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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

summary: feelings burst. Fluffy. Fluffy fluffy. Eddie helps reader when she finds herself in a bind.

warnings: no minors gtfo- eventual smut in the series.

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

A/N: per usual thank you the my beta readers @sweetsweetjellybean

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

You were already late for work this morning and now this? Must be a fucking Monday. This must be that bitch karma’s payback for you talking shit about Eddie’s van the other night when he backed it up to the garage to unload some shit he salvaged from the junkyard.

“You would think that since you’re a mechanic, you could tune up that piece of shit so it isn’t so fucking loud.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, unloading another arm load of car parts from the back of the van to the middle of the garage, “don’t dog on the shaggin’ wagon, you know how much ass I get in this thing?”

The unspoken agreement you had with Eddie the other night after spilling your guts about your past, gave you more patience towards him than ever before. Instead of finding him repulsive, you two were almost friends.

“No I don’t and also I don’t care.” you say taking a bite of a ham sandwich.

“More than a public toilet seat,” Eddie boasts, “Ladies love it, feel like I’m Shaggy or something.”

More like his other four-legged snack-loving friend.

“I really hope you use a rubber, don’t wanna extend the Munson blood line anymore than you have to,” you bite back.

“Oh sweetheart, I always wrap it with the groupies, especially watching Jas bounce from Gareth, to Big D to Walt all in one night.”

“Well look at you, Mr. Perfect bill of health.”

Eddie smiles widely a stupid grin plastered on his face, “I’m so good at the doctors they even give me a sticker. ”

Now here you are, stranded at the gas station east of town, past Merrill’s pumpkin patch. Losing all faith in your sanity, you slam your hand into the steering wheel one more time. Your chunky boots clunk across the pavement as you pull the door towards you, a dingy brass bell dings overhead, alerting the gas station attendant that someone has entered the store.

“Back again?” the balding creep with the greasy combover presses. His coke bottle thick glasses full of breakfast pizza slime from his fingers from pushing them up on in place after sliding down the oils on his nose. A brown paper bag with orange spray paint sitting next to it sat on the counter, and a tinge of orange around his mouth.

With no time for small talk or shooting the shit with the local bachelors of Hawkins, you simply need to borrow the phone and call… fuck. You didn’t want to have to call Boom’s, but the other shops didn’t open yet, and you didn’t know any of them. The decision was made.

“I need to use the phone,” you say laying your hands on the counter.

“No can do, this is a business line,” he spits, bits of his barely chewed breakfast falling from his over stuffed mouth.

Irritated beyond belief you say through gritted teeth, “What? My car broke down, I need to have it towed.”

Showing no sympathy, the combover greaseball says, “That sucks, don’t it,” a throaty chuckle erupts from him. Clearly the man got off from making next to little effort in helping someone.

“Listen,” you say peering over the counter to read the slobs name tag, “Ralph— you’re going to give me the goddamn phone so I can get my car towed, or I’m going to tell your boss about your little huffing habit. Got it?”

His cheeks crimson at your threat, “…what’s the number?”

After dialing it wrong three times, Ralph’s oversized fingers and his altered mind getting hung up on where the 4 was on the dusty rotary phone, you hastily reach across the counter and grab it and the Hawkins phone book. Flipping through the worn yellow pages, finding the number yourself and slotting your fingers in the appropriate places to get the number correct, it finally starts ringing.

Angrily tapping your foot, the serenade of dial tone ringing loud in your ear.

“Boom’s” a bored voice says, after ehat seems like hours of waiting.

“Hey, — is Eddie there?”

A scoff is heard from the other end of the phone, followed by an annoyed voice, “Why who wants to know?”

You don’t have time for childish games with whoever this fucking prick is. “Jesus Christ what is it with assholes today? Is he there or no?”

“I don’t know, you stupid bitch— why don’t you tell me if Eddie is here or—”

A scuffle is heard as the phone falls to the ground.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Huh? I’ll drop your ass just name the time and place mother fuck— hello?”

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

“Tooty? Oh shit, you miss me so much you’re making calls to my work?”

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

“Or did you call to gossip? Ooooh, tell me all about the salon drama, is it that blonde again, damn just slap her already I know you want to.”

“Ed—!”

“Shit if you’re worried about going to jail I’ll come bail y—”

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Did you just use my full name? I only hear that when I’m in trouble with Wayne.”

“Will you listen to me?! I need help. I’m at the gas station east of town and my car won’t start.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, his joking tone immediately fading to concern.

“I have no idea, but I’m already late for work—can you come pick me up?”

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

“Goddamnit,” you say under your breath, “Eddie will you please, come get me?”

“That a girl, see that wasn’t so hard. So where are you?”

Eddie rolls up in an old orange and white tow truck, head banging with a cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. “So what happened?”

“Well I drove here, got gas, and then it just wouldn’t start.”

“Damn, I wonder if your starter is out.”

“Great, so what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it is that or not, but if it’s not that— it means that your car is probably going to need more work than it’s worth, but I won’t know until I get it in the shop.”

“Son of a bitch.” you curse, covering your face with your hands and tipping your head back up to the sky. Could this fucking day get any worse?

After buying the house last year, your savings were completely wiped out, the last few months you had been pinching pennies trying to build it back up

“I’ll tow it, but I don’t think Boom has any loaners right now,” Eddie explains, “but since I’m such a kind, handsome, good roommate….”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

“I mean its either that or the city bus, and last I checked—Hawkins doesn’t have one.”

Eddie agrees to give you a ride until your car is fixed on one condition, the band gets to use the garage for practices again. Too tired to fight with him, you give in.

He backs the truck up, moving the steering wheel with one hand the other hanging out of the window, his tongue poked out through his lips. He jumps down from the truck and maneuvers the wheel lift into place by your front tires.

The muscles in his forearms jut out, tattoos dancing with each movement and covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he grabs the chains from the flatbed and hooks them along your front tires, securing them into place. Your car is lifted slightly giving enough clearance to be able to tow.

“Ready?”

Bouncing along side Eddie in the tow truck you sigh heavily, “fuck, I hate Mondays.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Eddie chuckles, turning down the radio and glancing towards you, a cigarette balanced between his teeth, “could always be worse,” he digs into his front pocket for his pack of cigarettes and hands them to you.

You smile weakly and take the pack from him, plucking a tanned filter from the pack and shoving it between your lips. Before you can even say that your lighter is in the car, he’s leaning over. A scratched zippo with a fading design on it, in his hand already flicked open, the flame threatening to go out with the help of the lazy breeze through the open driver’s side window. It’s the same lighter he’s had since you first bummed a cigarette from him when you were thirteen.

Leaning towards him you put the cigarette into the flame, inhaling deep— the cowboy killers burning the pinky tissue of your lungs. He flicks the lighter closed with a metallic snap and smiles out of the corner of his mouth at you. Suddenly your lungs aren’t the only thing burning.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to avoid the skips in your stomach, “I usually prefer menthols, but I guess, these’ll do,”

“Always gotta bust my balls dontchya?” Eddie laughs, a stream of smoke billowing out from his nose. “Hey, uh— I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that gas station is rated 5 stars on the creepiest place in town.”

You glare your eyes at him, absolutely not having it, “they have cheap gas.”

“There’s a reason for that, and every drug dealer in town sells out of there,” Eddie scolds.

“You would know,” you say in a hateful tone.

“You’re right,” Eddie protests, looking at you earnestly, “I would know— it’s not a good place to be— no matter what time of day, so stay away from it.”

You knew he was trying to look out for you, and from what Steve said, — he blamed himself for the things Chad did to you. But it was never his fault, he didn’t know just like most of Hawkins didn’t. You lived with the Wheeler’s and not even they noticed until you walked home that night. You decide to let it be. For once in your life agreeing to what he had to say.

“Alright,”

Boom’s was on the opposite side of town, the rest of the drive you listened to Eddie hum along to the radio and snuck a peek at him playing air guitar. Despite him being so foul, and a royal pain in the ass, he was actually a decent human being.

No other men in their twenties could help you through your panic attack, aside from Steve. But Eddie? He was different from Steve in ways that you couldn’t grasp. You didn’t find yourself staring at Steve. Even if you had been swimming with him on more occasions than you can count. Sure he was good looking, but you never once understood why the girls at the pool practically flocked to him. Eddie hardly ever wore a shirt around you and your stomach ached each time you saw his broad shoulders and tattoos. Steve was like a brother to you, he scolded you and gave you advice, all with his hands permanently attached to his hips. A mother hen among his friends. Eddie teased and taunted you, his irritating behavior and the way he chewed his food, the way his hair was everywhere in the bathroom, the way his hair looked when he was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung on his hips. The way his hips made a ‘V’, small trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. Fuck.

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

…

But what if?

Eddie couldn’t understand what was going on with you in the passenger seat. Instead of bitching at him like normal, you were staring out the window. Looking as if you were fighting a storm in your cute little head. Maybe you were reliving the past. Silently suffering through something that he should have been there to stop. But judging from your reflection against the dirty window, you didn’t seem to be crying.

After that night, Eddie was putting in more effort to make sure you felt safe. He gave you distance. Avoided the bathroom in the morning, and stopped making dick jokes altogether. He still joked around, still acted like an idiot— but his perverted meter was dipped into the green zone, the safety net.

He meant what he said, you didn’t have to be afraid with him around. And he would do whatever he could to prove that to you. So when you called Boom’s earlier and asked for help— he dropped everything to make the trek across town to pick you up. Especially when you told him the gas station you were at. Known for being the skeeziest one in town, he worried about you being there alone.

Seeing the tow truck pull into the parking lot, Sean and Aaron had their noses pressed against the glass, the cheap flimsy blinds hung crooked over their heads.

“Damn,” Aaron exclaims, “you were right, that is her.”

“Told you, Munson hasn’t shut up about her since he moved in. Wonder if Chad knows where she’s been hiding.”

Eddie parks the tow truck and you both climb out. He gives you the keys to his van and tells you he’d be right back. Walking into the shop with a whistle on his tongue, he goes into Boom’s office. He’s sitting at a worn down wooden desk. Papers, and receipts clutter space where a framed family picture might be. A steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in Boom’s left hand suggested he stopped at the donut mart, and a dozen of glazed holes from heaven would be sitting in the break room, their sweetness tantalizing the crew all day.

Eddie raps his knuckles against the yellowed paint by the door frame.

‘Yep,” Boom chirps without looking up, reading the daily arrest records in the Hawkins Post.

“Hey, I brought Tooty’s Escort back, I’m going to bring her to work quick and when I get back I’ll move it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Boom gripes, not looking up from the paper, sipping the coffee slowly.

“Dunno, I’ll take a look at it— “ Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to another, “I was wondering if I could maybe work on it after hours, or on the weekends.”

Boom considers what Eddie is saying, “off the clock?”

“Yeah, or maybe I could take some of my tools home? Work on it there?”

Boom thinks for a while, taking a sip of his coffee. His pudgy finger hovering near the name “William Hargrove” mulling over if he knew him. He finally looks up, “Whatever you wanna do, Eddie, you’ve got keys—I trust you.” Boom offers, “just don’t let those other two jackasses know what you’re doing and who for— that’s all they’ve been yappin’ about since you left this morning.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I’m just helping out a friend, don’t know why they give a fuck.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit— but you’re my best mechanic, and those other two are on their last strike with me. One more time I read their name in this paper and they’re both out of here, and when that time comes— I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”

The familiar scent of stale weed and a spilled rotting beer in the back of the van flood your nose. Even though his van was a dirty pile of shit and it stunk like hell, you’re thankful for Eddie taking time out of his day to help you.

He could have easily told you to fuck off, hung up on you the minute you called. But he didn’t. He kept good on his word even when he didn’t have to. He doesn’t owe you anything and yet here he was, proving to you again, that he could be someone to rely on. You peer at him through your lashes, falling deep into a spell of fondness. He was always clean shaven, showing off his babyish features. If you didn’t know his age you wouldn’t guess he was over twenty two, his youthful pale skin a glow like the moon across a lake at midnight. The deep browns of his eyes squint in the bright sun, his dark eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks. His thick ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel as ‘Holy Diver’ plays gently in the background. The bob of his Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows and takes a drag from a cigarette.

You barely recognize your own voice when you say barely above a whisper, “thank you, by the way— not just for today but for the other night,” your fingers go back to the same nervous habit, twiddling the end of your cream lettuce hem shirt.

“Of course,” he says, a look of shock on his face, “I know I like to give you shit, but I wouldn’t leave you stranded somewhere.” He looks over at you lazily and smiles. The kind of smile associated with cool guys on tv, the kind of smile that’s crooked and truly only on one side of the face. And for the first time, you smile too, letting the warmth radiate through your body, venturing into places that you have to readjust your crossed legs to avoid entirely.

Pulling into the backlot of the salon, where you and Nancy smoke cigarettes and read trash magazines, you jump out thanking him again, the creak of the door slamming back into the frame as you wave goodbye.

“What time?” Eddie yelled after you, silently admiring the way the sun catches your face, highlighting your features, the slight breeze catching your hair, he can’t help the smile that dances on his lips. “What time are you off work?”

Walking back to him, he’s leaning his head back on the head rest, an arm hanging out of the window, a stupid grin on his face.

“My last client is at five and it’s just a cut, so probably six o’clock, why?” A creep of jittery shock threatens your nerves, fluttering your stomach and sending waves of fluster through your body.

“Thought I’d pick you up, unless you wanna walk home?” He smirks, tracing the small paint chip near where his fingers set on the door.

Biting your lip and moving back on your heels you make your way back to the door, “Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

“Six” you repeat, turning on your heel and walking into the salon.

Eddie has thought about you all day, the cards of life and the hand you were dealt were shitty. But he was happy he was around to help in any little way he could. He thought maybe he was crazy, seeing shit when you smiled at him, a sort of shyness in the way you flirted by dipping your head into your shoulder almost giddy at him picking you up.

But that couldn’t be.

The rest of your day was monotonous. Shampoo sets, perms, cuts, rinse and repeat. The long haired metalhead hardly left your mind. When it’s just you and Josie left in the salon after your last appointment, it’s 5:30. She sits down, exhaling loudly. Her long dark braids trailing to her waist, cascade down the length of the chair as she leans back.

“Broke down again? Girl, you need a car that actually works.” Her hot pink fingernails dip into a bag of skittles, popping them into her mouth.

“I know,” you sigh, throwing yourself into your salon chair, “hopefully in the next few months I’ll have enough saved to get myself a new one.”

“So how did you get here? If we had someone else in the salon today I would have came and picked you up,” her mouth puckered into a sucking expression as she pops another skittle into her mouth.

“My roommate… he works at Boom’s so he towed it there and then brought me to work,” you express nonchalantly.

“Ooh the rich one who you used to work with?”

“Steve?” You say with a laugh, “No, Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson? Why does that name sound so familiar? Ohh the infamous Hawkins bad boy, my cousins used to run around with him, some club or somethin’ ”

“Yeah, that's him, he’s turned himself around quite a bit since high school though.” The annoying need to defend him is obvious in your tone.

Josie’s eyes go wide, “Wait—“ she says, pointing a pink nail at you, “he had a girlfriend. He’s living with you? Shit, you’re a brave one.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, the thought of Eddie having a secret girlfriend that you didn’t know about was almost torture on your soul, “no, no girlfriend… that I’m aware of at least.”

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

Opening the door with the sun waning behind him, peeking an orangy-yellow glow through his unruly curls, stood Eddie. His coveralls are full of motor oil and brake fluid. Black grease is smeared across his face, and his hands. Bandana still snug around his head.

“Oh shit,” Eddie blurts, eyes scanning around the room, bouncing from your face to Josie’s. Clearly uncomfortable in such a clean establishment. “Sorry, I’m uhh, a little early.”

Josie’s eyebrows are turned up in shock, her mouth slightly agape. “Damn, you’re the roommate!?”

Before she can embarrass you any further you blurt, “Josie, this is Eddie,” holding out a hand and pointing, introducing him to her, “Eddie this is my boss and the owner of the salon, Josie.”

Eddie waves with his fingers, “so you’re the one lookin’ after our girl here, the mechanic?” Josie asks.

“Uhh, yeah that’s me.” he puts a hand on the back of his neck and rubs it slow

Josie stands and walks towards you, a clicking of her heels and munching on her candy as she grabs your hand and drags you upwards, dragging you to the back of the salon.

Eddie looks around the room. The salon is decorated in light washes of pink and green and flowers decorate almost every surface, White painted baskets hang from the ceiling holding fake flowers. The salon chairs are black as are the mats under them. Green sinks in the back and cabinets overhead. Two mirrors on each wall and station with a name and family pictures decorate them. Eddie can’t help but notice that where you were sitting, there are only three pictures. A photo of you and Nancy looking like it was taken last summer, you’re holding up the keys to the blue ranch style house he now calls home. Another picture is of you Robin and Steve, in green Family Video Vests in front of the counter. You and Robin are both pulling one of Steve’s ears and he’s making a monkey face. The last picture is of you and Eyeball as kids, a portrait more than likely taken at a JC Penney’s.

“Don’t forget to lock up, okay? Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Eddie, be good to her!” Josie calls from the back, the heavy metal door slamming as she leaves for the night, a smile painted on her lips, shaking her head.

You walk back towards Eddie, he’s sitting in your chair, poking around at all of the different brushes and curling irons that were on your station. Your tired eyes scan him and find him in the mirror. “What is all this shit?”

“My tools to style, cut and color people’s hair.”

You’re standing behind him. You hesitantly grab one of his curls in between your fingers, noting how silky and smooth his hair is despite the split ends. “You could probably use a trim, Eddie. When was the last time you had your hair cut?”

“You think these curls have been in a salon? Please! I cut it myself thank you,”

“I can tell,” you mutter under your breath, going full hog and untying his sweaty bandana and tossing it onto the counter. “Come on, let’s go wash your hair, and then I’m gonna give you a trim.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.” Eddie protests, arms crossed and resisting.

“Your ends are dead, if you don’t take care of it now, it’ll keep going further up and then you’ll have to shave your head.”

Eddie practically trips standing up quickly. “Those are fighting words.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?” You ask in a bored tone.

“Actually no, but— okay fine! Only because you went to some fancy school.”

Eddie stomps over to the sink and sits down with a plop in the smooth cushioned black chair. You follow behind him and place your apron back around your neck, tightening it around your back. You lean his chair back telling him to lift his head from the headrest as you gather his curls into the basin.

Turning on the water and testing the temperature on your wrist, like a mother testing a bottle making sure it isn’t too hot for a baby, you gently put the spray into the ends of Eddie’s hair, gently working the spray up the length of his head to his scalp.

“Is the water okay?”

“Ow, holy shit!” Eddie yelps, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. You immediately turn the faucet the other way, apologizing profusely until you realize Eddie is shaking with laughter.

“Oh fuck, … you…” more laughing as he chokes out his words, “should have seen your face.” He mimics your face and bursts into a fit of giggles, you aren’t sure how long he would have kept it up if you didn’t put the hose directly into his face and throw a towel at him.

“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll wax your eyebrows.” You spit at him, letting out a small laugh.

Mumbling from under the towel is faint but you swear you hear the word bikini.

Eddie finished cleaning his face and lays his head back into the sink again, you don’t ask this time but immediately start wetting his hair. “So,” he says, closing his eyes, so water won’t get in them, “I think I figured out what is wrong with your car.”

“Oh really? Is it going to be an easy fix?”

Not wanting to admit to you that he was working on your car for free or that he would borrow as many tools as he had to to get your car fixed, he settles for a half truth.

“Shouldn’t be too bad, gotta get some parts ordered for it.”

You let out a groan, “oh God— how much are they?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said, don’t worry about it, now treat me like one of your clients and tell me all the hot gossip in your life.”

Taking three giant pumps from the white shampoo bottle in the cabinet, you gently massage it into his scalp. Letting the cool smooth pearlescent liquid suds up. His hair feels like brown ropes of silk in your hands. All the years of having your hands in someone else’s hair were nothing compared to the odd feeling of lightly working the suds into Eddie’s mane. Baby soft. Luxurious in ways that contradicted the metalhead image he wore so well like a coat of armor.

You weren’t the only one admiring the way his hair felt in your hands.

Eddie is fighting hard not to melt into a puddle right there in Josie’s salon. Your hands were like magic against his scalp, your nails lightly scratching small circles against his skull. He was sure he’d fall asleep if he kept his eyes closed for any longer. It was the closest thing he could compare to what heaven would be like. Hints of tropical coconut mixed with crushed pineapple filled the air. He didn’t even realize you were talking until he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of your mouth moving over him. Your face was concentrating on the story that you were telling, but it fell on deaf ears. He was in a trance. The scrape of your nails against his head was almost pornographic to him. The way your eyes were trained on the job at hand. The way your lips parted and moved as you told the story. The animated look in your eyes, sparkling with each slow blink, your eyelashes teasing him.

He had never noticed the features of your face before. Usually if he was this close you were staring up at him and pointing one of those glorious fingernails into his chest, yelling at him— eyebrows pulled in, your face set in a scowl. But now here you were, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Filling a void he wasn’t aware was missing. He could die right now and he wouldn’t even know it. It was almost orgasmic the way you were making him feel, all with just simply washing his hair.

He caught himself before you could notice it. He crossed his legs and willed himself to think of anything else. Shutting his eyes and imagining the least sexy thing he could think of. Not wanting to ruin the moment between you both and make you never want to trust him again because he had got an accidental semi while staring at you while you were wrist deep in shampoo, scrubbing his scalp like a woman in the 1800s washing clothes on a board in the creek bed.

Nobody had ever washed his hair before, that he could remember at least. He never wanted it to end.

“…but that’s crazy right? Like she’s a psycho!” The hazy fog of lust finally left Eddie’s mind, his other four senses returning. Looking at your face and seeing that you were hurt by the story you had explained, and ashamed that he wasn’t even listening, he agreed, not even knowing if he should.

“What a bitch.”

You giggled, smiling down at him. Finally realizing you had been scrubbing his hair for almost five minutes, lost in the story. A stupid distraction to force yourself away from the feeling of the silk length of his hair, the way it felt in your fingers. Not wanting to let it slip away. You gather it all in one hand and grab the hose with the other, starting at the crown of his forehead, you rinse the suds from his hair.

Bubbles circle the basin. Disappearing down the drain along with the same shared feelings of lust and yearning. Shoved down deep away from the surface, hidden beneath hardened surfaces, shielded away from the inner depths of the softening heart.

You ended up cutting half an inch from Eddie’s curls, careful to not lose yourself in his hair again, almost cutting yourself in the process. Hee watched with wide sad brown eyes with each snip. “It’s like I’m watching you cut parts of my soul away.”

You roll your eyes, “It’ll grow back, and when it does it’ll be healthier and longer.”

His bangs were the next to be trimmed, not even half an inch taken off. You place a leave-in conditioner spray to keep his curls soft and to help with the tangles. Knowing full well that Eddie didn’t even own a hair brush.

When you finish and are sweeping up his curls, Eddie stands shaking his head like a dog and running his fingers through it. “Alright, I’ll admit, it does feel better.”

Since the agreement was made for the band to practice every other day of the week in the garage, Eddie had been bringing you to work, and picking you up. On days the band wouldn’t be practicing, when he dropped you at home, he would leave immediately after, sometimes not showing up again until midnight. Coming home tired as all hell, and just like you had done weeks before, a Tupperware of food with instructions on how to warm it up taped to the lid, would be waiting for him in the fridge, each and every time.

There was no more yelling from you when the three members of Corroded Coffin showed up. There were also no more beer cans or greasy food wrappers on the ground either. Instead a trash can sat in the corner, and Eddie paid for pizza after you ordered it.

Actually the band was pretty good. You would never tell him that, that would simply go to his head. And with the ego he already had, he didn’t need another boost of confidence, leave that for the groupies. So every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday night the band got together, playing covers from their beloved 80’s metal Gods and sometimes original songs they would write. All of them thankful that you let them practice in the garage, Big D picking you up into a bear hug and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Jesus Christ, D, this is why the ladies run from you, you’re too aggressive, put her down!” Eddie barks. A pang of burning in his chest at the sight of you in someone else’s arms.

Big D sets you down and apologizes, “sorry Toots, and hey speaking of ladies, whatever happened with you and those hotter than hell twins?”

“Oh shit, Gareth hollered, “Fuck dude they were all over him, surprised he’s even able to walk with the way they were strung around him like cats in heat. You usually can’t wait to tell us about it, bragging until the next gig about it at least.”

“That’s cause he probably didn’t do shit, too chicken shit to handle them.”

Your stomach flips, so it wasn’t something you remembered wrong, there were two girls that Eddie had brought home that night. A strange feeling of angst washes over you, coating your mind with uncertainty mixed with inadequacy. Your cheeks warm, embarrassed by the way you are feeling. Excusing yourself to go order the pizza, you don’t see the way Eddie dismisses the guys, blowing them off with a “why don’t we keep our sexcapades to ourselves.” Or the way he throws a full beer at Big D.

After ordering the Corroded Coffin special, two large pepperonis, two large sweet and swine, and an extra large order of cheesy breadsticks— you go into the cupboard and bring out several bags of chips and five paper plates. Your favorite, sour cream and onion, and Eddie’s favorite, cool ranch Doritos. You let your mind wander. Thinking about him with those two girls. Realizing this is probably where he went at night after he dropped you off.

No need to feel like that when he was just your roommate, you shake the jealousy from your head. Just Eddie. Barely a friend. Yet he was still going out of his way to take you to work every day, till doing the chores you both shared. You let the silly feelings drop, carrying the chips and plates to the garage, shutting the door behind you. Pulling up your usual lawn chair, listen to the band play and finish painting your toenails.

When the boys end the song, they start again on the conversation they had started before playing, “dude I’m not dressing up as KISS again this year,” Jeff whines to Gareth “took me forever to get that white paint off my face. And don’t even get me started on the eyeliner.”

A spray of beer soaks the ground as Eddie spits it out, laughing hysterically about the memory of watching Jeff struggle lining his eyes like Paul Stanley. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “yeah I agree, I’m not painting your ugly mugs again this year, what else are you thinkin’?”

“We could all be different villains from scary movies. Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers’s, and Pinhead.” Big D suggests, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Nah, no chicks wanna fuck something scary. I don’t know about you— but I tried all of last Halloween to get some tail and no girl would even look my way with all that clown paint on.” Gareth huffs twirling his drum sticks in his fingers.

“What about you Tooty?” Eddie asks earnestly, “Do you and Robin go bar hoppin’ on Halloween or do you usually stay home like an old lady knitting sweaters and handing out black licorice and molding fruit?”

Making a face at him, you paint the last coat of polish on your toe nail. “Actually, Nancy and I usually throw a party. Costume contests, kegs, beer pong… we kinda go all out.”

Eddie picks his jaw up from the floor, scoffing, “no way— Nancy Wheeler and you, throwing a rager on Halloween? I don’t buy it.”

“Call Steve and ask him, he’s the reigning Cherry Lane Halloween costume contest winner for two years running.” You say with a smirk on your lips, stretching your legs and crossing them at your ankles, the pretty maroon polish catching the dim light in the garage. “You guys are more than welcome to come, obviously it’s on Halloween night, and the only stipulation is to bring a good costume, and $5 for the keg.”

Eddie moves his tongue over his teeth, twisting his body to look at his band mates, all three of them shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be here,

“Yeah, if you think you’re up for it. Sure.” You say nonchalantly.

The smell of mildew and damp carpet currently being air dried with a fan stung your nose. The soggy basement and the crumbling foundation of Sally’s Secondhand in downtown Hawkins was a hidden gem and only open in the afternoons on Mondays and Wednesdays, but they had decent prices and good quality items when you were in a pinch if you could learn to breathe through your mouth for the time you were there.

“So how’s the roomie situation going?” Nancy asks, holding up a hand mixer with two mixing parts and a wooden handle labeled for .10¢. You had scored gold when you found a gently used, practically brand new waffle iron. It was wedged between two cook books for only $2. The same one Karen Wheeler had used on Sunday mornings. You were hunting for discounted Halloween decorations still not sure on what you were going to dress as and Halloween was this Saturday, Nancy was searching for spare camera parts for Jonathan and a toy cowboy hat for her costume that she wouldn’t tell you about.

Putting a masking taped bundle of forks into the blue plastic grocery basket, your forks magically kept disappearing everytime Eddie brought leftovers to work, you let out a sigh, “It’s going okay, better than it was in the beginning. He’s fixing my car up and I cut his hair a few weeks ago. I um.. also told him about Chad.”

Nancy stops dead in her tracks, blue eyes wide, her small mouth agape, “wh-what?!” Nancy was shocked at the news, you nonchalantly delivered like saying ‘fine’ when some asked how you were. She knew how frightening that situation was for you, it was scary for her too. Seeing someone she loved and cared about hurt in ways she couldn’t even fathom.

“We ran into him while getting groceries—like a month ago. I had a full blown panic attack, and Eddie, he helped me through it.” You go into detail explaining everything that had happened. Leaving out the part of you being comforted by Eddie and the gentle way his thick hands caressed you while you sobbed into him like a child who lost their cat.

Nancy's face goes from shock and softens into content, “wow, honestly didn’t think he had a caring bone in his body, he always seemed like such an asshole.”

“I mean he still is, don’t get me wrong— I don’t think he’s giving donations to the local churches or anything, but he seems a little more reserved, if you will,” you say, adding a floral embroidered set of towels for every day of the week to your basket.

“Hmm,” Nancy says with raised eyebrows, and nodding her head, a silent confirmation of approval. Always looking up to Nancy, almost as if she was your real life sister, you admired her. She was always put together, whether you were shopping during the week or at home, she was stylish in a way that said, I will run the world, and have dinner on the table at 6. Her white huarache sandals matched her high waisted pink pastel shorts and white button sleeveless blouse. Effortlessly stunning.

Moving along the aisles you and Nancy both finger through the clothing racks. Pulling out neon prints and a pair Madonna—esque white lace gloves, they probably belonged to that muppet singing idiot, Tammy Thompson. Chuckling at how fashion trends in high school were borderline ridiculous. a denim vest in your size with safety pins on each hem gave you an idea for your costume. Finding everything you needed you were ecstatic to put it all together.

The carpet squashed beneath your feet the further you got into the store. The back room held vhs’s, records, tapes, and books. The records were in a milk carton next to a shelf of adult themed books. The fading sharpie written sign reading “Adult fiction for Women 25 cents” posted bold along the top of the shelf. Nancy discreetly placed, “Thursday and the Lady” by Patricia Matthews into her basket, covering it with matching salt and pepper shakers, a crimson tinge to her rouged cheeks.

Diving into the records you flip them towards you as you lazily scan through them. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Thriller by Michael Jackson, Abbey Road by the Beatles, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, stuck to the back of it was a small single, Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It had been years since you heard it, tucking it into your basket, Nancy clears her throat nervously, the blush evident in her cheeks, “I’m ready if you are.”

The Saturday of Halloween the salon was closed, giving you Robin and Steve plenty of time to decorate for the party tonight. Eddie was working but was scheduled to get off around 5, just in time to come home and get his secret costume on.

Orange pumpkin printed garbage bags filled with autumn foliage lined the streets of Cherry Lane. Toilet paper streamers were in Mr. Derry’s tree, a prank the seniors of Hawkins High did to him every year, including egging his front door. Vinyl witches hung from doorknobs. Plastic ghosts holding jack-o-lanterns littered lawns. Fake strings of cotton resembling cobwebs with bendy plastic spider thrown around like glitter, lay atop shrubs. Orange lights were wrapped around the trees in your front yard, flimsy ghosts made of white sheets were hung from the branches. It was a child’s Halloween paradise.

“Higher, no lower, well now you’re just doing it wrong.” Steve was in charge of Robin who was in charge of decorations. The beer pong tournament would be in the basement, every strand of Christmas lights you could find were lighting the ceiling, table set up and cups in place. The tournament bracket started with Mike and El playing against Jeff and his girlfriend Ash. The kegs would be delivered later. Buckets ready for ice sitting on the deck. Robin and Steve were still arguing over who had the better costume last year. Twisting black and orange streamers together and hanging them in the doorway to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you’re finishing up the Jell-O shots, small clear dishes full of cherry red jello made with everclear. A bitter threat to anyone brave enough to eat them. The spinach and artichoke dip is prepped in the fridge, along with 10 packages of crescent rolls, 5 packages of hotdogs, the fruit cut and ready to be put into Steve’s horrendous Jungle Juice that you would actively be avoiding. Nancy and Jonathan were bringing pinwheels and rotel dip. Dustin and Susie are in charge of bringing candy. It’s going to be a blast.

“Be right back,” Robin and Steve call out as they leave to go get their costumes. Putting the finishing touches on your costume your hand shakes with nervousness while swiping mascara on your lashes, the pre party jitters wracking your nerves. The ring of the doorbell startles you. The obnoxious ringing should be a dead giveaway but you don’t recognize it until the door is wide open and you’re face to face with Jesus Christ himself and three nuns. Or as you knew them, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Big D.

You aren’t sure whose mouth is hanging open more. Yours or Eddie’s. Eddie is wearing a long sleeved cream colored gown, complete with a crimson sash. His usual black leather boots on his feet and a crucifix in his hand.

Eddie is the first to laugh, hands held out like he’s blessing the house before he enters it. “Aww sweetheart, you really are my #1 fan aren’t you?”

You are dressed as the most annoying on the planet, pain in the ass, voted most perverted of all of Hawkins: Eddie. When shopping with Nancy you found the vest, adding a few hand sewn patches and the best replica of Eddie’s DIO patch on the back, even shoving a pack of reds into the pocket, it looked pretty good. A twin of the aforementioned jackass. Borrowing Nancy’s cheap leather jacket when she went as Sandy from Grease last year, and putting holes into a pair of jeans and washing them as many times as you could to fray the edges, it was perfect. Complete with a horrible curly wig that you thought was a life dog upon seeing it.

“I was going for scary and scary annoying,” you shrug, “think I nailed it.”

“As hilarious and surprisingly accurate your costume is, the real winner for the party is going to be us” He gestured to him and the nuns. “figured I’d go as something that everyone says I need more of and you recognize the boys right? They’re dressed as your friends from work.”

The kegs finally show up and Eddie blesses the delivery man before he leaves. Fully throwing himself into character. Dustin and Susie are the first to arrive, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire and Sally Ride, the first woman astronaut to go into space.

Dustin laughs so hard he cries at your costume. “Oh my God please you have to say, ‘forced conformity, it’s what’s killing the kids!’ Please Tooty Holy shit!”

Mimicking Eddie perfectly you saunter away and scream about society and how good Metallica is.

“Oh haha, so funny Tooty,” Eddie pouts, holding a beer funnel in his hands, “come on Henderson let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

The backyard is sprayed with foamy beer as Dustin very much can not put his money where his mouth is. Gareth’s up next, chugging like a champion and doing a lap around the backyard like he won a trophy. Eddie and Jeff shotgun beer, Eddie winning by a mile. Laughing and putting his hands in a praying gesture to bless Jeff for his shortcomings.

The rest of the party goers show up, Nancy is dressed like Annie Oakley wielding a fake shotgun and a straw cowboy hat and a long brown dress with fringe hanging from the shoulders. Jonathan and his long haired friend Argyle arrive behind Nancy dressed as Sonny & Cher. Argyle had given up the fast moving life in California once a Surfer Boys pizza arrived in Hawkins. He delivered to the house so much during the nights that Corroded Coffin was practicing that he had your order prepped and ready to go by the time you had called it in. He’d show up so blitzed out of his mind that he’d forget he was at work, sharing his different strains of weed with all the Corroded Coffin boys.

Robin and Steve are in the kitchen, ladling jungle juice into empty cups. The duo dressed as Thelma and Louise, Robin wearing a black muscle shirt and sunglasses, and Steve wore a white tank top with a neckerchief. Both talking in horrible southern accents.

Eddie is standing next to Argyle in the living room both holding almost empty cups of the forbidden jungle juice, deep in conversation about something called Purple Palm Tree Delight, but knowing them, it had nothing to do with a lavender paradise. You reach around Eddie to grab a pinwheel, taking a bite when Argyle, clearly stoned, goes wide eyed leaning into Eddie his eyes still transfixed on you he whisper yells.

“Yo, I swear to God, I just saw two of you.”

“Argyle it’s me, Tooty.” You explain standing next in front of them trying not to laugh. “This is the real Eddie, I’m just dressed like him for Halloween.”

Argyle leans forward and whispers into your ear, “Yeah okay man that’s what the aliens would say before they clone us and take over.”

He leans back and takes two big steps backwards, eyes wide in a horrified daze, before disappearing down into the basement.

“Don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but that guy smokes way too much.” Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his jungle juice and eating the fruit at the bottom of the cup.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn him watching with your own gut twisting as the sweet juices of strawberry slither down his chin and down the slope of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, smacking his lips, “I’m twenty six years old, I can handle my liquor.”

“Okay,” you reply, “just so you know, the fruit soaks up all the alcohol and Steve presoaks it all in everclear the night before. Last time he ate all the fruit he spent an hour in the bathroom crying about his love life or lack thereof. And besides, we have to play in the pong tournament in a half hour.”

“We?” Eddie asks, lips turned up and a slight blush to his cheeks, “I didn’t sign up for beer pong.” His dark eyes pour into yours.

Heat creeps up your neck as you reach for a Jell-O shot cracking the lid off and circling the dish with your finger before sucking it into your mouth.

“I signed you up,” you say, reaching for another Jell-O shot, “everyone had a partner but Argyle and Will, so I paired you with Argyle, and I’m with Will,” you slide your finger around the Jell-O dish and suck the cherry gelatin into your mouth, savoring the bitter bite to your tongue before you crush it between your teeth.

“You better bring your A game Munson,” you say, taking a step into him and poking him in the chest, “because I don’t lose.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel this way or you but suddenly he can’t stop blushing, laying the charm on thicker than peanut butter, “oh really?” he asks intrigued, “Well babe, I don’t think you know this but I’m the Forest Hills Trailer Park Pong Champion for eight summers in a row, so technically,” he’s leaning forward now, whispering low to get his point across. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel the tickle of his lips against your ear, his hair is brushing against your face, the faint smell of motor oil stuck in his curls, “I never lose either.”

He pulls back and your eyes lock. The heat flooding your cheeks burn, the ache in your stomach travels south and pulses with want. You can’t deny it to yourself, even dressed as Jesus Christ, Eddie is the best looking guy you’ve laid eyes on, and you were melting at the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, a smirk placed on his lips as he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip to catch the remnants of the horrific fruit juice. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the Jell-O shot dish you’re holding and sets it behind him on the table. The tension could be cut with a knife, thick and heavily hanging in the space between you both. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by El screaming for Mike to get to the backyard instead of puking in the kitchen sink. Her Alice in Wonderland wig askew on her head and holding Mike’s mad hatter hat between her hands.

Running to open the sliding door you get it open just in time for Mike to projectile vomit off the deck.

“Christ, what did he eat?” Eddie asks from behind you, “damn Mike you’re such a pussy!”

“His dumbass didn’t eat all day and when he got here he decided that Jell-O and fruit would be a good option.” El says, rubbing his back as he pukes again and again, “I don’t feel bad for you Mike!”

Wiping his mouth on his forest green jacket sleeve, he murmurs, “Babe, I’m fine, seriously, a few pieces of bread and I’ll be in tip top sh—“ puke splatters wetly against the grass again.

You grab El’s hand and squeeze, “let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods and smiles sweetly.

“C’mon,” Eddie says behind you, “let’s go so I can kick your ass in beer pong.”

You turn your head, half facing him, “game on, Munson.”

The sharpie bracket on poster board continued moving forward thanks to Steve’s basketball knowledge. Jeff and Ash beat Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan beat out Gareth and Big D in a very close came both opponents having one cup left. Steve and Robin were beat out in the first round by Dustin and Susie, something King Steve would never be living down. Nex on the bracket to play would be you and Will playing Argyle and Eddie. Honestly it should be a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Will wasn’t the most athletic but last year him and Jonathan got second place against you and Nancy so the odds were pretty high. One thing you were absolutely certain of was that you would not be losing to Jesus and Cher tonight.

The basement is packed with everyone besides the ill Mike and faithful El. Argyle and a pink lensed Will are in the corner smoking a fat blunt the sequin jacket he’s wearing sparkles through the haze of smoke and the catches the lights. You haven’t seen him since Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. But he’s letting his hair grow out, finally letting the bowl cut Joyce insisted on him having all throughout middle school and high school go. Steve has Dustin in a headlock for teasing him about winning against Mr. Hawkins High basketball star of 1985.

“Ya know for once, I was actually good, like really good, Steve overthrew the last cup and it was game over once Susie got the ball. She’s strangely amazing at beer pong. Probably found the mathematical equation from the distance of the table and her elbow to the solo cups.” Robin rambles on, only stopping to get her breath. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night. Killer costume by the way, if you can’t beat ‘em be ‘em right?”

Robin and her absolute no filter mouth, always make you laugh, linking your arm with hers, “I really like your and Steve’s take on best friends driving off a cliff together to evade police.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

Not missing a beat, Eddie can be heard returning the exclamation. “You rang?”

Rolling your eyes and looking his way, you laugh when you see him, holding up his arms in praise.

Robin’s voice bringing you back to the conversation, “Epic right? Steve thought we could be conjoined twins but then decided against it when he figured there was a small chance he could possibly get lucky tonight when that black haired girl at his job kept hinting that she wanted a date with him.”

“What!” you shout, “He never told me this!”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes another drink from her too foamy beer, “he’s nervous, I think he really likes her but doesn’t wanna fuck it up like he does everything else.”

Steve deserved to be happy and to have someone love him. He was always making sure everyone else was okay, you smile at the thought of him with a girlfriend.

“So,” Robin presses, wiggling her eyebrows, “Eddie looks good tonight,” a wicked smile dances wildly on her lips.

“I’m not at all buzzed enough to have this conversation,” you say, taking a peak at Eddie through your eyelashes, he was laughing loudly at something Steve had said, head thrown back, exposing his neck.

Will joins your side, reeking of weed and heavy musk cologne. “Tooty!” He squeals, wrapping you into a tight hug, “the house looks so fucking good I can’t believe it, also I heard that you’re living with Eddie? I’m going to need all the details!”

“It’s so good to see you, look at your hair!” You say holding his arms. Will threads a hand through his hair and laughs a little.

“Thanks, it’s new but it’s kinda growing on me, now, spill it. Tell me everything.”

“Next game!” Nancy announces, advancing her and Jonathan to the next bracket. “Argyle/ Eddie vs Tooty/ Will.”

Will grabs your hand and drags you to the beer pong table, “after?” He asks and you nod your head.

Eddie and Argyle are standing on one end, you and Will on the other. The cups are arranged into a triangle and filled with the warming pitcher of keg beer.

“You ready to go down groveling, sweetheart?” Eddie sings from across the table, eyes squinting when he leans on the edge of the table smiling at you.

Your stomach flutters, taking a long swig of Will’s jungle juice, staring Eddie down as you gulp the vile liquor and fruit punch combo down, “You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?”

“Woo! That’s balls back ba-by,” you sneer, hooting and hollering as Eddie begrudgingly tosses the balls back your way. It was almost as if Argyle and Will weren’t even there, this game was between you and Eddie. You were definitely buzzed, between the warm beer and the Jell-O shots you had eaten you were feeling good.

When you miss the first cup, Eddie makes devil horns at you and howls at the moon like an idiot. You sink the next cup, earning a high-five from Will, and a sly grin from Eddie as he removes the cup and chugs the warm beer. He’s secretly excited that you’re so happy, letting loose, in your element, surrounded by your loving friends. You glowing with a sense of freedom. In that moment when your eyes caught his, he knew he was in trouble, you were wrapped around his finger and he didn’t think of hardly anything else, but you, your beautiful smile, the way your hair caught each light you were under. He was in deep, and for right now, he was perfectly and utterly okay with that.

It’s Argyle’s turn and he surprisingly sinks both cups, being awarded with balls back, as you and Will each take a cup and drink the suds down. Trying to distract him, you whip off your Eddie- esque wig and toss it towards Eddie, shaking your hair out like a wild woman.

Unphased by your antics he does it again and you groan. Four in a row? This guy was half asleep the entire game and all of a sudden he’s an athlete? They only have 1 cup left. Tension rises and the room goes to silence at Steve’s request. Argyle sinks it. Eddie erupts into cheers grabbing Argyle by the shoulders and jumping up and down.

“Redemption attempt!” Steve shouts, giving Will the ball. Will takes it with nervous fingers, blowing the ball to dry it slightly as you chug the last cup. He only has two cups to make. Will tosses the ball and the room goes silent, it feels like it’s in slow motion, or maybe that’s the alcohol. The ball soars through the air, bouncing against the rim of the cup lapping up the foamy beer, before it falls off and teeters off onto the table.

Argyle raises both hands in the air, “VICTORY!” the room erupts with cheers. Will apologizes profusely but you hug him tight, telling him you were happy he was your partner.

“Next game is Jonathan/Nancy vs Jeff/ Ash starting in 20 mins!” Steve hollers. The basement clears out as people go upstairs to use the bathroom and refill their drinks.

You expect Eddie to be gloating, cocky beyond belief. But he’s the opposite, coming up to you slowly, head bowed, upper teeth practically biting his lower lip in half.

“Good game sweetheart,” he says barely above a whisper, “not gonna lie, I really thought you guys were gonna win.”

Holding your chin high, face only inches from his, the brown pools of colored whiskey stare into your eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, the alcohol gives you enough of a push to cross the line. The thin gauzy material of the gown he’s wearing is sticky with sweat and warm from the heat radiating from his body. “Told myself I wouldn’t lose to Cher and Jesus tonight.”

Eddie let’s out a throaty laugh, “can’t believe he pulled that off, he didn’t make a cup all game.”

“Guess you get to continue wearing that tarnished crown, speaking of wardrobe… where the hell did you get this outfit?”

“You know that church across from the police station?”

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gives you a knowing glance, waiting for you to catch on.

“No way! Eddie! You broke into a church and stole an outfit off of a statue?”

“Amen,” Eddie says roaring with laughter, “ahh c’mon you can’t tell me it wasn’t a genius idea.”

Rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t exactly call it genius, but funny? Yes.”

He laughs again, “not everyday I get a compliment from myself,” he says eyeing your costume, “you do make a pretty cute Eddie Munson if I say so myself.” he wasn’t even thinking anything of it, just blurted it right out.

Flirting came easy to him almost as a second nature, he was never nervous around women, usually finding the game of sex not just something he was good at but conquered with ease. But this, here, with you? Was a slippery slope. A different game for him entirely. He was a pawn amongst you and you were the queen, striking down whoever came near, holding all the power.

Your cheeks heat from his compliment, blood rushing through your body and warming your skin, he holds your hand to your chest, stroking your fingers with his thumbs.

A thousand bolts of lightening ignite you, he smells like smoke, ashy and burning, the cheap keg beer on his breath as he smiles softly at you.

“Tooty!” Steve calls from the top step, clinging onto it for dear life, “are you down there?!”

You’re the first one to break away, pulling your hand from his grasp, threading them together at the last minute, finger tips clinging to each other like velcro. The flames between you both extinguished fast, no oxygen left in the room to keep it going.

Getting to the bottom step and turning, you give him one last glance and a small smile, before trotting up the stairs to Steve.

Eddie opens the patio door to find Gareth and Big D blowing smoke into the sky and talking about the best DIO song.

“Shit man, where have you been? Didn’t your game end like 15 minutes ago?”

Eddie thinks of a lie quick, “Taking a piss why you wanna watch?”

“That’s weird,” Big D questions, “cause Gareth just came out of the bathroom unless there’s a magic bathroom you haven’t told us about.”

“What are you guardian of the toilet?” Eddie says slotting a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his zippo open.

“I mean he’s got a point,” Gareth interjects, “where have you been tonight, turning water into wine? Or are you healing the blind?”

“Cool it, Whoopi,” Eddie bites, “the fuck does it matter where I was or wasn’t?”

“You’ve changed dude. Used to be a ladies man, different chick every night. Smoking and drinking all night watching the sunrise. Fuck man you were hell on wheels. Then all of a sudden you move in here and you’re acting like the Pope, fixing up her car off the clock, bringing her to and from work, you’re like her fucking babysitter.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck off man, she’s Eyeball’s sister, and I’m just looking out for her.” Eddie grits through his teeth.

“Or,” Big D suggests, “you like her, I mean you still haven’t even told us about the twins— and you stare at her like she’s about to combust at any moment.”

“Yeah and what do you two know about anything?” Eddie spits.

“Clearly not shit, but you’re all fucking riled up about a girl you don’t like.” Gareth flicks his cigarette and goes inside, Big D following.

The door opens again, “listen man, I’m not in the mood for your stupid fucking advice.” Eddie groans, turning to see Steve standing at the door, an empty pitcher in his hand. “Shit, sorry, thought you were Gareth.”

“Nope kept my habit at home,” Steve says with a chuckle, setting the pitcher on the edge of the deck, “nice party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “ya know when Tooty first told me that her and Nancy threw a party every year I didn’t believe it, turns out I was wrong about her, seems to be a theme of mine lately.”

“She doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re here, it means she trusts you, respects you.” Steve explains.

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

“She cares about you, ya know? She might not want to admit it— may even be scared to admit it to herself, but she likes you.”

Eddie gives him a look. Sure you were nicer to him, not threatening to kick him out anymore. You had let the band practice in the garage, even staying out there to hear them play. But that didn’t mean anything did it?

“How many times do you think she’s cut my hair?” Steve inquires, leaning next to the railing on the deck beside Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly, “a dozen?”

Steve chuckles, “Never, not once, never even offered. You think she made elaborate meals for Nancy when they lived together? Wrong— she barely touched the stove. You move in and she’s changed, for the better. It’s like she’s coming back to life, and the only common thing in that equation, is you.”

Eddie mulls this over, could Steve be right? “I don’t know man.”

“I may not be Mr. Relationship but I do know Tooty, and you’ve softened her edges. Tamed that frightful girl we all love and adore. She’s got walls up, keeping people out, but not around you, not anymore.”

Eddie hangs his head, his heart bursting with sad euphoric bliss. He couldn’t go about this like any other conquest. And with you it would never be how it was with the other women. Faceless broads in mini skirts, praising him, doing whatever he wanted them to. He never saw you in that way. Holding you on a pedestal about the rest. He hadn’t been in a relationship in years. One too many times of being cheated on was enough for him. But you were hurt too, more so than he was. He was still licking his wounds with anything willing and able. You? You were a shell of yourself. He couldn’t act on this like he would with anyone else. He cared about you too damn much to make you feel like you couldn’t trust him again.

“And I know you care about her. Everytime I look at you you’re staring at her like a sad little puppy.”

Eddie looks up then, looking at Steve like he held all the answers to life’s questions. He turns and leans against the deck, elbows on the railing just how Steve was facing the house.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do care about her, more than anything. So what do I do?” He asks Steve.

Steve shrugs, letting out a loud sigh, “keep doing what you’re doing, she knows you care about her, just don’t disappear on her.”

Eddie turns his head from Steve and catches sight of you through the patio doors. He can see you taking a Jell-O shot with El, Robin and Nancy. A sleeping lump of clothes on the kitchen table with black hair must be Mike. You light up the room as you laugh when Robin makes a repulsive expression after taking her Jell-O shot. He can’t hear your full laugh, it’s faint through the glass. But, he doesn’t need to hear it to know the sound—having heard it more and more the last few weeks, the way you throw your head back when something is really funny, sometimes covering your mouth. He’s certain he’s never seen anyone more angelic in his life. Like you have sucked all the air from the room, even dressed in a sheer mockery of him, you’re radiating a glow that makes his heart swell. He has never cared about anyone the way that he does for you.

Seeing him through the doors standing next to Steve, he has a smirk on his face. A sudden rush of shyness creeps up your neck and you turn away from him, but you reciprocate his actions, smiling at him. A small gesture that melts him on the spot.

Eyes trained on you but still talking to Steve, Eddie beams, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/n: see you in volume vii

Hope you all enjoyed this. There were some little hidden Easter eggs in this chapter, go to my askbox if you found them 💕

readmore eat my ass or this line you decide, whore.

—

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie x y/n #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #eddie munson smut

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sincerlycas · 9 months

Text

fuck is you talkin bout?

summary: after the "conversation" armin and y/n have things still go back to the regular, y/n being a pussy and still bullying armin and armin acting like a complete nerd towards everything. till people started noticing armin is actually a vibe when he came dripped out and showing his tattoos off since he was running late and put the first thing he saw on. how y/n deals with it?

warnings: cocky armin, armin entertaining girls, jealous y/n, intense fucking, praising, cursing, pool party, y/n secretly wanting to commit, slight toxic armin and y/n, recording, etc.

part 1.

"alright imma head out bye 'min baby!" "mhm bye and don't spill shit on me today." "no promises!" "Y/N-"

heading out into your car after changing into a pink fitted tank top and jean layered skirt topping it off with latex shiny pink boots along side your pink framed glasses and your brown lace in a curly side swooped mess bun looking absolutely adorable. you and armin had a ... nice conversation about the situation last time and came to an agreement to bring your "jealously" to a minimum.

you? jealous? bitch please but other than that you guys were still in yall's little situationship. pulling up to campus after parking and automatically heading towards your girls while chewing your gum as you came in listening into the convo. "girll i cant believe yo ass actually did that to arminn that shit killed mee" laughing they grabbed your hand as you guys walked each other to yall's assigned classes.

sitting down in the back of the class drumming your nails against your cheek and chewing on your gum mindlessly already sick of the assignment at hand wishing time could go any faster. "are you serious? yo he's fine asff and i didn't know he was packing like thatt damnn" perking your ears at the whispers of some girls near you and being the nosey person you are you leaned forward with your most beautiful smile "heyy what are you guys talking about?"

usually if it was some random person you would get some looks for not minding your business.. but you're y/n and pretty privilege's give so much. "o-oh um we're looking at this picture of armin on the campus page and he looks fineee-" "lemme see it."

grabbing the phone after it was handed to you and zooming into it seeing arming not wearing his usual sweater- and slack but instead wearing a tight white tee and grey joggers showing the calvin klein boxer band at the top. not only that but his hear was styled to perfection with it being curly and fluffy and his arms exposing the litter of tattoos on his arms creating a sleeve.

yeah he looked fine asf but why is he looking like this at school? it's supposed to be for your eyes only. slowly you started getting agitated with the hint of anger arising. automatically you wanted to get out of this classroom and find him. your wish was granted when the bell rang, you quickly handed the phone back to it's owner and abruptly stood up rushing out the class with your mini chanel purse.

"where the fuck is this nigga." boots clacking against the tiled floors harshly while you typed away on your phone trying to contact armin which it would go straight voicemail each time. finally looking up as you were about to turn a corner only to spot armin looking down at a girl putting her number in his phone which would probably explain all the declined phone calls. taking a deep breath and a smile on your face creating a fake persona and making your way towards them.

"hi love i'm sorry for the inconvenience- but i think i saw a poster of you on the west wing something stating you happened to have fuck the whole football team and that you're the reason porco has chlamydia? i don't think it's true but i just wanted to give you a heads up!!" automatically when saying so she frantically looked between you and armin and ran towards the west side of campus.

rolling your eyes at her stupidity then turning to face armin with your hand on your hip and purse clutched tightly in your hand. "this is what we're doing now mr armin arlert?" you questioned while sizing him up and just staring at him made you ant to pull him by the pants and just s- "what's the problem now y/n." he looked at you bored as if he was expecting you to miraculously show up. "you know-" looking back to hear a group of chattering to which you quickly grabbed his hand shoving him into a somehow empty storage closet and shutting the door while covering his mouth.

waiting till you heard them go away then turned to look at him. "y/n you're doing too much" slapping your hand away from his mouth then looking down at you "what do you want?" frowning you tilted your head to the side which you usually did when you were slowly staring to get pissed off and armin caught on.

"dont start-" "dont start?! you were literally giving your number out to some random girl and she's not even all that pretty!! look at me" backing up away from him and slowly turning around showing yourself off to him to get it through his thick head that he couldn't find someone better then you on this campus. "i'm the perfection at it's finest and you come on campus one day looking as you look at home and suddenly you have bitches flocking towards you left and right and suddenly your head is all up in the clouds-" "fuck is you talking about?!"

"what am i talking about you know damn well you're mine!" slapping the side of his arm with your purse in frustration. rolling his head and biting his lip harshly at how angry he was slowly getting. "y/n... we. aren't. together. we are not boyfriend and girlfriend. we don't hang out in school together. we don't go out to dates. we only fuck. hang out in private. talk. and be in the apartment shielded from society that you are so fucking scared of."

staring at him as he punctuated every word with his hands together pointing at you making sure his words got through YOUR head. "so you're just going to go fuck another bitch and come back to me and play in my face armin?" looking up at him with detest while clutching your purse tighter as if you wanted to take your frustrations out on it.

"i mean i can if i want too, there's nothing really stopping me from ending this whole childish ass charade with you. and grow the fuck up and stop acting like this because it'll make people think we're dating when we're not. " kissing your cheek after saying so and leaving you alone in the closet shocked and replaying the whole conversation.

storming out of the closet after having a mini breakdown then strutting to the café sitting next to your girls and completely ignoring the conversation at hand as you were intensely staring at armin as he was now preoccupied with layla. at this point it wasn't because of him, but because he knew how much you hated layla after the fight you guys had sophomore year after she tried you badly, the only girl who made you even close to breaking a sweat.

you were going to say fuck it and look away till you saw armin look towards you with a smirk then go back to their conversation. if you were a nice person you would have let that go.. but if he wanted to play the petty game you were too. getting up and slowly walking past armin with your hand subtly sliding against the table armin was sittng at to grab his attention to look back at you swaying your hips then finally stopping in front of the one and only, eren.

rubbing the back of eren's nape like you would usually do with armin. looking up at you eren smiled and brought his hand to the side of your thigh rubbing it asking what was wrong. the one thing no one really knew was that you and eren have been best friends since elementary people assumed yall fucked at least once but it was how you guys were in general which you took that opportunity to your advantage.

"rennie can you do me a favor?" "mmm depends what do i get out of it?" looking up at you while licking his lips you bent down to his ear and whispered what it was (letting him borrow your pink nintendo switch). "your wish is my command princesa~" "can you throw a pool party mm later today pretty pleasee" smiling he nodded to which you ruffled his hair and speed walked away before he could hit you for the action.

too others it seemed like you guys were flirting maybe even setting up some dick appointment especially in armin's eyes as he was still watching you even as you passed by him and giving an air kiss to layla watching as she rolled her eyes. sitting down next to your girls as they asked what you and eren talked about to which you let them know about the party.

putting on your most sluttiest pinkest bathing suit and fixing your hair and putting on your contacts and some pink shades along side a cute tote back and nice pink slides showcasing your pretty white toes. getting out the bathroom after checking yourself out and walking past armin after seeing him search through his closet for a bathing suit trunks after he was informed about the party. he was bringing talking to a minimum after what he saw with you and eren as if he didn't start it. stopping in front of the door you dropped your bag then made your way towards armin pausing in front of him.

"... you can't be fucking serious y/n. you're going like that?" he sized you up while grabbing your arm to make you twirl to show that the bathing suit barely even covered your goods. "why do you care? we're not dating remember?" you sassed to which he rolled his eyes at and sized you up again while swiping his tongue against the top row of his teeth then sucked it. moving your hand out his then moving in front of him for what you came for, reaching in the closet grabbing an extra pair of sandals just in case. moving out the way then making it in front of your vanity mirror to check yourself out but you noticed armin right behind you glaring at you.

"we might not be together, but you better not go to that pool party and show the fuck out. im dead serious." tilting his head to get a good look at your ass then looking back up at you. "i have every reason to show out min after all 'we're not dating' right?" and it seemed like he didn't like that so he resorted on snatching you up by your neck forcing you to tilt your head back to look up at him with your back against his chest. "fuck around and find out, see how fucked up you'll be when you try me. imma have your ass wishing you had shut the fuck up." grabbing onto his hand from the stretch of your neck. "l-let me go" you muffled and he did but he practically threw you by how you jolted forward and almost slammed into the mirror. "ARMIN-" "-stop calling my name."

parking your car in front of eren's house along side others from the people who already arrived which included armin who was already in the pool area sitting with connie a long term friend of his. walking inside and flipping your shades to the top of your head not caring for the occasional glances your way and the thirsty ass whistles as you headed towards eren and gave him a hug thanking him for the favor.

"anytimee soo may i know the reason you wanted this party misses?" drinking from his red solo cup while gawking at you with no shame. "don't worry about itt ill tell you later and stop staring." kissing his cheek while he laughed and waved him goodbye as you put your slides in your tote then sliding your feet into the pool while sitting on the ledge right next to your girls chatting it up. to armin you kissing eren's cheek was strike one, he mindlessly twisted at his ring not caring for what connie was saying as he was watching your every move.

"and then he- armin are you even listening?" "mhm." "no you're not you're sending glares to poor y/n's way i bet she can feel them radiating at her back." and you did, but that was the whole point of your plan to make him feel as jealous as you were and to make him eat his words. suddenly the song freak hoe came on and you know you and your girls had to get up and show out! running to grab eren's hand as he stood behind you as you shook ass and he made sure to catch it all. from whining his waist down with yours to catching it with no hands. everyone surrounded yall recording and everything.

armin on the other hand counted that as strike two while twisting his ring and clenching his teeth. "bet." after the song you guys laughed as you hugged eren while he rubbed your back and gave you a quick slap on your ass then whistled at the jiggle to which you pushed him away while giggling. now that, that was strike three. armin got up heading towards you only in his tight trunks. "come on we're going home." "i don't leave when you tell me, i'm not your girlfriend-" "- if i go to my car and ion see you heading to yours know ill have no remorse for your ass." walking away from you grabbing his things as he waved connie bye and made it to his car watching as you did the same in a hurry. slamming his car door and drove off swiftly to the house with you following behind.

walking into the house after locking his car doors and placing his stuff down on the nearby table as he waited leaning against the back of the couch waiting for you to come inside. finally opening the door slowly scared of what’s to come as you looked at armin and closed the door. “what I tell you about showing out huh? you wanna be out there embarrassing me?!” hold on.. embarrassing him?! “nigga how can I embarrass you if we’re not together right? that’s what you said right?!” pushing himself up off the couch as he was now standing in front you with a glare for a while then scoffing. “you still on that shit really?! that doesn’t change the fact how you was acting- actually that might have been the reason why you wanted to go to that damn party if I wasn’t there you probably would have fucked him huh?!”

rolling your eyes at his insane ass comments you stared at him deadpan and crossed your arms. “so?.” “so? what the fuck you mean so y/n-” “-so what if I wanted to fuck him? there’s nothing you could do about it because we’re. not. together. right babyboy?” tapping his cheek then pushing his face away so you can walk upstairs and into the room not caring if he was following. “fuck is you talking bout? bring that ass here-” walking up behind you and slamming you face down and ass up into the bed armin pulled your head back by your hair not caring for your whines. “you must have lost your damn mind did you forget who I am? you right we ain’t dating we married now cuz I don’t know who the fuck you thought you was playing with.”

“a-arminnn~” whining out with tears clouding your eyes as you tried to get a look at his face. “nah shut that shit up I only wanna hear this pussy talking.” spreading your legs wide open forcing them damn near your ears as he looked at you with pure anger. you think you could pop some hot shit then walk away like it’s nothing? nah, he ain’t gone take that lightly at. fucking. all. watching as your face contorted from the pleasure he began slamming his hips down against your making sure to put pressure against your cervix with every thrust. "yeahh~ talk shit now mama~ speak out your chest like you were doing earlier." roping his hands around your throat forcing you to look at him in the eyes when you started reeling your head back. "you don't hear me talking to you? oh so you want me to get mean in this bitch~?" now gripping your ankles and slowing his pace down to leave only calculated hard and sharp thrust deep into you.

"w-waitt~ please i-im sorryy i swearr~!!" bringing your hands to grip onto your boobs with dear life since you knew if your hands even landed on him it would've caused an uproar but after he gave one particular thrust he had you wetting up the bed with a squirt some even catching on his lip to which he gladly licked away. "but h-how are you mad when you're the one who said we're not togethe- AHH FUCKKK~!!" moaning out the top of your lungs as you arched up one hand slowly but surely inching towards his abdomen. "y/n." he strictly as a warning as he watched your hand "paa~ ease up pleasee~!!" stopping your hand mid way armin grabbed it and held your ring finger as he took his ring off and slid it on there while kissing your hand. "mmm~ so it's my fault mama? hm? that's what my pretty baby saying~?" leaning forward with him being face to face with you, practically having his nose against yours bringing his thumb to your clit giving them hard rubs and two his fingers into your mouth shoving them down your throat making you choke on your moans.

"it's my fucking fault you were shaking ass on eren?! it's my fault he was slapping on your ass?! imma fuck your ass up." pulling out and slapping his tip against your cunt before slamming back in and continuing the brutal pace not even letting up when your nails dragged down his back leaving red lines and your constant cries of sorry's and drums of squirts coming out of you. "OHHH- MMMM~ minnnnn~ it wont e-ever happen again i swearr~" "you swear?" "i sw- ughhhh~ swearrr~" "it wont ever happen again mama?" "neverr!!" gripping your face giving you the most sloppiest kiss ever as he finally slowed down his pace now giving you deep grinds as he pulled away from the kiss to bite his lip and let out the most handsomest groan ever but he soon came to look down at you with a smirk as if he had something up his sleeve.

"you know what i realized mama?" "w-what~?" pulling out as he flipped you on your stomach making you arch and ass on full display as he grabbed your phone and pressed record aiming the flash towards your face "that you're the most fakest bitch out there so i can't trust your words. so speak with actions and fuck this dick back as a real fucking apology." whining you turned your head to look back at him ignoring the camera "believe me!! im actually sorry- AH~" landing a hard slap on your ass already fed up that you weren't complying "don't make me say it twice you gotta work for shit when you with me, no more princess treatment." biting your lip letting tears fall down your cheeks as you brought your hand back to push him back in but it took a while since he wasn't helping you one bit. finally starting off with a steady pace that had you moaning in delight but you were being greedy so armin pulled onto the back of your neck "do it right y/n l/n im not fucking around anymore." shoving your head back and that seemed to be the motivation needed because you gradually got faster but he wasnt satisfied to he kept telling you to go harder or faster till you reached the pace that was heavenly for him but punishable pleasure for you.

"fuckk~ shake that assss~ there you go pretty girl. what are you to me mama?" rubbing your ass and pointing the camera to where you guys were connected showing how you were already creaming on his shit. "i-im your wifeeee~ FUCKK~!! i c-can't do it anymoree paa please forgive me~!!!" now hysterically crying because he would subtly give hard shots mid thrusts and it kept throwing you off and he was still going even after cumming once and making cum about three times at this point you started slapping on the bed. "you tapping out? uh uhhh you gotta work a little more baby~" pulling out he brought you down onto your knees in front of him as he slapped his tip against your lips. "suck." he hissed as you slowly wrapped your lips around his dick and started sucking on his tip then gradually started twisting your hands tightly around him even deep throating him forcing moans and groans out of him. taking your mouth off then licking a strip down to his balls then popping one into your mouth while rolling your thumb against the tip causing him to whimper "shitt keep going im c-close mama~" you took that ass the chance to start getting messy and go back to deepthroating him letting spit bubbles all over your back and having a grip on his ball but you did all that while looking up at the camera and giving it a wink and thats all it took for him to pull out and cum all over your face.

smiling and licking your lips that had caught some then rubbing on his thighs still looking up at him with a pout "do you forgive me now?~" "fuck... yes i do mama~"

you were now sitting on armin's lap in a pink thong and white tank top while he had on grey shorts letting the band calvin klein boxers show. right now as were reading messages between your friends ring still on your finger and armin took that as a chance to take a picture of the moment and post on his story with the caption "off limits," along with the song FYTB by brent faiyaz.

#black writers #attack on titan #black reader #black tumblr #anime #aot au #attack on titan au #black y/n #mean armin #armin aot #armin attack on titan #armin arlert #eren yeager #armin x you #aot smut #armin smut #armin x black reader #sincerlycasinbox #mature

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small-sinclair · 1 year

Text

Breaking Walls

Vampire!Brahms Heelshire x preg.fem!reader

welcomed reader: @hao-ming-8

Tw: biting, blood, killing/murder, bone breaking, angry Brahms, reader being used as a shield, gun, proofread twice but might have grammar mistakes

You woke up to the sound of the backdoor glass shattering.

Your head jerked up from the pillows, sleep still in your eyes. You didn't want to move because Brahms had you in a cuddle, his face pressed in your stomach, his wild brown curls covering his burn, and he looked so beautiful in your arms. At first, you thought it was nothing but part of a dream, but you heard shoes crunching over broken glass.

You placed a kiss in Brahms's hair before getting up. Maybe it's nothing, but it doesn't hurt to look, right? Maybe Malcolm forgot his keys again? No, he forgets a lot of things but not the keys. Also, it's the middle of the night! He's at home with his two dogs. He can't be here at this hour.

If your mind is playing tricks on you, however, it's worth the trip; you needed a glass of water anyways. Yeah, you can get water from the bathroom sink, but the water didn't taste right? Ever since you got pregnant, you would only drink water from the kitchen sink and nowhere else. If you tired to drink from the bathroom sinks, you would throw-up. Two months in and you're still learning new things. You're tired and sleepy, but water and a mysterious noises called you.

You put on Brahms's jacket and slipped on your bunny slippers, still getting the sleep out of your eyes. You really hoped it was mice breaking something or some very angry racoon throwing rocks like last week. Brahms fought the little guy and killed it with his teeth, his fangs ripping it apart like a dog on a chew toy. You held a funeral for the little guy and had Malcolm get a racoon statue as a grave stone marker. You had Brahms read aloud a written apology to the dead racoon before you lowered the critter into the earth.

R.I.P. Ted the Racoon, who's buried in the backyard, you thought as you sneaked down the steps. Maybe Ted's family has come for revenge. You couldn't help but give a silly smile at the thought of Brahms fighting another racoon. He's so hot cute when his fangs are out. His eyes would shine brighter and his smile looked so breath taking. What a king, my man. He's the Racoon Slayer.

When you got closer to the backdoor, you froze.

Standing by the good china, a taller, stronger man had his back turned as he hurriedly took the good silver from the drawer. Standing next to him, a smaller man in a ski mask held the bag.

Out of reaction, you turned on the lights, making the men freeze.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" You snapped confused, sleep finally starting to leave. When you saw the handgun in the back pocket of the smaller man, your eyes grew wide. You did not think this through. "Oh... shit."

The smaller one was the first to jump to run after you as soon as you started towards the staircase again. "Brahms! Brahms, help--!"

His hand covered your mouth as he pulled you backwards, the taller man starting to hurry to get things packed. "Come on, Dylan! We got enough!"

"The bitch screamed for help!" The smaller one shouted. "There's another here!"

The taller man turned, his eyes glowing from under the ski mask. "Then let's get out of here! We got enough silver-!"

Within the walls, the sound of wood breaking and paint chipping echoed. The lights above you flickered and broke, it sounded like a freight train inside the walls. You struggled to get out of his grasp, but he squeezed harder around your skin. If he leaves bruises on you, all type of mercy will go out the window. Your eyes darted around the room as the smaller man took out his gun, taking it off safety.

Suddenly, silence.

You closed your eyes and started to cry silently, a whimper escaping from the back of your throat.

And that's all Brahms needs to hear.

From the right side of the taller man, Brahms burst through the wall roughly, taking down the taller man. The man didn't have time to react as Brahms took a piece of wood and stabbed him in his lower chest, burying it in deep. Brahms threw him to the side, his back snapping as soon as it hit the broken door, and sunk to the floor.

When his eyes flashed to you, his soft puppy eyes turned to a blood red, maskless. He hissed at the man, his fangs bared and bright, his body tense with danger and murder. He looked at you then at the man, hate burning his lungs. How dare he have a gun against your skin. Your his. You're not supposed to feel fear while you're in his house, your home. He promised you that since he married you in the spring.

And the baby--

The gun pressed against your throat as the shorter man said, "Move and she dies, I swear--!"

He didn't finish that statement. In a blink, he was thrown back into the wall, his back going through it. Brahms pushed you away, and you fell on back and scurried away as Brahms entered the wall.

Close your eyes and count to 100, y/n. This is going to be ugly.

The man looked up at horror of Brahms and tried to shot, but Brahms broke his hand. "How dare you," he hissed through his teeth. "How dare you come into my house," his grip tighten, "try to steal my wife away from me," his grip tightened until his bones stated to shatter all over again. The man screamed but Brahms didn't let up. "You threatened her, my darling, with a gun! My y/n with a gun! My child, that she carries, with a bullet!" Brahms twisted his arm back violently, snapping his shoulder in two.

"Please," the man whimpers pathetically. "Mercy--"

"Fuck your mercy," his accent was heavy. "Fuck your begs. It left as soon as you thought it was a good idea," he yanked the man to his feet until he was dangling in the air, "to put my wife and child in harms way!" The more he thought about you almost getting hurt, the more he hated the men. The more he hated the fact that they were in his house. Near you. Touching and bruising you. Scaring you. He hated them. He ate himself. He loves you. "Never again," he growled, his fangs growing longer and sharper. "Never. Again."

With a terrible noise leaving the attacker, the sound of the man's neck being torn from his body made you want to throw-up.

You slowly sat up as you watched Brahms come out of the broken wall, his mouth covered in rich blood from his kill, chest heaving heavily. His eyes scanned the room and saw the other man, who laid across from you, taking shallow breaths. You looked at your husband then back at the man. He didn't do anything wrong to you; he wanted to leave and call it a night! Truth to be told, you felt bad for him. He was just looking for a score, not to be killed by a ragging vampire husband. You looked between him and Brahms as you watched him breath heavily.

"Let me take care of him, doll," Brahms said in his real voice, deep and low, the corner of his lip twitching in anger. "You'll never see him again-"

"Brahms, wait," you were shaky as you stood between him and the dying man. Your hands went up and cupped his cheeks. "Honey, he's almost dead. He didn't hurt me or wanted to harm me; he wanted to leave."

"He came into our house, y/n," Brahms's voice was heavy in anger as he looked at the man gasping. "I can take care of the rat."

"Then make it fast?" You asked. "I don't want him to suffer more than he already has, okay?" You thumbed away some of the blood on the corner of his mouth. "He's done nothing wrong towards me." His eyes fell back on you, and his soft brown and blue eyes returned. He leaned into your hands and took deep breaths, but your hands left him, lowering them to your side.

He looked at you confused as you were careful to step away and over the broken glass. You crouched next to the dying man and held his hand. Your grandmother said that it's bad to die alone, and it's the worst feeling in the world. You frowned as you listened to his broken apologies, and you offered a sad smile.

"Thank you for not hurting me," you whispered. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way."

You felt Brahms standing over you, and you looked up, letting him know that you were ready, that it was okay for him to do the kill. You know it's in his nature, but he always made sure you're not in the room. He helps you stand and ushered you out of the room to the front hallway.

He kisses your hands, whispering in his voice, "Be right back, y/n."

"Please, Brahms," you said again, taking his hand. "Please be good? Make it fast?" He doesn't answer you, but he squeezed your hand and left you alone.

You stand and wait alone in the dark. You held your stomach as you waited, nervous and scared. The moments later, the light turned off and Brahms emerged from the darkness. He lowered his head on your shoulder and left a blood stain kiss on your neck, his fangs brushing your skin.

Your hands raked through his curls as you leaned into his chest, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to cry again.

"Never again," Brahms murmurs in his childish voice. "Never face scary noises by yourself again." His hand grip your arms gently before scooping you up and carried you back to bed.

You leaned into his chest a he carried you up the steps. "Did he suffer?"

"No," he answers childishly. "I was good. I listened. I promise." You looked up at him and touched his scared face. He leaned into it and kissed your palm. "Brahms was good."

You couldn't help but smile as you lean against him. "Good boy," you whispered, tears slowing down. "Good boy, Brahms."

He takes you back into the bedroom and lays you down. He leaves and washes up in the bathroom. When he comes back, he wasn't wearing a shirt as he came back into bed. He kisses your lips twice, one to say 'I love you' and one for 'goodnight', and wrapped his arms around your side, burying his face to be close to his child once more. Your hands went through his curls, again, then closed your eyes. After a few shaky breaths, you were back to sleep.

#brahms x you #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms the doll #the boy #the boy 2016 #vampire!brahms heelshire #vampire!brahms #slasher fic #slasher fanfic #slasher #the boy fanfiction #the boy fanfic #slasher fanfiction #brahms heelshire fanfis #brahms heelshire x you #brahms heelshire x y/n

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mvrtaiswriting · 7 months

Text

Boyfriend x Jean Kirstein. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

turns out the only character that could snap me out of writer's block is horse face. idek why. whatever. i kinda like how this one turned out so.. enjoy :P

gender neutral reader. no pronouns used.

warnings: angst (it ends well-ish), a bit suggestive, mention of toxic behaviour (jealousy, cheating, idk eren is a lil bitch)

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

Taking another sip from the red cup in your hands, you watched everyone enjoying the party, dancing the night away. Everyone plus your boyfriend. Your gaze was locked on him and his new prey as they swayed on the dance floor, the red cup in your hand acting as a disguise. Was he doing it to make you jealous? You weren't quite sure, but at this point you weren't sure if you really wanted to know the answer to that - you didn't know if you would have cared, even. The way his hands grabbed her waist told you this wasn't just a play - Eren wasn't causing a scene, he was enjoying every bit of it. The way his fingers laced on the fabric of her tiny dress, the way his body moved in complete synchrony with hers feeding off every animalistic instinct; you knew this all too well. He had been like this with you too, getting to know every detail of each other's bodies.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you kept staring at them - hoping to feel a glimpse of disgust, a sparkle of jealousy. These emotions were once your go-to-meal, but you must have gotten used to the bitter taste in your mouth because now you felt nothing. Impassible while watching the love you've ached for walking away, trampling on the ruins of everything you had built holding his head up high.

"You might need a refill." Jean chuckled, noticing how you ended up chewing the edges of the cup in your hands. Taking the empty one out of your grip, Jean was quick to replace it with a fuller one. Jumping on the kitchen table, he stared at you for a second, tilting his head slightly as if it could help him decipher the look on your face. Following your gaze, he turned around to see what had your attention.

"Gosh. Still?"

Jean asked, raising his eyebrow. He had lost count of how many times he had to pick up the pieces of your broken heart after a fight with Eren, and he just couldn't believe you were still with him.

"This will be my excuse." you answer, pointing at the newly formed couple, who was now making out right before your eyes.

"My out-of-jail pass. At least he won't cause a scene."

Jean just nodded in response, keeping his eyes locked on you. There were so many things he wanted to say - he wanted to know what was so special about Eren, what made you stay even after being cheated on so many times. Jean wanted to know why you would always go back to the guy who almost hit you during a fight, who ridiculed you in front of everyone - why you would always choose Eren over him. But that night, as every other night, Jean kept silent. He wanted to be there for you, even if that meant being just a friend.

"Cool. Now that you've got your pass, we need to restart the game."

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Jean turned you away from the sight of your stupid boyfriend and walked you to the pool table, just across the dining room. The music that was busting in your ears minutes before now sounded like a muffled cry, covered by the loud laughters and chants of your classmates playing games and getting drunker than ever.

"Collect 2 drinks as you pass from the go!"

Jean winked, before handling you two shots. Finally breaking a smile since the start of the evening, you clinked one of your shot-glass against his.

"Cheers, Jean. Thank you."

A soft smile appeared on your face as you cheered with your best friend, before gulping the liquor down. No more tears would have delved your cheeks - not that night, not ever again. Not for Eren, not anymore.

"Connie, for the love of God!"

Your voice filled the room, echoed by the laughters of your friends, in a desperate attempt to understand what the boy in front of you was trying to mime. Trying to win that game was a lost cause. Everyone was now drenched in alcohol - after two beer pong matches and two bets lost, trying to be lucid enough to play mimes was too much to ask. There were no plausible guesses to make, and you were pretty sure it had been Connie's turn for a while now - he probably didn't even know what he was supposed to represent.

Jean had remained by your side all night; not that it was unusual, the two of you were inseparable. Before Eren came into play, you stumbled over the idea of Jean being more than just a friend, but it wasn't long until a pair of green eyes swooped you away.

Resting your head against Jean's shoulder, you reached for your phone. You weren't exactly expecting to find anything, so when you noticed a few missed calls from your boyfriend, you were surprised. Scrolling through your notifications, you noticed some texts from Eren - again, surprisingly. Usually, he didn't even bother telling you he was leaving without you - but this time, it was different.

"You read it. My head feels dizzy and I just don't want to know."

You mumble, passing your unlocked phone to Jean. He was fast to read through the chat, his long fingers quickly sliding down the screen of your phone.

"He blocked you. There's nothing worth reading."

Jean finally said, locking the screen of your phone. Slightly turning towards you, he pressed his lips against your forehead. Despite a certain apathy you had showed the last couple of times something happened between you and Eren, Jean expected this to hurt. Snuggling closer to Jean, you wrapped your arms around his, your face now hidden in the crook of his neck.

Was it pain? No, no. You didn't even read what he said. Realisation. Closure. Relief. That's what it was. Knowing that he had finally gathered the courage to let you go, even if in the most vile of ways, was freeing. The love between the two of you was long gone - it had been months since the last time he had touched you or even remotely cared for you. What kept you together was your desire to fix him, to change him into the better man you had envisioned but that he never was. And Eren made sure to always remind you how despicable he was, how hopeless his soul was - he did it every time he cheated, every time he raised his voice at you, every time he forgot you had a date and left you at home. You had loved him deeply, too much even - but that was never going to be enough. Especially because you only loved the idea of him.

"Can I stay at yours tonight?" you asked, your voice immediately snapping Jean back to reality.

"Don't even have to ask." he replied, holding you tighter into his embrace.

Of course you didn't have to ask. Half of your stuff was at his place anyway, even your toothbrush. Sometimes you stopped there because Jean's apartment was closer to your university's campus. Other times you would sleep at his place because you were hanging out with his roommates Connie and Sasha. Some other times, he would come and pick you up in the middle of the night because you and Eren had a fight and he kicked you out of his dorm. Then there were your cozy saturdays, when you and Jean would binge watch your favourite tv shows. Jean's place was the only home you knew.

The end of the night felt like a blur. You weren't sure how you've made it to bed, wearing your pyjama. Opening only one eye, you took a look around you. Some rays of light peeked through the window, the curtains blocking most of the light out - a few weak ray of light filtering through the fabric and lighting up the room. You immediately recognised Jean's room and of course, Jean's bed. Sleeping peacefully next to you, Jean's soft snores filled the room, catching your attention and bringing you back to reality. It was in that moment that you realised just how terrible your headache was, your veins hammering into your skull at every second. Letting out a groan, you adjusted yourself, trying to rearrange the pillow in a way that felt less like concrete and more like a nice, soft arrangement of feathers.

A strong arm gently laced around your waist, pulling you closer to the sleepy boy next to you. Leading your body closer to his, Jean pulled you into a tight embrace before you could realise it, your head now resting on his chest.

"C'mere."

A chuckle escaped your lips as you snuggled closer to Jean's chest, appreciating the warmth of his body. Using his free arm, Jean grabbed the blankets to cover both of you, now almost completely hidden by the duvet.

What happened after was a curious sequence of events, so strange yet so predictable, so complicated yet so simple, so natural yet so craved.

How could you know that carelessly tracing your fingers over his chest could light up such a spark? How could you know that your bodies fitted together perfectly, like the missing piece of a puzzle you waited so long to complete. How could you know that touching him meant feeling loved for the first time. You couldn't. But with your clothes on his bedroom floor and his hands around your waist, you swear you finally knew one thing - you were always looking for love in the wrong place. Nevertheless, it's a known fact that the best place to hide something precious is in plain sight.

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lacedupforyou · 1 year

Text

The Twins

Yandere! Haitani Brothers,

You, a student in shibuya moving to study in roppongi. Saying goodbye to your friends, leaving everything behind.

Things in roppongi seemed boring, You never had courage to talk to people so you threw yourself into books and your studies. Which worked out well for you. Until your parents had noticed your lack of the outdoors, They nagged you to go to the Azabu festival and enjoy the world around you, You agreed to go knowing you will only be bored but decided to enjoy it.

The festival was loud and bright. Way too crowded but you were enjoying yourself! The food was incredible you felt so sleepy and going into a food coma! As you nibbled your snack you noticed people parting ways for some guys. You parted but noticed some men with long hair leading them. As you stood unbothered looking at the men and staring at the two leading the group one of them, The one with glasses looked back on you, His expression changed from one of Pride to surprise, You wiped some crumbs off your face and smiled at him, not wanting to get into any trouble. You continued to enjoy the festival and felt amazing afterwards.

As the festival has ended you chewed on some dango and started to walk home, Your shoes getting uncomfortable. As you walked you noticed a detour and decided to take it.

After hours of walking around looking for your way home you sighed, Your phone was dead and everything foggy and dark. Almost Eerily So. You walked through a tight alleyway until suddenly you felt a tug on your hair. A tall man with shaved hair scowled "So you're the bitch who thought you could look at THE Rindou Haitani!" That name sounded a little familiar with you. But fear washed over you this man could do anything!

"Sir I don't know you, I don't mean any harm-! If you want money I haven't got much left- I-!" Two men approached him from behind and you shut your eyes tight afraid of a harsher beating. But the hand in your hair flew from your head. Everything felt dizzy. You heard grunts and the sounds of violence. You slowly open your eyes to see the men from the festival standing in front of you, They seem to almost be examining you.. You look to see the other man bloody and bruised not moving.

"I- Uh-.. Thank you.! I appreciate all that- It's super late.. and I.!" "Are you L/N Y/N.?" The tallest one asks

You step back in fear How did these men know that.. The familiar sense killing you with anticipation. You shake your head yes and their eyes widen. You seem just as frozen as they have become!

You break the silence. "I'm sorry..I don't know or remember you two, Have I done something wrong?"

The smallest of them wraps his arm around you one hand around your back the other behind your head gripping your hair. You jump in surprise.

"You're Y/N. You helped us a while ago. We were in Shibuya and you had given us directions. But you walked us there. You seemed so happy and you were so lively. We wanted to see you again but you're in roppongi now."

"Oh-! That's it! You two seemed so familiar! It's nice to see both of you again, I'm in Roppongi now.. I'd be happy to see you two again.! I have to go home now..But here!" You take out a pen you had won at the festival and take Rindou's hand and write down your number. You notice a blush across his features and giggle. "Feel free to call me!"

You walk off happy to see the familiar faces. and make some new friend in Roppongi!

Ran and Rindou face back to the new blinking man who dared to touch the strands of your hair. "Piece of shit, Let's make sure you don't even look at her again.."

"A body was found in an alleyway completely burned and beaten there are no suspects or witnesses seen."

(Part 2..? Request it!)

#yandere tokyo rev #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere x reader #yandere haitani brothers #yandere ran haitani #yandere ran x reader #yandere rindou haitani #yandere rindou x reader

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foli-vora · 1 year

Text

run to you: chapter five

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: life is hectic atm but i'm so glad to finally get this out! i swear i'm gonna get around to replying to all of your lovely comments on chapter four. i really appreciate your love and support for this story and i'm forever thanking you, even if i don't get around to replying as quick as i want! so not a lot of marcus and reader in this chapter, like... at all lmao, but the storyline is now picking up and we can fasten our seatbelts for the turbulent ride ahead. enjoy, angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: just over 4.5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, the bestest golden retriever himbo bff, talk of crime and undercover operations, mentions of heartache, mentions of jail/being incarcerated, talk of murder/bodies, smutty flashback (18+ only), Patrick Jane, super brief blink-and-you-miss-it Lisbon appearance (poor marcus bb is not doing good rn lmao SUFFER BITCH), and the usual warning: bitter saltiness that only one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

He’s hovering.

At first, it’s almost easy to ignore—you think he’s just watching you paint with a small sense of curiosity and would move away once boredom finds him, but you’ve never been one for people looming over your shoulder for an extended period of time, and so the irritation quickly starts to seep in.

The hand holding the paintbrush drops, and you look expectantly at him while knocking your headphones off of one ear, “Can I help you, agent?”

Jacob leans on the table next to you and tears into the homemade sub in his hands, chewing loudly as a small smearing of mayonnaise gathers at the corner of his lips.

He gives a nod, mumbling around the mouthful of food, “Just makin’ sure you eat.”

You blink in surprise, glancing at the window, “It’s lunchtime already?”

“A bit past,” Jacob replies, moving away now that he has your attention and sits himself on a chair at the table, “but I didn’t want to let you go late without eating. Gotta keep up your energy, Monet—don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks,” you murmur softly, organising your little workstation and rolling your aching shoulders.

The break is surprisingly welcome. You didn’t even realise how long you’d been lost in your work until you stopped, and now the throb in your fingers is all you can focus on. You clench and unclench your hand as you walk to your bag and ready some lunch, careful of the hot food you retrieve from the microwave.

Jacob doesn’t look at you as you seat yourself opposite him, too engrossed in studying the painting hanging on the easel.

“You’re good at this,” Jacob notes, eyeing the almost completed piece waiting to be taken wherever by Marcus’ team, “how’d you get into this stuff? Art school?”

Appetite now gone, you shift in your seat, suddenly far too interested in pushing the rice into small mountains in your glass dish.

Breathe.

He doesn’t know.

“I uh… I actually did it for a living.”

“Oh? Nice.”

There’s no malice in his tone, no mistrust, just pure interest.

He doesn’t glare at you, or pull a face of suspicion. It doesn’t even occur to him that it may have all been under the table and illegal. You feel a little guilty, almost as if you’d been leading him to believe you weren’t a previously convicted criminal. It makes you want to own it, to just speak your truth and let him make his own judgement of your actions.

Maybe it would be best to do so, so he would know where he stands and how he should view you. You’re not a good person, and maybe he deserves to know that. He does deserve to know that.

“It was… it wasn’t legal. That’s how I got caught up in Marcus’ radar,” you admit quietly, briefly letting your eyes meet his and watching the flicker of surprise flash across his features before dropping your gaze again, afraid to watch his warmth and friendliness disappear.

“Oh.”

Nothing is said for a few minutes.

You swear you can feel the seconds trickling by, your nerves picking up and heightening with every silent tick. The small bit of the lunch you’d packed last night and eaten starts to churn uncomfortably in your stomach, swirling with your growing anxiety and threatening to bubble up your throat.

You can’t look at him.

“How’d you get caught?”

“It was a whole thing. Apparently the FBI had been after them—us—for a while… I knew it was big, I wasn’t stupid, but I guess I just tried to ignore the other side of it all. The money was good, and it felt nice. Marcus went undercover—guess they wanted someone on the inside, and I just happened to fall in the trap.”

And fall into the trap you did. You fell good. One look into those warm brown eyes and your walls had crumbled. You still don’t understand how it all happened. If only you could go back and scream at your more naive self, tell her to just walk away and never look back.

God, had you truly been that lonely? To open up so quickly, so easily, with a complete stranger? Would things have played out differently if you had just been stronger and ignored the obvious attraction and turned a cheek to his advances? Would he have just moved on to somebody else for the sake of the case?

It makes you angry, and you don’t have a clue as to why. Maybe it’s because somewhere deep within you, beneath the bitterness and the hurt, you wanted to believe he actually did want you, and not just use you as a means to finish the investigation. You wanted to believe that a part of it, even just a slither of it, was real.

Stupid.

Of course it wasn’t real. None of it was.

Jacob nods in understanding, “So that’s why you hate Pike?”

Hate?

Is that what you feel for him?

The angry side of you says yes. Yes, you hate him and everything he fucking stands for, and that you’d feel this way forever… but it doesn’t sit right, feel right. Maybe you don’t. Maybe hate isn’t what it is. Resentment? Disappointment, perhaps?

“I don’t hate him,” you sigh quietly, giving up on lunch and pushing it away from you, “not… not really. I mean, I did. For months I wished all sorts of horrible shit to happen to him, but I… I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it for what it was after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like him—at all—but I just want to forget it all happened and move on. I want my fresh start, you know? It’s hard seeing him, being around him again, after all the heartbreak.”

“Wait,” Jacob frowns, holding a hand out to stop you from speaking any more, “when you say you ‘fell into the trap’, does that… were you guys a thing? While he was undercover? Was it serious?”

“It was to me,” you admit with a murmur, “even had me picking out a damn wedding dress.”

The laugh that you force from your lips is strained and void of any true humour.

If anything, it’s an attempt to steer the direction of the conversation from diving any deeper into the overwhelming feelings you had for a man that had never existed. It’s humiliating to even think about. Maybe if you laugh about it, the sting of it all won’t hurt as much.

“Oh well,” you breathe, straightening in your seat and twisting your lips to resemble a faint smile, “it’s all in the past. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jacob watches you play with your food with a look you can’t quite identify. You don’t want to risk looking at him too much, afraid that he’ll see the clear pain swirling in your eyes. The damage has probably already been done. He’s seen it all, and probably more. He’s a Federal Agent—their job relies on reading people on a daily basis.

“Hey,” he mutters, giving you a small comforting smile when you eventually pull your gaze away from the table to look at him, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. It must’ve been really tough, and I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Your features twist into a frown, “Who said I was alone through it?”

He watches you knowingly for a moment, his brows raising ever so slightly as his small smile turns a little sadder, sympathetic. He’s right, and he knows it. You had been alone. It’d been the most alone you’d ever felt, and you’ll spend the rest of your life hoping to never feel that way again.

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you give a small shrug and drop your fork with a quiet clatter, “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. Yeah, you’ve made some pretty shit decisions in the past—I’m not debating that, but I like to think of myself as a good judge of character. You’re not a bad person, not like the ones we’re used to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone. You watch him for a few minutes, eyes darting between his bright green ones and searching for anything that gives you a small feeling of doubt that his words are nothing but a lie.

You find nothing.

A true smile starts to grow along your lips and you dip your head, unable to keep meeting his genuine gaze without feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

“Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, Kahlo.”

It’s quiet, and you feel like you can bear the sight of food again.

Your shoulders feel lighter, the ache in your chest has dissipated. It’s freeing. You hadn’t yet been able to speak on what had happened without someone focusing on the crime part.

The inmates you had bunked with, the counsellors in jail, the people hiring you once you got out… they all had that pre-judgement of you. The title of criminal followed you throughout every interaction, but not here, not with him.

You pick up your fork and start picking at your food, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. The slice of Jacob’s sudden huff cuts through the air, and he throws his almost eaten sub onto the table before crossing his arms in obvious irritation.

“God, what a fuckin’ dick.”

—

Heat—it’s everywhere.

It sticks to your skin, it swells in the pit of your stomach, it builds and builds over your flesh with every deep roll of his body over yours. It should be too much, too overwhelming, but your nails still dig into the soft skin of his back in a silent cry for more.

Just when you think he can’t possibly get any closer, he does. He pushes—crushes—you into the mattress, hands cradling the back of your head in an effort to keep you as close as possible. So close, so fucking close, you’re practically breathing in the other, with no room left for oxygen between you and it’s absolute bliss.

He’s breathless against the skin of your throat, nothing but soft whimpers and the hush of sharp exhales filling your ears. Lips press wherever they can reach, trailing paths of fire along your cheeks and the length of your neck until you squirm from the sensation, fighting both the urge to hide from his tender touch and stretch out for more.

“A-Alex,” you breathe, face turning enough to trace the tip of your nose along the shell of his ear.

He exhales sharply, hips faltering ever so slightly. His face briefly falls away from breathing in your skin, dipping his head and hiding his features. Despite the unexpected jolt in his rhythm, he still moves, still rolls his hips in that way he’s fucking mastered, ensuring every upwards roll of his hips has that delicious bit of friction along your clit.

It’s maddening.

It’s perfection.

The ecstasy rolling through your body hits an all time high, and your thighs tighten around his hips, coaxing him to brush harder, push deeper into the wet heat of your pussy until you start to feel that sweet, sweet edge start to creep along the edge of your nerves.

More, more, more—

“Ale–”

He suddenly rears forward, moulding his lips to yours and stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s always the same. The kiss is urgent, all teeth and tongue and it’s impossible to speak another word. You struggle to keep up with his intensity, too busy focusing on that overwhelming high and the tightening that threatens to give at any second now.

It’s good—it’s so fucking good, you swear you’re going crazy. He does that to you. Though you can’t say it, breathe it, his name is all you hear in your mind, its own soft echo a consistent companion to the sheer pleasure he drowns you in.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

—

It’s been a month.

A month in your new little workspace, a month of painting, a month of successfully avoiding him. Despite it being his investigation, he now keeps his distance from the makeshift art space he had given you. Maybe he finally got the message that you didn’t want to be around him, that the mere thought of even uttering a single word to him made you feel almost nauseous.

You haven’t seen him in weeks.

When you finish a piece, he sends his agents. You know a few by name now, but don’t bother with small talk. They come, give you a friendly hello, take the finished, wrapped painting and leave—that’s it.

That’s all it is.

You don’t have to do anything else, and it’s wonderful. You spend your days painting, relishing in the familiar feel of a brush between your fingers and enjoying the legal money deposited into your account every week.

You get ahead with bills. You buy some new clothes. You feel refreshed, finding a certain needed peace from the sudden financial stability. You know it’s not going to last—Jacob doesn’t talk about the case a whole lot, but you know that the team has made some progress with it, so you put a little money aside for the day the FBI no longer needs you.

He becomes a fast friend, and if you were ever to find it within you to thank Marcus for anything in this world, it would be him. You surely would’ve gone batshit insane if you’d been holed up in that room by yourself day in and day out, probably worse if you had been locked up with Marcus every day.

But not Jacob.

Jacob keeps the air light.

He’s kind, funny, and a bit of an idiot, and you find yourself fondly laughing nearly every day at the little things he would do or say. You thoroughly enjoy his company, and love hearing about his time in school, training to be an agent and the few cases he’s worked on so far.

He asks you questions and seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and of you past, never once making you feel lesser than or lowly for your less than ideal life before this.

“You made a decision, Matisse. Good or bad—own it.”

He keeps to himself whenever you find yourself focused on your work, and only steps in to remind you to take care of yourself. On the odd occasion, he’d join you, content to watch you work with a shine of interest.

You don’t like it, so you shove canvas paper and oil pastels at him to keep him from hovering any longer and it works. It becomes a little activity of sorts, a release for him whenever paperwork starts to push at his patience a little too much.

“They should’ve hired you for this case,” you mumble teasingly around your lunch, grinning at the pride filling his features as he finishes his latest project—his own creation inspired by the Van Gogh you’re currently working on.

It’s pretty, full of bright colours and soft swirling patterns. The Future, he had called it, and apparently—it was all for you.

You need something colourful, Da Vinci, something happy. You’re too sad.

The FBI doesn’t deserve him.

“Hey, I’m proud of this,” he retorts sharply, pointing a finger smudged with colour at you but his tone doesn’t match the bright amusement in his eyes, “belongs in a damn museum. It’s an original Wilson—people will flock to see it. You just wait, Michaelangelo, this will bring a lot of money down the track, mark my words.”

Your chuckle is cut off by the insistent buzz in his pocket, and he stands immediately, answering the call with a swift Wilson and stepping away from the table with his phone pressed to his ear.

It’s Marcus... you know just by the way he positions himself, ensuring to keep a bit of distance and turning away so you don't have to potentially hear his voice from the other end. You quickly lose interest in the conversation, focusing back on the open book you’ve been trying—and failing—to get into the last few days.

The interest in the conversation was lost, until you hear it.

“Understood, sir. We’ll leave now.”

Immediately looking up in question, your brows start to furrow as Jacob wraps up the phone call and strides back to the table quietly. Anxiety begins to build in the pit of your stomach at the sudden serious set of his features, unused to seeing the usually bright and bubbly face now so stoic. It’s Agent Wilson, not Jacob.

“We’re leaving?” you ask in confusion, “but I haven’t even done—”

The frown between his thick brows deepens, and he barely looks at you while he shrugs his navy blue suit jacket on, leaving faint smudges of orange and pink on the lapels.

“Leave it, we need to get to the office.”

The anxiety immediately gives way to dread.

The office? Where Marcus and his team are? Why?

You want to ask if you can stay behind—straight up refuse to go anywhere near that damn building—but the firm set of Jacob’s lips lets you know it’s non-negotiable.

He helps you with your bag, a certain urgency to his movements, and then you’re descending the stairs with him hot on your tail. He ushers you into the car, throwing a wary glance each way down the street before moving around the vehicle and sliding into his seat.

You swear you can feel your heart beating in your throat. He’s clearly in a rush, but you’re at a loss as to why. Has something happened? Is there danger? Are you in danger?

With your mind beginning to hurl possibilities at you, you start to feel more and more nauseous with every swift swerve through traffic Jacob makes.

“Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bag as you try to calm the rage of your heart.

He briefly looks away from the traffic and gives you a small reassuring smile, “Of course. There’s just been a big development and I’m needed back at the office for a debriefing, sorry for the rushing.”

“Oh,” you breathe in relief, “okay, I understand. Well, you can drop me home if that’s easier for you.”

“It’s an urgent thing and uh… Pike would like you at the office.”

Your lips press shut and an immediate frown overcomes your expression.

Of course.

If there had been developments in the case, why did you need to be there? It’s not like you're an agent with unlimited access to the available information. Your own folder Marcus had given you was severely lacking any true details of the case beyond what you needed to know, and it’s not like you were involved in anything anymore, so you had very little to contribute further than your creative talents.

You keep quiet for the rest of the quick trip, taking the hint that now is not the time for small talk. The need to chat is nonexistent to you right now anyway, even if Jacob happened to be in a perkier mood. The mere thought of seeing, and talking to, Marcus again does nothing to ease the dread churning in the pit of your gut.

The building is not a welcome sight, yet you hurry to follow Jacob from the brightly lit parking lot and into the home of the FBI. He stays beside you the whole way, through the wide crowded corridors and during the silence of the elevator, giving you one final reassuring smile before he pushes open the door to the Art Crime Department.

It’s busy.

Marcus doesn’t suddenly appear from nowhere and bombard you both at the entrance. You can take a deep breath. The shrill ringing of phones fill the space, and the shuffle of agents near running about with various files and pieces of paper takes you a little off guard.

There’s an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. You can’t quite put your finger on why it unsettles you so.

You follow Jacob further into the chaos, ensuring to keep out of the way and keeping an eye out for the one man you seem to now be bracing for, steeling your nerves into something harder, something unbreakable. You don’t need to wait long—there he is.

He looks tired.

Marcus appears from a room, presumably his own personal office, raking a hand through his mussed hair and saying a few brief words to a coworker before his eyes zero in on Jacob. He points to the conference room where you’d once sat at the beginning of this, already heading that way with another agent, and Jacob gives a short nod in response.

You try to blend into the background behind Jacob so Marcus doesn’t take much notice of you, but it’s not even a moment later and his eyes are suddenly meeting yours. The feeling of his attention is instant, and the increase of your heart is familiar by now.

Despite the distance between you, you feel how they roam over your face, seemingly searching your expression, but it’s not long until they fall away and you’re left to exhale quietly, now free from his gaze.

He disappears into the conference room, and you swallow down the thick feeling of anxiety building in the back of your throat. He doesn’t seem eager, or interested, in talking to you straight away, and you’re relieved by that—you could mentally and emotionally prepare yourself a little more.

“My desk is over there if you want to sit down,” Jacob offers, turning and walking backwards in order to point you in the right direction, “and I’ve got snacks in the bottom drawer.”

Rolling your eyes, you give a strained huff of amusement and start walking towards it, “Of course you do.”

Your shoulder catches the frame of someone else and you quickly take a step back, wide eyes locking with a pair of vaguely amused blue ones.

He’s dressed sharply, much different to the basic suits the agents around him wear, in a well kept grey toned three piece suit with the simple white collar of his shirt popped open at the base of his throat. His soft blond curls are styled neatly back, and the gentle scent of tea wafts from the cup in his hold.

He’s pretty, by society’s standards, but his eyes are sharp, as if they can see right into the very centre of you.

You don’t like it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumble, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You don’t linger to hear what the agent has to say. You hurry into Jacob’s desk space and throw your bag under it before taking a seat in the simple desk chair, the backrest squeaking as you rest into it.

His desk is as you expected it to look—messy, but organised in his own little chaotic way. The edges of his computer screen are littered with sticky notes of reminders, his ballpoint pens are all missing their lids, he has a bobble head character of a sports player next to his keyboard and a crumpled paper plane lies hidden beneath a thick notebook.

It’s undoubtedly Jacob, end to end.

The wide variety of sweets and chips resting on old files doesn’t surprise you at all when you tug at the stiff drawer, and you immediately zero in on the ones he’s been sharing with you over the past few weeks.

“Jane, stay out of trouble,” a brunette orders sharply as she passes, briefly catching your attention and the man you had previously bumped into comes to a stop just beside you.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he replies dryly with the growings of a smirk, sipping quietly at the tea in his hands and watching the last few agents file into the conference room before the door closes.

Do people still use saucers? He does. He half turns towards you and eyes you curiously as you sway absent-mindedly in Jacob’s desk chair, breaking into the packet of sour candies.

“You’re not an agent.”

You blink up at him and give a small, polite smile, “No, I’m not.”

He makes a low noise of thought to himself and sits on the edge of the desk opposite to Jacob’s, watching you over the rim of the plain white cup he lifts to his lips.

You shift a little under his study, busying yourself with picking a lemon flavoured candy out from the packet and looking over the various little notes decorating the dated computer screen.

Meeting @ 10 Tues. Picasso retrieval daily @ 8. Get bread. Call ma before she has a damn heart attack—

“How long have you been an artist?”

Eyes rolling back to the stranger, you give a slightly confused, “What? How do you know I’m an artist?”

“You have paint on your fingers,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the room.

Rubbing your fingers together, you feel the tell tale crack of dried paint over your skin and glance down at it in vague interest. He’s got a really good set of eyes. You shift a little in the seat and pinch the ends of your sleeves before pulling them down further over your hands to hide them from him.

“A few years,” you reply vaguely, “you’re rather observant, Agent Jane.”

It comes across more as an accusation rather than a general statement, and it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He grins, flashing a nice set of pearly white teeth.

“Patrick,” he supplies, “and I’m a consultant.”

“Didn’t even know that was a thing,” you mutter plainly, not liking the way you feel like a fucking open book with this stranger, “well, shouldn’t you be in there, then?”

You nod towards the closed door of the conference room and Patrick makes a low noise of dismissal, a slight scrunch curling his nose.

“I already know everything about the murders—Lisbon can handle it.”

The word cuts through the air and chills you right to the bone.

“Murders? What murders?”

Patrick looks at you, shrugging lightly.

“That’s why we’re here. The fancy little tracker led this bunch down to the meeting point in California, but we found the bodies first. Deal gone wrong, I’m guessing. The buyer probably found the painting to be a fake, and got rid of the delivery men because of it. Very messy.”

Your stomach turns.

The painting? Your painting?

“What was wrong with the piece?” You ask quietly, voice suddenly strained.

“Not sure,” Patrick murmurs, taking an apparent interest in the way you’re reacting to his information and studying you from over his tea, “guess we’ll know soon enough.”

You swallow, a sting of sweat building along the back of your neck. They knew it was a replica? How? You must’ve done something different, there must’ve been something wrong with it. Otherwise how else would they know? They wouldn’t.

Have you made a mistake?

Is that why Marcus wanted you here? Are you in trouble? What would be the ramifications of your mistake? After all, it’s your fault. People had died because you didn’t focus hard enough on your work. The FBI have probably realised how useless you are if you can’t even convince some shady black market dealers that your pieces are real.

You must’ve been distracted. You never made mistakes, and now you’ve made one that cost lives. How many? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it happened, and now you have to live with that knowledge.

People have died. People have died because of you.

You fucked up.

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

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shunshunrika · 11 months

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Things Geto Suguru would say because he's a HORnyy mf 😩

mdni, 18+ only

"The only way to make me shut up is to ride my face :). What? Whattt? I'm being corny? I just offered you a premium throne, woman!"

"I love you. I love you so much. I love all of you but especially your bellybutton. It's so cute. Hey, don't call me a weirdo, there's nothing weird about how my tongue fits in your belly button."

"Um. Is it sexual harassment if I ask you to stop wearing clothes around the house? I mean... Studies show that being naked is- what? Do you think I'm making it up?"

"Y/N. Hey don't ignore me. Listen, Y/N. Can I please just get a quickie? I promise I'll come back and eat you out for hours. Please I need this to relieve myself since I've to deal with Satoru for the whole day."

"If you keep pulling on my hair while I eat you out. I'll bite your pussy lips. Then cry, bitch as I make a chew toy out of your pretty little coochie."

"My baby's legs are the best. Especially when they are on my shoulders and stick straight. I can see the entire anatomy of your pussy this way, you naughty baby. I love this view after all."

"D'you think if I grow a stubble it'll make you feel more sensitive down there? Huh? I can't believe you're saying a stubble will make me look hotter. Now I have to grow one for you and your tender pussy."

"We have to go to a nude beach once. No, it's not weird Y/N, please stop saying that! I just want everyone to see us bare and joined together, what's wrong in that?"

"I know the car was full and we have no choice but, if you squirm in my lap any longer, I might have to shoot my cum up into you through my pants like a cannon."

"That's it baby, don't worry the shower glass won't break. I'm holding you. Cum on my dick baby. Cum so hard that you pass out. Ahhh fuckk!"

"Can you send me a nude? Three, if you're feeling it?:) Please, I really need to jack off right now. I got a boner because I was too stressed about the exam. Y/N? Don't leave me on read??!"

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total-dxmure · 4 months

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i really don’t care too much about wwe. people beating the tar out of each other is pretty entertaining, but it isn’t exactly my thing. that being said, i did in fact buy tickets this past year for one reason and one reason only: rhea ripley. did i make a sign? yes. yes i did. have i seen so many children with mullets in one place before? no. no i have not. i legit have pictures of her back. just her back. at least thirty of them in my phone. i feel so bad for the people next to me. i was legit white knuckling the arm rests.

i was praying that she’d get punched so hard that one of her shoes might fly off and fall directly onto my open mouth and nose. i’d chew the crotch out of her panties like a dog. i’d be corn-cobbing those bitches. there would be holes when i’m through with them. i want her to toss me out of a closed window and then make me pick the glass up afterwards.

that is all, thank you.

#i’m just a girl #rhea ripley #she’s even hotter in person #DONT JUDGE ME #okay you can but-

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barrysheoghan · 4 months

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okay i was on the train zoning out when this scenario came up in my mind....... toxic!felix enthusiasts where you all at???

(sorry for any mistakes or incoherences, feel free to correct anything that seems wrong)

— cattonquick modern au where felix is very jealous and violent

ollie works at some bookselling place even though felix told him he didnt have to cause he's rich and he can provide for his boyfie yk. but ollie wants to do something productive during the day and he loves books so.... anyway, one night he asks felix if he can come pick him up since his shift ends quite late and felix obviously agrees cause he gets to show off his big expensive car and impress ollie's colleagues (of whom hes been jealous ever since ollie started mentioning having fun at work etc etc, especially of that one guy with whom ollie chats sometimes via text. yes, he regularly looks into ollie's phone, so what? thats what couples do.).

its 9:30pm, felix is right on time, parked in front of ollie's workplace, waiting. minutes go by and soon its 10pm and still no ollie in sight. they should have been home by now. one thing about felix : he hates waiting. and ollie's supposed to know that. he turns up the volume of the music he was listening to to match the anger that's quickly building up in his chest, making him sigh repeatedly, tap on the wheel and furiously chew on his nails. he also wants to make his presence known and hopes the loud noise will somehow make ollie get out faster.

what is he doing, for fuck sake. he grabs his phone and opens up his text message app, immediately landing on him and ollie's convo. he never replies to anyone else's texts so...

"Its been 30mins. Where are you?"

about five minutes later, the door opens up and ollie is finally out. felix stares, assuming he's going to rush to his car and apologize for being so late but, no, he lingers by the door. in fact, he's holding that door, clearly waiting for someone. soon enough, a silhouette appears and closes the shop after them. ollie stands there the whole time, waiting like a puppy, and felix can't believe his fucking eyes. he's literally fuming, his brain making up the worst scenarios of why ollie could possibly be late. and of course it involves him getting railed by his coworker.

ollie finally notices felix's car and jogs towards it. he opens up the passenger door and frowns at the loud music. felix thinks he's gonna get in quickly but he doesn't seem to want to leave. he slowly turns down the volume, not looking at ollie for one sec.

"hey! sorry im late! we were just gonna go to that one bar down the street. wanna come?" ollie says, a smile on his face, completely clueless.

"get in the fucking car." felix's voice is at its lowest pitch. he's trying to stay in control but his hands, so tightly clenched around the wheel, show that he's struggling to keep it together.

"what.... whats going on, felix?"

"don't make me say it again."

ollie gulps. felix is mad, and it doesn't look like one of his usual tantrums. he knows he should keep it low and do as he's told but he's had such a great day and he just doesn't want it to end! maybe he can get felix to calm down? he softens his tone.

"come on babe... let's go out! we'll have fun!" he leans in to put his hand on felix's arm, gently squeezing it.

the next second, he's forced into the car. felix's hand cups his cheeks, but not in a cute loving way. he's practically crushing ollie's jaw between his fingers. ollie's glasses have fallen somewhere on the car's floor and he can feel panic take over him. panic and........ some other tickling sensation he's quite fond of.

"you're hurting me-"

"shut the fuck up, ollie. shut your stupid fucking mouth. I've been waiting for your useless ass for half an hour and you think you can just come up to me all bubbly and nice and ask if i want to go have fun with you and some bitch who clearly wants to fuck you?" he's now yelling right in his face. "you wanna have fun? we'll have fun. just the two of us. at home."

he lets go of his face and reaches to close the door on ollie's side. his coworker is just standing there and watching them, looking really concerned.

"and don't you dare look at him. i'll break your nose and slaughter him." felix threatens, turning on the engine.

on the ride back home, ollie tries to make himself as small as possible, keeping his head down, shoulders in and, of course, squeezing his legs very, very tight. he has a vague idea of what's waiting for him once they get home and, boy, it's exciting.

the next day, he comes to work to hand in his resignation letter.

#SORRY THATS SO MESSY #i feel like i cant express myself properly in english AAAARGGGGGGHH #hope thats not too weird #I JUST WANT OLLIE ALL BRUISED UP YK?#oliver quick x felix catton #oliver quick #felix catton #saltburn #cattonquick #cattonquick au #saltburn au

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diazpatcher · 17 days

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7x09 my thoughts

"my resignation" WHAT BOBBY WHAT. this man needs extensive therapy bc why does he think he doesn't deserve good things.😭

Athena being the supportive wife she is. "Walking away from the 118" THOSE ARE YOUR KIDS

Edmundo noches is at it, with his ex dead wife's doppelganger 💀 the date is waaaaaaaaaaay to romantic for 2 people who aren't an official item.

Eddie baby no, you're not only emotionally cheating you are full on cheating bro 😭💀 pls let her be part of his mental breakdown.

Athena fighting for bobby even when bobby doesn't want to anymore:( Athena is such a great wife I can't fucking handle it.

Finally they talk about Bobby's struggles, of balancing his past and his present and the guilt he has😭 as much as I want retirement for the Grant-Nashes I don't want Bobby to leave 😭

Bobby is straight up evil, he wants to retire and before he does so, he takes care of every single person in his team "they're not the only kids you're raising Mother Hen"😭

BUCK is the Chef😭 BRO THE WAY HES ACTING MAKES ME THINK HES GONNA DIE😭

Buck and Eddie cooking together😭

Buck looking at Bobby the way a kid looks at their dad waiting for praise 😭 im not okay bro that whole sequence fucked me over. BOBBY😭 7 years😭 "here's to seven more" 😭 Their father son relationship makes me want to chew on glass 😭😭😭 "it's been my pleasure kid"

BUCK MEETS THE DOUBLE, OMG. THE WAY HIS FACE FELL😭 He is so fucking funny I can't 😭OH OH BUCK IS MAD. He used the Back door💀😭 The way he's trying to figure out if Marisol is still around lmao😭 "Eddie who's kim" HILARIOUS ACTUALLY. "Marisols my girlfriend, she just a friend" "a friend who's a dead wringer for your dead wife' OKAY BUCK😭 Buck has healed he is ready to confront and pull Eddie out of his ass. The way Eddie is trying to justify his actions, "does this poor woman know thay she is a carbon copy of your dead wife"

"Im worried about you" HUSBAND BEHAVIOUR 😭😭😭

The kids🥺🥺😭 Wilson-Han family is so special to me❤️ Chim knowing something is wrong with Bobby!!!

I knew that the Council woman was gonna be a bitch. I knew it.

I feel so bad for Kim. She got pulled into this mess it's insane. "But I'm not her" THIS POOR WOMAN. she knows Eddie just wants to replace Shannon with her 😭😭 heartbreaking. "which was not fair to you"

Hey anyways Eddie did that after buck talked to him even his break up with his ex wife's doppelganger is colored by the interactions with buck.

"I never meant to lead you on"

"but you did" 😭 "I guess she was the love of your life" STOPOP😭😭😭

Eddie should be talking about this with Frank 💀

"living happily in Florida with his husband" lmao💀 Okay either Amir is gonna help Bobby or he's gonna torch the place. oh he's gonna torch the place. right.

Mom and Dad are fighting 😭 oh god Athena is so desperate. She's trying so hard. "You're making your round to say goodbye" 😭 Athena still worrying about Bobby being suicidal. "And you're standing on the ledge of a building again, Bobby." 😭 I'm in shambles. somebody glue me back together.

Athena doesn't know about the Book...

"I threw it in the trash on the night of our first date." She gave him hope that he was worth something 😭.

Garica is a BITCH. idc what happened to her she's a bitch. Who is she to refuse Mara a home😭 just bc her idiot son refused treatment. They're ripping apart a family they don't give a shit. Fuck CPS. fuck those 2 especially. ripping Mara out of Karen's grasp what the fuck. Fuck this what the fuck.

WHAT. THE FUCK. IS KIM DOING. SHE GOT A HAIRCUT AND IS.WEARINF SHANNONS DR3SS???????? Eddie looks as horrified as I do. She's pretending to be Shannon IM GOING INSANE. Kim is so smart istg. "You have to let me go" 😭 She is doing the right thing but my god this is psychotic to watch 😭

Eddie finally FINALLy letting go of Shannon is so 😭 he deserves peace. Eddie breakdown era 2.0 let's go. he sounds like a little boy so scared and angry and hurt. CHRIS WALKING IN WITH MARISOL !!!

Bobby, Bobby??? bobby... oh. oh no. He is, he's drinking. Oh my god. he dreamed of his dad while HIS HOUSE IS ON FIRE. ATHENA!! he gets to save his family this time. BOBBY???? HE HAD A HEARTATTACK WHAT.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #911 season 7 #7x9 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911

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xerotiny99 · 28 days

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HOLY CURSE ♰ PROLOGUE

P R O L O G U E

December 31st, 2018, Saturday 22:45

"Mr. Haruki is hiring again." Wooyoung spells out, reading the sheet of paper stuck on the window glass of the store. "Such a dickhead."

San catches up on the mutter his friend breathed out, eyeing him with suspicion. "You sure respect your elders, Woo. Cool down, he’s just an old man. Though, I might agree, he has some loose screws."

"Loose screws?" Wooyoung repeats, rolling his eyes. He hops off the elevated edge decorated around the store; with a bottle of soju in his hand. "That man is a fucking perv, I tell ya."

A scoff resounds, making him snap to his side to its direction. "Oh please, everyone knows it."

"Whose side are you on?" Wooyoung looks down at his girlfriend perched on the elevated edge, biting on her fingernail.

"Babe, yours." She emphasises, "everyone knows he hires young university girls and makes them work the night shift. I dunno if that's pervert enough or not."

"Touché." Wooyoung smiles, facing San who only rolled his eyes in response.

"The pay isn't bad at all." San turns his attention to you, standing near the same pamphlet that Wooyoung read. "25000 won per hour."

"Dae—" San muses, stepping behind his you and wrapping his arms around your waist. Arrested in the back hug, San places a soft kiss on the nape of your neck before continuing, "you can't be considering taking on the job."

"And why not?" you proceed to embrace San's hold on your waist. "I could be earning enough for daily needs."

"Yeah, Deiji should totally try out for the job." Wooyoung mocks, "if she wants to get killed or something."

You look at him, sitting next to his girlfriend with his arm around her shoulder. His other hand held on to the bottle of soju — it was half empty by now — while he rested his head on Mistki's shoulder. The night dawns over the four of you, loitering the vacant parking lot of a local convenience store. A bright red light on the door reads 'open', albeit the store being left deserted. The store had always been empty at night, which gave your group more freedom to live on however as you liked. You had purchased a few things — San got his favourite brand of smoke, Wooyoung contemplated enough and got himself a bottle of soju, Mitski settled herself with a packet of chips and you fixed yourself with a candy bar.

Moon shines on the window's glass to reflect its sheer light in your eyes. You hum in satisfaction, leaning into your boyfriend's touch. Your glinted eyes return to the flyer. You stay caught up in his arms, relishing his warmth on your skin.

"Come on," you murmur, disentangling yourself from San and settling down next to Wooyoung. "It can't be worse than being unemployed."

"It can be." Mitski adds, "if you only want to cure your unemployment phase, get a job as a sales rep; your degree can easily hand you one."

"Can't get my ego to serve snooty ass bitches." You mumble, "besides, it's easier to get this job than be a suck up and work at brand stores."

"Deiji has made her mind I think?" Wooyoung instigates, turning his head to look at you, "don't say I didn't warn you."

San murmurs a soft chuckle, coming around to sit next to you. He wraps his arm around your waist and forces you to rest your head on his shoulder. "I'm there to protect you, there there." He pats your head.

"Awww, so cute." Mitski feigns her awe, and rips open a packet of chips, the one she so happens to have bought from the store a few hours before.

The sound of her chewing on the chips reverberates around the dense atmosphere. San fixes himself a cigarette and puffs out a mist of grey. You gander at the contrast of the smoke and the dark sky, suddenly finding yourself dumbfounded to the confines of night. Wooyoung gulps down the alcohol, unlikely to be affected by the bitter taste running down his throat. There's a whiling moment between the four of you carrying on with your own thoughts. No one intervenes, particularly when you all were trying to cope in your own ways. San occasionally offers you his lit blunt, and Wooyoung munches on Mitski's chips.

You blow out a smoke, handing the cigarette back to San. "Guys, what do you think his deal is?"

Wooyoung turns to you, "what do you mean?"

"Mr. Haruki." San mentions, rolling his eyes. "I think he's mourning his wife's death."

"For ten years?" Mitski questions, "it's something more...personal, I believe."

"Deiji must know." Wooyoung sparks up, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Didn't your old friend work here before? Um, what was her name, oh right, Keiko."

"You're right." San adds, "wasn't she here for the night shift as well?"

"Well guys, she did work here but," you answer, "I haven't heard from her in forever."

"A little birdie told me she left the town..." Mitski trails, crumpling the empty packet of chips in her hand. "About time I leave too."

No one let her statement go unnoticed. However, you didn't decide to react on it. You all had plans to leave the cursed town and settle elsewhere; all four had a rough draft in your blueprints, you were all going to rent an apartment in the neighbouring city and lead a perfect life. Maybe.

"Although Keiko never talked about her work." You whine, "I'm saying you guys keep overthinking about him. He's not that bad."

"Mr. Haruki smells like bad news from a distance." San puts out his cigarette on the pavement in front of him. "If you dare, then go ahead. Get yourself an interview." He pecks your cheek. "But if he does something to you, I'm breaking his bones."

"Nothing will happen to me." You place a soft kiss on San's lips. "I promise."

Silence looms over all of you, again. Mitski finds herself being uncomfortable under the influence of their sudden tranquility. You and San are busy talking within yourselves, while Wooyoung chimes in from time to time, making you all groan and laugh. Mitski felt left out in her own mind — even if her boyfriend loved eating her ear off — she always felt like an outcast. Although, that wasn't the end of it; Mitski was crippling under someone's heavy gaze lingering on them. She's always had a sense, a sense pertaining to — what we refer to as — the sixth sense. She elbows Wooyoung in his ribs, drawing out a murmured moan from him.

"Do you feel like someone's watching us?"

"What..." Wooyoung trails, looking at his girlfriend.

"I can't shake it off," Mitski begins, looking around the vacant parking lot. "The penetrating eyes of a shadow..."

You lean over to meet eyes with Mitski, she was clearly panicking from the sudden outburst taking over her. "Suki, relax. There's no one here."

San adds to that, "hey, we can fight well, you know."

Wooyoung jokes, "definitely." He hops off on his feet and squares up, screaming, "who are you, huh. Fucking coward. Come fight me."

San let's out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. But you are focused on Mitski, who is so unamused and confused. You slide yourself on the crib, colliding with Mitski. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, you pulls her close and start rubbing along her side.

"Calm down." You promise, "we're okay. We're fine. Keep it cool."

San and Wooyoung joked around, Mitski gave into your comfort.

But little did you know someone really had their eyes on you.

NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

#ateez #jeong yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez yunho #atz #ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader

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sincerlycas · 9 months

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fuck is you talkin bout?

warnings: cocky armin, armin entertaining girls, jealous y/n, intense fucking, praising, cursing, pool party, y/n secretly wanting to commit, slight toxic armin and y/n, recording, etc.

part 1.

"alright imma head out bye 'min baby!" "mhm bye and don't spill shit on me today." "no promises!" "Y/N-"

smiling and licking your lips that had caught some then rubbing on his thighs still looking up at him with a pout "do you forgive me now?~" "fuck... yes i do mama~"

(reposting cuz it got flagged)

#black writers #attack on titan #black reader #black tumblr #anime #aot au #attack on titan au #black y/n #mean armin #armin smut #armin aot #reposting #sincerlycasinbox #armin arlert #armin attack on titan #armin x black reader #mature #explict #minors dni

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layla4567 · 8 months

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LEWD POLLEN

Pairing: Jeremiah!pre spray x Fem!reader

Summary: Jeremiah's co-worker, one day you came out of the bunker and Oh no! You've been sprayed with Ivy's pollen! Now you will look at your coworker with dilated pupils.

Warnings: Smut, making out, rough kiss, mention of finger crack, porn with plot, course words

WC: 2k

🃏🃏🃏 🃏🃏🃏

You chewed on the tip of your pencil absentmindedly as you studied the plans, Xander next to you looking at you over his black-rimmed glasses.

"Do you need help with that?"- he asked

You looked up confused, Xander was so quiet you had forgotten you weren't alone.

"No, don't worry, it's okay."

"Are you sure? I see you distracted. Why don't you rest for a while?"- He sighed, arranging his papers and plans that were on the table.

"Okay, I think I'll go out and buy something to eat, do you want something?"

"No thanks, don't come back late"

You rubbed your eyes as you stood up from your seat and stretched your muscles. So many hours in the same position had left you contracted. With satisfaction you cracked your finger bones and left the bunker leaving your coworker busy with his project.

So many months working with him in his bunker had accustomed you to memorizing the infinite hallways and doors he had. Sometimes you felt like a mole working in such a protected place, protected from what? Why did he bother to live so isolated? You had no idea, you always thought they were crazy things and manias of your nerdy partner. You went out into the forest happy to see the sky and breathe fresh air. You walked a few steps when you heard a crunch of fast footsteps behind you, when you turned around a red-haired bombshel extended her hand and blew a green dust making you step back, closing your eyes tightly. The girl ran away laughing mischievously and you started coughing, moving your hands trying to dispel the dust in the air. You opened your eyes trying to figure out where that woman had gone but you were alone, suddenly you felt feverish and that could only mean one thing.

"Damn horny bitch!!"

Ivy. Ivy had thrown her lustful pollen at you just because she found it amusing to see people succumb to carnal desire. You brought a hand to your forehead checking your temperature worriedly, you were already sweating lightly. You decided to go back to the bunker and leave the shopping for another time. You walked briskly with lewd thoughts in your mind, the image of Xander passed through your mind and stayed there. You thought about his full lips and imagined them kissing you, his wide hands running over your thighs, his… No! Why were you thinking about him just now?! The pollen was stronger than you imagined and it was already having an effect on you. You quickened your pace.

You arrived at the bunker shaking and with red ears but you tried to maintain your composure so he wouldn't notice. You left your backpack on the back of your seat and sat next to him, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you alright?, you seem agitated"- he asked looking at you suspicious

You hadn't realized that your breathing had increased a little.

"It's nothing, it's just that I had to run back here. The store was closed."

He didn't say anything and looked back at his work. You took a deep breath and took the pencil, gripping it tightly and looked down at your papers. From time to time you glanced at your partner, his quick hand tracing lines on his drawing, his glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose and then putting them back in place with his middle finger, his lips barely open as he concentrated. You bit your lower lip and surreptitiously squeezed your legs, the heat was increasing. Fuck.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't concentrate, the pollen was poisoning you inside. You felt very hot and cursed inwardly. You took off your jacket and fanned yourself with your hand. Only then did Xander look at you again.

"Are you really sure you're okay?"

His voice sounded more velvety or was it your imagination?

"Yes, yes, don't worry"- You said letting the air escape from your lungs.

But the minutes passed and you looked increasingly worse and your concentration was dissipating. You were sweating more and more and your hair was sticking to your forehead.

"Y/n you're not ok, maybe you're overexerting yourself. But it could be something else, let me take some samples for you to examine"

The boy with glasses approached with his chair near you and that only made things worse, your vision was somewhat blurry and your mind was a nebula unable to reason clearly. When he took your face to examine you, you sighed, closing your eyes and clinging to his wrist when he was going to move his hand away.

"You feel…so…soft"

Xander blushed, visibly uncomfortable, and slowly removed his hands from your face.

"I'll c-check these samples, it won't take long"

The redhead with glasses turned around to analyze the samples under a microscope. Now that he had his back to you, you were able to admire how wide he was. His muscles were visible in the tight shirt he was wearing along with his dark vest. Without realizing it you rubbed your hand against your thigh and dug your nails into your skin. When he finished looking at the samples he turned around and looked at you worried.

"Um this may not sound good but…" -he paused, meditating on his words- "I found particles of lustful pollen in the pores of your skin, that can only mean that Poison Ivy has poisoned you."

"Well… maybe I ran into her in the woods."-You sighed nervously and embarrassed for not telling him sooner.

"Well, in that case the symptoms you would feel are sweating, slight fever, dry mouth and throat, tremors in the legs and umm you know… a-a strong sexual desire"-He scratched the back of his neck with a finger, pulling at the collar of his shirt slightly uncomfortable.

"That's already happening and believe me it's not pleasant at all" -you whispered.

"Well, I guess I'll have to wait it out, maybe I can splash cold water on my face to calm the heat."

Xander made a worried face.

"That's the worst part, it won't wear off unless…well… otherwise, you'll die."

His words had left you frozen and you opened your mouth and eyes in horror. Was he trying to say that if I didn't fuck I was going to die?

"DO I HAVE TO FUCK SOMEONE OR AM I GOING TO DIE?? BUT WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Your coworker closed his eyes when you screamed. You woke up desperate, walking from side to side with one hand massaging your calvicles, your mouth was already starting to feel dry, damn it. The boy looked around nervously without knowing what to say, suddenly he approached and touched your arm, you gasped in surprise.

"I'm sorry for all this."

His eyes really showed great concern, and that made you melt like butter, even his green color seemed dreamier to you now.

"It's not your fault.."

You gasped in frustration and anguish and fell into your seat with your hands clutching your head, the tremors beginning to feel more. Xander sat in front of you.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, I guess… I'll die"

"There must be some solution"- he said

Oh yes, there was a much quicker and easier solution, but it was to fuck your colleague in the middle of the office and you clearly didn't want that, you didn't want to make him uncomfortable, disrespect him, or be unprofessional. You also didn't want to lose your kind of friendship that was formed between you. You looked at him with your eyelids heavy and your face dripping with sweat. Alarmed, he put his hand on your forehead again and that simple touch made the corners of your lips curve upwards slightly as you closed your eyes, enjoying his skin against yours.

"God you're boiling"

When he was going to remove his hand, you held it tightly again, now resting it on your cheek.

"It feels better when you touch me"

Your mind was so blurry that you didn't mention your words but he did and he turned red from the tip of his nose to the tip of his ears.

"If you want I can try...-"

"No never! I couldn't do it.."

Xander simply placed his other hand on your other cheek and caressed it, you moaned softly without thinking and then blushed embarrassed.

"Does that feel better?"

"God yes"-You gasped.

Now the redhead got closer to your face and your breathing accelerated as you looked at his lips with desire, you couldn't help it anymore, you couldn't reason, you just wanted to act, like a primal instinct that slowly took over you. You crashed your lips onto his in a fierce, rough kiss, almost knocking your teeth together. He started a little but tried to follow you. Your mouth stuck to his as if you had glue without taking your lips off even to breathe, you desperately needed to taste his lips, run all over his skin, but you knew you were being a little rough.

"I'm.. soo... sorry"-You hummed against his mouth.

Then you broke away abruptly to catch your breath and look at him, his glasses were crooked and his cheeks the color of apples, it suited him so well. You quickly straddled him to which he grunted nervously. Your kisses ran along his jaw and down to his neck, you didn't want this, but you needed it. Biting the exposed skin of his neck made him gasp, making you smile with pleasure against his skin.

"Ugh I need to see your skin, take off your shirt" - You said with a hand on the collar of his shirt trying to reach more skin on his neck and shoulders.

"Uh y-yeah"

You almost tore his shirt and vest to shreds, first he patiently undid his buttons, opening the collar of his shirt and rushed to kiss his collarbones. His suppressed moans were turning you on even more and soon you opened his shirt completely and were surprised by what you saw. How could a nerd have such a well-built body? Did he do push-ups and he hadn't told you? You looked up at him with your lips swollen and red.

"You're beautiful"-you said breathlessly

You earned a small shy smile from him, so cute. But the heat was still there, it hadn't gone away yet. You kissed him again with your tongue fighting with his while your pelvis began to move in circles against his crotch. He moaned into your mouth in surprise, you apologized panting but he told you it was fine. You continued with your pelvis tracing circles and rubbing on his growing boner. You were starting to get wet down there and breathing with your mouth open you buried your face in the crook of his neck with a whimper.

"Xander…I need you…now"

He understood, although somewhat shyly he put his hand towards his belt, you were faster and took it off without much difficulty, pulling down his pants and discovering his clear erection. You lowered your own pants and with a senton you went down towards his cock.

He gripped his hands on your hips and you moaned loudly, you should have done it slower but the need for penetration was urgent. You began your work by moving up and down while resting your face on his shoulder letting out gasps of pleasure. He tried to hold back but sometimes he let out delicious moans. Nibbling on his neck until you left hickeys, you raised your pelvis and lowered it, you wanted to keep a slow pace, but damn, you couldn't. The worst thing of all is that you sensed that it was his first time because he seemed very shy and blushed all the time as if sex were a taboo subject for him. You felt terrible about it but it wasn't your fault if that bitch Ivy had sprayed you with her shitty pollen. Your hands ran all over the redhead's body, your hands rested on his chest or scratched his back even with his shirt on. You tried to be gentle as much as you could so from time to time you would kiss his cheek or run your hand through his hair, stroking it. He responded to you with soft gasps, he seemed to enjoy it. Now your walls were getting tighter, you both could feel it.

"I'm gonna cum"-You gasped against his neck.

He wasn't ready to cum with you yet but you couldn't wait for him. You accelerated the pace, moaning brokenly, your pelvis rising higher and higher. Until, leaning closer to him, with your thighs trembling and your head on his shoulder, you came with a loud gasp. You stayed like that until you had regained your breath, you already felt better. You no longer felt that annoying fever from before. You separated a little to look at him and you realized that he was avoiding eye contact, his glasses were still slightly crooked, his chest was sweaty and his face was still red. You smiled tenderly.

"I really apologize for this again."

"Don't be, I-I understand.".

You carefully moved away from his lap and looked for disposable tissues to clean yourself. You gave some to Xander who thanked you, still red as a tomato. To respect his space, you turned around when he cleaned himself. Then they both adjusted their clothes and sat back down in the chairs. Clearly an awkward silence settled between the two of you, until you looked at the clock on the wall and realized that it was already late.

"I should go back to my house now" - You said, getting up.

Xander nodded seriously and walked you to the door.

"Let's never talk about this"-You said turning around before leaving.

"I have never agreed more."-He said and finally smiled slightly.

🃏🃏🃏 🃏🃏🃏

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