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#julie x rick
heavenlyvixen · 11 months
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I am an unapologetic shipper. I have shipped both fictional and real life couples. I have always done so with respect, kindness and good intentions.
There are a lot of people who would like to, and attempt to, make you feel bad for shipping. Don’t!!! If you’re a shipper, you’re probably just like me - you love seeing people happy and in love. And baby, there is nothing wrong with that.
However, if it’s real people, I don’t discuss them publicly. So, if you want to talk about ships with me, send me a DM. I can talk forever about the people I love.
With all the negativity in the world - all the hate - I think we all should be embracing love a little more.
Yes, this is a response to seeing people on twitter say we shouldn’t ship people. Virtue signalling at its best.
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llovelymoonn · 9 months
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on july
allie ray holler \\ charlotte brontë jane eyre \\ charlotte eriksson \\ eileen miles hot night \\ barbara kingsolver barbara kingsolver \\ franz kafka diaries of franz kafka, 1914-1923: “july 16, 1912″ \\ gurpiar sidhu \\ czesław miłosz new and collected poems: 1931-2001: “a magic mountain” (tr. czesław miłosz) (via @soracities​) \\ rick bass the wild marsh: four seasons at home in montana
buy my chai latte because i spent way too much money on them this week x
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grimesthinker · 29 days
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Hey, I LOVE your writings 😍
I was wondering if we could get another stepdad, Rick?
the reader's mom married Rick ( I'm picturing it in Alexandria)
Rick and The reader have had little moments like him brushing past her so he could touch her
and one day she gets a boyfriend and Rick does everything to make them break up and it doesn't work so one day he has enough and he just fucks her!
STEPDAD!RICK x FEM!READER ౨ৎ ♡₊˚⊹
you like him, you really do. well, you tell yourself you do. because you should. he's perfect, right? he's safe and he's cute and he's actually your age. problem is, the guy can't fuck for shit. your sweet boyfriend, who can't please a woman to save his life. you tried, a couple times, but he fumbles with your bra strap and struggles to find the right pace to rub your clit. thing is, you don't even care as much as you should. every time you're around him, your mind floods with thoughts and daydreams of your step father, rick, who fell in love with your mother months ago. it's fucking antagonizing, walking past him every day, feeling his calloused hands on your waist for a split second just so he could move past you.
unbeknownst to you, rick can't stand your little boyfriend. he watches him with a deep scowl as he stands on your porch, waiting for you to come outside in your skimpy skirt and tank top. that boy is so entitled, rick thinks. walking around with his head held high because he has the hottest piece of ass in alexandria. it's not right, goddamnit. you belong to him, not that asshole. he purposely touches you any chance he gets, imagining what it'd be like if he moved his hands just a little lower, just enough to play with that sweet cunt.
one hot july day, your mother thinks it'll be a great idea to host a barbecue. you oblige, of course. the community was doing well and you were grateful for it. you invite your boyfriend, only subconsciously wishing it might make your taut stepfather jealous. brat. you coat your lips in sparkly strawberry lip gloss and put on a sweet dress that leaves little to the imagination. people begin to arrive and your mother welcomes them with a smile. you make sure to be the first one to greet your boyfriend, and you also make sure that rick is watching when you kiss him with way more heat than usual.
the barbecue is going good, everyone's happy. everyone's content. except you and rick, of course. you sip your lemonade and he sips his beer, eyeing you from across the backyard. no one else cares to notice the excruciating tension between you two. eventually, you excuse yourself from some insignificant conversation and head into the house, up to the bathroom. you shut the door behind you, not bothering to lock it. you're washing your hands when rick barges in, glaring at you with darkened blue eyes. "what the hell was that?"
you turn the water off. "rick-"
"-bet you didn't know he was down there, braggin' to his buddies about how good he fucks you. about how fuckin' tight you are?" he shuts the door behind him, locks it. god, he's close now.
feeling brave, you cross your arms and taunt him some more. "yeah? what's it matter to you? jealous or somethin?" yeah. you're feeling brave, alright. deep down, you're pissed that your dumb 'boyfriend' is lying to his friends about how good he gives it to you. but with the way rick is looking at you right now, like he wants to rip that tiny dress off and bend you over the sink, you didn't even care.
in a swift motion, you're pinned to the marble counter, rick's fingers digging into your waist. he chuckles lowly, making you immediately drop the big and bad act. your heart pounds, cunt aching for something, anything. he pries your legs apart, gripping your thighs.
"he gives it to you good, huh? then why are you acting like a bitch in heat?"
you shudder at his words, making a soft whimpering sound, fighting the urge to roll your hips and beg him for anything he'll give to you. he peels your panties down your thighs, swiping a thumb over your clit. "ah- look at that." he coos.
minutes later, his cock is buried deep in your pussy, making you feel better than you ever could have imagined. he's anything but gentle, as if he's reading your mind. "fuckin' slut." he grunts. "feels so good, huh, baby? yeah, i know. take it, honey."
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rustedhearts · 1 year
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Head Over Heels (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)
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summary: you meet the handsome boxer Steve Harrington at a party. he falls head over heels for you instantly.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the steve collection ♡
author’s note: if you’re new to this series (since i didn’t write chronologically but this is the first fic): the reader’s name is “libby” which is just a stand-in for “librarian.” it’s still you!
warnings: fluff, casual dominance (yes, even from the start), steve being uncharacteristically sweet and nervous
hawkins, indiana july, 1989
The house seemed to be a rotation of young, twenty-something year olds, and the upbeat thump of the radio’s biggest hits. Right now, the stereo was blasting Rick Springfield, and though you knew the song and hummed the words, you couldn’t find it in yourself to dance. Instead, you remained seated in the La-Z Boy in the corner of the living room, watching your friend twirl between different men. You’ve been out of high school for two months, and she’d already been through a handful of them. You were by far the youngest here, and though you usually wouldn’t be so easily intimidated by a crowd, you were when you locked eyes on him.
Steve Harrington.
About thirty minutes ago—as your gaze wandered the room, chin in palm with boredom numbing your brain—you spotted him. Through the thick sea of people wading back and forth, on the other side of the wide living room, Steve Harrington lounged on a gingham sofa. Cigarette in hand, sunglasses tucked in the collar of his navy blue polo, biceps bulging and straining against the cuffs.
He looked just as handsome as he did four years ago, when he graduated from Hawkins High as swim team captain and resident heartbreaker. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t stop and stare at each one of his photographs in the display case near the gym.
Since he graduated, Steve started boxing. The town gossip usually fixated around him and his new career, and when he had his first big title fight in Indianapolis last year, Hawkins displayed a giant poster of him at town hall. Now, rumor had it they were asking for Steve in other cities around America, impressed by his violent skills.
And now he was staring at you. You shifted in the chair, cheeks warming under his steady gaze. The thump of the music found home in your chest, the rhythmic beat of your heart so forceful and intense that you felt flushed all over. You waited a beat, and looked up again. He was still looking. A girl walked in front of you, and as her blue skirt flitted by, Steve tipped his head to find you around the obstruction.
Your lips cracked into a giddy smile. He was watching you. At the sight of your pleasure, Steve mirrored it: a half-mouthed grin that softened the intensity of his brooding features. It was princely and handsome, and your smile only broadened knowing that it was directed at you. Steve took a drag of his cigarette, tipped his head back in place, and drew his arm across the back of the sofa. His eyes never left your figure, tucked in the armchair in a floral cardigan and denim shorts. Your sneakers were perfectly white and tidily knotted.
In a room full of blazing neon blue and painful bubblegum pink, you were soft and glowing. If he was being honest, Steve had been watching you for a while now—watching you glance around the room with your lip between your teeth, playing with the white laces on your Reeboks, fiddling with the most adorable pair of tortoise shell glasses perched on your nose. You hadn't spoken to anyone since you entered the room, but when you thought no one was watching, you sang along to the songs playing on the stereo. At first, he glanced over on accident, but he found himself mesmerized by your quiet grace and natural beauty.
Stomach flip-flopping and heart thumping, you inhaled shakily and tried to tear your eyes away from the handsome boxer. You weren't clueless—you'd heard all about his promiscuous (whoreish) antics all throughout high school and beyond. There's no way someone like that would bother with you.
Just as you swiveled the chair for a change of scenery, a boy nearby stumbled back into the arm of the chair, tipping his red solo cup onto your leg. You gasped at the cold, sticky beer sloshing over your bare thigh, leaping from the chair just as the boy jumped back.
"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, are you—"
"—hey! Why don't you watch where the fuck you're goin'?" A new voice suddenly barked over the music.
Heads turned and cheeks warmed (mostly yours, now blazing hot and fiery) at the sight of Steve Harrington standing beside you, glaring sharply at the perpetrator with an empty cup of beer. Steve's hand cupped around your elbow to pull you away, and the rough touch of his big, warm palm had you shivering.
"S-sorry, man, I didn't mean to."
Steve only waved his hand, head shaking as he dismissed the beer-spiller. The younger boy skittered away, and when he was gone, Steve turned to you. His hand hadn't left your arm and you couldn't stop blushing. Your entire body felt like it was on fire. God, were you sweating through your shirt? Beer was still running down your leg and into your white socks.
"You okay?" Steve asked, brows furrowed.
You swallowed, nodding mutely. Steve looked you over, frowning at the beer on your leg. He snatched a napkin from the coffee table nearby and watched you rub it over your leg.
"Fuckin' idiot," he huffed, eyes flitting back up to yours then. His cheeks suddenly pinkened. "I...Sorry, I just...I came rushing over—I'm Steve."
Left hand on your arm, he extended his right for you to shake, and your smile returned as you peered at it. A musical giggle bubbled out of you as you clasped it in a gentle shake, flashing that pretty smile that his knees buckling. His chest felt so tight and odd. Something ached in his throat. Your hand was soft, and up close, you smelled like something sweet and floral—lilacs. Lilacs and...beer. Your lips were shiny against the yellow lamplight.
"I'm Libby," you declared.
Steve inhaled sharply. Your fingers slipped away and he found his eyes chasing them. Jesus, what the fuck's wrong with you Harrington? He only had one beer, he wasn't drunk—but he surely felt like he was. His head felt light and full of air. He's staring at you for too long, now.
Clearing his throat, Steve ran his hand through the front of his hair—long, chestnut brown, fanned outward behind his ear—and motioned toward your beer leg.
"Should I—do you want—if you want, we can...get out of here? If you're not...doin' anything? The, um, music's givin' me a headache anyway." What the hell, Harrington?
Steve clenched his teeth and exhaled sharply through his nose. You were just so much prettier up close. He could barely think with your eyes blinking up at him from behind those glasses. And blink you did (in disbelief) at his proposal. Your mouth ran dry, heart on your tongue, palms slick with sweat, stomach bloated with butterflies.
All you could do was nod for a moment, before you swallowed once more and finally found your words. "Yes. Y-yes, I'd like that."
It was hard for Steve to contain the joyous grin that broke out on his face, but he did his best. It showed face with another lopsided smirk, and then Steve was stepping back to motion toward the door.
"After you."
It was exquisite, to be leaving a house party with half your senior class and a group of random twenty-something year olds watching Steve Harrington trail after you. Heads turned to watch the two of you head toward the door, mouths moving rapidly to murmur about the predicament. Steve's friends hollered after him in search of explanation, but Steve never even stopped to justify.
He opened the door, smiled, and waited for you to pass through.
♡ ♡
After deliriously wandering along the sidewalk for about ten minutes, the both of you decided that the refreshment situation at the party was dastardly—and you were starving. Steve immediately questioned what your favorite food was, promising you whatever you liked. As you approached the town square, suddenly all you could think of was Tony's, the tiny mom-and-pop pizza parlor on the corner next to Melvald's.
Steve pulled your chair out and pushed it back in once you were seated, and as you waited for your greasy cheese pizza to share, set his eyes upon you with eager attention. Your shoulders squeezed together, lips pursing to conceal a smile, and your eyes touched the wooden table with nerves reddening your face.
"What?" you squeaked under his stare.
Steve eased back into his chair, head cocking toward his shoulder. You peeked up through your lashes and watched his eyes roll over you. He took his lip between his teeth and shook his head as though in disbelief.
"Just lookin' at you," he graveled.
You giggled, reaching up on the table to grab the paper straw wrapper, playing with it in your lap to ground yourself. He was so handsome. His shoulders were broad and muscular, and he smelled like something musky and manly. You didn't even mind the cigarettes. Something about them sticking out of his back pocket made your heart flutter. Your mother would lose her mind.
After a moment of silence and low jazz on the stereo overhead, you piped up. "Is your head any better?"
Steve furrowed his brows for a moment, before they relaxed and he grinned. "Oh, s' fine. I get 'em a lot, headaches. Comes with the territory. I'm a—"
"—a boxer. I know," you murmured sheepishly, ducking under his raised eyebrows.
"Oh, is that so?" Steve squinted amusedly, tapping his finger on the table.
Your eyes followed, admiring the wideness of his hands, the slender length of his fingers. He wore a brown leather-banded watch around his wrist, and you swallowed at the sight of it.
"Yeah. It's...kind of hard to miss your face on the side of the Super Mart." You giggled.
Steve's cheeks reddened, a chuckle huffing out of him. He scratched at the nape of his neck and shifted in his seat.
"Yeah. Yeah, you got me there. And, uh, what do you do?"
He watched you perk up, hands tucked under your thighs. Pride seemed to glimmer in your eyes as you tipped your chin up and smiled nervously.
"I'm a librarian. I started last summer just for fun, and when I graduated they gave me a full time position."
Steve's eyes flitted over you adoringly again. A librarian made so much sense.
"And you like it?"
You bobbed your head eagerly, eyes rounding behind the reflective lenses of your glasses.
"I love it. I love books, so...I guess that helps." You laughed.
A waiter in a black t-shirt and jeans came to table and slid a metal tray with a steaming, gooey, and glistening pizza on it between the two of you. When he was gone, Steve grabbed one of the plates at the head of the table and pointed to the tray.
"How many do you want?"
Your cheeks swelled with heat again. "Two, please."
He handed you the slices, and you waited until he had four of his own to begin biting at yours. You took tiny, delicate bites, and Steve watched over the pull of his white cheese as you paused to sip at your water occasionally. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something gentle about the way you moved. He could still smell your lilac scent.
"What's your favorite book?" Steve mumbled around a mouthful of cheese.
Your eyes popped over to him, surprised at the question. In all honesty, you were surprised he hadn't chuckled at your occupation. Most of the boys you'd gone out with poked fun at it—or made inappropriate jokes about bending you over in your cardigan and pencil skirt. You were either terribly sexualized or laughed at.
But Steve Harrington did neither.
"Oh, um...ever? Or right now?"
Steve chuckled, wiping his shiny fingers on a thin napkin crumpled beside his plate. "I didn't know you could have both."
You beamed. "Of course you can. My favorite book changes the more I read."
Steve smiled, watching you swoop down for another bite of your nibbled pizza.
"I'm not much of a reader," he explained. "I was never very good at it."
You shrugged, wiping your own fingers.
"That's okay. I'm sure I wouldn't be very good at boxing."
Steve chuckled, reaching over the table squeeze your bare bicep. He smelled like pizza and Marlboros and he was so pretty. You always thought his eyes were brown in the dully-colored photographs at school—but in the fluorescents of the pizza parlor, they held sparks of olive and gold, more hazel than anything. His lips were plump and pink and soft and he had a bruise on the underside of his jaw that you hadn't seen until now.
"With these muscles? I think you could give me a run for my money."
You giggled, rubbing at your arm where his touch was when it disappeared back into his lap.
"Should we bet on it?"
Steve placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Whatever you want, baby."
Your entire face felt like the surface of the sun, and you did your best to hide your smile in a mouthful of pizza. But his flirtatious stare caused a giggle to burst through, and you felt like you were in fifth grade passing notes to your crush all over again. Steve cocked his head again, the smallest tip to the left.
"What?" you pouted, riddled with anxiety at his stare.
Steve arched his brows, holding his empty hands up. "I'm just lookin' at you."
You shifted on your chair, gazing down at your plate. Steve tipped his chin down to follow.
"You're nice to look at," he murmured gently.
You were certain you'd never felt this giddy before. You tucked your hair behind your ear and played the ends anxiously, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Your stomach rumbled with hunger but you couldn’t find it in yourself to eat. Steve was too handsome, too pretty, too sweet.
And though he looked a little mean if he didn’t plaster on a smile, and the sheer size of him made you nervous, and the sound of his voice, gruff and unemotional even with the sweetest sentiment, made you shiver and squirm and your stomach ache—you could tell that beneath that broody exterior, Steve Harrington was a kind and loving man.
You could see it in the way he coaxed you to eat just one more slice of pizza, and offered to refill your Coke once it was down to the ice. It spoke through the way he collected your trash and pulled out your chair, and held the door open for you in the wild whipping wind. He moved you to the inner position on the sidewalk so you weren’t near the road, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders at every crosswalk.
He was an attentive listener, and didn’t seem the least bit bored when you went on a rant about why Virginia Woolf was better than Jane Austen, but why it wasn’t fair to compare the two all the same. He was humble with his boxing stories, and refrained from boasting about his current undefeated status across America.
“I have a fight comin’ up in Cleveland, actually,” Steve said.
You trailed along the streets through the town square, past the closed shops and darkened window displays. The street lights bathed the mostly-barren road in a soft white glow. Your fingers had been brushing together for the past twenty minutes since your departure from the pizza parlor, but you were both too nervous to join hands. Steve didn’t any to push, and you didn’t want to assume.
“Oh, that’s cool,” you beamed, tipping your head back to gaze at him. “How many cities have you fought in now?”
Steve pursed his lips, humming lowly. “Fifteen, I think, but some are in the same states, so…s’ nothin’ too special. My coach says I might be goin’ big time soon, though. Like…bigger than state clubs.”
You smiled, scuffling to a stop near the movie theater entrance. Under the glowing yellow bulbs of the promotion sign, Steve turned to face you.
“I’m happy for you, Steve. It seems like you’re really passionate about it. Which means it is special.”
Steve gave a sheepish shrug, stepping closer. You could smell him again, feel the warmth from his buttoned chest. You swallowed as his eyes moved to your mouth.
“S’ the only thing I’m good at.”
At your side, he brushed his fingers against your wrist. Your breath hitched, eyes rounding in delight. Steve took that as a sign to slip his fingers into your palm, and when it flowered open in invitation, he wove your fingers together.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” you whispered.
Steve smiled, reaching with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair falling in your eyes behind your ear. The side of his knuckle grazed the arch of your ear, trailing down the side of your neck. You straightened at the wandering touch, skin buzzing with warmth and excitement. Steve followed his touch all down your neck. When his hand fell to your shoulder, he took it away, and met your gaze again. His was soft, round, warm and gentle. He had the faintest collection of hair above his lip.
“You’re so pretty,” he confessed quietly.
You could have burst with delight. Though it was always implied when boys took you on dates, or made out with you in the back of their cars in the gymnasium parking lot, rarely had anyone told you how beautiful they found you. Rarely, in the company of a man, had you ever felt it.
But standing under Steve Harrington’s gaze, you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Steve?”
Steve seemed surprised by the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. His eyes widened.
“Yeah?”
You smiled a soft, shy smile, and tipped your chin down. “Can you…can you kiss m—“
Two fingers curled under your chin and lifted your head before you could finish, and then a mouth attached itself to yours. Steve’s mouth: warm and soft and filled with the aftertaste of pizza and a faint, few-hours-ago trace of tobacco. You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed against his cheek, tipping your head to meet the ministrations of his mouth. Your hand squeezed tighter around his. His fingers left your chin to cup your cheek. He handled you like something delicate and special.
You broke away when the air grew thin, and each of your eyes fluttered open to blink dazedly into each other’s flushed, swollen-mouthed faces. You brought your free hand to your mouth and giggled against your fingers. Steve’s smile was broad and boyish, and he gently stroked his thumb against your cheek.
“Like that?”
You nodded your head quickly. “Exactly like that.”
♡ ♡
Your spontaneous date with Steve Harrington came accompanied by a restless night of sleep. You tossed and turned and kicked your sheets, mind full of images of Steve kissing you under the streetlights, and again on your porch when he walked you to the door. You scrawled your number on the back of an old receipt, and, unbeknownst to you, Steve stared at it in his hand all night.
The morning came sticky and hot, with a soft golden sun that filtered through your floral curtains and cast pink blobs across your sheets. You were finally sleeping peacefully, drooling onto your pillowcase, sprawled out across your ruffled bedspread, when the phone shrilled downstairs. You groaned at the sound, burying your face deeper into the pillow. Your mother, flipping pancakes in the kitchen, answered the phone.
Less than a minute later, she poked her head into your room.
"Honey?" she cooed.
A moment passed without response.
"Honey, it's for you."
Blearily, you rolled onto your back and grunted.
"Whois it," you slurred, dazed from sleep.
"Someone named Steve? He said—"
You jumped out of bed, hurriedly shoving your feet into your ratty bunny slippers. You practically flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, where your father was reading the newspaper at the table. He furrowed his brows over the rim of his glasses as you picked up the phone and rubbed your eyes free of sleep.
"Hello?" Suddenly, the sleepy mumble of your voice was gone—replaced with a chipper coo.
"Hey, beautiful."
Your cheeks immediately bloomed pink, and you glanced over your shoulder toward your father at the table. You slipped into the dining room, stretching the coiled cord as you went.
"Hi."
Steve chuckled. "Hi. I'm sorry for calling so early, I just...I was hoping I could see you again."
Easing back against the floral wallpaper of the dining room, you took your lip between your teeth and held your breath. A flutter entered your chest.
"Libby?"
You released your breath and swallowed. "Yes, I...I'd love to see you again. When were you—"
"—what are you doing right now?"
For Steve Harrington, your answer was nothing. You were doing nothing at all but rushing to your room and readying for a morning full of him. When the doorbell chimed, you breezed down the staircase in a white sundress and what Steve still called 'the fuckin' cutest' pair of powder blue kitten heels. Through the frosted glass of your front door, Steve was a blob of white and blue and a pop of vibrant pink—swinging open the door, you realized the pink were a large bouquet of pink peonies.
"Oh, Steve," you gasped, eyes wild with delight.
Steve's cheeks burned, holding them out by the stems. In the kitchen, your mother peered around the corner to snoop. You collected the flowers in your arms and beamed at him. The faintest smile touched his lips, but inside, he was melting. The back of his white t-shirt already gathered with sweat.
"They're beautiful."
Steve didn't know a fucking thing about flowers, but if they got him a reaction like that, he'd buy you a bouquet every day for the rest of his life.
"I'm glad you like them."
You drove this time, tucked neatly into the passenger seat of his burgundy BMW. He parked on the curb of Laurie's Diner and held your hand until you were seated in a vinyl booth pressed up against the window. You plucked a laminated menu from the table and flapped it open, looking over the options. Your hair was pretty today, and Steve found himself flitting between his menu and your head, unable to take his eyes away. It caught the light in such a glorious way.
"I'm not very fond of omelets, but I love scrambled eggs. But then, French toast sounds good, especially now that strawberries are ripe," you rambled, with a certain air to your voice that made everything sound like poetry.
Steve felt like he couldn't breathe just watching you read a fucking breakfast menu. You were still gazing down at it, brow furrowing frustratedly at your own indecision.
"Steve?"
Steve blinked back to reality, cheeks blazing hot again. "Sorry. Just lookin' at you again."
You giggled, hiding a blush behind the menu. Steve set his down, flipping over his coffee mug.
"Get all of it, if you want. French toast, scrambled eggs, pancakes—whatever you want," he declared.
You closed your menu, placing it on the table. "Really?"
Steve shrugged, tossing his arm on the back of the booth. His watch glinted in the sun and temporarily blinded you.
"Really. Whatever you want, angel, s' on me."
The new nickname made your stomach flip, and you toyed with the ends of your utensils to avoid meeting his amused gaze.
"Only if we share."
Steve chuckled. "Fine by me."
You grinned, sliding your menu toward the end of the table with a new sense of determination and cheery delight.
"I hope you can eat, champ."
When the food came—pancakes, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, French toast, two kinds of muffins, sausage, hash browns, and practically every drink on the menu—the two of you made good on your deal and split it fairly evenly. Steve was surprised at how much you could put away, watching with raised brows as you finished your fourth pancake and third egg.
All the while, you made him laugh. You told him about the library—which he never imagined to be such a fun place but you made it sound like DisneyWorld—and when you asked him about boxing, you seemed genuinely interested.
"So...you can knock someone's teeth out?"
Steve reached over and took the strawberry jam from your hands, twisting the lid off and holding it out.
"Mhm, and I have. It's a rite of passage, only a matter of time until mine are gone."
You giggled, dropping dollops of jam on your plate as you scooped it with a butterknife from Steve's palm.
"I hope not."
When your toast had been buttered and jammed, you took a bite, and held the other half out to Steve. The two of you seemed to move with the comfort and familiarity of a five year relationship, never pausing to anticipate, never stopping to wonder—you just knew. You knew what Steve was going to do before he did it, and he knew what you were going to say before the words even came out of your mouth.
Your stomaches burned from laughter and your cheeks throbbed from blushing, and it was as Steve watched you hiccup from too many giggles that he suddenly could no longer ignore the weeping ache of his heart.
"I really like you," he murmured softly.
But over the chime of the bell above the door, and the chatter of diner eaters, and the clank of dishes and utensils, those words were all you heard. You smiled, full-mouthed and pretty, and reached over the table for his hand. Between the half empty plate of scrambled eggs and a bowl of blueberries, your fingers intertwined.
Steve really liked you. And he knew, as you collected his mouth in a syrup-sticky kiss, that in no time, Steve would love you, too.
♡ ♡
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sinsandsweetness · 10 months
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rickyl x fem!reader but it’s her birthday, and they wanna make their girl feel super special:). like reader is super sweet to everyone and she’s kinda a crybaby but rick and daryl love her for it and mock her for it which only makes her cry more:( idk if you write for stuff like that but i think it’s a great idea!
note- ok anon I love love love crybaby!reader, so thank u for this prompt. not sure if you wanted fluff or smut... so I went with my gut. If you wanted fluff, just tell me and I can whip up something else:) (Also, everyone I know always tells me that they cry on their birthday... is this a universal experience? I never understood it lol) let me know what u think <3
warnings- smut obv. 18+ content, mdni. crybaby!reader, dom!Rick and Daryl, teasing, edging, light dacryphilia cause it just comes with the territory, not proofread well. (I went down an edging rabbit hole on p*rnhub so… this is just the inevitable result of that)
NOT YET, SWEETHEART
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"What's wrong?" Rick asks all gentle, approaching you, rubbing your nose with your sleeve. Sniffling away on the bed.
"I broke it." You swallow, pointing to the couple flowers still lying on the floor. Hand picked by both of your boys. Set up as a surprise on your dresser with a note so cute, you’d have it tattooed on your body if you could. It was so sentimental. So sweet.
They knew that you didn't care about gifts, just the thought people put behind them. The part that made you emotional was the little polaroid stapled to the card. A picture of you and them during the last summers Fourth of July celebration. You didn't even remember someone taking a photo that night, but it’s definitely your favourite picture of yourself ever. In between the two men, arms around your waist and sparklers lit, holding them up to the sky. It’s perfect.
So you loved their gift, but you were trying to move it. Just so that it could be on your nightstand. Where you’d be able to smell the fresh flowers while you laid down in the clean, satiny sheets. That’s when it slipped. Not realizing how heavy it was and then fumbling with it. Crashing down onto the hardwood and breaking into a million shards of glass and broken stems. You tried your best to sweep it up, slightly blinded by your tears. You ruined their gift. Petals strewn all over the ground. Water everywhere. The broken vase now sitting in the trash bin, along with your self-esteem. It was awful.
A tear rolls down your cheek, and you can hear Rick laugh a little.
"Don't laugh..." you whine, covering your face.
"I'm not laughing, it's just cute. You're cute."
"You are laughing. And now Daryl is too... great." You plop back onto the bed. Daryl must have followed him upstairs and was now leaning against the doorway, biting back a smile at the sight in front of him; your head bouncing slightly off the plush mattress, hands still covering your wet cheeks.
"Thought you had a good day... what's making you cry, baby?" Daryl asked, approaching the bed as well. Both men on either side of you. Hands brushing your knees.
"I did!" You breath in a shaky breath. More tears forming, threatening to fall. You really did have a great day. You woke up in between them. Had some blueberry pancakes for breakfast. Read in your hammock the entire afternoon. Plus, had a surprise party at Carols with cake and candles and everything. It was the sweetest birthday you could ever imagine. You felt so special. So loved by your whole group. And then seeing the gift that Rick and Daryl left in your room, the photo and the flowers. It was just so beautiful. So thoughtful and caring.
"Then why all the tears, doll?" Daryl asks as Rick grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Smiling down at you.
"Everyones just been so nice n' then your note was just so sweet and special, and- and then I- I broke your gift..." You explain.
“It’s not a big deal, hun, we can go get you a knew one.” Rick tells you.
“But it was a present. It won’t be the same.”
"It’s just a vase, baby." Daryl chimes in, hand running up your thigh. Sending little tingles down your spine. He didn’t get it. It’s not just a vase. It’s a vase that they picked out for you. Special for you.
"And besides, that's not our whole gift, sweetie. You know that, right?" Rick asks. Propping himself on his elbow, down next to you.
"Hm?" His comment piques your curiosity. Momentarily forgetting about the flowers.
"Yeah, we have one more. Its realllyyy special. Just for you. Our sweet, sensitive girl." Rick tucks some hair out of your face and you start to catch on.
"Oh." You whisper. Daryls hand now under your dress, tracing the little bow on the front of your panties.
"Mhm." Daryl says against your neck, his soft little kisses being pressed into the skin.
“What is it?” You voice is all breathy. Trying to think clearly even with both men’s hands starting to roam.
“Mmm I think it’s a little easier to show then tell. Don’t you agree, Daryl?”
“Yeah. Why don’t you relax and close those pretty eyes.” Daryl offers and you can hear them start to shift. Your lids immediately fluttering closed at his suggestion.
“Let us give you your special gift, huh?”
“Okay,” you say hesitantly. Awaiting their special gift. Your panties being peeled down your thighs achingly slow by one of their hands. Daryl settling in between your legs as Rick stays and leans into kiss you. His tongue tracing yours as your hands come up, loosely holding onto his hair. The teeniest little moan escapes you when Daryl’s lips brush your clit.
“That feel good?” Daryl says from his spot between your legs. His middle finger dipping inside and curling upward. Quickly finding your sweet spot.
“Mhm,” you mumble against Rick’s lips, legs starting to squirm at the pleasure. But Rick’s hand comes down to your hips and holds you in place.
“Stay still, ok. Need you to be on your best behaviour if you want your gift. Can you do that?” He says, leaning back to see your flushed and disheveled state. You can only nod eagerly.
“Good girls use their words.” Daryl adds, pushing a second finger in and making you gasp.
“Yes! I’ll be good. I- I’ll stay still. I will.” You assure them both.
Daryl’s head dips back down, starting to lick at your clit. Flat tongue, up and down, sucking for a moment and then repeating the pattern. You need to grab onto something so you tangle your fingers into his hair. Gently tugging him even closer, face smushed up against your cunt. Not that he minded.
Ricks mouth makes its way down your dress, gently biting at your nipple through the fabric.
“I’m close...” You warn them. A little embarrassed at how quickly you were getting there.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” Rick tells you.
“But-”
“If you cum without permission, I promise i’ll have you crying a lot harder than you were a just a few minutes ago.” Daryl says sternly. Rick stays biting back a smile at your reaction. Your pretty, doe eyes already starting to gloss over. Pooling with that salty liquid.
“She’s fine. She knows the rules.” His hand comes up with soft gentle strokes, brushing your hair out of your face.
“I-”
“You know the rules, right? Tell Daryl that you’re gonna cooperate.” Rick doesn’t let you interrupt. Doesn’t let you try and fight it. He knows that it wouldn’t end well for you if you did.
“Okay. Okay. Can I cum, Daryl? Please?”
“Not yet.” He goes back to work between your legs. Sucking your clit and pumping his fingers. The knot in your stomach starting to form, and you know you’re close. You’re thirty seconds from cumming all over his fingers.
“Dare, I’m close.”
He slows down. Making sure you wouldn’t get there. You whined. Disappointed at the ruined orgasm, but still grateful for the tongue on your pussy. Not wanting to risk whatever punishment they’d come up with.
“It’s gonna feel so good when we’re done, sweetie. That’s why we’re doing it. It’s all part of the present, ok?” Rick rubs your cheek with his thumb, assuring you that he wouldn’t let the edging go on forever.
“Okay.” You need his lips to distract you. So your one hand comes up and pulls him back in. Kissing him nice and deep.
You’re close again. The tongue on your clit knowing exactly how to get you there. You think about just not telling him. Letting yourself cum and trying to hide it. It would stop the teasing. But before you even have the chance he stops, tugs on Ricks shirt and swaps places with him.
They go on for what feels like ever. Tongue and finger fucking you until you were dangerously close.
“Right there, right there,” you squeak, hands tightening in their hair. And then they’d stop. Switch their pace and make you whimper. They do it until tears start to form. When Daryl notices and starts to make fun of you.
“You cryin' already, princess? You haven’t even cum yet.” Yup. You're aware. That’s the whole point. You haven’t. And you need to. So, so badly.
You feel pathetic at this point, finally starting to beg. Trying to hold off the orgasm, and more importantly, the tears from erupting.
“Please, I can’t take it. I’ve been so good, you guys. I need to cum. Please…” You try and convince them. No matter how pathetic it might sound.
You thought this was supposed to be your present. Not theirs.
“Mmm she is asking real sweet. All polite and pathetic. What do you think, Rick?”
He only hummed against you. Making you moan out loud.
You can't take it any longer. You cum before the conversation can end.
“Ah- I’m-” you gasp. Legs staring to shake and close in on Rick’s face. That’s it. His tongue works away at your clit, as you finally reach your climax. A hot flood of tingles erupting in your core. Holding him against you as you ride out your high on his face.
Rick was right. It did feel so good now that it was done. The final release after all that edging and teasing. It was honestly drool worthy.
“Uhoh,” Daryl smiles against your lips, that devious tone in his voice. Fuck. That doesn’t sound good.
Rick comes up for air, lips glistening with your slick, eyes hazed over and hungry. Damn. He looks so pretty between your legs. You can actually feel yourself convulse around nothing.
“Thought you said you were gonna behave?” Rick teases, thumb coming up to wipe a single droplet off the apple of your cheek. He leans in and kisses you. The creamy taste of your cum still on his lips. On his tongue. He pulls away to let you answer.
“I tried. I tried to be good, I just- you kept going and I couldn’t help it-” You try to defend yourself. Knowing that it was useless. It was part of their plan right from the beginning. It wouldn’t matter if you had their permission or not.
“Better get ready, baby. There’s gonna be a lot more tears when you’re begging for us to stop instead.”
Shit.
You are so in for it now.
-
taglist: @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae
(Question for all you loveys... do we prefer past tense or present? I usually do past because its just easier to write and stay consistent imo but for this one I switched it up... so what do we think? Which is better to read?)
Let me know what you think! xoxo
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neonghostlights · 10 months
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Chapter One: A Breakup, a Missing Person, and a Business Trip
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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Eddie Munson left you behind to chase his dreams before suddenly disappearing. When he shows up 5 years later, will he be able to work his way back into your heart?
Warnings: Breakups, Betrayal, Arguments, Eddie is immature, Missing person, Mention of cops, Annoying flirty coworker, Reader is wearing a dress and heels, Brief mention of anaphylactic shock (doesn't really happen it's just mentioned), Brief mention of a heart attack (doesn't really happen it's just mentioned) Food/Eating, Alcohol, Reader and Eddie are in early 20s in ‘86, are in mid 20’s in ‘91. This series is 18+, Minors DNI
Word Count: 3.8k
Series Masterlist
July 1986
When you were finally able to form a sentence again you took the chance to ask the question at the forefront of your mind.
“How long?”
“Hm?” He hummed like he hadn’t heard you at all. 
Suddenly, shoving clothes into a trashbag was the most interesting thing in the world to him. You knew he was avoiding you; avoiding the damage he was doing. 
“How long have you known you were leaving?” You bit out. Any patience you had for him was long gone. 
“Uh, well, a couple of weeks,” he said, still refusing to make eye contact. 
“When you say ‘a couple of weeks’ you mean-”
“A month. I’ve known for a month.” Finally, he lifted his head to look at you. He stepped away from the half full trash bag and ran a hand through his hair, bangs sticking to his forehead from the exertion of his speed packing. 
It had been a month since Eddie had met a woman at The Hideout who claimed to be a big shot music producer. She had made big promises for him and the band, telling them that if they follow her out to California then she can make their wildest dreams come true. Of course, this had happened on the one Tuesday you weren’t there. 
Of course Eddie would choose her and her promises over you. 
“You’ve known you were leaving for a month and you just didn’t say anything to me? Did the last three years mean nothing to you?” You yelled, rage taking over any ounce of control that you had. 
You had never yelled at Eddie before. You can’t even remember a time when you two had ever argued in the past three years you had been together. 
Patience had always been your virtue. You were patient when he took three years to graduate. You were patient when he would sell drugs for Rick instead of getting a real job. You were patient when he would be late for dates because Hellfire or band practice ran over. You were patient all of the times you dragged him home drunk and belligerent from The Hideout.
You were patient with all things that were Eddie Munson. All you had done for the past three years was give and give during your relationship and he never considered doing the same for you. And maybe that was your own mistake for allowing it. 
Eddie winced at your raised voice, something he had never heard before.
“This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” he muttered, mostly to himself. 
“Oh really? Then what was your grand plan? You dump me and run off into the sunset and just expect me to be okay with it?” You didn’t yell this time, but your voice was still harsh. 
“You’re not listening. I am not just dumping you. This is a great opportunity for the band, for us.” He took a step towards you, you took a step back. He looked at the distance between the two of you and let out a deep sigh. “When I make it big and start bringing some money in then I’ll come back for you. We just need to be apart for a little bit but I promise I’ll come back for you. Go to that big fancy college and just wait for me. I promise it will be worth it.” 
You couldn’t even process the stupidity of what he was saying to you. 
Sometimes it amazed you how both you and Eddie were twenty years old, but the maturity levels differed greatly between the two of you. Eddie was a dreamer, you were more practical.
There was nothing wrong with him dreaming but where it went wrong was how he jumped head first into things without thinking. 
You and Eddie had started dating during your only senior year, his first, and after you graduated you stayed in Hawkins to go to community college. Now that you had your associate's degree, you were going to a nicer university to receive your bachelors. 
The university wasn’t far. Initially the plan was for Eddie to get a real job and move with you while you finished school. It wasn’t your idea but his, and he had seemed excited. So what changed? 
You were so angry. All of the love you two had shared over the past three years was for nothing. All of the times he would tell you how much he loved you and how he planned to marry you one day when he got himself together had been a big fat lie.
You had never felt so betrayed. 
“Grow up, Eddie. You expect me to sit around and wait for you while you live the rockstar lifestyle for a few years and get it out of your system.” You snapped.
“That’s not true,” he denied. “I’ll call you, depending on how busy I am with the tour. We don’t have to be strangers. I’m just asking you to wait for me.”
You stared at him blankly for a moment, taking him in for what was probably going to be the last time. 
A horn honked outside, breaking you from your trance. 
“Don’t bother calling me. I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again,” you said as you stepped around him and headed for his bedroom door. 
“You don’t mean that. I thought out of everyone you would be the most understanding.” He called out behind you with a hint of bitterness in his voice. 
He didn’t chase after you or take it all back as you walked out of the trailer. Part of you still expected for him to laugh and say it was all a joke. But, of course, that never happened. 
Garrett, Jeff, and Grant sat on the porch and eyed you warily as you walked past. The looks on their faces told you that they already knew what had just went down. 
They were Eddie’s friends first, so it doesn’t surprise you that they had chosen him over you. 
But, damn, did it still hurt. 
You didn’t let them see you cry as you pulled away from the trailer. You saved your tears for when you got home and threw yourself into a bedroom that was covered in memories of you and Eddie’s time together. 
You promised yourself as you sobbed into your pillow that night, that you would never ever let someone break you again. 
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 December 1986
Your socked feet danced over the shaggy rug that laid beside your twin side bed. 
You didn’t plan on living in a dorm room for the remaining two years of your degree, especially since you had transferred from a community college and were so used to the freedom that came with that. 
You picked up another piece of clothing from the pile beside you and folded it messily before shoving it into the open duffel bag at your feet. 
The idea of going back to Hawkins, even for a few weeks, was not exciting to you. Your parents had practically begged you on the phone to come home. Your father was even daring enough to threaten a possible heart attack if you didn’t come home to visit. 
It wasn’t their fault you didn’t want to return. Hawkins was an unhealed wound in your heart, the edges tender and throbbing. You feared that just crossing over the town lines would cause the edges to rip apart and bleed ferociously into your chest. 
You didn’t think you’d be able to handle that, but for the sake of the holidays, you had no choice. 
College had been great so far and a good distraction from your troubles. The parties that your roommate, Lissa, dragged you out to during the weekends helped to numb the pain. Lissa had taken you under her wing once you moved in and after a night with a bottle of wine, she got the pleasure of hearing the whole story of why your heart was so broken. 
Ever since then, she had been on a one woman mission to cheer you up. 
You tossed another piece of clothing into the duffel bag, happy that Lissa had already left to go home so she couldn’t get onto you for moping. 
The door to the room was left open. Something about the heating system in this place made the rooms stuffy during the winter. You could hear the happy chatter of people walking past the entrance as they left to go home for the break, relieved that finals were over. 
A ring from one of the phones outside of the room caught your attention for a second. That was another thing that you missed from living at home, having your own phone. Here they had the community phones in the hallway outside the rooms that everyone had to share. 
The ringing cut off quickly, most likely from the person who was waiting for the call. 
You balled up a pair of socks and tossed them into the bag. At this rate, you’d be finished packing by the time winter break was over. You threw your body back with a groan so your upper half laid flat on the bed and your legs hung off at an odd angle. 
You heard a throat clear awkwardly from the doorway. Your head snapped up in surprise to see one of the girls a few doors down standing there. 
“Uh, there’s someone on the phone for you,” she said.
You couldn’t even be embarrassed that she witnessed your little meltdown over packing. 
“Oh? Did they say who it was?” You asked. You didn’t expect your mom and dad to call you since you were already supposed to be on the road by now. Lissa wouldn’t have a reason to call either. 
“Some guy. I think he said his name was Munson.”
You sat up with a jolt. “Munson?” You asked but she had already left the doorway. 
You scrambled off the bed and hurried out into the hallway to see the phone sitting off the hook and waiting for you to answer. 
Eddie had never called you after he left for California. The memory of telling him not to call was still fresh. But part of you hoped he wouldn’t have listened and that he would have called anyway, even if it was just to tell you how amazing his life was now. 
The petty part of you wished he regretted it and that he was coming home to make things right. 
You cleared your throat and wiped your sweaty hands against your sweatshirt before you picked up the phone, praying that he hadn’t hung up yet. 
“Hello?” Your voice came out breathy and weak. You wished you  had pulled  yourself together some more so you would sound stronger and more sure of yourself. Prove to him that college had made you forget about him. 
“Hey, uh, it’s Wayne.” You pulled the phone away from your ear to look down at it for a second, hoping that it would somehow explain to you why Wayne Munson was calling you. 
You and Wayne had been close when you and Eddie were together. But the last time you saw him was before the break up. You had no hard feelings for Wayne. If anything, the break up made you miss him too. 
“Oh. Hey, Wayne,” you said, trying to keep the disappointment and confusion from your voice. 
“I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re probably busy studying and stuff,” he started off. You fought the urge to tell him you were not busy studying at all. Wayne had been so happy for you when you told him you got accepted into this university. He was even excited for you just for starting out at a community college. “But have you heard from Eddie at all?”
The world screeched to a halt. 
“Eddie? No? Why?” This time, there was no hiding the confusion. 
“He didn’t come home. I don’t know if you heard that the rest of the boys in that band came home a couple of months ago with their tails between their legs. They said something about a scam and things not working out. But Eddie didn’t come back with them like he was supposed to. He ran off instead of going with them and no one has heard from him. He told me when he left he would call but he hasn’t. It’s getting close to the holidays and he has never missed Christmas and it’s making me worried.”
Wayne never was one to show much emotion, but the worry was palpable through the phone. He had every reason to be worried.. 
Eddie leaving you behind made sense, but Eddie leaving Wayne and not bothering to check on him was absurd. He wouldn’t just do that, right? 
“Have you called the cops?” You asked immediately. 
Wayne let out a humorless laugh. “Yep. Called them before I thought to check with you. Hawkins police never cared much for Eddie, as you already know. They said they can’t do anything since he didn’t go missing here. I called the police in the town he was last in and they told me that he’s an adult and he has the right to not call.”
You thought for a second, every horrible possibility racing through your mind. What if he was kidnapped or was in some sort of awful accident? What if he was out there somewhere and needed your help?
“Do you think he’s okay? Should I go out there and look for him?” 
“No. Don’t do that. The last thing we need is you going out there and ending up missing yourself,” he said with a stern tone. You knew it came from a place of concern and not anger. 
As much as you hated it, you knew Wayne was right. You didn’t know much about California. Wayne knew where he was last seen but odds were he wasn’t there anymore. 
You leaned your head against the wall in front of you in defeat. 
“What can I do, Wayne?” You begged. You and Eddie had been broken up for months but it didn’t feel right to just hang up and pretend this conversation never happened. 
“Just wait and see if he calls. That’s all either of us can do for now. I’m sure he’ll come around.”
You sighed in response, not sure what else to say. 
“I tried to talk him out of leaving, you know?” Wayne said after a few beats of silence. “Told him he was dumb to leave you behind. But that boy doesn’t listen when he gets an idea in his head-”
“I have to go,” you announced quickly, cutting Wayne off from whatever else he was about to say. 
You couldn’t listen to it. Didn’t want to relive the heartbreak. 
“Oh, right. Sorry. Take care of yourself, kid. Will you just give me a call if you hear from him?”
“Sure,” you said before another thought crossed your mind. The image of Wayne Munson spending Christmas alone in that cold trailer caused you to speak without thinking about it. “I’m actually coming back to Hawkins tonight for winter break. Did you want to meet up for lunch sometime or maybe even meet up for Christmas if he doesn’t call?” 
“Sure, kid. I’d love that.”
Even though making sure Wayne was taken care of would help relieve some of your guilt, you couldn’t help but think back to when you told Eddie you didn’t want to see or hear from him ever again. 
Seems like you would get your wish. 
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August 1991
August in California was blistering hot. 
From the second you stepped off of the airplane, you were ready to get right back on and head home to Indiana to lock yourself into your air conditioned apartment in Indianapolis. At least there you would have your cat, Junie. Plus, if you went home now, Lissa wouldn’t have to feed and take care of Junie for you even though she was allergic. Honestly, you could make the excuse to get out of this trip by saying you had to save your friend from anaphylactic shock. 
But if you did that then your boss would have your head. 
And in order to get this promotion you really needed your head. 
You had started working for this publishing company straight after college three years ago. You adored working in the business of books and were honestly lucky to get the position that you already had. 
But if sucking up to your boss and attending this stupid business trip in sweltering California would help you climb the metaphorical ladder, then you would do it. 
You fanned yourself as you waited in the hotel lobby for the rest of your group. The crisp white furniture and marble floors made you feel out of place. Never in a million years would you stay in a place like this on your own dime. You wondered how much it would cost for them to mop you off the floor once you melted right out of your heels. 
 You were immediately regretting the black wrap dress you had chosen as you felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of your neck. You wished they would have given you just one night to relax before the day full of meetings and seminars the next day.
Fancy hotels like this were supposed to have top notch A/C, right? The constant turning of the revolving door from sharp dressed business men probably canceled the promise of cool air out. 
You fanned yourself again with another wave of your hand. Was it the heat getting to you or was it the blazing reminder of the last person you knew that came to this state just to never be seen again? 
You shook your head, pushing the thought away from you. If you went too deep down that rabbit hole then you would never find your way back out. Unfortunately, you knew that from experience. 
Even just standing in this hotel lobby made you uneasy. Although he didn’t disappear from this area, you were still on constant alert. 
“You look hot.”
Vance’s voice called out as he approached. The double meaning didn’t go over your head as you continuously fanned yourself with your hand. 
“Yeah, well. It’s hot in here,” you said to Vance as he approached. 
Vance looked as prim and proper as he usually did with his slicked back blonde hair, collared shirt, and shiny shoes. He had started at the publishing company around the same time as you and was quickly determined to be around you at all times since you were both the newest hires. 
Most of the time you didn’t mind it. He was harmless, a little annoying sometimes like a mosquito, but mostly harmless. 
Lissa had heard your stories about Vances flirting and insisted you at least went on one date with him just to try it out. You didn’t think it was the best idea, especially since you worked together. 
You also didn’t do serious relationships and didn’t want to give him false hope. 
You could see the swarm of your coworkers and your boss cross the lobby towards you. 
“Should we go ahead in there?” Vance asked, holding out his elbow for you to hold. 
You rolled your eyes, before grabbing onto his arm and walking into the hotel restaurant together. 
Vance and you grabbed the seats right beside each other at the very end of the table. 
You had immediately breathed a sigh of relief when the crisp, cool air of the restaurant greeted you, cooling your fevered skin. 
The restaurant, just like the hotel it resided in, was very fancy with pristine white table cloths and flawless place settings that had too many forks than you could name. 
You learned over the years at your job that the best thing to do was to pretend you knew what you were doing and usually no one asked any questions. Or, at the very least, follow Vance’s lead because he came from a household that had fancy meals on the regular. 
Everyone seemed mostly relaxed as they sat at the table and started to chat. No one would be able to fully let loose with their boss at the end of the table, watching like a hawk. 
Red wine was ordered and tables glasses were filled as you all looked over the very intricate menu. Half of  these words you wouldn’t be able to pronounce. 
Vance tapped your shoulder to get your attention. 
“Do you think I should get the caviar as a starter?” He asked so seriously that you didn’t even question if he was kidding or not. 
“Do you really want to eat fish eggs?” You questioned him with a raised brow as you skimmed over the menu. “Why doesn’t this place have mozzarella sticks?”
“Because it’s supposed to be fine dining and not your local pizza joint,” he jabbed back. He pointed to an item on the menu. “Get the bruschetta. It has cheese on it.”
“Thank you,” you hummed as you looked over the menu again. 
You fought back eye roll as Vance placed his hand on your arm instead of responding. You resisted the urge to push him off. 
During you and Vance’s talking about the menu, you didn’t see  your waiter approach or hear him introduce himself. 
You were in your own little world until you actually heard him speak to you. He had the voice you had only heard in your dreams and old home videos that Wayne would pull out when he was feeling sentimental during the holidays. 
“Are you ready to order?” 
Your head turned slowly to face him, scared that you would be disappointed by what you were about to see. When his wide eyes mimicked yours in surprise you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. 
“Eddie?”
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Summer of ‘86 baby
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Authors note: In this universe no spooky supernatural things happen. This is my very first attempt at a fic so please be nice! I’ve had this idea in my head for over a year and I’m finally committing to writing it. If this hits then I’ll post more for this series. I’ve seen an adjacent idea but nothing exactly like this, so I hope everyone likes it! I don’t see too many alternative type characters paired with our sweet Eddie and we know he loves adding sheep to his flock🖤
*I don’t own photos above, found somewhere on Tumblr*
*dividers and banners are from @cafekitsune I do not own*
**SLOW burn, just spent a lot of time establishing characters and intros and backstories**
Pairing: Eddie x f! Reader (Reefer Rick’s daughter) (reader is alternative/punk)
Summary: Your parents are divorced and you go spend your summer before college with your dad in Hawkins. But some shenanigans ensues and you employ the help of a certain metal head to help you find your dad.
Warnings: angst?, smoking, verbally abusive mother
PART 1-(posted 2/19) my fathers daughter
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Summer of 86’- The summer before college, most of your friends are taking big epic adventurous trips to far off places where there’s beaches or big cities. But not you. Your parents divorced when you were about 5 and you went to live with your mother back in her home town in Arizona. Your dad wanted to stay where his roots were established, which in his mind meant where the cops know me so I can’t get in too much trouble. HAWKINS, INDIANA.
You’d always wanted to come visit for the summer but your mom refused, so you had to settle for weekly phone calls and letters with your dad. He was your best friend and always ended your phone calls with “Listen to your mom, I know she’s crazy but she’s your mom. Love you kiddo.”
You opted out of your graduation ceremony so you could get a head start on your trip to see your dad. You’d decided on driving all the way there, which was a full days worth of driving. But your mom made you split it into two days, just so you didn’t over do it. You tried calling your dad to let him know you were on the way but it went to his answering machine, between the craziness of finals week and graduation prep and parties you hadn’t actually talked on the phone with him in almost a whole month. But you planned the trip back in January and he was so excited to spend the entire summer together. He’s gotten tickets for your favorite band, planned fishing trips, a graduation party with his friends and the locals that remembered you (the old dudes like him), and of course Hawkins famous 4th of July festival.
After one shitty motel and countless gas stations and truck stops you were finally just outside of Hawkins.
You pulled up in front of a tiny cabin by Lovers Lake, taking in the quiet forests stark contrast to the loud busy city scape of Phoenix. This wasn’t the house you’d grown up in, but a hunting/fishing getaway that was passed down to your dad built in the 30s. He added electricity and more modern amenities when your parents split.
With a yawn and a stretch you got out of your car and knocked on the door. No answer. Maybe dad went into town? You dug through the messy porch in search of a hide-a-key, and finally located it in the most obvious place. Door mat. Letting yourself in and setting down your bags with a sigh you took a look around. There was a healthy coating of dust on pretty much every surface in the living room, going into the kitchen a stench hit you. The trash was absolutely awful, rotten. You quickly tossed it out the back door while holding your breath and reluctantly opened up the fridge, with the same rotten odor hitting you.
About an hour later the house was cleansed of all the rotten food, which was the least of your worries. You had an awful feeling in your gut, where was your dad???
Walking up the road a way to the closest neighbor you knocked on their screened in porch. Your heart racing full of adrenaline and about ready to jump from your chest. A man, middle aged, about your dad’s age, wearing a faded red flannel and green camouflage fishing hat opened the door while scratching at his beard that reached to his chest. “Yeah yeah who is it? If you’re sellin somethin I don’t want nothin!!”
Taking a deep breath you tried to put on your best smile, old people weren’t particularly fond of you back home. You had that alternative style, today’s look was a well loved Black Sabbath t-shirt with cut off shorts your doc martens and your own at-home dye job of Manic Panic turquoise hair.
“Hi sir, I’m actually your neighbors daughter. Rick Lipton.. I’m visiting for the summer from Arizona but his place looks abandoned. Have you seen him recently?”
His eyes had a look of confusion and then softened to a look of pure sympathy. “Oh hey there sweet heart, welcome back home to Hawkins. Poor Rick’s been so excited to see you. As for where he’s at, can’t really say but maybe you should give Hopper a call down at the station.”
Your heart was in your stomach now. You felt like throwing up all over the neighbors faux grass porch. “Alright I’ll do that right away thanks for your help.” You waved good bye and took off in a full blown sprint back to your dad’s cabin. You stopped out of breath, leaning on the bumper of your car, emotions finally getting you and throwing up stomach acid and whatever shitty gas station coffee you had that morning. Wiping off the corner of your mouth and standing up you saw a bushy brown head of hair standing at the front door, glancing back at the sound of you throwing up your breakfast.
“Oh shit! Partying early I see! Rick sure does know how to throw a party, by the way, where the hell is he?? He’s been dodging me for weeks now!”
As the stranger walked closer to you, you saw a guy about your age, and the same style too, metal head and extremely handsome. He had these dark brown eyes that made your chest hurt. He wore shiny rings on his fingers, jeans covered in holes, a Metallica shirt and finished the look with a home made battle vest.
“Names Eddie Munson” he stuck out his hand then changed his mind after realizing you just wiped puke all over your own.
“I’m Y/N Lipton. Rick’s my dad. Apparently no one’s seen him so if you’ll excuse me I need to go call the cops.” You tried to avoid eye contact and focus on the matter at hand, finding your dad. You’re pretty sure if you made direct eye contact with him you might throw up again just from nerves.
Eddies eyes got big as he trailed into the house after you. Picking up the phone and holding it to your ear you heard no sound, the line was dead. You slammed the phone back into the receiver and groaned, turning to your uninvited house guest.
“How do I get in touch with Hopper?”
Eddie flashed a toothy grin at you, “Your ride or mine?”
You pinched the bridge of your nose as you felt the onset of a headache coming on, sitting shotgun in Eddies van. He had a Dio tape blasting as the two of you tore down the uneven dirt road, he was tapping along to the beat of the song on the wheel. “Nice hair by the way.” He shouted over the music. You gave him a weak smile, “Thanks. It’s my favorite color.”
Deciding on a subject change you turned down the stereo when the song faded out and turned towards Eddie with a serious look on your face. “So why exactly are you hanging out with my dad?”
Eddie was hoping to avoid that specific topic, in hopes of not being the one to expose your dad’s choice in business to you. He wanted that to be Hoppers problem.
“Let’s just say I’m sort of his part time employee? And when I need a place to crash sometimes he’ll let me use the spare room. Him and my uncle go wayy back when they used to work at the plant together.” He reached back towards the dial and turned up the music again.
After some driving you pulled up in front of the police station, next to a Bronco with big painted lettering “HAWKINS POLICE” and lights mounted on top. Eddie pointed his thumb out his window, “Yup looks like Hoppers already inside. Still feel like going in to talk with him?”
You took a moment to weigh your options. Turning to your newest acquaintance, “apparently Hopper is the guy I need to talk to.. I guess I don’t have a choice.” Unlatching your seat belt and popping open the door you thanked Eddie for the ride, “Thanks for your help, I’m sure I’ll be fine from here. I’d hate to waste any more of your day with this.”
Eddie laughed at you, following your lead and shutting off the van, then climbing out. “Oh no you’re not getting rid of me that easy. I wanna know where Rick is too! Plus how’d you plan on getting all the way back up to the lake?”
You smiled sheepishly back, “Thanks, I owe you one.” You met him around the front of the van and walked towards the front of the police station. When you both entered the front doors you heard the woman at the front desk let out a low groan, “What kind of trouble did you get yourself into now Mr Munson?”
Eddie threw his head back and laughed at her, showcasing a deep cheek dimple you wanted to get lost in, “Awww come on Doris what if I just stopped in to see your beautiful smile?” She rolled her eyes at his attempt at flattery. “Actually I brought my new friend in here to meet Hopper. We’ve got a mystery on our hands and need to ask him some questions if he’s free.” Doris wheeled herself around in her squeaky office chair, screaming towards the door in the back corner of the room. “HOPP FRONT DESK FOR YOU!!” A moment later the door opened, revealing a tired looking middle aged man. Towering around 6ft, he had a stereotypical police mustache and a khaki uniform on, the top few buttons undone. He took a glance at Eddie and waved you both back into his office. “What is it this time Munson? And who’s your friend?”
You cut in before Eddie had a chance to say anything. “I need to file a missing persons report on my dad. Rick Lipton. No ones seen him in a while and when I got to the cabin today it was a mess.”
Hopper looked at you both from behind his desk, “Wow long time no see kiddo! I haven’t seen you since you were in diapers. He didn’t tell either of you?? I figured he’d at least call to let you know not to come all the way out here.” You looked confused. “But is he okay? I haven’t talked to him in a month.” You looked over at Eddie who threw his hands up in surrender, “Don’t look at me! Last time I saw him was maybe 2 weeks ago.”
Hopper rubbed his temples in hopes of releasing some stress from this situation. He didn’t expect to have to tell you about it, damn Reefer Rick for leaving this to him. Probably his way of twisted revenge for all the years of giving him tickets, arrests and making him sleep it off in the drunk tank. Hopper assumed the whole damn town knew by now, since bad gas travels fast in a town as small as Hawkins. “You uh, have any idea what your dad did for work?”
You remember one particularly bad fight your mom and you had gotten in when you were around 14 or 15. She found your stash of shitty weed you’d gotten from some kid in your math class and she made you flush it down the toilet while going on a huge rant about “Oh you’re turning into your father! A useless burn out drug addict!” Your mom never talked about the divorce but from what you picked up over the years is she wanted to be a rich lazy house wife and your dad wasn’t providing financially what she had wanted. He definitely made up for it in love though, even to this day he talked about your mom like she was the only woman in the world for him.
“Yeah I do. He sells drugs right?” Just needing the confirmation from someone who had his actual police records. Hopper nodded in silent agreement, “Well he got caught up with something a little bit bigger then what my small town reach can get him out of. He was bringing down a big bunch of something from Canada and the Feds caught him, so it looks like he’s in big boy jail up in Indianapolis for the next 5-10 years. I’ll reach out and see if I can get you a phone call with him if you want.”
You relaxed a bit knowing he was atleast okay, but that quickly disappeared with the sadness knowing you wouldn’t get to hug your dad and see him face to face for a long time. Again.
Hopper agreed to call you the following day with more information about your dad. But in the mean time you just sulked your way back to Eddies van. “So you’re a drug dealer too?” You finally spoke up. “Yeah but that’s just a little side gig. Mostly weed to high schoolers, sometimes pills to the weirdos at The Hideout but nothing super serious. I’m really serious about my music though, I’m lead guitar and vocals in a band. Corroded Coffin, we play at The Hideout like twice a week. Your dad’s always there in the front headbanging and screaming like he’s our number one fan.” Eddie looked so proud telling you about his career as small town rock star.
It made you smile a bit knowing that. Your dad was really caring and even though some would label his business illegal, you knew that with his PTSD from the war it was the only realistic job he could have. Smoking made things a lot less scary for him, and it was nice knowing he kept an eye out for someone your age too. Sure you’d wished it was you helping support your dad but Eddie seemed okay enough. “Maybe if I stick around for the summer I’ll swing by for a show. I’ll atleast be staying for the next few days while I sort my shit out.” You heard a gurgling growing noise come from Eddies stomach, “Hungry at all Y/N?” You nodded and Eddie pulled off the road to a tiny strip mall. There was a Family Video, Laundromat, Palace Arcade, and at the very end was a small diner. The two of you headed inside for a quick lunch, which consisted of Eddie telling you stories all about his DND campaigns, band mates and some lore about the locals. You were perfectly content with listening to his loud tirades, he had such a bright personality. You caught yourself staring in almost a dreamy daze at the tattoos that littered his forearms, which he must’ve noticed. “Like em? I did them myself! I could give you one if you want! It’ll cost you a six pack though.” He laughed, totally oblivious to the blush that crept across your face from being caught. “I uhh actually have one already, just a small one on my ankle. Sleep over stick-n-poke.”
You paid for lunch as payback for all of his help, which he gratefully accepted. Walking out of the diner Eddie lit up a cigarette, offering one to you too. The two of you took a minute to finish up your smokes before climbing back into the van. “Where to next M’lady?”
You ended up back at the cabin, exhausted from the days events. Eddie left you with his phone number scribbled on a crumpled up piece of paper from his van. “In case you need something or just want to hang out or you know, whatever. And when you talk to Rick tell em I said hey.”
You got back inside and decided on not bothering your mom with this new information. She’d make you come home and well, you had already planned on being here the whole summer so might as well stay. You might get lucky and be able to spend more time with Eddie too.
As the sun was setting for the day you heard a knock on the door. Looking out the screen door you saw your neighbor carrying a covered dish. “Oh hello! Please come in, I’m sorry it’s a mess in here I haven’t had a chance to clean up.” You noticed a dirty bong sitting on the entry way table that you quickly tried to hide behind your back.
He placed the plate on the kitchen counter. “Don’t you worry about that darlin. The wife heard about you coming to visit so she wanted me to bring over some dinner for you. We’re just down the road and she said if you need anything to just let us know.”
“Tell her I said thanks a bunch! This looks delicious.” Discarding the dirty bong in the kitchen sink you uncovered the plate and popped it in the oven to stay warm. “Uhm I do actually have a favor if you’re able to help. The phones dead and Hopper is supposed to call me in the morning, can you help me fix it?” You weren’t typically one to ask for help but let’s face it, this whole situation had you way out of your element. Your neighbor walked over the phone, and began examining it. After a quick look around he found the issue, it was unplugged. “You just had to plug it in there. Your fathers just as useless with technology don’t feel too bad.” He laughed at you, then said his goodbyes and started back down the road.
The guest bedroom you’d planned on staying in wasn’t too bad off, except for a healthy layer of dust. It had an almost empty dresser, queen sized bed, and an arguably bad painting you’d done for your dad when you were younger was hanging up on the wall above a small desk. Something laid out on the pillows of the bed caught your attention. It was a baseball style shirt, white with black sleeves and a hand drawn logo of a demon head underneath some block lettering that said: HELLFIRE CLUB. You’d remembered that being the name of Eddies DND club he told you about at lunch. You moved it to the top dresser drawer, so you could give it back to him the next time you saw him.
It was about time you called it a day, showering and laying down on the old mattress you didn’t realize how tired you were, but sleep overcame you fast.
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The next morning you awoke to the phone ringing. It was a high pitched bell sound you weren’t used to and it startled you awake. You quickly stumbled over your feet, not fully awake yet, and into the kitchen, stubbing your toe on the sharp corner of the breakfast nook where the old rotary phone called its home. “Ow shit!” “He-hello?” You answered the phone, hearing Hopper clear his throat on the other line. “Yeah it’s Hopper. Got ahold of the prison up in Indianapolis, they said visitation is on Saturday at noon if you want to go up and see Rick. You staying all summer still?” You rubbed your eyes to try and wake up quicker, trying to grasp on to the information you were receiving. “Yeah thanks that sounds good, uhh I think so. It’ll depend on what my dad says Saturday I guess.” Finishing up your call with Hopper you walked around the kitchen in search of coffee to brew to help you wake up. The cabinets were mostly empty except for cans of spaghetti-os and miscellaneous canned vegetables. Getting ready for the day you threw on a studded shirt you cut into a cropped tank top, some high waisted acid washed jeans, and your staple pair of boots. You teased up your hair and put on some light makeup too.
Getting behind the wheel of your car trying to remember the way back into town, specifically the diner you went to yesterday so you could get your hands on some coffee. Only getting turned around once or maybe twice, you finally got to the tiny strip mall. Grabbing a cup of coffee, on your way out of the diner you noticed a familiar van parked outside the Family Video store. You needed to tell Eddie about the latest updates with your dad so you walked over to see if you could find him. The bell above the door jingled as you walked inside, the smell of plastic and stale popcorn hitting your nose. Eddie sat front and center on the check out counter one dirty rebok sneaker resting on the chipped paint, talking to a guy with the most perfectly styled hair that you were sure he’d spent an hour on. “Welcome in!” He waved at you then continued talking to Eddie.
“Hey Eddie” you suddenly got really shy. Walking up to two very attractive people had your empty stomach doing flips. He turned around on the counter to face you, legs spread apart and his elbows rested on his knees. “Hey there stranger! This is Steve, Steve this is Y/N.” A sly smile slid across Steve’s face, “Ohhhh so this is that girl you haven’t shut up about.” There was finally a crack in Eddies unwavering confidence, he frantically blushed and tried to save face, “Steve!! I was just helping her find out what happened to her dad, that’s all! D-did you get any news from Hopper yet?” Eddie slid off the counter top and took a step closer to you. “Oh yeah that’s actually why I came over here, I’m going to see him Saturday up in Indianapolis..” Your tone going flat with the brutal honesty of Eddie. Steve butted in, “Soo if you’re here until this weekend then you should swing by our little graduation party tonight. Eddie and a few other of our friends graduated last week so we’re having a party at my place.” You looked over at Eddie, his eyes looked eager for your answer. “Sure that sounds like it could be fun. I could use a night to get my mind off things.” “Great!! Here’s my address, starts around 8pm just bring yourself and be ready to have a good time!” Steve handed you a slip of paper and as you turned to leave Eddie followed you outside. Ghosting his hand on the middle of your back as he held open the door, “Sorry about that, Steve’s a shit head but he’s sort of my best friend, he means well. So uh see you tonight then!” He waved goodbye with a lighter and cigarette in hand, lighting it then climbing into his van and tearing off into town.
After you watched Eddie drive off the realization set in.. you were about to be an alien species introduced to a new foreign planet. Or atleast that’s what it felt like. Why was Eddie so hard for you to get a read on?! You spent the next 3 hours trying on every single item of clothing you brought with you to Hawkins in attempt to find an outfit suitable to impress Eddie. Eddies friends. Your possible new friends? In reality you were actually very good at making new friends back home. But for some reason being in small town America made the stakes feel higher. Or maybe it was your ever growing crush on Eddie Munson.
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maxsindiecomics · 3 months
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Skybound X #3 - Rick Grimes 2000, Chapter 3 (July 21, 2021)
writer: Robert Kirkman | penciller: Ryan Ottley | inker: Cliff Rathburn | colorist: Dave McCaig | letterer: Rus Wooton | editor: Sean Mackiewicz | publishing company: Skybound Entertainment [Image Comics]
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583416 · 7 months
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Octavio Paz - "Two Bodies" / Mark Blinch / Mark Blinch / The Sun rises over Earth in a postcard illustrated by Soviet cosmonaut Alexei Leonov / Rainer Maria Rilke - The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge / Franny Choi - Soft Science / x / Rick Harris / x / Steve Russel / Robert Hass - "July Notebook: The Birds" / Hozier - "Sunlight" / Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, The Hague, c. 10 October 1882 / The Sun - Edvrd Munch / Andrew Lahodynskyj / Elina Zhang - "My Year of Light" / Jeff Bottari / Kevin Sousa / Emily Skaja - "Dear Ruth" / Mark Blinch / Richard Siken - "Black Telephone"
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reveluving · 9 months
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hold me closely ; rick flag x reader
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summary: 'cool, calm & collected' is how many describe the Flags, and they're right. to a certain degree, at least. (a.k.a some of your & Rick's favourite convos in the family group chat)
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff & humour (ft twin sons Ethan & Richie, daughter Irene & Tofu the cat!)
a/n: made sumn for my rick babes (+ s/o to my girl @lacontroller1991​ for the cutest hubby rick ask??? ily) so enjoyed imagining what it’s like to be his wifey and mother of kids eeee <33 love y’all!! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
disclaimer!! despite the face claims (joy from rv btw) & running theme here, you are highly encouraged to imagine yourself or your oc as the MC however you see fit!
» wanna read more rick flag fics or anyone by joel kinnaman? check out my j.k. m.list!
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↳ january 19th ༉‧₊˚✧
me 🌸 : how's Tofu, kids?
richie : [ sent 3 photos ]
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mister e : pretty gud mom
me 🌸 : ??? the last photo??
my beloved ❤️ : @.mister e what did we tell you about putting Tofu on your head
mister e : i told richie it was a bad idea but he didn’t listen 😔
richie : ??? u literally suggested the idea??? 🤨
↳ march 21st ༉‧₊˚✧
me 🌸 : have u guys seen the package i brought in this morning? i ordered a pillow for your sister
richie : [ sent 3 photos ]
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richie : dw we gave it to her already
mister e : Tofu also conquered the box just so you guys know
↳ june 5th ༉‧₊˚✧
my beloved ❤️ : store’s got vanilla ice cream but it’s not the one you asked for. is it still okay @.me 🌸?
me 🌸 : more than okay! tq ❤❤
mister e : nvm we bought like, 9 different kinds
mister e : [ sent 3 photos ]
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me 🌸 : ? how???
richie : dad drove us to four different stores lol
my beloved ❤️ : i still don't think it's enough
↳ july 4th ༉‧₊˚✧
richie: [ sent 3 photos ]
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[ my beloved ❤️ reacted with a ‘ ❤️ ’ ]
[ mister e reacted with a ‘ 🎉 ’ ]
[ you reacted with a ‘ 🥰 ’ ]
↳ july 22nd ༉‧₊˚✧
richie : what do you guys call a fake noodle?
me 🌸 : what?
richie : an impasta
[ my beloved ❤️ has removed richie from the group ]
me 🌸 : RICK
my beloved ❤️ : it’s a little funny, i admit
mister e : heh
my beloved ❤️ : you wanna join your brother, too?
mister e : no sir 🚶
↳ august 6th ༉‧₊˚✧
mister e : [ sent 3 photos ]
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mister e : richie, irene and i @ the aquarium + ice-cream and bookstore after
[ you and my beloved ❤️ reacted with a ‘ ❤️ ’ ]
richie : hope the dinner’s going well!
me 🌸 : [ sent 2 photos ]
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my beloved ❤️ : [ sent 2 photos ]
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my beloved ❤️ : it's going amazing. thank you boys 😌
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» juuust in case you're still confused: 'my beloved ❤' is Rick, 'mr e' is Ethan & 'richie' is, well, Richie!
» ❛ fun lil’ trivia about the flags ༉‧₊˚
Irene and the twins have an eight-year age gap!
Richie’s full name is Richard Flag the Third.
Although identical, Richie has certain mannerisms that resemble his father. The same case applies to Ethan, the younger twin, who picks up more of your quirks. Despite that, Richie, usually the photographer of the group, encourages (and even adds to) Ethan’s odd photo ideas.
Sporty ahh kids. All three of them. Need I say more?
» gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡
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rosewaterandivy · 2 months
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Through Me Prequel - ii. the fool
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Summary: Eddie and the Lady of the Lake, feat. advice from one Steve 'The King' Harrington.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader, eventual Steddie x fem!reader in the series
WC: 6.3k
Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions
A/N: This is the second of three prequels centering on the three main characters. If you're up on your tarot know-how, you can glean some info from the banner, etc. 👀
Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.
Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!
Enjoy! 💜
Masterlist | Playlist | Currently Spinning:
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“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
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Tuesday, July 2, 1985
Eddie meets you for the first time on a normal Tuesday evening. 
Well, meets is a generous term for what transpires. He all but stumbles upon you as he’s leaving Reefer Rick’s, struck dumb at the sight of a woman walking fully clothed into the lake.
“Shit!”
He drops the lunchbox from his hand; the metal clanging against the rocks as it rolls to a stop on the shore. “Hey!” He yells, trying to get you to stop or at least turn around before doing something drastic. 
Nothing.
Continuing to wade into the water, he has no choice to trail after you in an attempt to prevent a visit from the Hawkin’s P.D. and a coroner’s report.
Eddie Munson did not have time for this, not today. But he couldn’t very well just leave you here to your own devices. Which, judging by the water nearing your waist, were far from altruistic. 
“Fucking hell,” he grouses, toeing off his sneakers and fumbling with his belt buckle.
You, mystery woman with an apparent death-wish, may be fine with soaking wet clothes but Eddie was not. Wet denim was simply not his jam— it was bad enough he’d have to wash his hair after this, but walking around in wet jeans, just asking for raw, chafed skin? 
No, thank you.
His jeans and shirt joined the pile at the edge of the lake as he psyched himself up to dive in after you.
“You got this Munson,” he says to himself, clad in his boxers and shaking out his arms to rid himself of nervous energy. He keeps an eye on you, head and shoulders still above the water though you’ve waded farther from him now.
Bounces on the balls of his feet and cracks his knuckles. “S’just like riding a bike, muscle memory. No sweat.”
Because, yeah he could swim. But, my god, at what cost? Wasn’t worth the hassle in his humble (and correct) opinion. 
Oh well.
The water is not at cold as he’d anticipated, but that’s probably due to the summer heat. He treads water, careful not to spook you. Eddie knows he’s not an athlete, he’s no King Steve, but figures that logically it’s easier to talk someone down who isn’t startled.  
Eddie never gets the chance to find out.
Because one moment you’re a few feet away, head and shoulders above the surface of the water. Arms buoyant at your side, floating upon the dark blue of the lake. And in an instant you’re gone, leaving nothing but small wakes in your absence.
As if he dreamt you up.
He turns, checking that you aren’t somehow behind him. And sure enough, he is well and truly alone and briefly wonders if he’s made the whole thing up. Thinks that maybe sampling the product before a walk in the woods wasn’t the best idea.
A splash draws his attention to the center of the lake. Something causing the waters to surge, swirling in a way that can only be described as ominous. Eddie cocks his head in interest— curious, purely from an observational standpoint, of course.
An arm breeches the indigo water, sword held aloft. Fingers wrapped delicately to grasp, nestled beneath the pommel, the blade emitting a bright glow.
There’s no fucking way—
A second arm appears, scabbard in hand.
Then your head crests the waves, wet and glorious. Beads of water dripping down the full of your cheeks, mouth graced with a beatific smile. A shake of your head before you begin to swim toward the shore.
“It’s Eddie, right?”
A hum in the coming dark. Gooseflesh blooming on his skin at the sound of your voice. Far too distracted to notice the subtle buzz in the cage of his ribs.
He struggles to speak, a rarity for him. Nods instead, awe-struck. You sail just out of reach, swimming in a lazy backstroke, sword and scabbard still in hand.
“You make a habit of following strange women into bodies of water?” 
“Just the pretty ones.”
He could kick himself. Open mouth, insert foot. Just about to give up and end it all when a bark of laughter slips from your throat. 
“Doesn’t bode well for you.” You tip your head back in the water, hair fanning out like a halo.
Eddie wades a bit closer now, relieved that he’d misread the situation and intrigued as to how someone could swim to the middle of Lover’s Lake, dive down and swim for god knows how long, only to surface with an actual sword in hand.
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“Well.” You open your eyes taking him in, pale against the warm hues of fading summer light. Water sloshes as you return the sword to its scabbard, glow extinguished for now. “What if I lured you here under false pretenses?”
“Mmm.” He hums, crossing his arms against his chest, revealing a cluster of bats at his elbow and something else you can’t quite make out further up. “You mean you weren’t trying to drown yourself in Lover’s Lake?”
Pulling your bottom lip between, you huff a laugh. “Shit, is that what it looked like? Yikes.”
Feet grazing the beginning of the shoreline, you reorient yourself and stand. Water cascading from your form.
Eddie gulps, audibly, as it all appears to him in slow motion. Beads of water trail down your thighs, the deep blue denim of your daisy dukes doing fuck-all to contain the globes of your ass. And it only gets worse for him from there.
Water continues to drip from your top, washed one too many times and threadbare. He can see the soft skin of your stomach and the flared curve of your hips. The white of your bra a beacon in the fading light, perfectly cupping the swell of your breasts. And, oh god— is that lace?
His dick jumps at the thought.
You, of course, are oblivious to Eddie’s state. Slotting the scabbard through a belt loop of your shorts, you turn, hair whipping wetly against your back, hands at your hips, and ask.
“You coming, or what?”
It takes him a minute to snap out of it. Muttering something under his breath (“Pretty sure I just did, thanks.”) before saying, “Uh, yeah. Just gimme a second.”
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Eddie cannot believe he is at Steve Harrington’s house right now, and it's not to deal party favors. 
But when you’d asked if he minded a stop back at the place you’re crashing at, he wasn’t about to refuse. Not when he got to ogle your legs as they worked the manual floor shift— calf muscle flexing and ankle rocking forward, thighs slightly damp from your dip in Lover’s Lake.
He swallows and shakes himself from his reverie.
You trot upstairs as toss over your shoulder, “Be just a sec!” Leaving Eddie to his own devices in the Harrington house. 
He tentatively steps into the living room— two fire places, seems a bit much, but whatever— and spies a note on the sideboard underneath the cordless phone. 
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“So,” he asks over burgers later at the diner. “How do you know Harrington?”
And, to your credit, you don’t balk. In fact, you don’t even blink before tearing into your dinner. After you’d changed back at Steve’s place, you offered to take Eddie out to dinner:
“As a thank you,” You said, shoving your feet into a pair of boots. “Y’know, for checking on me at the lake.”
“No need,” He replied, mentally cataloging any potential blackmail he could use on Harrington. But, damn him, there were no incriminating childhood photos to be found.
There were no photos, period.
“C’mon, can’t my knight in shining armor go unrewarded, can I?” 
He barely repressed a shudder at that, relishing in how raspy and low your voice had gotten.
“I could be persuaded…”
Which is how the pair of you wound up at the diner, chowing down on burgers and fries with a bit a flirty banter thrown in.
“Well Rhett,” You drawl in a near perfect imitation of Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett O’Hara, “I suppose you could call him a gentleman caller.”
Eddie only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.
You scrunch up your nose in laughter, “We’re buddies, he’s just letting me crash with him when I’m in town.”
“Regular ne'er do well, are you?”
A snort.
“Gee, thanks.” You slurp from your soda, “Nah, just get called away for work a lot.”
He nods amicably, questions answered for the moment. You take another bite and watch him do the same. Casually, you shake the ketchup bottle and squirt out a few dollops on to the wax paper of your basket. Then, you add a few globs of mayonnaise and mix them together with a fry before popping it into your mouth.
Immediately, Eddie balks with a cough and sputter. You start laughing so hard you drop the few fries in your hand all over the table. “I can’t do it.” He groans, waving to your dip of choice, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wanted.”
“God is dead, bitch.” You reply, with a grin and signal for the check.
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Rolling up to Forest Hills, you eye Eddie as he pinches his nose. He has feel the worst headache of his life coming on and the oddest trickle in his nose.
He leans his head back against the headrest and you see the trickle of blood making its way toward his lips. 
“Hey, lean forward not back.”
“What?”
A sigh. You keep one hand on the wheel and wind the other behind him to press on his upper back, “You lean forward for a bloody nose dude, not back.” A slight push as you drive through the trailer park. “Breathe through your mouth and spit out any blood.”
“I’m not gonna spit blood in your car!”
“She’s seen much worse, trust me.” After checking that Eddie is with the program— he valiantly rolls down the window and elects to spit out of the car instead— you take your hand back and keep an eye out for his place.
He points it out soon enough and the pair of you hustle into the trailer before the sky cracks open with a roll of thunder and a deluge of rain. Grabbing the sword from your backseat, you meet him on the porch as he fumbles with his keys.
Ushering him inside, you toss the relic onto the sofa and beeline for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Finding an old bottle of ibuprofen, you pop the top and quickly fill a glass with water. 
“Ed?” You call out, not sure if he fell into a heap on the sofa or wandered elsewhere.
“Bedroom.”
Following the sound of his voice, nasally from pinching his nose, you round the corner and find him sitting on his bed. The bleeding from his nose seemed to dissipate, and you handed him the water and four pills.
“If your head isn’t better, take another dose of four pills in eight or so hours.” 
He nods and swallows the pills with a slug of water before collapsing back on the bed with a groan. His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes a deep breath. And you hate to leave him like this, you really do, but Salvation, Iowa is a calling.
“I’m sorry Eddie, but I’ve gotta go to work. Are you gonna be okay? Is there someone—”
“Wayne, my uncle. He’s at the plant, but he’ll be back tonight.” He breathes out, “Go, go, I’ll be fine.”
With a sigh, you stand back upright and begin to untie his shoes. “It’s bad enough you’re gonna pass out in your jeans, over my dead body are you sleeping with shoes on.”
“Okay boss, whatever you say,” He croaks out.
“Can I leave something here for safe-keeping?” You ask, grabbing a nearby blanket to toss over him. 
Eddie cracks an eye open, “Your sword?”
With a smile, you tap the side of your nose with a finger and point at him. “Got it in one, my man.”
He grins at that, “Sure girly, I’ll keep your sword and sheath.”
“Thanks,” You say with a chuckle. “See you later alligator.”
Eddie gives you a half-assed wave, “In a while crocodile.”
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Monday, August 19, 1985
Eddie’s got a battered notebook on one knee and an ashtray balanced precariously on the other, clad in, wait for it— Garfield boxers that have seen better days. You’d nearly seen his dick twice and hadn’t even been there for half an hour.
“So what’s your deal?” Eddie asks from his position on the couch.
You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with cleaning your knives because the heat crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.
Returning to Hawkins after a few weeks working on the coast— wailing women, wendigos, and shifters, oh my— you’d pulled up at Eddie and Wayne’s trailer certainly looking a bit worse for wear. So, after a shower and saying so-long to Wayne as he left for work, out of a lack for anything better to do you began to clean your knives. Which were disgusting, covered in dried, caked on blood and god knows what else.
“What do you mean?” You ask back from the sink, running warm water over your hunting knife, mindful not to catch the gut hook with your fingers— wouldn’t want to be put in a position to explain why your own blood was a rather unusual color and viscosity.
Eddie takes a sip from a lukewarm beer and pulls a face. “You know what I mean,” He says, rising from the couch. You squirt some dish soap into your hand begin to work it onto the blade. 
“You leave for work, are gone, for like over a month,” He sets the empty can on the counter. You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he leans next to you, and exhales. “You call from Oregon, California, and Colorado but never say what it is you’re up to,” Eddie cocks his head in your direction, inquisitive, “Or when you’ll be back. And then you roll up tonight with no notice looking like hell warmed over.”
“You forgot something.” 
“Yeah? Do tell.”
So, you groan, because he’s hounding you and after a month and some change it’s bound to happen.
“First of all, my gig isn't as exciting as you think it is.” You mutter, scratching your nail against a particularly stubborn glot of viscera, finding the task a distraction under his persistent gaze. “And secondly, you forgot that I left a sword with you.”
“Right,” He laughs, “How could I forget that?”
“It’s, um,” You cut the water and let the blade soak, watching as it floats lazily to the bottom of the sink. “Well, y’know the Arthurian legends and stuff. The Round Table and all of that?”
“Uh, sure.”
“So,” You sigh, a knot of tension working its way to the base of your skull, and breathe out in a rush, "The sword shoved into the back of your closet is kindofExcalibur?”
Eddie, silent as the grave, stretches to open the topmost cabinet above the sink. You watch with idle curiosity, noting how the hem of his shirt rides up to expose his stomach. Before you can get distracted by the whisper of hair trailing beneath the band his boxers, he returns with a handle of whiskey.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need something stronger for this explanation.”
But you tell him, truthfully and genuinely. That you’re a kind of hunter of sorts, for lack of a more apt term, dealing predominantly with the supernatural and otherworldly, an exorcist when needed, and master of the hidden arts—
(“Like, magic?”
“Sure.”
“It’s real?!
“Uh, in a sense.”)
—You’re a lone wolf. The last of your kind. And, as a result, your work takes you all over the world with little to no notice. A nomadic existence is normal for you, or, at least, it was until passing through Hawkins back in ‘83. Something or someone kept drawing you back whenever you had the time. 
By the time you're finished with this rambling explanation, Eddie's had a few drinks.
Well, maybe more than a few.
“I think I’m gonna vomit.” Eddie whispers. He sets his glass down on the formica table, feet kicked up on the chair between you. “How’re you not as drunk as me right now? You’re not even tipsy!”
You snort whiskey into your lungs in the middle of his lament and spend the next five minutes with your insides on fire. Eddie has his head in his hands and there are tears coming out of his eyes from laughing at your predicament.
Turns out, you didn’t have the heart to tell Eddie that the only thing that could get you remotely sloshed is rosewater.
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Saturday, September 21, 1985
Three blinks on the clock when he’s pulled from his bed and dragged into the living room. Eddie had been given roughly thirty seconds to pull his pants on and sit on the sofa before Harrington nearly kicked down the door. There are a million words a minute being thrown around and he’s vaguely aware of a knife being strapped onto your ankle.
“St-stop!" He sputters, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "Constantine! Cut it out!”
“Angel…” Steve warns, taking the blade from you. You’re already geared up, raring to go.
You relent with a pout, walking across the room to lean against the far wall, dressed in a cropped Hawkins Athletics shirt and sweats as you watch Eddie fumble stupidly, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His elbow knocks into the table, ankle twists when he tries to stand up. It’s a nightmare and Eddie’s about to burst into tears.
“—so how’s that sound?” You point to the table with yet another knife (where did you get that?), papers scattered about as if he’s caught anything you’ve been saying. Eddie’s still chasing off sheep in his brain. “We can swing in tonight, grab the intel, take out hostil—” his eyes shut.
“Babe,” Eddie sighs, using a common pet name to address you. He hopes it’ll get you to let him off the hook, “It’s… so late. Early? Steve is already up. I wanna go back to bed.”
“But there’s a—” He can’t keep up. The vocabulary is beyond his comprehension when he’s on the verge of curling up into the fetal position under the table. You’re spewing words like the spear of destiny and reconnaissance, but he swears you’ve just said take out hostiles, too.
At this point, he’s about to snap—the despair churning into rage. It’s not his fault; he’s a mess in the mornings. “It is three in the goddamn a.m. I need at least six more hours before I can function. Can someone please explain to me, in tiny words, why I’m being accosted in my own home?”
There’s a beat of silence before Steve pipes up, prying the latest knife you’ve procured from your fingers.
“She wants to go with you.” He deadpans. “Wants to make out with you in the impala. Wants to touch your butt. Wants to fuck your brains out.”
A grin stretches across his face while you and Eddie look on, shocked. For the first time in ten minutes, Eddie’s eyes are wide open while yours have shut tightly, clenched like you’re trying to will the moment away.
“Small enough words? I can go smaller.”
“W-what…”
“She. Likes. You.” He punctuates with claps.
“Steve!”
“But you— and her— How—?”
“Don’t think about it too much.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “We try not to.”
Eddie whips around to stare at you, flinching at his questioning mouth. Steve cackles and cracks his knuckles, whistling about how his work here is done and makes his exit, stage right, kissing you loudly on the mouth as he goes. Left alone now, you bashfully hide behind your hands as Eddie blinks at you owlishly. “S-sorry about… that.”
Wide awake and practically on fire with the slew of information, Eddie feels strangely refreshed. A grin matching Steve’s earlier one makes its way over his lips as he swings his arms and steps until he’s next to you. “Sugar…” He croons, “If you wanted to touch my butt, all you had to do was ask.”
He wiggles his fingers.
“Honestly, babe? I’ve been waiting for you to touch my butt for months.”
_
The only way you can convince Eddie go is by having Steve tag along. So, you’d rolled up to the dilapidated barn, and he wasn’t sure exactly how many weapons you’d strapped to yourself, just knew that it was a lot and he was incredibly turned on by it.
Given strict instructions by you to stay out of sight with a wink directed at Steve, you’d kissed both of them goodbye and walked inside. Not five minutes later, Steve was climbing out of the front seat with a bat and popping open the trunk.
“Dude,” Eddie hissed, “She said to—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mumbles, rifling through the chaos of the trunk. “Stay out of sight, which is do-able. We’ll just sneak up to the loft…”
Eddie rolls his eyes, and thinks he can’t be serious.
“Ah, gotcha!”
The trunk closes with a soft thud and the next thing Eddie knows, Steve’s opened his door and hauled him out of the car. Setting him back on his feet, Steve smooths the creases from where he’d grabbed Eddie’s shirt.
“Okay Munson,” He says, eyes glancing toward the barn. “We’re going to head in there, slow and stealthy,” Hands him a bat with nails ran through it. “Use this if things get dicey.”
He grips the bat. “What about you?”
Steve produces what can only be described as a heavily modified shotgun from behind his back. There is an honest to god crucifix on it, and a flashlight. Eddie struggles to pick his jaw off of the ground.
Casually, he loads the slugs into the rotating cylinder. Deeming it a job well done, Steve doesn’t even wait for Eddie as he walks toward the ladder leading to the hayloft. 
“What even is that thing?” He asks once he’s caught up to Steve, who’s currently making his way up the ladder.
“The Holy Shotgun? S’what it looks like Munson.”
Eddie can only shake his head and climb up after Steve.
_
He could scream.  
Steve is seemingly unfazed.
This thing— a skinwalker, apparently, sneers and growls into your ear— a threat that makes your teeth gnash. He squeezes your throat between his forearm and his shoulder.
“Take one more step and I gut her like a fish.”
Ah shit.
They’d been found out, a couple of walkers lurking in the rafters attacked just as they’d ascended the ladder. So much for slow and stealthy, the second his feet hit the floor Eddie was swinging that bat like his life depended on it. And Steve actually had to fire that monstrosity of a shotgun, which was… well, hot, to be fair.
But you’d been distracted from the noise and had wound up disarmed by the skinwalker just below them.
Steve takes the step. Eddie’s eyes are about to pop out of his head when the hand not clasped on you lands the silver glint of a blade poised at your throat.
“Fuck! Don’t!”
“Go ahead.” Steve urges impassively, ignoring Eddie’s pleas. “Do it.”
Eddie doesn’t know because he’s still new to this. Because he hasn’t been with you for long. Hasn’t seen you close up in a fight yet.  
He’s only seen the sweetness, only a tiny spark of a flame behind closed doors when you sidle up alongside him on movie nights with a shared blanket and chatter vehemently over the more objectionable parts of decapitation.
“There’s no way! Munson, are you seein’ this shit?” As you toss another handful of popcorn into your mouth, half of it ends up on your chest. “Severing the carotid artery? There’s way more fuckin’ blood than that!
Steve knows the bite and the bark. He knows the claws and the flashing teeth. So he steps again, his cheek dripping a splash of blood from one of the dead walkers. In the blink of an eye, you pluck the blade from your opponent's grasp and slide it home on the unsuspecting walker, and the dagger retracts, giving him a full showing of how it rips from the soft palate of your enemy.
Poor idiot, Steve thinks. Never stood a chance.
Eddie’s gasp breaks the silence, and the thud of the corpse follows.
“S-sweetheart?” He murmurs when you peer up at him. “Y-you okay?”
They descend the ladder quickly, leaving the bodies where they fell.
A grin. Wicked and all teeth— one he’s never seen. Steve slips his arm around your waist, pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, smudging the red from his face to yours.
Eddie’s own blood rushes straight down. Nervous. Aroused.
“She look okay?” Steve smirks. “‘Bout time you find out.”
You approach cautiously, not wanting to spook him. Drink in his surprised face when you rub your thigh over his groin where he grows. “Hey, Ed. Didn’t mean to keep you in the dark… just didn’t want to scare you away.”
Then, you push his head back into the wall, lick the blood out of your mouth and press into him with your whole body.
Eddie moans— quivering, whimpering.  
He melts like butter against your lips.
Steve purrs. Poor guy, he smiles fondly, ravenously. Eddie never stood a chance.
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November, 1985
After that, the tension melted away between the three of you, and things went back to normal.
Well, as normal as you could get when hunting things that go bump in the night. 
As he’d come to expect, your work took you all over the place with little to no notice. A phone call would come through, either at his place or Steve’s, and you’d be off again, shouldering a worn bag and dashing off into the night.
It was an adjustment, both your penchant for abrupt exits and Eddie finding himself spending more time with the former King of Hawkins High. 
When you weren’t crashing at Forest Hills, it was Loch Nora. Not that Eddie minded, per se, the Harrington’s had an abundance of space and seemingly no cares about whatever their only son got up to on his own.
But he couldn’t bring himself to coexist with Steve in your absence, it wasn’t like the two of them were exactly friends, shared Hellfire gremlins aside. So, like clockwork, as the sound of the impala’s engine faded into the distance, Eddie would grab his things and head home.
Which is how you found him on a bright autumn morning, sleeping away the day back at Forest Hills. You’d let yourself in with the spare key and tiptoed back to his bedroom. 
Eddie, for all his high cheekbones and Raphaelite curls, is a complete disaster artist when it comes to sleep. Starfishes out so his lanky frame takes up each corner of the bed, tosses, turns, and is liable to kick on occasion. 
Good thing bony elbows and knees aren’t a detriment to you.
The warm autumn sun lazes through the blinds as it pleases, shafts of light illuminating his exposed chest, dancing along his rib cage as it rises and falls with his breaths. Leaning on the doorjamb, you let yourself take it all in— the messy room, haphazardly “organized” books and records, bed clothes rucked down to his hips, a lone leg kicked out from beneath them, his foot grazing the floor as he sleeps.
Stepping further into the room, you quietly close the door and toe off your boots. The articles of clothing drop with each step you take— jacket landing in a thud by the closet, pants falling in a heap by the desk. Down to your shirt, underwear, and socks, you sidle under the covers alongside him, luxuriating in the heat that radiates from him. 
Curling against his back, you rub your face against his shoulder blade, nose grazing against the fine hairs there. In sleep, he recognizes your presence, a deep contented sigh tumbling from his partially open mouth, body relaxing against yours. 
A cold hand skirts down his torso, nudging him awake before it settles at his hip. Groggily, Eddie’s head turns toward you with a hum. Cracks one eye open in interest, his hand running down the back of your thigh and giving it a squeeze. 
“Cold?”
At the rumble of his voice, that low rasp he gets just after waking, sent a ripple through you, a thrumming whirl along your skin and a surge of heat that pooled in your gut. 
A nod against his back, your chilled hand curling at his hip. 
He turns in your grasp with an, “Alright, c’mere, sugar.” Calloused fingers hiking your leg up and over his hip, drawing your chest to his at the movement. Your hand settles at his ribs, fingers ghosting along the notches of bone. 
“Better?”
Head settling into his chest, you nod, desperate to eek out each ray of heat you could. Breathing in the familiar aroma of coffee, weed, and cigarettes cut through with a crisp note of soap and skin. As you lose yourself to comfort and your eyes begin to drift shut, Eddie cradles the nape of your neck, his thumb rubbing idly against the base of your skull.
It’s not often he gets to see you like this, relaxed and languid like a cat seeking out the sun. It’s even less often he gets to have you free of responsibility and obligation. And it’s a rare occurrence indeed to have you to himself.
“But you— and her— How—?”
“Don’t think about it too much… We try not to.”
And well, Eddie had done just that. 
Up to this point, it had been kisses on cheeks, looped pinkies, clasped hands, a frenzied make out here and there, flimsy cotton giving way to the prodding of ring-clad fingers, breaths falling in percussive puffs from a spit-slick mouth, the furrow of your brow as you fell apart beautifully for him.
Eddie is well-aware he’s not the only horse in your stable, but that’s a conversation for another time. Right now, he is fully aware that you are blissfully pliant in his bed and his blood is steadily rushing south.
Nudges you towards consciousness by peppering kisses along your face—eyelids, cheeks, and nose while skillfully skirting past your lips to graze against the shell of your ear, “Missed you, angel.”
A small smile pulls at your lips as you open your eyes. “Missed you too, babe.”
His fingers traced your collarbones through the threadbare fabric of your shirt, caressing the dips and hollows. Arching toward him, your lips nearly brush, barely a breath apart. A faint sigh falls from your mouth as Eddie drags his lips against yours, kissing you so delicately your toes curled.
Eddie turns and lays you out beneath him. His fingers lace with yours as he dips down to kiss the breath from your lungs, languorous and endless. A delighted spark zips up your spine, a heady warmth enveloping your limbs. For there are few things in life that feel better than lying under a devoted lover.
As a general rule, he didn’t devote himself to much. Easier to cut and run with fewer strings attached, a thing learned time and again in his life. But that doesn’t diminish his desire to do so, at least, not when it came to you. And if he failed to notice the wisp of crimson thread knotting against his finger and looping him to yours (and subsequently Steve’s), who can blame him?
Stranger things happen every day.
Finally, Eddie drew his mouth away from yours, pupils so blown his eyes were nearly black. He slowly traces the swell of your breasts with a fingertip. His hips shift against your own in a slow grind. Buries his nose in your hair, breathing you in deeply as his fingers continue to wander down.
There’s a few beats of silence— heavy breaths and shuddering gasps as he blows a cool breath against the column of your throat. A ghosting of lips against your own, “G’na let me take care of you?”
You swallow thickly, “Uh huh.”
Fingers slip against damp heat, a soft curse escaping lips, a bruising kiss, an apt tongue. A canting of hips as clothes are shed, fervent and impatient hands caressing in the warmth of the autumn sun. Sweet nothings whispered against exposed skin: c’mon baby, feel good angel?
His voice vibrates through your chest, husky and low, in between sponged kisses along your throat and jaw. Lewd wet noises punctuated with bitten curses, groans, and whines of, “Eddie— Please, I—“
A wicked smile settles along his lips as he works you through it, fingers urging you toward the precipice. Molten lava swoops and pools low in your abdomen with each press and thrust of his hand. The sheer heat of it is near blinding. 
“Need you,” You plead, grinding up against him, “I’m burning up.”
He bites back a groan in favor of crushing his lips against your own. His tongue slides against your own sweet and heavy with promise into the cavern of your mouth.
“S’okay, I’ve got you.” His free hand snakes along the column of your spine, freeing you from your shirt as a moan is pulled from you. “So fuckin’ gorgeous,” He whispers pulling back to look at you. You whimper in response, too far gone to process the compliment.
The pair of you are entwined like vines, his hand palms against the base of your spine. Your hand winds its way into his hair, gripping for purchase. His eyes fall shut with a moan as you slot your lips against his. 
You rock up into him as you briefly part to toss the shirt elsewhere. The bra comes off swiftly in the effort to get your hot little hands back on him. Bumbling through a mantle of heat, as if you’re cursed by it. Burning away at the core. 
Jesus wept– Eddie’s already slick with precome and throbbing with need. You pump him once and feel his groan rattle through your chest. Pulling your mouth from his, you stick two fingers in and sluice them up with spit, “Need to feel you,” You whine with a lingering kiss and a slow drag of your fist around his cock. 
At this point, you honestly might explode. 
Salvation comes in the form of a ragged thrust and choked gasp. 
Eddie moans at your touch, hands dragging down his chest, and bites his lip, flicks his tongue over his teeth, and swallows thickly. You’re so hot. And tight. And wet. Tries to lessen his grip at your hips because it feels like he could honestly break you— holy hell— but soon enough he bottoms out in spectacular fashion. 
Coming back to himself, he pulls back so that his cockhead catches inside your cunt. But before he can even catch his breath, you cant your hips up, lock your legs at the small of his back to pull him back in and he nearly loses his damn mind.
He’s never felt something so perfect before. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through punching the air from his lungs. And all he can do is ride it out— soft rolls of your hips against his quick fast bucks. Soft mewls and stuttering breaths filling the dappled sunlit room.
He repeats your name, like a penitent at prayer.
Your hands are everywhere. On his chest, his stomach, fingers hooking into his open mouth. And it is divine. His cock is entirely drenched in you and he swears he could come just like this, with you open and gasping beneath him.
Eddie memorizes the cherry wet of your mouth, the furrow of your brow, eyes rolling back and lost to pleasure. You’re a fucking vision, one that he’d be happy to supplicate himself to for the rest of his days. Rising up, his mouth finds your shoulder and bites at the glistening skin there. Eddie’s grip is tight at the nape of your neck, your entire body folded against him and pulled taut like a bowstring. 
He kisses you desperately, tongue surfing into your mouth like an inferno. Shuddering against him, you’re startled as he walks his fingers closer and closer to the wet heat between your legs. “Come for me angel,” He purrs just as his thumb presses against your clit. 
The tether inside of you snaps as you kiss him stupid— a blaze of white light. The inferno continues to rage as you let out a strangled pant, “Eddie.”
“There it is,” He bites against your jaw, “…Yes.”
"Fuck.” You blink the spots from your vision. God. Your entire body quakes.
Frantic circles against your clit and a few more sloppy thrusts, a demand of “Gimme all of it.” 
He slams into you once more before the inevitable descent, your eyes screwing shut as you try to remember how to breathe. And it’s all Eddie can do to lick your jaw, push his tongue into your mouth, and work you through it.
An ephemeral, throbbing sensation falls from you. Slides right out to soak his thighs as he chokes on his own breath from the way you arch up and into him, your perfect tits pressing against his chest while your walls seize him like a vice.
When Eddie comes it's with an invocation of your name chased by an errant fuck or yesyesyes. It shatters him entirely, fueled solely by the desire to dive deep and spill into you. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, mouth open and gasping against damp skin.
And just like that, everything feels brand new. The world has sloughed from your shoulders and it's pure bliss in the comedown. 
The whisper fate pulls taut— a nearly indiscernible thread of crimson looped for three.
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daryandricky · 9 months
Text
SWEAR
Chapter 1 PRIOR
Rick Grimes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Shane tells reader that Rick didn't make it after the hospital was overrun, causing reader to travel with her former military brother to find somewhere safe.
Summary of chapter: Reader tries to find a way to tell Rick of her pregnancy, but can never find a good time.
Warnings: Swearing, torture, pregnancy (I don't care if you hate this trope, I LIVE for it), really anything walking dead related.
(Lori is Shane's wife, and Carl his son.) Also, this is my first fic so I apologize in advance.
masterlist
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July 21st, 2010 4:25 a.m.
Ever since you found out the news, you've been struggling to sleep. Not only were you constantly nauseous and lightheaded, but you weren't certain if Rick actually wanted kids or not. Sure, you guys talked about it, but never anything serious ever came out of it. You saw the way Rick was with his best friend's son, Carl, and you longed to have a little one of your own. You personally loved kids, hell you taught them for a living. But whenever you brought up the topic, Rick quickly shut it down and changed the course of the conversation to a lighter subject.
You think it's because Rick and his brother didn't have the greatest relationship with their father, and Rick was afraid of repeating the past. However, you knew he would be a great father, and you knew he would break the cycle of neglection.
A few days ago, when you first took the test and saw the lines telling you, you were in fact pregnant, you were over the moon. You were so excited when Rick came home from work, nearly jumping out of your skin. But instead, you were faced with a grumpy, tired man who had a terrible day at work.
"You ok?" You ask pulling away from the hug and looking up at Rick, the excitement wiped from your face.
"Yeah, long day." Rick sighs as he toes off his work shoes.
You follow Rick into the living room and watch him plop on the couch and rest his arm over his eyes. You tap his foot, silently asking him to move them. Rick moves his arm just enough to get a glimpse at you and raises his legs. You sit, bringing his legs to rest across your lap. You turn your body to face him, resting your head in your hand, with your arm on the back of the couch. Giving his knee a squeeze, you say "Wanna talk about it?"
"No." Rick shakes his head. He lifts his arm off of his eyes, and clasps his hands together across his abdomen and stares up at the ceiling, seeming deep in thought about his rough day. He tilts his head towards you and smiles when he sees you're already staring at him. He sits up slightly. "What about your day? Do anything fun?"
Your mind immediately races to the pregnancy test currently residing in your back pocket, but deciding now is definitely not the time, you smile down at him and play with a loose thread on his pants. "No, just went grocery shopping and read a few chapters of my book."
"Man, sometimes I wish I became a teacher, getting the whole summer off." Rick whistles. "Nah, instead I gotta deal with dipshits who attack cashiers because they won't give them a credit for half eaten food, which by the way, they ate."
"Oh, so you had a day?" You giggle.
"Baby, I swear to god, everyone and their mother was fucking on one today. We got so many ridiculous calls, we were running all over town." Rick cringes as he remembers one scenario where he had to break up a fight between a naked old lady and her neighbor. As soon as he got back to the station he took a shower. He's never scrubbed his body with more soap in his life. He shudders and looks at you with distant eyes. "You have no idea."
You smile at him. You have no idea either.
The next couple of days, you tried again but you never had a good opportunity to bring such important news up to Rick. You decided you would tell him today, as it is your guy's 4th anniversary and Rick was able to take the early morning shift, meaning he would be home around 2:30 instead of his usual time of 5.
So, you lay there at 4:25 in the morning, not have gotten a single wink of sleep, as you anxiously wait for Rick's alarm to go off at 4:30.
Rick's front is pressed against your back, with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You wiggle your way around to face him, expecting to see your handsome husband, but you are met with an open mouth snorer, drooling and fanning shit breath across your face. You scrunch your nose up at the smell and try to shove the bile rising up in your throat back down. You turn your body again, but this time so you are facing the ceiling.
"Jesus Christ." You whisper. You think of popping a mint in the man's open mouth, but you are met with the image of Rick violently waking up and chocking, so you decide you better not. Instead, you wait for the alarm clock to wake up the putrid man who sleeps beside you.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
Your stomach falls out of your ass as the most annoying alarm clock, courtesy of Rick, goes off, reminding you once again of the news you plan to tell him today. You swallow thickly as the arms wrapped around you slither away. You act asleep, not really in the mood to talk in your current position.
"Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit." Rick loudly whispers as he practically breaks the alarm clock in half trying to get it to shut up. When it finally does, he looks at you and smiles when he sees you 'sleeping'. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and kisses your cheek, before getting out of bed and heads into the bathroom. Rick shuts the door before turning on the light. You hear the faint sound of the shower running. You sigh, and turn on your side facing away as much as you can from the light shining through the cracks of the door.
You've almost drifted off when Rick emerges from the bathroom with a towel dangerously hanging low on his hips. He forgets to turn the light off before heading into the closet to put on his uniform, successfully blinding you, even with your eyes closed.
"Rick." You grumble out.
He pokes his head out of the closet and looks at you confused by your crabby attitude. You glare at him, he should know by now that you are definitely not a morning person, let alone do you like being visually impaired so early in the morning. You angrily point your finger at the bathroom.
"I swear to god if you don't turn that light off right fucking now, I'm going to kick you so hard in the ba-" Rick cuts you off. "Ok, ok!" Rick puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Jeez woman, why do you always got to result to violence." He laughs as he turns the light off.
You turn your back to him. "Because it's the only thing that works with your stubborn ass." You say sleepily.
Rick looks down and smiles before he comes and sits on the edge of your side of the bed. He brushes the hair out of your face. "Happy Anniversary to you too grumpy pants."
You squint at him and whisper out a "Happy Anniversary." Before Rick pecks your lips. "I'll try to leave early today, have Shane cover for me."
"That man's as good of a liar as Pinocchio, good luck with that." You say smiling up at Rick.
"Hey, he owes me one after I caught him and Lori in the evidence lockup the other day." He says, causing you to giggle.
He looks down at you, before attacking your face with kisses, making you laugh as his lips tickle your skin. He grins down at you before standing up.
"I love you baby." Rick says as he heads out the bedroom door. You watch him leave, saying "I love you too, be safe please."
You hear a faint "always" before the front door closes. You turn your body again, finding it very hard to get comfortable enough to finally go to sleep.
11:00 a.m.
You slept for about two hours before waking up again. All you can think about is how you're supposed to bring it up. Should I just hand him the test and hope for the best? No, that's boring. Although this was a touchy subject, you still wanted to celebrate in a fun way, after all this is your first child.
In the end you run to the store and grab a newborn onesie that says, "I was Daddy's fastest swimmer." It made you cringe, and you thought it was very cliche, but who knows, maybe it'll lighten the mood a little bit.
You arrive home and grab the test out of your nightstand, wrapping it in the onesie before putting it into Rick's watch box that he insisted on keeping. The thought of him thinking you have gifted him another watch, after you had just recently got him one for Christmas, makes you giggle. You can vividly see his face scrunch up in confusion as he looks down at the watch that already resides on his wrist. You wrap the box in a pretty blue wrapping paper and but a gold bow on top of it. You place the present on the coffee table and decide to clean up the house a little bit, after you've neglected it since you found out the news.
1:00 p.m.
You sit on the couch hunched over, elbows on your knees, with your head resting in your hands as you stare at the box deep in thought. What if he freaks out? What if he leaves? You think and your eyes go wide. What if he never speaks to me again? What i- your thoughts are cut off by someone pounding on the front door, effectively making you jump and sit up straight. You stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans and make your way towards the door, swinging it open.
Your mouth slightly opens in confusion as you blink up at a sweaty and shaken Shane. "Sh-Shane?" You ask confused. "Is everything alright?"
Shane shakes his head, points his finger towards the living room, silently asking to talk inside. You swallow thickly as you stare at him, moving out of the way so he can make his way inside. Everything seems to be in slow motion as you follow Shane to the couch. You see him eyeing the present before lightly pushing it out of the way, to sit on the coffee table. You sit down on the couch in front of him, annoyed that he's beating around the bush and ignoring the elephant in the room.
"Will you just fucking tell me if my husband is alive or not?" You ask glaring at him. Shane looks at you shocked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"Y-yeah, I mean, yes, he's alive."
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in, before sighing and looking down at your hands. "How bad is it?" You ask through tears, glancing up at Shane.
"It's pretty bad. We missed a gunman in a chase and we were blindsided by him. I'm so sorry y/n. I wish it was me. I would do anything to trade places with him." Shane all but pleads.
You look up at him, nervously biting the inside of your lip, something Rick thought was cute when he'd catch you doing it. You run your fingers through your hair and say, "Will you drive me to the hospital?'
"Of course I will." Shane says as he grabs your hand and squeezes it.
"Ok." You whisper. "Meet me at the car in 5 minutes?"
Shane nods his head and gives you one more glance before heading out the front door. Tears freefall from your eyes, and you viciously scrub at them, begging them to stop. You stand up, biting the skin around the nail of your thumb and begin to pace, glancing at the present every now and then. Eventually, you pick the present up and throw it at the wall across the room, putting a dent into the corner of the box. You give it one last look before heading out to your husband's cruiser now being driven by Shane, slamming the front door behind you.
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feelbokkie · 9 months
Text
Don’t Let Me Love You | Playlists
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pairing:  Felix x fem reader; Chan x fem reader
genre: smau, fake dating, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au
warnings: Possible spoilers?? Or maybe just misdirection
summary: With the upcoming wedding of her cousin and her ex, Y/n is in desperate need of a date for the wedding that will show the happy couple that she moved on.
©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
masterlist
The firsts two songs in Chan's playlists aren't going to show up because I had to download them from my iTunes BUT I will link them right here if you want to listen to them
무단횡단 (Jaywalking) by Sung Joon
Wake Up by Sung Joon
*There are some repeated songs between the playlists. Interpret that how you will*
DLMLU Series Playlist (Spotify Link)
DLMLU by Stray Kids
Can't Stop by Stray Kids (Seungmin, I.N)
Heartbreak by Christian Leave
Careful What You Wish For by Bad Omens
Quite Miss Home by James Arthur
Hug All Ur Friends by Cavetown
I Hate Myself for Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
Not Falling Apart by Maroon 5
Sorry, I Love You by Stray Kids
Silent Cry by Stray Kids
The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy
Look After You by The Fray
Catching Feelings by Justin Bieber
Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer
Can't Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli
Temporary Bliss by The Cab
Why Won't You Love Me by 5 Seconds of Summer
Lonely Hearts by 5 Seconds of Summer
Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer
This is Gospel by Panic! At the Disco
Cuz I Love You by Lizzo
Paper Houses by Niall Horan
If I Could Fly by One Direction
Monet Issues by Chase Petra
Not in the Same Way by 5 Seconds of Summer
July by Noah Cyrus
A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be by Jess Benko
To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles
Truly Madly Deeply by One Direction
Y/n's Playlist (Spotify Link)
Can't Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli
Everybody Hurts by Avril Lavigne
To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra
Superficial Love by Ruth B.
Why Won't You Love Me by 5 Seconds of Summer
Pleaser by Wallows
Stay by Post Malone
The Harold Song by Kesha
Mr. Brightside by The Killers
i love you by Billie Eilish
Unloveable by The Smiths
All I Want by Kodaline
Therapy by All Time Low
Please Never Fall in Love Again by Ollie MN
Leave Your Lover by Sam Smith
You Belong With Me (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift
Falling Out of Love With You by Rome Hero Foxes
Hard to Love by ONE OK ROCK
Still into You by Paramore
Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood
Please Don't Leave Me by P!nk
In Luv With U by Finn
Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John
Schizophrenic Playboy by The Crabnerries
Die In Your Arms by Justin Bieber
I Loved You by DAY6
Cough Syrup (Glee Cast Version) by Glee Cast
Temporary Bliss by The Cab
Fuck You by CeeLo Green
Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer
Felix's Playlist (Spotify Link)
Deep end by Stray Kids (Felix)
Please by Chelsea Cutler, Jeremy Zucker
In Too Deep by Why Don't We
Sunflower by Rex Orange County
I Can't Make You Love Me by Dave Thomas Junior
Therapy by All Time Low
Mr. Loverman by Rick Montgomery
Fergalicious by Fergie, will.i.am
Sweet Creature by Harry Styles
Somewhere Only We Know by Keane
Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects
Gives You Hell by The All-American Rejects
fOoL fOr YoU by ZAYN
All I Wanted by Paramore
I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry
Heartbreak by Christian Leave
Complicated by Avril Lavigne
It's U by Cavetown
Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars
Yellow by Coldplay
Pushin' Me Away by Jonas Brothers
Die In Your Arms by Justin Bieber
I Need Somebody by DAY6
She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5
Can't Help Falling in Love by Christian Leave
She Is the Sunlight by Trading Yesterday
I Don't Love You by My Chemical Romance
Temporary Bliss by The Cab
Can't Stop by Stray Kids (Seungmin, I.N)
Pray (I'll Be Your Man) by BTOB
Chan's Playlist (Spotify Link)
무단횡단 (Jaywalking) by Sung Joon
Wake Up by Sung Joon
i hate to admit by Stray Kids (Bang Chan)
Can't Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli
And I Love Her by Kurt Cobain
Bad Diary Days by Pedro The Lion
Love is Dead by Tokio Hotel
Mr. Brightside by The Killers
She Doesn't Love Me by Billy Cobb
I'm a Mess by Ed Sheeran
Breakeven by The Script
Your Song by Elton John
I Hate That You're Happy by Tiny Little Houses
I Miss You by blink-182
Can't Have You by Jonas Brothers
Love Unfinished by Christian Leave
The Truth Untold by BTS, Steve Aoki
DON'T FORGET by iKON
Don't Wanna Cry by SEVENTEEN
It's Definitely You by V, JIN
Missing You by BTOB
Ex by Stray Kids
i love you more than you will ever know by Never Shout Never
The One That Got Away - Acoustic Version by Katy Perry
I'm Lost Without You by blink-182
Lover, Please Stay by Nothing But Thieves
hell is where i dreamt of u and woke up alone by blackbear
i'm in love with u, sorry by j'san
DLMLU by Stray Kids
When I Was Your Man by BTOB
Buy me a coffee?
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avocado-writing · 1 year
Text
I Know That I Should Let Go, But I Can’t (Pt 2)
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Did i co-opt this into being tangerine x goofy!reader part 2? perhaps. am I sorry? maybe.
GN!Reader x Tangerine
Rated: M (CW: Mention of a r/pist, but only in the context of him getting killed)
@honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @sinfulrefugy @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy @tangerinesgf​ (thank u mxrisacoulter for the gif!)
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St Pancras Station. It gets under his skin, makes him itch. A dread that seeps deep into his bones. It’s a feeling he always has in stations now. He can’t get on trains any more. He hates them. 
Thinking about that job, that fucking job, his neck begins to throb. The deep scar there that his eyes will always be drawn to whenever he looks in the mirror. 
Involuntary, his hand goes to it. Fucking stop it, he tells himself. 
He doesn’t. 
Lemon sticks close to him through the crowd, silently being someone who’s there to support him. Lemon knows how he feels without having to ask about it. He’s never been so glad for his brother’s ability to read people.
Target should be making the drop-off here. No trains involved, their handler promised. Tangerine is trying to concentrate on his breathing and not the throng of bodies that bustle past him as he walks through the station.
He hates this. Hates it.
Then he hears the piano.
Usually he thinks the people who play the public instruments at train stations are pricks, but there’s something about this time that gives him pause.
“Do you hear that?” he asks Lemon, stopping in the middle of the crowd. An elderly woman behind him tuts loudly and makes a show of shuffling around.
“What, the piano?” Lemon asks, confused. 
“No, the sound of that old bitch getting annoyed with me,” he says, nodding at the lady who just went by, “of course the fucking piano.”
Lemon listens. It doesn’t seem to mean much to him, but it does to Tangerine - it’s that song. The one you mentioned the last time they met.
And before Lemon can stop him, Tangerine’s on the warpath.
He’s not seen you since that night and he doesn’t like it. He’d spent a while looking at that fortune-teller with your number scrawled inside it, trying to work out if it was something that he wanted to pursue. It could be dangerous. He didn’t really know the first thing about you.
Then again, he’s a hitman. So he fired off the message and waited.
Got to give you credit for the most creative way I’ve ever gotten someone’s number.
Didn’t need to wait for long.
Yeah, I’m sure you’re gonna tell me you’re batting them off left and right, aren’t you? ;)
And so the two of you had started chatting. About asinine things, the weather, the sports. He wasn’t surprised to find you were just as silly over text as you were in real life. He enjoys them, your little conversations - he always smiles to himself when he sees your name appear on his phone screen.
He eventually got the nerve to ask you out for a drink one night. He swore he wasn’t watching his phone for your reply like some teenage girl, but he did practically jump to open your chat when he saw you’d messaged back.
I can’t tonight. Haven’t you seen the news? /:
The last word was hyperlinked. Probably to an article or something.
When he clicked it and Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up started to play on YouTube, he actually launched his phone across the room. 
By the time he fished his SIM card out of the pile of scrap and clicked it into a new phone, you’d sent a follow up message.
I really am in the middle of something.
There was a picture attached. He readied himself for it to be a picture of Rick Astley, but it was actually of you that time. You were using a photo filter which had given you bunny ears while you waved at the camera using someone’s dismembered hand. In the background Tangerine could see a man clutching his own bloody stump mid-scream.
Charming. What did he do?
Almost immediate:
Rapist. Cunt blrrding iut.
*bleeding out. Sorrt. Blood on kryboard :(
He’d smiled at that. Yeah, he’d been there himself.
And now? He’s racing through the station with Lemon on his heels, and there you are. At the piano. Singing loudly and surprisingly tunefully, filling the area with music. As he approaches you finally clock him, and with a grin you change what you’re playing from that old pop song to the Imperial March. 
Tangerine rolls his eyes and you burst into giggles. Lemon groans when he sees who it is.
“Fucksake, not this again,” he sighs. You give him a friendly wave.
“Alright, Lem?”
“Worse now you’re here,” he states. You pull an exaggeratedly sad face. 
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You’re good at playing that,” Tangerine interrupts, nodding at the piano. You smile.
“Thanks. One of my hidden talents. I’m glad you turned up, though. It was my third time playing that song. I think the coffee wankers were getting impatient.”
You nod over to the queue outside the chain café, where there seems to be a general feeling of relief that you’ve stopped. Tangerine watches the look of dissatisfaction on your face at that, and how when you go to play it for the fourth time, you light up at their annoyance.
He doesn't question how you knew they’d be there. 
“How did your job go the other night?”
“From the selfie?”
Tangerine sees the way Lemon raises his eyebrows and aptly chooses to ignore it.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, yeah, fine. I made him give his own severed hand a high five,” you snort. Your face darkens for a moment, and you misplay a chord. Tangerine thinks it’s the most serious he’s ever seen you. “That’s what you get for being a fucking rapist.”
Tangerine wonders if he should say anything. He wants to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder. Ground you, the way you’re grounding him in the middle of this busy station. But all too soon you’re smiling again.
“What are you boys here for then?”
“Hand-off. Interception,” Tangerine states. 
“Don’t fucking say that!” Lemon says, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. Tangerine frowns. His brother is right, he shouldn’t have said that. You catch him off-guard.
Your grin is practically Cheshire-cat wide. 
“What a coincidence! Me too!”
“Are you here to fucking steal this from us again?”
“Maybe. Add it to my list of interests. ‘Irritating you two’ along with ‘long walks on the beach’ and ‘interior decorating’,” you chuckle.
“Why, you into all that cliché shite then?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Are you?”
His heart skips a beat when you look up from the piano and into his eyes. He’s never really noticed the colour of your eyes before. They’re… nice.
“Shit!” Lemon says, grabbing his brother’s sleeve, “Our guy’s on the move.”
A man is striding through the station, a heavy-looking gym bag on him. Tangerine recognises his face from their mission assignment.
And then you’re up, speeding past them, laughing.
“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” you shout over your shoulder. The mark notices you speeding after him and starts to run.
“Fuck me,” Lemon sighs, “you know how to pick them, don’t you?”
Tangerine rather thinks he does. Because, now he’s seen you, the fact he’s in a station isn’t bothering him any more.
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biggerbetterbat · 3 months
Text
WITH YOU [36] GREATER REASON
Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed
Summary: The group faces the Governor’s attack, but it turns out that it should be last concerning. They also lose a member.
Warnings: language and death
Songs: Billie Eilish Male Fantasy
Words: 2,339
A/N: I’M DONE WITH THIS SEASON!!! You have no idea how happy I am. I hope you’ll enjoy, I’ll post something special tomorrow and at Wednesday expect a new chapter. Thank you for reading!!!
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It was a cold damn morning for July.
Charlie zipped up her jacket and wrapped arms around her body to prevent it from shaking. She felt her fingers stiffen with every minute. Hiding in the woods in a weather like this was a bad idea, bit it was the safest option for Judith and Carl. At first, it was supposed to be just Hershel to take care of the youngest members of the group; however, Rick felt generous enough the day the tasks were being given. Apparently Rick had doubts towards the old man, and needed someone just in case.
But waiting was slowly killing her. Charlie would rather be scared but doing something, rather than just waiting around on the cold. "I should be there," Carl said as they heard the shoots.
"That makes the two of us," she mumbled under her nose, trying to see something from behind the bushes.
"Everyone has something to do," Hershel said, pulling Beth closer to his body.
"Yeah," Carl rolled his eyes. "Ours is to just sit and do nothing."
Carl became nervous and shut off himself after his father's speech. He stopped talking to anyone and was evidently in is own space, thinking about...something. He became aggressive, which worried Charlie as Carl was always kind and gentle. Maybe that was just him growing older? Transforming from a child into a teenager.
Carl wasn't the only person that undergo a change recently. Daryl came back yesterday a long time after Michonne. Charlie thought that he was dead or gone for good this time, but he wasn't - he was back but not the same. Beside his clothes and hands being covered in blood, his eyes were puffy from crying. From what she heard from Carol, he found Merle who was turned and had to kill his own brother. Charlie couldn't imagine what that must have felt like; moreover, she didn't know if she would be able to do something like this. Of course, she wouldn't want her brothers to walk around as one of those beasts, but she was barely able to kill a regular Walker. That's how her anger towards the hunter became to disappear.
With that shooting stopped, and they heard cars' engines - Governor was running.
"Is it over?" Beth asked, looking towards the prison. "We won?"
Then they heard fast steps. Someone was running towards them through the bushes, so they all hide behind the car, getting ready with their guns. Soon they all saw a boy - not much older than Carl, maybe a year or two younger than Beth. He stopped abruptly as he saw them, pointing guns at him. His eyes became even more scared.
"Woah," he raised his arms. "Don't shoot."
"Drop the weapon, son," commanded Hershel.
"Sure," said the boy immediately. He sensed that the most dangerous to him would be Charlie and Carl so his eyes were switching from one to another. He spread his arm to give out his gun. "Here, take it."
"Carl, don't" said Charlie, sensing the intentions of the boy. She saw his finger trembling on the trigger as he was battling with his thoughts. The stranger was looking at Carl with fear but still was lowering on his legs to place slowly his gun. "Carl..."
Gunshot.
"What the hell?!" Charlie yelled at the boy and pushed him so he was facing her. Beth and Hershel were looking at him with fear in the eyes, while Charlie wanted to punch him in the face.
"He wanted to attack us."
"He wanted to give up," she said. "Are you stupid?! What were you thinking?! I told you to stop!"
"That I don't want to die a boy!" he screamed at Charlie. "He would kill us just like Shane would kill my dad if he didn't kill him. And who you are to tell me what to do?! You can't even care of yourself!"
Charlie opened her eyes wider and couldn't made the words to leave her lips. She didn't expect the sudden outburst so she was just standing there with wide eyes looking at Carl to the moment he shook his head and passed her like she was nothing.
"I did my job out there," Charlie entered the prison as those words left Carl's mouth, trying to convince his father to something. "Just like all of you. Took out one of the Governor's soldiers."
What?
Enough was enough. She liked Carl...lately. He was a good child after all, maybe a little lost. But who wouldn't be? They both opened up to one another and she was sticking to her promise of taking care of him. However, what he did out there was just not right. Outside of the fence, he became the same kid he was in the quarry or on the farm - a brat. Now was even worse as he had a lot of negative emotions accumulated inside of his body. "One of his soldier?" Charlie furrowed her eyebrows.
"A kid running away?" Hershel backed her up, recalling the event. "He stumbled across us."
"No," Carl protested. "He drew on us."
"I'm sorry you had to do that," Rick looked at his son.
"It's what I was there for."
"That's why I was there for Carl," Charlie said annoyed. "And you were supposed to listen to me."
"I'm going with you," the boy ignored Charlie and said firmly to his father, walking away.
"Get back here! We haven't done talking yet!" Charlie called after him, but got no answer. "If I can suggest you something, Rick...better talk with your kid because I'm done with raising him."
"That kid was scared," Hershel said to Rick, meaning the boy in the woods. "He was handing his gun over."
"He said he drew," Rick turned to see the confirmation in Charlie, but she gave him a cold stare that was supposed to confirm the version of the old man. "Carl said it was in defense."
"Because Carl is always telling the truth," Reed rolled her eyes. "I was there. Hershel was there."
"He didn't have to shoot," Hershel nodded. "He had every reason not to..."
"Maybe it looked like that to you..."
"Rick!" Charlie yelled. "He gunned that kid down."
A bullet flew right next to her head. Great beginning of the visitation in the Woodbury.
"Tyreese!"the woman walked from behind the car they were hiding and raised her arms.
"Karen!" said a similar voice. "Karen are you okay?!"
"I'm fine!"
"Where's the Governor?" the man asked.
"He fired at everyone!" she cried. "He killed them all!"
"Why are you with them?"
And that was a very good question. Maggie and Glenn offered that they would stay in the prison, while the others would follow the Governor to make sure that he's gone for good. That's when Charlie found an occasion to finally do something, so when Daryl offered her a ride on his bike with him, she was more than willing, sitting behind him almost with a smile on her lips. It wasn't long since they stopped in the middle of nowhere and found the group of people that minutes ago were attacking them in the prison. They were all dead, but some of them were turned and eating other corpses. This picture made Charlie's stomach twist and everything she had inside came up her throat.
When they found the woman or when the woman found them, she told them everything what happened once they left the prison. In her story, people form the Woodbury wanted to come back home and forget about the prison and Rick's group. However, that met with anger of the Governor who showed his true face and killed everyone but her, as she hide under one of the bodies. Karen said that Andrea left town couple days ago because she wanted to warn the group about Governor's plans - but she never actually got there. In that moment, Rick decided that the attack on the town was called off, but they were still going there in much greater reason and to find Andrea, of course.
"They saved me!"
Once Rick and the rest joined Karen, Tyreese and Sasha opened them the doors. Charlie smiled weakly as she saw them both all good, glad that after all they found the safe place. Sasha spread her arms and trapped Reed in a loose hug, which she gave back, showing her honest intentions. "What are you doing here?"
"We were coming to finish this," Charlie revealed the original plan. "Until we saw what the Governor did."
"He...he killed them all?" Tyreese asked in fear and shock.
"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall going for the prison. And she never made it."
"She might be here," Rick said passing the two of old acquaintances. "He kept Glenn and Maggie here."
Charlie was here for the first time and hoped that would be the last time. The Woodbury itself was a beautiful place looking like an average small town from before; however the place she was in now made her skin crawl. The air was musty and damp, away from the main road and city life to cover whatever was inside. The group stopped in front of the metal doors and that was the only possibility of where their friend would be kept. Her heart was filled with hope until she saw a huge puddle formed by thick, almost black blood that was coming from the inside.
She took a step back at the sight, not knowing if she really wanted to enter the room. Her back collided with Daryl and when their eyes met, he nodded as if he wanted to assure her that he was entering the room right behind her.
"Andrea!" Michonne gasped as soon as she entered which only made Charlie hesitate even more.
The room was spacious but dark. In the middle stood a chair with chains that looked like some type of torture tool. At its foot laid the body of some man, and apparently he was dead. Charlie moved her eyes around and found the woman they were looking for right by the entrance. Andrea was clearly exhausted and was barely holding on. She opened her mouth and weakly smiled. "I tried to stop them."
"You're burning up," observed Michonne, placing a hand to her head.
Then Andrea groaned and revealed two or more bites on her shoulder. Charlie's head spinned around and something painfully squeezed her throat. "Are they alive?"
"Yes," Rick nodded.
"No one can make it alone now," Andrea said wit tears in the eyes.
"I never could," Daryl said and his eyes met Charlie's.
"I just didn't want anyone to die," she whispered. Charlie felt guilty watching her like this. She called her names, she judged her for the past days, when the reality was different. She felt horrible with how snappy and judgmental she was towards Andrea from the very beginning. Charlie created an assumption and lived by it not really trying to get to know her. Andrea never had bad intentions...never. Not now, not on the farm, not even in the quarry. Her character was hard, but she was a good person. At the end of the day, she wanted to help all of them. "Don't cry, Charlie."
Her eyes met the dying woman and just now she felt tears on her cheeks. "I'm not crying. I just hate the smell here," Charlie sniffed her nose.
Andrea smiled weakly.
"I can do it myself," she said. "I have to. While I still can."
"I can't," Charlie whispered. It was all too much for her. No matter what, Andrea was one of the first person she met after the outbreak and whether she liked it or not, they became emotionally attached- maybe not as close as with the others, but she was a big part of Charlie's life, the new life. Charlie was mean towards Andrea and Andrea was hostile towards Charlie, she wished her some lesson for her annoying behavior, but she never meant death. Charlie pushed next to Daryl, and then walked next to Tyreese and Sasha.
She kneeled down and tried to take a breath, feeling as if the whole air was escaping her lungs. Pure panic took over her body and nothing could calm her down.
Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle. Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle.Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle.Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle.Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle...
Her head switched on the autopilot, repeating the names, but that only made her attack even stronger. Then she felt strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer to his chest. Charlie didn't fight him, she wanted to feel him this close and finally relax, forgetting about what he did and not feeling the anger towards him.
"Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle," she started whispering over and over again. "Mom, dad, Finn, Zach, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle..." she stopped once Daryl placed a hand on her ear, bringing her closer.
His heart was shaking in fear but not for Andrea. He was scared about Charlie. The last time she experienced something like that was after they lost the farm, but now it was worse. She kept repeating the names of the dead ones over and over again, and she dug nails into the inside of her hands - Daryl was sure that they would start bleed.
"Andrea," she whispered once she heard muffled shoot.
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elliefever · 7 months
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ᴇʟʟɪᴇꜰᴇᴠᴇʀ
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Hi sillys! This is just an introduction to my page, and a kickstart into posting! Im a fic writer from Ao3, and im moving to tumblr in hopes that itll make it easier for me to keep up with writing!
(introduction below cut!)
ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
My name is Eve, (Im 5'7 if you need a mental image) i'm a pansexual poc writer and im 19 as of july 💙
im a pretty open and reasonable person for the most part, and im not really picky about writing requests so feel free to send as many as youd like! im looking forward to interacting with anyone whos interested in my page 😊
with all the boring stuff about me aside, let's talk about what im planning on writing! (if you have any more personal questions about me, dont be afraid to ask them! ill answer to the best of my abilities.)
The Last Of Us
i am a huge tlou fan so i will for sure be writing about it!
Ellie Williams
I LOVE ellie williams so much omggnfjhfhx. ill be writing dealer!ellie, loser!ellie, college!ellie, modern!ellie, and ANYTHING you guys request me to write for ellie! she is my heart and soul and i absolutely love her!
Abby Anderson
abby is so yummy 🤤 ill be writing fics for her too! im not too educated on the different abby aus to write for but i am totally looking forward to writing your guy's suggestions! (and ellabs 😊💙💙)
Dina
I LOVE HER so much shes the best. shes 100% gonna make an appearance on my page!
The Walking Dead
Maggie Rhee
Maggie is simply too fine not to write for bro. i love her so much.
Rick Grimes
i can agree he is attractive and if im in a silly mood or get a request for him then ill write some...silly stuff
Daryl Dixon
same thing for rick goes for him too!
Also any other twd characters i decide to write for or get requests for!
Sally Face
i absolutely love sally face.
there's really not much to say revolving this fandom but i love sally and larry so much!
Criminal Minds
im a huge crime show lover lol
Spencer Reid
hes so hot i literally dont understand how he can be so fine. i have a lot of ideas for fics about him and i never see anything like the ideas i have so im hoping itll be good to publish those ideas?
im open to writing for other criminal minds characters too but no one gets me all giddy like spencer does 💙
Shameless
im honestly really only interested in writing for fiona x fem reader cuz i never see it, but if you guys have any other ideas for stuff i could write for shameless just lmk! 💙
Jennifer's Body
i LOVE this movie so much, i cant wait to write for jennifer and needy and make my gay heart unbreak for them. but also i was thinking, hear me out. what if i wrote an ellie williams fic but like... jennifers body au? like jennifer and needy but instead, ellie and fem reader? just a thought idk! should i?
THAT'S ABOUT IT! or at least all i can think of as of right now!
Things I will write!
Reader loving rock music and nu metal bands!
Reader playing instruments and being super cool
Reader of any gender!
I'll leave room for imagination but ill also put some ideas of reader's outfits for those who want a mental image
Reader having good music taste and a good sense of style
pet names
bold, aggressive, and dickhead reader
pretty much anything in between
Things I will NOT write!
age play, baby talk, uncomfortably cliche submissive reader
i wont romanticize domestic violence or make light of abusive relationship dynamics 👍
emotional whiplash, i want the scenes i write to blend smoothly
piss kinks and foot stuff (and any other really strange stuff)
smut where the characters are minors
let me know if you guys have any questions or anything at all! i hope to be uploading my first fic soon, which should i do first?
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