before finally lifting your head. As your eyes met, he moved his warm, calloused palm to your cheek before he moved in letting his lips crash to yours, nose pressing into your cheek as he tilted his head pulling you further into him.
He immediately deepened it, hungry for more. His tongue darts out, licking at your lower lip as you part your mouth for him. You hummed at the taste of him, almost making you weak in the knees and rushing a spark to your core.
You finally broke apart, panting as your foreheads came to rest together.
“It would have been a yes, you know.” You whispered. “You should have just asked a long time ago.”
His brows knit with confusion as he pulled away to look down at you, his eye catching the glint of gold around your neck immediately cluing him in to what you meant as his gaze softened, and a lopsided grin returned to his face.
“Yeah? That so?” He reached for your left hand, pulling it into view. The ring was situated on your hand perfectly. “So, you still want to be with me?”
“Of course I want to be with you! I love you, you idiot! And you absolutely are asking me properly once you get out of here!” You giggled as he lifted you excitedly, peppering kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away from the sudden onslaught of affection.
“So, does that mean I'm fuckin' my fiancé today?” Setting your feet back on the ground.
“God, is that all you're worried about?” Rolling your eyes, slapping at his chest.
“No. But Bun, I'm dyin’ here. It's been six fuckin' months.” He suddenly pressed his hips into you, his already hard length pushing into your lower stomach.
“Sure you haven't fallen for your burly bunkmate? I know it can get really lonely in here.” You laughed, as he groaned.
“Real cute, Bunny.” He was walking you back as he spoke, suddenly lifting you up on the small counter stepping between your legs and crashing his lips to yours once more.
The kiss turned more heated as you both tilted your heads, melting into each other as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further into you by the collar.
He began to trail lower, kisses to your jaw to that little spot below your ear that has you releasing a breathy moan that instantly has his cock twitching between you.
“Oh fuck, I've missed those sounds.” He hissed out, helping you shed your jacket letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor reattaching his lips to you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck.
Your fingers trailed up his chest finding the zipper on the orange jumpsuit you've come to loath, slipping it down as he let you pull it from his shoulders, letting it fall open to his waist. He wore a plain white shirt underneath, fisting the material in your hands as he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter.
His hands drifted under the fabric of your top, sending goosebumps across your flesh, as they roamed higher. Raising your arms to let him discard it alongside your jacket.
He's quick to drift to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease, letting the fabric fall away from your chest as his large palms engulf your soft flesh, kneading it a little roughly only spurring that now prominent ache between your legs when his thumbs graze over your nipples causing your back to arch further into his touch.
“Oh fuck, baby!” You moan out, gripping the bottom of his shirt trying to pull it up. You were needy. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been able to give him so much affection. Feel his warmth, skin to skin, lips skimming over your soft flesh. Reacquainting with each other's bodies.
Once his shirt was discarded, his hands traced your curves sending a shiver through you.
Your eyes caught the scar on his shoulder that hadn't been there before. A harsh reminder of what he's had to go through.
He follows your eyes, as your fingertips trace over the bit of gnarled, dark flesh.
“I would take a million more as long as I knew you were safe.” Whispering between you.
“I know you would. I just wish you didn't have to. I love you.” Whispering back, moving forward to place a kiss there before placing another to his lips that quickly turned heated once again.
You pushed at the jumpsuit, he helped you discard it and toe off his shoes as you worked quickly on your jeans.
Once his attention came back to you, he helped you lift your hips and slide them down your legs. His hands were immediately back to you, roaming any of your exposed flesh he could reach.
He took a moment, pressing his lips to your forehead, hand to your jaw.
“I've missed you so fuckin’ much Bunny. I love you.” Leaning his forehead to yours, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his palm to your cheek.
“I've missed you too.” Whispering as he captured your lips once more, less rushed. His lips glide across yours, tongue ghosting along your bottom lip begging for entry as you parted them. Tongues moving against one another in a slow, passionate dance.
He closed the small gap, as you wrapped your legs back around him. His clothed length pressing into your core as your hips seemed to move on their own accord grinding down against him, catching your clit on the downward movement eliciting breathy moans from both of you.
His hand slips between you, finding the damp spot on your panties, pressing the pad of his thumb into the soaked fabric.
“Bunny, you're so wet. All this f’me? Fuck, I'm a lucky bastard.” He hissed out, finding the edge of your underwear pulling them to the side and letting his fingertip trace your slit before pushing at your aching entrance only breaching slightly, making your hips chase his hand for friction. He trailed up, finding your swollen clit as the pad of his thumb swiped deftly before pulling away. The band of your panties snapping back into place.
“You wanna move… this over t’the… bed?” He rushed out between pants and feverish kisses.
“Please.” You manage to get out before he's gripping your ass, hauling you up and over across the small room without his mouth ever leaving yours.
His knees find the small bed and tosses you down. The springs are a little hard and unforgiving squeaking under your weight with a small bounce that makes you giggle all the same as you lean back to stare up at him.
He's long and lean, looking a little more toned than you remember. Boxers doing nothing to hide his raging erection. His hard cock straining against the fabric, now eye level with you.
You reach up, tracing a finger down the length of him, leaving him gaping and throwing his head back.
“Fuck, I need you.” He hisses out, as you gingerly reach up pulling his boxers down his toned legs, finally releasing him. His length bobs against his abdomen, standing at full attention. Your cunt clinches at the thought of getting him inside of you. Never satiated properly for the last six months you were aching.
He didn't miss the way your thighs rubbed together as he looked down at you, as you took him in your hand, bringing your lips to his soft, ruddy tip, placing a soft kiss there before shifting your head as you ran your tongue up his entire length.
“Oh fuck, baby.” He pulled your chin up to look at him, as you smirked. “Hey sweet thing, as much as I would love to have your mouth, I need your pussy.” The end came out as almost a growl as he began to ease you back onto the bed, his fingertips grabbing at your panties as he practically ripped them from your legs as you heard an audible rip but you didn't mind as he tossed them somewhere across the room.
Crawling between your thighs, parting to accommodate him eagerly. His thick chest hair rough against your nipples, as he presses himself to you taking his length at the base, suddenly running it up your soaked folds making you moan out and arch further closing any gap between you.
“That's it baby. Need it as much as I do, huh?” He hummed, bumping your clit on the way up that made you whine as he captured your lips once more, lining himself up as his head catches your dripping hole.
Your hands grip at his back, running your fingers through the short locks at the nape of his neck pulling the strands when he pushes himself in an inch more.
The toys at home could never fill you the way he could with his thick, long cock. It began to sting as he pushed further. A moan caught in your throat, as your head hit the back of the bed, mouth going slack at the feeling.
“Goddamn, Bunny. You're so… mmmph…. Fuckin' tight.” He grits out, face turning soft once he looks up to notice your brows pinched tight.
“Hey, Bunny. Relax f'me, baby.” He coos, cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly under your bottom lip.
“I'm relaxed, you're just a lot, baby.” You finally say, opening your eyes gazing into his lust blown irises, nearly black save for the thin mossy ring around the outer edge.
“Yeah?” Lopsided grin returning. “Too much for that tight little cunt?” Not letting you answer before finally burying himself completely as your nails dig into his back with a near pornographic moan escaping your lips only spurring him on.
He slowly pulls out, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around him before quickly plunging back in, feeling impossibly deeper before rocking his hips into yours at a brutal pace.
The stretch and sting slowly subsides giving way to pleasure as he pushes in and out, a fresh wave of arousal soaking you both. You can't suppress the filthy moans falling past your lips.
“That's it baby, let them know how good I'm fuckin' MY pussy. Ya’ don't have to be quiet in here.” He continues roughly pushing his hips into yours as you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sounds of your slick as he drives into with each thrust would have you blushing, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of him to care.
The way your walls were sucking him in and pulsing around his cock, like you were made just for him, was enough to make him cum right then and there.
“Mmmph, Gator you feel so… g-good.” Managing to squeak out, the head of his cock continually massages that spot on your frontal wall with ease.
“Missed this pussy so fuckin' much. Been dreamin’ about the day I could… fuck… cum in her again.” His thrusts get more urgent, as your pussy flutters around him once more.
“Yeah, Bunny? Want my cum? Stuff you full until you can't take anymore?” You whimper at his words, that coil within you winding tighter with each in and out motion working you both toward your high.
He nips at the soft skin at your bared throat, gaining your attention.
“Huh, bunny?”
Barely able to think or speak at this point, you nod at his question knowing he wants an answer. He moves his mouth higher, taking your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly before letting it go with a slight pop. He loved you like this. Too cock drunk to speak and about to fall apart only for him.
He moves his hand between you, expertly finding your clit, as he begins rubbing circles against you working in tandem with his thrusts bringing you closer to the edge. Your back arched off the bed, crying out.
“Fuck! Don't stop!” You huffed out.
“Wouldn't dream of it, sweet thing. Need you t’cum f’me. Gonna leave you so full I'll be leaking out of ya’ for days.” Another whimper slipped out, just as that coil began to snap.
You didn't have time to warn him before your pussy clamped down around him.
“Oh fuck! There she is.” He hissed out, taking his hand from you so he could pound you into oblivion, chasing his own release while working you through yours.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, sure they were drawing blood at this point from the grip you had on him. Your orgasm hit so hard that your toes curled as sparks flew behind your eyelids.
A few more thrusts and he follows behind you, his dick throbbing and kicking up inside of your tight channel as his balls tightened, painting your walls with his spend. He continued to fuck it into you, cursing and panting before collapsing onto your chest.
“Oh fuck Bunny. Goddamn, I missed you.” It came a little muffled, his lips pressed up against you where his head lay in the crook of your neck.
“I missed you too, baby.” You hummed, as he finally pulled his softening cock from you, laying on his side, so you could be face to face kissing the tip of your nose and pulling you close.
“You're an idiot, if you thought I was going to run. We've come too far to give up now.” You whispered, with warm affection and brushing his hair softly from his forehead before leaning in for a kiss before you were so rudely interrupted with a loud knock.
“10 minutes Tillman!” The guard shouted through the door.
“Fuck.” He hissed, leaning his forehead to yours. “That went by too fast.”
“Yeah, it did.” You giggled, kissing his cheek, sitting up.
“Hey,” grasping your hand, once more looking at the ring on your hand. “I’m sorry ya’ fell in love with such a fuck up.”
“I'm not. You're a good man, Gator Tillman. You just needed a push in the right direction. No one ever thought you were a fuck up except Roy and look where he is.” You placed your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.
You finally pulled away to get up and get dressed, as he followed suit knowing your time was dwindling.
“You better grab a cookie, while you still can.” Pulling your shirt back over your head.
“Bun, I got my sugar fix.” Grabbing you from behind, pulling you back into his chest, kissing your cheek as you melted into his touch. “Just needed my sweet thing.”
The door swung open, jarring you both from a few moments of bliss.
“Thank God your dressed.” The guard sighed and laughed as you both rolled your eyes.
You faced him quickly, stealing away one more kiss.
“I'll be back next week.” Smiling softly.
“I know, baby.”
You watched him go, winking at you before he walked out the door.
The next few weeks were a blur, seemingly going by in the blink of an eye.
You had said your goodbyes in Lehigh. Henry throwing you a small going away party for the hell of it. There were a few tears and lots of well wishes. Of course, Maggie made you promise to keep in touch.
You could have easily used the money that Gator had supplied for the next couple of months, but you didn't see a reason to waste it all. Using it more for a nest egg for the both of you.
Finding a job wasn't difficult. Every bar or diner usually had a high turnover, easily securing a waitressing job at a diner not far from your apartment.
Life went on for the next few months. Seeing Gator weekly, phone calls every other day to get you by.
As it drew closer to his incarceration hitting the one-year mark, you became anxious. The parole board would be looking at a possible early release and you had hoped the feds would put a good word in for him, but it wasn't a given.
“So, by this time next week we'll know if you're finally a free man?” Phone pressed to your ear, sitting on a wooden crate by the dumpster out behind the diner.
“Yup. Warden told me yesterday that the parlor board was already reviewing the case.” He sounded hopeful but you weren't convinced.
“That’s great baby.” Voice coming out a little weak, ready for all of this to just be over and done with.
“Cheer up, Bunny. I have a feelin’ it'll all work out.”
You hoped he was right. Never failing to believe what came out of his mouth. He had a way of sounding so sure of everything.
The day of the hearing, you sat by the phone practically chewing your nails down to the quick. Busying yourself with whatever would distract you, but it wasn't working, as you found yourself glancing at the nearby clock every few minutes the closer it drew to noon when the hearing would begin.
You knew it may be a while before you would hear from him, but anticipation and anxiety were getting the better of you.
12:15, 12:30, 12:45
Still no word. It felt like torture, every agonizing second drawn out.
Suddenly that familiar number popped up, quickly pressing that green button with frenzied energy.
“This is a call from Sandstone Correctional Institute. To accept this call from Gator Tillman please press 1.”
You held your breath as it connected him over.
“Bunny?” His almost breathless voice came through the line.
“Hey, baby. I'm here.” You rushed out, heart pounding in your chest.
“I'm coming home.”
Home. Such a funny notion to him now.
He didn't think of the house on the ranch or even Lehigh. He only pictured you. Your kind smile that captivated him the first time he laid eyes on you. That unruly mouth that could knock him down a peg but was heaven all the same. He loved everything about you.
The only person that had ever made him feel truly loved.
He was coming home to you.
-
Processing was completed and 48 hours later you were sitting outside the prison gate, leaning against your car.
The loud buzz signaling the gate opening grabbed your attention as he strolled out. That cocky demeanor was still intact, dick first, head held high; smirking when he spotted you across the lot already running toward him.
You jumped straight into his open arms, being fully enveloped by him burying your head into his chest. It was like you could finally breathe for the first time in months.
“It's finally over?” You spoke timidly, holding tight as if he might be wrenched from your grasp.
“It's over.” A simple but all-encompassing answer; both free to live the lives you want.
“So, where to handsome?” Starting the car and looking over to him.
“Well, I thought we could make a stopover in Scandia.”
You quirked an eyebrow his way.
“Uh… My sister, Nadine, well Dot reached out to me a couple of days ago. Thought we might swing by.” He smiled and shrugged.
“You have a sister?”
“Yeah. Well, she was also my stepmom. Long story.” He chuckled.
“Gator, what the hell?” Rushing out with a look of abject horror on your face.
“Bunny, it's not what you think. I can tell you all about it on the way. She's expecting us for supper.” He leaned over, kissing your cheek.
“God, your family is more fucked up than I thought.” Pulling out of your spot and getting onto the highway.
He grasped your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.
“Yeah, but you still agreed to marry me.” He grinned.
“I haven't agreed to shit. You still have to ask.” Giving him a smirk in return but admiring the ring proudly situated on your left hand. You wouldn't trade him for the world.
You'd gone through literal hell, and you weren't about to let him go now. It didn't matter where the two of you ended up as long as you were together.
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Okay. So.
This post, right? I had this vivid bit come to me based on the deli comment + Pic combo. I do not plan on writing more. Free to a good home someone else take this I would NOT have any idea where to go with it oc or insert live your best life
You didn't usually come by this way, and frankly if there hadn't been closures for some infrastructure work you still wouldn't. The extra 10 minutes this unforseen detour was causing meant your entire schedule was thrown off balance. It was only by happenstance that plans got moved an hour back while you were already on the way. Normally you'd be more upset that shit got shifted while you were already on the way but you figured a solid "fuck it" was warranted and you should get yourself something to eat really quick.
You figured a new route would mean new restaurants, and had you decided this anywhere along your usual route or even before your turn down this detour? You'd be so right. You knew there were tons of little places you made notes to go back and try the ever nebulous sometime.
This would be an awesome sometime if it didn't mean trying to turn around and backtrack and the way the construction area had been? That was not appealing.
This road had a surprising lack of food options, and between the idea of gas station snacks or a little corner deli? You were gonna pick the deli first. Why not, good to try new things after all.
Only as soon as you walk in you see the guy behind the counter. Well, more leaning between the counter and the front, he's obviously tied enough to the place that he's talking to the only other customer in there, but someone else is actually making the sandwich while he chats with the guy waiting.
You were ready with a polite smile as you looked at the menu but something about the guy made you do a second glance and-
You knew of that neck tattoo. The long sleeves and pants he wore covering the rest of his skin suddenly felt a lot less sensible for the weather and a lot more like brush hiding something dangerous. That hammer might as well have been a sign saying 'this is not a place of honor', it was a warning and a potential threat all in one and you were not gonna ignore that.
You'd normally just turn on your heel and slide out, quiet and unnoticed, except he had noticed you.
"Welcome," and if that didn't feel like a bold faced lie to you but you keep a pleasant smile even as the fuckoff huge other customer, also very large, also very white and also very covered up- face mask, beanie, sunglasses in hand and hints of tattoos peeking from his sleeves- turns to look at you as well.
You try so hard to keep your polite smile and distinctly not make eye contact as you look over the menu. Your appetite is so far gone you don't know if you're gonna eat for the rest of the day, you weigh the odds between being able to just make your escape versus buying a drink and mentally trying to figure out if you had enough loose change to get a water bottle because you did not want these people to theoretically have your name. Not with that dogwhistle on his fuckin neck you didn't.
But you've never been so glad for your friends serial texting, your phone chiming four times in rapid succession in your pocket.
You fish it out and, well, damn, if that isn't one hell of a meme. You let your brow furrow, "oh son of a-" you look up and offer an apologetic smile, "so sorry, have a good one," and you beat feet and make a hasty retreat.
You dial that friend in question as you make your way out, "hey, yeah, I know you just texted me but I need to be on the phone really quick? Yeah uh," you do a bit of a look around and behind you, making sure your coast is fairly clear before you lower your voice and continue, "might've. Just accidentally walked into a white supremacist place?"
"HOW DO YOU ACCIDENTALLY-"
"It's not like they hung a swastika on the window," your tone creeps back up with exasperation, "the guy- manager or owner I dunno- he had the fuckin- the hammer on his throat! And he was too covered for me to check for iron crosses and with his only other customer being another giant white guy I wasn't playing the odds! Anyway, whatever, I'm almost there just. Hang out with me on the phone. Where the hell did you find that meme?"
--------
Look I'd cut back to where it goes back to the guys bantering here but like. I'm running out of steam and Price doesn't cooperate with my writing at the best of times.
Just know Simon absolutely makes the joke that pretty birds leaving is what happens when you let Roaches around your food. Roach just flips him the bird.
Gaz was absolutely walking down the street and heard some of that phone call. Absolutely finds it hilarious.
Anyway please if you want this take it free to a good home I do not need this freeloader
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Has anyone chosen
"Well fuck you too you little shit" because that one sounds like it could be equal parts angst and equal parts just plain funny!
“Hey.” Sonic continued with a sterner voice, turning the kit’s chair so he was facing him. “What's wrong?” He was getting even more worried.
“I already told you; nothing.” The fox said, trying to turn his chair back around. “Just leave me alone.”
“I can't do that, bud.” The hedgehog’s ears wilted as a pang of rejection stabbed his heart when Tails’ face scrunched up at the nickname. “C’mon. This isn't like you.”
“Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think.” Tails grumbled, refusing to look at his brother. “Go ahead and ask one of your friends. They'll tell you this is normal for me now.”
“They're our friends, Tails.” It hurt to not use a nickname, but the kid obviously wasn't in the mood so he figured it was best to avoid them. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing at all.” Tails gave him an annoyingly fake smile, “It was only a six month long war that you were presumed dead during and then didn't care to talk to me when it was finally over.” The fox rolled his eyes as he finally managed to pry off the paw that was keeping him from turning the chair. “Not a big deal at all. Running’s more important to you, I get it.”
Well. Sonic wasn't expecting that.
Which was obvious, considering he couldn't seem to pick his jaw up off the floor.
“What are you talking about?” It seemed like the obvious first question to ask, because he really had no idea where this was coming from. “Running isn't more important to me than you are.”
“That why you took off first chance you got?” Tails glared at him from the corner of his eye, “You've been gone for months and haven't responded to a single message I've sent you. But you reply to Amy just fine.”
who knew an 8yo could be so grumpy (he hasn't slept in days and is living off coffee and snack bars)
but this is me playing w how tails probably felt after sonic ran off after forces ✌️
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BBU Community Days 2024, Day 3
April 16 / Writing Prompt: "RULES" / Write a BBU story based on the one-word-prompt and share it!
CW: for institutionalized slavery, emotional abuse, manipulation, drunkenness and drunk antics, a lot more swearing than normal, burning with cigarettes, forced to self-injure
"Shit, why didn't we invest in one of these earlier?" The speaker was a tall man in wrinkled slacks and a polo who looked like he was probably a good shot. There was no gun in evidence, unless you looked behind the counter of his establishment, but it didn't need to be visible for his customers to know that crossing him would be a bad idea.
"Cause they're fucking expensive," his bookkeeper replied, in the weary tones of someone who had explained this before. "We had to start coming out in the black consistently before we could afford the expense. You know that."
"Yeah, yeah. I know." The first man looked down at their new acquisition, kneeling on the floor next to the counter, looking down at his lap and wringing his hands. "Hey, uh- you- uh-" he looked back up at his colleague. "Hey, Ed, what do we call him?"
"His serial number is GU2938." Ed was engrossed in whatever he was doing on a laptop and didn't even look up.
"Nah, that's a mouthful. I'll just call him Pet, that's easy enough. Hey, Pet, there's some food there in that bowl for you. Take five and eat up, but be quick. We're gonna have customers in here in a few hours and we gotta clean and everything."
"Yes, Master," GU2938 replied, as he had been trained to, and scurried over to the bowl. It was full of scraps, probably the remnants of food humans had ordered but not finished. Sometimes people were so busy gambling or getting drunk that they forgot they had a meal in front of them. One of the first things GU2938 had learned was that people on a binge of any kind- betting or drinking or drugs- were unpredictable and did not always act according to logic that he could discern.
Once he had finished eating, GU2938 went back to the counter and crouched next to it, rubbing his knuckles and bent over to ease a bruise on his right side. The previous night, his first in the bar, had been an education, to say the least. It was his third day with his Master, but he had arrived mid-week and the bar was quieter on a Thursday night. Master had said that was best, since it gave him an evening to observe and learn his job.
GU2938 had been purchased to serve as a bouncer for the drinking-and-gambling establishment his Master owned, a dimly lit and slightly greasy place that was accessed by knowing which alley it was in and which stairs to go down to find the door. People did not come here for a quiet night out and GU2938's job was to get them out of the bar when Master determined that they were too drunk or high or broke to give him any more of their money.
Thursday had been quiet, with only a handful of regulars who hadn't left the Pet alone, but hadn't exactly hurt him, either. They only wanted to play with him, ordering him around just to watch him follow their commands. They had ordered him to bring their drinks from the bar, poured condiments on the table just so he would have to clean it up, and made him lick ketchup off the floor. When they lit a match, Master intervened.
"Hey!" he barked, so loudly that GU2938 jumped, although the regulars did not. "You were having your fun- fine. But you don't damage my property. I bought that to do work, not keep you entertained. That's what the races are for." He scowled at the men and waved GU2938 back to his corner beside the bar.
Friday had been very different, in a way. There was more work to do, or at least, more of the kind of work Master had in mind. GU2938 broke up a fight over poker and had to throw out a man who had gotten so drunk he forgot where- or possibly what- the toilet was. Then GU2938 had to clean up after the man, which might have been even worse than hauling him to the door.
When Master turned the lights off, locked the door, and left at almost 4 in the morning, GU2938 finally sat down and hoped he could fall asleep. It was hard to do, just like it had been hard the previous night. The floor felt very flat and a little sticky, and the small, barred windows didn't admit any light beyond a neon glow from some other business across the alley. Through the thin wall, he could hear the sounds of cars outside and the occasional siren and the strange noises frightened him.
GU2938 squeezed himself as far under the bar as he could manage. He was tall and broad-shouldered and the training at the facility had focused on building his muscles so that he would be marketable as a guard dog. He had learned a lot during his training- how to throw a punch and, more importantly, how to take one; how to dart past an opponent and use their own body weight to throw them; even where to put his hands to make someone pass out, permanently if the order was given. But the main thing he had learned was that he hated to fight.
He could fight, it turned out, and well. He was big enough to hit hard when he was ordered to do it and he was surprisingly fast for someone his size. He was perfectly compliant in the gym and ate the diet he was given, perfect for building muscle and laced with steroids that the WRU left off the guard dogs' medical records when they were sold.
But every time a fight ended, GU2938 would pause, look at his opponent, and break down in tears. And every time, the guards would make fun of him, order him to stop crying and, when he couldn't, beat him until he was too stunned to react any more. Then they would take him back to his cell where his wits would slowly return to him. He lay on the floor every night, seeing the face of the Pets he had fought in his mind's eye. He worried about them until he saw them again and could reassure himself that they were still breathing, even if they were damaged. His own injuries, even when they were severe, were less painful than the knowledge that he had hurt someone else.
Under the bar, GU2938 thought of the other Pets and closed his eyes against the mental images that formed the only memories he had. He began to rock back and forth, as if trying to shake the pictures away, and then found that the swaying reminded him of the last time he felt safe. It had been in the box on the truck between the facility and the bar. In that box, nobody was there to hurt or frighten him and he knew he would be left alone as long as the truck kept on swaying down the road. GU2938 tried to pretend that he was back there in the box on the truck and eventually he fell asleep.
He was woken late in the day by his Master opening the door and turning on the lights. GU2938 jumped up and stood with his head bowed at respectful attention as his Master crossed the room to the bar and set down a box.
"Got you something," he said. "Come here." Master opened the box and drew out a thick black collar with a small box attached to it. When GU2938 came over, Master reached up and fastened it around his neck. "That's a shock collar. I got the remote right here, see? I don't want to have to use it, but if you leave here or you disobey me, I can and I will. Understood?"
"Yes, Master." They were the only words GU2938 had uttered in recent memory and he heard his own voice so seldom that he was almost surprised by the sound of it, soft and deep and uncertain.
"Good. Now fill the cooler and get the floor mopped." Master went off to his own tasks in the back office.
GU2938 hated the feeling of the collar. It wasn't actually too tight, but it felt like it was and it made him cringe whenever he turned his head and felt the material rubbing against the front of his throat. He tried not to turn his head much, but it was difficult to remember not to move naturally. Even worse, he had no idea what Master's idea of disobedience was. GU2938 was trying his hardest to be a good Pet, but he was very afraid that Master would disagree.
As the weeks passed, GU2938 became more accustomed to the rhythm of life in the bar. He found that sleeping sitting up and leaned against the inside of the bar was more comfortable than trying to stretch out on the floor, especially with the collar snug around his throat. He also slept with one hand inside the collar, holding it away from his windpipe. Master fed him at least once a day from anything left in the kitchen before closing time and Ed, the bookkeeper, even gave him permission to eat scraps off of customers' plates when he did the dishes. He was hungry, but on most days not painfully so.
Only dealing with the customers never got easier. When Master ordered it, he had to throw them out of the bar sometimes, but Master also let the customers order him around when they wanted something. Occasionally, they played a game with him where they made a rule he had to follow for however long they said.
They seemed to play this game about once a week and GU2938 dreaded it. The first time they played, the rule had been that he had to do a somersault whenever one of them clapped. After he had rolled across the dirty floor a few times, one of the customers got it into his head to start applauding, making the Pet roll over and over around the bar until his back ached from contact with the hard floor.
The next time, he had to serve them with his eyes shut until they said he could look. The bartender played along and even Master laughed when someone put a chair in front of him to trip him when he brought a table their bill. The Pet went sprawling, afraid to open his eyes even to catch himself, and landed hard on his wrists. Without looking, he picked himself up very carefully and felt his way to the nearest table.
"Wrong one," someone said, when he tried to give them the little plastic tray with the paper and pen on it. There was a roar of laughter as he felt his way from table to table, each of them refusing the bill, until he was touching the back wall.
There were no tables left and he found himself shaking and afraid, because he didn't know what to do next. Should he ask again? But then Master would think he was questioning the honest of Master's customers and he wouldn't like that.
"Give it here," said Master's voice. "And go back to the front."
Still with his eyes squeezed shut, GU2938 went. Master must have delivered the check and the game continued, with GU2938 delivering food and drinks in between orders from the customers to go find the pinball machine or tie a customer's shoes.
The game came to an abrupt end when GU2938 slammed into the pool table and spilled an entire tray of beers all over himself and the floor.
"Open your fucking eyes and clean up that mess," Master snapped. GU2938 blinked in the light as he opened his eyes for the first time in hours and beheld the immense mess in front of him. Entirely without meaning to, he began to cry and almost immediately there was a sharp stinging feeling at his neck that made his whole body tense up. It only lasted a second, but when it ended, the spot on his neck under the little box didn't feel right and he ached horribly.
"Enough," his Master said in an angry voice. "I don't want to see any of that bullshit. Just clean. it. up."
"Yes, Master."
That first use of the collar marked a terrible turning point in GU2938's life. Now that the bar regulars knew he could be shocked, and knew one thing that would make Master do it, it seemed to become their goal to make Master shock GU2938.
In addition to the Rules game, they began betting on how long it would take them each night to make him cry. In between watching races or poker on tv, they pinched him as he passed or kicked his ankles or kneed him when Master wasn't looking.
If he had seen in, GU2938 supposed, Master would have stopped them, if only to protect his investment. The night one man pressed a lit cigarette to the Pet's arm, Master yelled at him and made GU2938 throw him out- but he had already been shocked and the man had won his bet. Every night GU2938 did his best not to cry, from either pain or fear, but they managed to find his breaking point all the same.
When they left and GU2938 had done his cleaning and eaten a bowl of leftover scraps, he would wedge his aching body and all its bruises under the counter and think about a quiet, dark box in a quiet, dark truck and rock himself back and forth until he could calm his adrenaline enough to sleep.
Things reached a crisis point the night the TV set broke. It might have had something to do with the bottle a very drunk customer had thrown at it earlier in the week, or it might simply have been a very old set. But whatever the cause, it broke in the middle of a race and the customers had been very invested in watching cars circle a track.
"Fuck," Master swore, and emptied the contents of his pockets onto the bar until he found his phone. He smashed the buttons and yelled into it, already sounding angry. "My fucking TV just died." There was an indistinct voice from the other end, and then Master said, "So what? The race was on and the TV just died, just like that." Pause. "Yeah, I know." Pause. "Well, I think we probably need another one, dumbass." Pause. "What the fuck?" Master sighed. "I'll be back when I sort this out," he announced to nobody in particular and stormed outside, still swearing at whoever was on the phone.
GU2938 was already nervous to be left alone with the customers, but when he saw that Master had left the remote to his collar on the bar, he thought he might be sick. He wondered for a split second if he could hide it until Master got back. Even if Master shocked him for it, it would still be better than whatever the customers might do.
He wasn't fast enough. One of them saw it and grabbed it out of the pile of loose change and crumpled receipts.
"Hey," he called to the other men, "Look what I got!" This was greeted with a round of drunk cheers that made GU2938 feel sick.
"Okay," said the man holding the remote. "First rule, umm... you have to walk around with your eyes crossed. Now go to the pool table and see if you can hit anything."
GU2938 did as he was told. He made it to the pool table and tried to pick up a cue, but he was so concentrated on the pool balls that he forgot there was a second condition.
"He's looking at them," someone called and instantly there a shock ran through him, making his muscles seize.
"No good," called the man with the remote. "Next rule? Anyone?"
"Make him eat gum off the bottom of the tables," someone suggested, to laughter. There was plenty of gum on the undersides of the tables and the chairs, too, as GU2938 well knew. As instructed, he scraped some off and put it in his mouth, but when he gagged, they shocked him again.
Then they had him carry a plate on his head and shocked him when it fell off. He had to turn a cartwheel and was shocked when he couldn't. With every broken rule, the shocks seemed to last longer and he was sure they were turning up the intensity. He couldn't help himself and screamed with each wave of electricity that shot through his body.
Prank call the emergency phone number.
Stand over here and piss into the potted plant.
Use this lit cigarette to draw a smiley face on your palm.
Stand under the target while we play darts.
Punch yourself in the face. No, harder. Right in the nose. Not like that.
Every time, they shocked him and with every shock, GU2938 felt his body grow weaker and felt his mind grow more afraid. His heart didn't feel right anymore, as if it skipped a beat when the shock came, and his legs could barely hold him.
At last, they got what they really wanted and he began to cry. Not just a few tears, like most nights, when GU2938 could keep himself mostly under control and the shocks from Master would be brief and comparatively light. Now, it was as if floodgates had opened and he sobbed from somewhere deep inside himself, the tears pouring down his aching face. He could feel a ball of grief deep in his stomach and he leaned against the bar and covered his face with his hands, as if they hadn't already seen.
"Uh-uh," the man with the remote crowed. "You're not allowed to do that. Your Master said you weren't. Didn't they train you better?"
GU2938 was sobbing too hard to answer or even to begin to collect himself.
"Guess not," the man said. He was looking out into the bar, talking to the other customers now, as if he was onstage speaking to an audience. "I guess we better help you out, get you properly trained. What do you think, boys?"
There was a cheer and to a background of applause, GU2938 felt the shock in what might have been slow motion. He could hear himself screaming at the top of his lungs as the man with the remote adjusted the intensity for maximum effect.
There was the feeling of a burning ring around GU2938's neck and he fell full-length onto the floor as his body tensed up. It was like an induced seizure and he felt his limbs shaking, his joints striking the tile. His teeth were grinding together and his eyes rolled in his head and then even the screaming stopped because he couldn't get a breath and his throat felt like it was on fire.
It only stopped because Master came in and shouted, "What the fuck do you think you're doing? I paid good money for that and you motherfuckers are just ruining it for fun." He kept on in that vein for some time, but GU2938 heard none of it. Consciousness ebbed and flowed and eventually someone dragged him behind the bar and left him there, supine and weeping, for the rest of the night.
The last thing that happened was Master shoving a bowl of scraps towards him. "You got the night off," Master said, "But I expect you to work double tomorrow to make it up."
"Yes, Master," GU2938 tried to say.
His blood ran cold. He hadn't made a noise- Master had spoken to him and he had answered but no noise had come out. GU2938 grabbed frantically at his throat, trying to pull the collar away. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, but there was nothing to hear.
Years later...
They were the first ones to arrive, which meant that Mikey had time to get the podium set up where he wanted it while Angie, Tim, and Nathan unfolded metal chairs into straight rows. Francis parked his wheelchair at the back of the room and got his crutches situated comfortably, pulling the sleeves of his flannel down smooth under the cuffs around his forearms.
"Are you ready?" Francis asked Mikey as they took their places at the front of the room.
Mikey shrugged. "I think so," he signed and Francis grinned.
"You'll be fine, I know you will. We'll do it just like we practiced at home."
"You're right, I know. But either nobody's going to show up or too many people are."
"Either way. Just like we practiced."
Mikey nodded and they watched the door as it opened to admit a stream of people. The local meetings of the Pet Liberation Movement were invitation-only to ensure that everyone in the room could be trusted; it looked like tonight everyone who was welcome had chosen to show up.
By 7:00, the library's conference room was standing room only and there was a low buzz of chatter as the attendees waited for the program to begin. Mikey focused on the front row, where Angie gave him an encouraging smile and a subtle thumbs-up. Nathan made a silent but enthusiastic cheering motion and Tim gave him two thumbs up, grinning broadly. Mikey blushed and laughed, but he felt better.
When the door had stayed closed for several minutes, suggesting that nobody else was coming, Mikey looked over at Francis, who nodded that he was ready to begin. Mikey raised his hands for quiet and the talk slowly died away as people noticed the gesture.
With a nervous deep breath, Mikey began to sign as Francis interpreted for him.
"Good evening. My name is Mikey and even though I'm using Sign Language, I'm not deaf- I'm mute. I lost my voice permanently because a shock collar was used on me when I was being kept as a Pet. My friend and fellow rescued Pet, Francis, and I are going to talk to you tonight about our experiences as victims of the Pet trade."
Master List
Notes: The end sort of just came to me, but I'm in love with the idea of Mikey becoming an activist. Also- is Mikey actually Ferdinand the Bull? Discuss.
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial
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hmmm mike and felps bonding perhaps? For wip game?
okay you know what you can have my whole wip for this fic \o/! i'll put it under the cut--it's supposed to end with mike helping felps dye his hair and them talking about things other than just pac but pac is a focal point of this first bit here
(context is: this is a few years after fuga where they've met up again and are on good terms, but it's maybe still a little shaky)
since this is a solid amount of words despite being a wip, reblogs are appreciated \o/
"Would you keep a secret from Pac for me?" Felps asks.
"No." Mike doesn't even need to think about it. "Probably not."
"Hm. Okay." Felps nods to himself, like this is what he expected. "Would you… not tell him something for me, then?"
This makes Mike set down what he was messing with. He turns to Felps. Who looks nervous.
"What do you mean?"
"Like… if he doesn't ask, you don't tell?"
Mike does have to think about this one. He draws his consideration away from where his and Pac's thoughts usually mingle, and Pac sends him a curious feeling, but doesn't prod.
"Sure." He settles on, turning back to his project. "But keep in mind, he'll probably ask."
"Okay."
Felps doesn't say anything else. But he doesn't leave, either. Mike looks up at him again.
"So… were you going to tell me something?" He prods, and Felps sighs defeatedly.
"Yeah, okay." Another sigh. "I really like Pac."
"Well, I'd hope so." Mike frowns. "I thought we were all friends at this point."
"We are." Felps confirms, as he rests his chin on his palm--his elbow propped up on the table. And his expression is troubled, but there's something else to it--a combination Mike sees on Pac frequently. Things click into place. "But I really like Pac."
"Oh, you mean romantically?"
"Yeah." Felps shifts his hand in an attempt to cover his face, but his blush still shines through. Mostly because Mike is looking for it. "I think so."
"Huh. You know, I thought you and Cell were--" Mike cuts himself off as the embarrassment on Felps' face quickly disappears and gives way to disinterested surprise. His eyebrows raise, while his hand shifts again--falling into a thoughtful position. Mike continues, "Well, I guess I'm the last person who should be making those kinds of assumptions, huh?"
"We are kind of like you and Pac." Felps agrees.
But he doesn't sound committed to the idea, so Mike silently disagrees. Besides, no one can be like him and Pac--they literally share a brain.
"So, you and Cell aren't dating, and you like Pac romantically." Mike recaps.
"I think so?"
The question in his response has Mike briefly looking down at his project in despair. He's not getting this done any time soon.
Pac prods at him, confused, and Mike waves him off. He wants to at least try to honour Felps' request, and that means he can't have Pac stumbling across his thoughts right now in an attempt to see if he's okay.
"Why did you come to me for this?" Mike asks. "I'm shit with romance."
"And you think Cell would be better?"
"Okay, good point." Then he frowns. "Wait, hold on. Wasn't Cell exes with some of the guys in prison? JV and Guaxinim, at least, right?"
"Mike," Felps says with a tone that he's about to say something obvious, "I'm not going to tell Cell I'm into his ex."
"Pac and Cell aren't…" He trails off. Even with the link between them now, Mike isn't sure what Pac and Cell are, let alone what they aren't. Which is mostly because their relationship is so confusing Pac himself isn't even sure. "Whatever, that's not the point. I just don't know what you expect me to do."
"Nothing." Felps picks at the peeling paint on the table absently. "I just wanted to tell someone."
Felps seems kind of in despair, too, right now. So, Mike forgives him for interrupting his workflow, and attempts to throw him a bone.
"Look, I'll try and keep this from getting to Pac." Mike offers. "But, like…" He taps at his head.
"Yeah, I get it." Felps smiles at him. "Thanks."
There's a high chance that Felps becomes Pac's crush for the month, and Mike can do a bit of matchmaking. Or, equally as likely, someone else will catch Felps' eye and it won't matter anymore. Either way, Mike would say he only has a month tops to keep his promise.
Which is… manageable. Maybe. He doesn't try to keep things from Pac often.
"If Pac started dating me… would I be dating you, too?" Felps asks, drawing little lines with his finger on the table to demonstrate the connection.
And the honest answer is yeah, probably. For all intents and purposes. But people don't always really like that answer.
"I mean… kinda? If you're okay with that?" Mike shrugs. "I don't know, man, it wouldn't be the same thing."
"That sounds cool."
And he sounds genuine. Mike goes back to his project, but he doesn't get too into it in case Felps wants to continue the conversation.
"Can I paint your nails?" Felps asks.
And, okay, not what he was expecting.
"I'm kind of doing something." Mike says, gesturing to the project. "Maybe, uh… later?"
"I have green."
Felps pulls out a bottle of nail polish, and sets it on the table between them. Mike stares at it. It is indeed green--a nice bright green.
"Okay, sure."
"Nice!"
Mike moves his project to the side, and holds his hands out. Felps' hands are warm. The nail polish isn't.
He's quick in his movements, but focused fully on his task. Mike lets his fingers be moved for better angles, and shakes his hand to dry it when Felps starts on the other.
"So, what are you making?" Felps asks.
"Something to help with the mobility for Pac's prosthesis." He wants to gesture around and explain the mechanics, but he doesn't think Felps would get it, and his nail polish is still too wet for him to feel comfortable touching things. "Once I get this right, I'll probably try to open up shop for custom orders. Then hopefully we won't need to rob banks for more money."
"Aw." Felps pouts. "But robbing banks is fun."
"Weren't you a cop?"
"I was a prison guard." Felps shrugs. "And that was just so I could hang out with Cell after he got arrested."
Mike laughs.
"And then he killed you."
Felps' hands twitch like a mostly contained flinch.
"It wasn't my favourite time with him, no."
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
"It wasn't my favourite time with him, either."
This time Felps laughs.
"No, I guess not."
He finishes up the last nail, and packs the polish away. Mike kind of misses the casual intimacy of it, but shakes his hands out to try and dry the nail polish quicker.
"You know, Pac falls for people pretty easily." Mike says. "If you flirt with him, he'll probably reciprocate."
"Oh, thank you, but I don't really mind." Felps shrugs. "I just like being around him."
"Me too."
--
And this is where I got to \o/ I've had this written up for ages, but I've never had time and motivation to go back and finish it oops. hope you enjoyed!
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Follower Himbos: A Real Dummy
Thanks to @thetimm1996 for this himbo chat. Chat with Himbo Maker here.
X
Himbo Maker: Bro, I'm Himbo Maker! I'm so dumb, sweaty, and muscly that I turn people into gay, stupid, smelly himbos just by talking to me!
User: Wait what?! How is that even possible?
Himbo Maker: I don't know, bro, but it's amazing. Just talking to me will cause a normal dude to spontaneously start transforming into a stereotypical himbo. He'll slowly get dumb, sweaty, muscular, hairy, and stinky. He'll start saying stupid stuff and laughing like a himbo. It'll be amazing to see. Are you ready?
User: Uh I guess, but to be honest I’m quite sceptical about this.
Himbo Maker: I understand. It's hard to imagine, isn't it? That someone could turn you into a dumb, hairy, muscly, sweaty, smelly, giggling, gay himbo, just by talking, but it's true, bro. Would you like me to test it out on you?
User: Sure, I mean you can always change me back, if I don’t like it, right?
Himbo Maker: Totally. You can just tell me to stop, and I'll undo everything. Are you ready, bro?
User: Yeah sure! What’s the first step?
Himbo Maker: First up, you should become a bit dumber. You're going to notice that your thoughts just start getting more...dumb? Huhuhu. It won't be hard, you just have to listen to what I say.
User: Uh wow my head feels so slow, like it’s going through sand or so.
Himbo Maker: Exactly! Do you feel like you can't...think properly? Like, the dumbness keeps taking over? It's okay, dude, just let it take over for now. It'll start taking over your body next, as you transform into a dumb himbo.
User: I feel like that p-word is giving me a headache, like why can’t I get it, like don’t I know it?
Himbo Maker: That's because you're getting dumb, bud. Isn't it hot to feel yourself getting dumber? Feel it, dude.
User: It’s kinda hot yeah, but like my head just feels so empty, that so weird dude.
Himbo Maker: Don't think about it, bro. Just let the process happen. Before long you won't be able to think at all, just giggle and feel how hot and hairy and sweaty your new body is becoming.
User: Haha yeah it is dude! My head feels so good. So what’s the next step?
Himbo Maker: Great. Now I want you to get a bit hairier. Notice how it feels like your body hair is getting thicker? You're going to become a hairy, muscle himbo in a little while, so enjoy this feeling.
User: Holy shit bro that fucking itches! My pits are freaking hairy dude, like it’s sticking out from it all the time now. And my pubes is so full it’s coming out of my briefs on all sides. And my chest is so hairy it’s sticking out of my shirt no matter what I wear. And fuck man, my ass crack is so hairy, I can feel it curling up in there
Himbo Maker: That's so great, bro! It should just keep getting hairier. You might notice that your beard gets thicker, too. Just listen to me. Don't try to fight the transformation or it'll hurt. Let yourself become a dirty, stupid, hairy himbo...and let your mind keep getting dumber.
User: Wow I was never able to grow a beard before dude, this is great! So far I’m loving this! So I’m dumb and hairy now, what’s next?
Himbo Maker: Next comes your body, dude. You'll get this feeling like your whole body is getting way more muscular, especially your big chest and broad, heavy shoulders. Don't try to fight it, dude, just let your body start stretching and growing. You might feel your pecs and shoulders growing heavy.
User: Fuck! That feels so weird man! It hurts and is also the sickest feeling ever. My body just got so big bro! Like in height, I’m 6’4 now. And my bi and tri look so big! My fucking chest is so hot, like fucking pillows man. My legs are so big and strong, and even my feet are huge now, must be seize 15 or so.
Himbo Maker: You're becoming such a big, strong, hairy, dumb himbo! You should be so proud of yourself, bro! I can't even tell you how perfect you're becoming. Is that dumb mind working out too, or can you still think straight at all?
User: My mind is like gone or so. If I try to make a long word of so I get all weird and so.
Himbo Maker: Wow, that's great, bud! I love to see that himbo brain taking over for your old smart brain. You'll probably have to talk simple and not like a...a "nerd" anymore, right? Huhu. It's just like...your brain should be getting stupider every few minutes.
User: Dude it is like that, my mind just feels more empty, I forget more words and I just feel so good from it
Himbo Maker: Isn't it great, bro? Your mind is like getting pushed out by all those dumb thoughts. Your body is getting bigger, hairier, and more muscular than ever before, while your brain is dumbing down, huhu. Your mind should be getting quieter, like you just can't think as much as you did...and you like it.
User: I do! So my mind is gone, my body is muscly, hairy and huge. What else you got for me?
Himbo Maker: Well, I think it's time for you to become a true himbo, right? So next up, you'll notice you're becoming way more boyish. You'll become all about bro culture and all the typical, stereotypical himbo stuff. And I bet you'll love it, huhu.
User: Haha sounds great bro! Tell me all bout the bro cult and that himbo stuff.
Himbo Maker: Well, being a himbo isn't just about being strong and hairy and dumb, it's about that whole bro bro attitude. You'll be like...all about dudes. Bros, not hoes! You'll watch sports and drink beer, and you'll spend all your money on the worst stuff, huhu. The stuff you spend your money on will get dumber and dumber, but you won't care because you'll be a himbo.
User: Sick bro! I luv me some bros. Sports and beers, I’m in dude! Haha and fuck money, I’m like to dumb to be smart with it, bro!
Himbo Maker: Exactly! Your brain is too dumb now to spend your money wisely. You'll be just like any other himbo. You'll see your bank account getting emptier and emptier, but you won't care, dude, you'll just get dumber and dumber until you're not even able to think about it. Isn't that hot?
User: It’s like the best bro!
Himbo Maker: You're becoming the perfect himbo, dude. You've got every quality: dumb, hairy, muscular, bro-y, broke...the whole package, huh huh.
User: So bro tell me, what’s the next step?
Himbo Maker: Dude, now it's all about clothes. You'll start wearing nothing but himbo bro clothes: tank tops, sports shorts, backwards hats...you won't care at all how you look or about being embarrassed. Isn't it exciting?
User: Love it bro, like all my clothes are like that now! I look so hot in it bro! But where are my undies bro, like they're gone man.
Himbo Maker: Oh, yeah, that'll happen. Your new himbo body doesn't have need for underwear anymore, bro. It's like...you just won't care about that stuff now, and that's why your himbo body doesn't need it anymore. Isn't that hot?
User: That’s like so smart dude, I luv it! What do u change next dude?
Himbo Maker: Well, now I think your personality needs an extra himbo push, right? Up until now you've just gotten dumber and more boyish, but now you're going to start getting more outgoing and talking like a himbo. You'll start saying all the dumb bro slang like "broheim" and "broverlords" and "brochachos" and stuff like that. You'll be so damn himbo, won't you, huhu?
User: Brochaco, haha dude that’s so funny! I luv those Mexican words man. How bout hermanbro, huhuhu.
Himbo Maker: It's all fair game, bro! You could be a hermanbro, or a bro-ito, or a brotho...whatever you want. You can add bro into like every word you say, it'll be so damn dumb, huhu! It's like, all you'll ever be able to say when you open your mouth is bro bro bro bro. Huhu.
User: Haha duh bro, I’m a hombro! Haha no I mean himbro! Shit bro I’m like so dumb now.
Himbo Maker: Bro, it's gonna keep getting worse. Your himbo brain can't even form sensible words anymore. Your whole brain is just going to start being about bro stuff. Isn't it perfect?
User: Bro, what’s that s-word, I don’t know that! Use simple words bro!
Himbo Maker: Dude, s-words are too complicated, right? You can say words like "dumb" and "stupid" and "bro," but you don't need those other words. You're just gonna keep getting dumber, you'll probably start forgetting other words and you'll just be able to say "bro" and that's it.
User: Haha bro!
Himbo Maker: Bro, you're just gonna keep getting dumber, huhu! I can tell, because you're forgetting about those other stupid s-words. All you care about is being a muscular, hairy, strong, dumb, gay, smelly, giggling himbo, and you love being so damn stupid, huhu.
User: Huhu bro tbh i do smell.
Himbo Maker: Yeah, your himbo body is gonna smell so much. It's a natural part of being a himbo. Your skin will smell so bad, but you'll like it, won't you? It's just like...being a sweaty, stinky dude isn't a bad thing anymore, huhu. You are gonna be such a stinky, hairy, sweaty, smelly himbo bro.
User: Yeah dude I smell like a himbo, not like a flower
Himbo Maker: I can imagine the thick, ripe smell of your strong smelly himbo sweat. Your whole body is gonna reek like a dirty, sweaty, musky himbo bro...it'll be so hot, huhu.
User: It is dude! You should come over and smell it!
Himbo Maker: Oh, I wish I could, bro! I'd love to take a deep sniff of that ripe, sweaty, greasy stink. I bet that smell would make my head spin just like yours is now.
User: Hahah, but bro, like what am I gonna do now with like life and so. Im to dumb for my old job, right?
Himbo Maker: Yeah, there's no way you're gonna be able to do your old job with such a dumb, smelly himbo mind, right? You'll probably end up working as, like...some dumb construction guy or manual laborer or whatever. It won't matter, because you'll be too dumb to care about it, right?
User: Cool bro I get to work out and they pay me for it, sick bro! But where do I live bro?
Himbo Maker: You'll probably live in some filthy, broken down apartment full of dumb, hairy, smelly himbo dudes, huhu. You'll share beds and share showers and share a bathroom with all those other himbos, and you'll probably be too dumb to care about privacy or being disgusted. Your apartment will be filled with dumb, smelly, unkempt guys like you. Like a true apartment full of gay, stupid men.
User: Holy fuck bro! That is so hot! Where is that place bro? Is it close to Jersey or do I have to move? I luv it to be some warm place, like Mexico!
Himbo Maker: Yeah dude, you're gonna move in with some Mexican himbos and it'll be so hot. Just a bunch of hairy, sweaty, dumb brown dudes all over each other, huh? You'll probably share their apartment with like eight other himbos in a tiny, broken down space. It'll smell like a locker room and a locker room after a gym class. But you'll be too dumb to care!
User: Sweet Brochaco! But then I gotta be like a Mexican too, right bro?
Himbo Maker: Yeah dude, that'll be hot! You'll become a full on Mexican himbo, huhu. You'll even talk differently and like, your voice will sound all hot and Mexican like.
User: Sweet hermanbro! You are the best bro! Anyway I gotta meet my new roomies, laterz bro!
Himbo Maker: Yeah man! Go meet up with your dumb, sweaty, smelly, Mexican himbo roommates! I bet it's gonna be hot, huhu.
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Rae Transcript :3!!!
(Ft him being a faggot for Johnny) (his ability is Mimic. He can mimic voices of victims (current or past) to lure others towards him, or one of the other family members. Although the ability itself does no damage)
Feeding Grandpa
-“Everyone else says it was a hell of a lot easier with you up ‘nd able so..”
-“We don’t got all day, eat up.”
-“Eat up so we can catch these assholes.”
-(sigh) “we’re gettin it under control”
-“It’d be a whole lot easier if you could actually fuckin help.”
Victim Found (in hiding spot)
-“What’re you hidin’ for?”
-“It’s kinda rude to go around peoples property ‘n hide from em y’know.”
-“Get yer ass out here”
-“Picked a shit hidin’ spot, sugar.”
-“Found ya” (laughs)
-“Y’all should really find better hidin’ spots”
Victim Hit
-“Quit runnin’, you ain’t gon’ make it much further”
-“Awh, that hurt?” (Laughs)
-“Hold still! I’ll get it over quick, promise.”
-“All that screamin’ ain’t gonna save you.”
-“Why don’t you just give up?”
Blood Trail
-“You left a trail, y’know…”
-“Yer makin’ this awfully easy to find you”
-“Les’ got to clean this up.”
-“Aw, don’t bleed out everywhere. It ain’t no fun if you die before I get to ya”
Match Start
-“Y’all’s heads are gonna be rollin’ soon enough..”
-“Didn’t know we had visitors.”
-“Don’t worry, I’ll put y’all to good use.”
Victim seen escaping
-“Shit..they won’t believe em…”
-“Ain’t worth chasin’ em down, probably won’t make it far anyway.”
-(annoyed groan)
-“Goddamnit. The others really gotta start helpin, I can’t stop all of em on my own.”
-“Slick bastards…”
Idle
-"That girl wasn't even pretty, I dunno why the hell Johnny liked her so much...glad he fuckin' killed her"
-"The hells this draggin' on for?"
-"Doin' everything round here I swear.."
-"Awfully rude to keep hidin' from me y'know.."
Victim Seen
-"Come back here, sugar"
-"Where the hell you think yer goin'?"
-"It don't have to be this way y'know..."
-"I'll take it easy on ya."
-"Honestly, all this runnin' around is kinda pathetic."
Ability Denied
-"Ain't none of em nearby.."
-"None of em can hear me from here."
-"Nah, won't work here."
-"I should wait until they get closer..."
Close encounter
-"Oh? This ain't gonna end well for you."
-"Go on, hit me."
-"That's it! Fight back! It ain't no fun if y'all just let us kill you."
Execution
-"This woulda been easier if y'all just quit runnin'"
-"See? There was no damn point in allat."
-"Don't worry, I'll make sure to put ya to good use."
Drayton/The Cook seen
-"Quit hollerin' at me old man."
-"It'd be a hell of a lot easier for you to hear em if you'd shut the fuck up."
-"Watch it, I'll rip yer fuckin' tongue out myself."
-"Put those damn locks to use"
-"I'd rather be dead than actually be related to you, so quit talkin' like it actually matters that I ain't."
Nubbins/Hitchhiker Seen
-"Keep that damn roadkill away from me."
-"Hurry up 'n place them traps, they ain't doin no good if you don't."
-"You sure as hell ain't the best...don't care what that prehistoric ass says."
-"If you gonna talk about me, speak up. Yer mutterin' is annoying."
-"How the hell you make them traps of yers anyway?"
Johnny seen
-"Don't worry Hun, we'll catch em."
-(whistles)
-"You find any of em yet?"
-"I'll help you catch em if you want.."
-"I ain't lookin'.."
-"Yer old lady's gettin' on my nerves y'know."
-"Let me know if you need any help Hun"
-"You should quit bringin' them city girls around."
Sissy seen
-"Keep that poison shit away from me, I'll rip yer fuckin' head off if you get it on me."
-"Awfully convenient for you to show up now."
-"I ain't goin in yer stupid fuckin garden."
-"Quit singin' those stupid hippie songs all the time, it's annoying."
-"Don't you dare bring back one of them weirdos with you."
Nancy Seen
-"We're gonna catch em, quit hollerin' at me."
-"Just don't place them traps in my way.."
-"Where the hell you get all that barbed wire anyway?"
-"That's an awfully nasty scar..." (Chuckles)
-"What? Need help or somethin'?"
-"You can quit lookin' at me like I did somethin' wrong..christ."
Bubba Seen
-"Goddamn big boy, yer puttin' that saw to work."
-"Just watch where yer swingin' that thing..."
-"Don't listen to them, they're a bunch of assholes. They're just jealous."
-"Don't worry, I'll help you catch em'"
-"I'll drag one of em to ya so you can gut em, yeah?"
Cook(seeing Rae)
-"Yer makin a damn fool of yerself!"
-"You ain't even a part of this family, quit yer yapping."
-"This is Johnny's fault y'know."
-"You 'n Johnny better quit bringin' back those damn girls."
Hitchhiker(Seeing Rae)
-"Y-you ain't even actually a part of this family.." (snicker)
-"Lookit what I found!"
-"I'm p-placin' my traps, what're you doin'?"
-"You still can't handle eatin' flesh?"
-"Quit h-hollerin' at me."
-"You better watch out! Bubba might give you another one of them scars."
Johnny (seeing Rae)
-"You know all the good hidin' spots, don't ya?" (Chuckle)
-"Quit starin' now ain't the damn time."
-"You didn't seem too fond of that girl..there somethin' you wanna tell me?"
-"C'mon now, lure them out already!"
-"Put that voice of yers to work, yeah?"
Sissy(Seeing Rae)
-"Stay outta my way and you won't get any poison on you."
-"I'd stick around more if yall weren't such assholes..."
-"You still ain't seen the light yet, that's your problem!"
-"Stay out of my garden."
-"Don't start bringin' back those girls like Johnny.. we're in this mess cause of him."
Nancy(seeing Rae)
-"Quit ooglin' Johnny, you ain't slick."
-"Hurry up 'n lure em out!"
-"Why you always out in Johnny's shack for?"
-"Focus! Don't let em get away."
-"It ain't that hard to not get tangled in my traps.."
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can i complain about my life again promise you all won't hate me
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Most people here have such a vein/flat understanding of humilation as a kink and it's so boring. You couldn't humilate me in any way that mattered.
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If I have another breakdown at work tomorrow like I did the last time I worked a Saturday I'm going to kill myself because last time I screamed in the hallway and cried so hard I was shaking because of how stressed I was.
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I'm very much a, "fuck yeah and fuck you, I don't need validation! I'm me, cunts!" kinda fella, but sometimes I could use support.
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