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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

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

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

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

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

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, — is Eddie there?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

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

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

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

“Ed—!”

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

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

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

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

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

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

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

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

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,”

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

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

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

…

But what if?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

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

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

But that couldn’t be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is the water okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A/n: see you in volume vii

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

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

—

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

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emsvertigo · 1 year

Text

Let The Light In

image not mine, found on pinterest

summary & genre — fluff & nsfw. it’s a hot day and you & seb are relaxing in your shared bed. (not fully smut)

warnings — sexual references, seb touches you a lot (i got a bit carried away), can’t think of anything cause this is actually tooth rotting.

character & pairing — sebastian wilder x fem!reader (la la land. 2016)

word count — 1.5k

a/n — i arise with a tooth rotting self insert. this came about because ever since i watched ‘la la land’ i can’t stop thinking about ryan. i’ve also been religiously listening to lana del rey’s new album so ofc this fic was written when i was listening to ‘let the light in’. anyway if anyone reads this i love you cause there’s actually no fics for ryan, let alone seb, and you understand what i’m going through. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

find my old fics here! ✿

His hand ran slowly up and down your thigh, an effort to trace every single blemish on your skin. The warmth of his fingertips danced, coating your skin in a layer of sprinkled love, tickling his way along your freckles. Golden pools of light spilt into the room, painting the space in an amber aura of tranquillity; reaching to the crevices of the ceiling and plunging to the floor like a waterfall. Occasionally silence was broken by cars speeding past, or the harmony of birdsong in their melodic major key. You hummed, content with the pleasure and peace experienced at the moment.

The heat had forced you to bare your legs, curling towards you as the bedcovers drooped over your figure, your feet barely covered by the white duvet. Your head settled against the pillow, blissful in the comfort you had created. You stared at the dancing dust glimmering around his hair, coating it in a haze which painted his hair blond. The shimmering light drowned his face, illuminating his cheekbones, and causing his shadows to become softer, a soft fuzzy glow radiated from his face. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as he stared down at the book lingering softly in his hand.

You’d tell him religiously, like a preacher reciting a mass, all the ways in which he had made you come undone. How in the gorgeous light, he looked otherworldly, godly, like he was dripping with nectar. His bare chest was smothered in gold and small beads of sweat, a little patch of hair growing across his chest which was tanned with the Californian sun. The pink blush flushed against his cheeks absentmindedly decorated his bone structure. You could’ve stared for decades, letting your imagination run wild as his teeth caught his bottom lip, slowly biting at the soft flesh.

“Quit looking at me.” He laughed, turning a page of his book, not paying any mind to your form slowly inching closer to him. His eyes darted along the page, soaking in the information.

You hummed in response, reaching up and moving a strand of hair out of his face, tucking it back into place. He sighed, his eyelashes flickering and dropping the book into his lap, no longer interested in the contents it held. You smiled wildly, teeth grinning.

“Was the book not interesting?” You inquired, moving to place your hand under your chin and balance the other against the sheets. Seb smiled down at you, eyes sapphire in the blinding light.

“Too political.” He whispered, his eyes growing wide in a joking fashion. His hand had now removed itself from your thigh and was tiptoeing its way up to your waist. Your tummy was bare, the top you wore hugging as little of your frame as possible. The heat was incredible, and looking adequate was the least of your worries.

The silence returned as you both gazed into each other's eyes. A dog barked in the distance, the only thing shattering your peaceful moment. You licked your lips as Seb’s hands caressed your midriff, his touch tickling your warm skin. His eyelashes were heavy, and hair fell into his eyes once again, framing his face with curls. Stubble littered his face, a subtle hint that summer was here and his want to shave had disappeared.

“I love the way you look.” You exhaled, soaking in his features like an anaesthetic lulling you to sleep.

“That’s a strange way of saying you love me.” He laughed, his fingers still tracing the outline of your belly button absentmindedly. You rolled your eyes, wanting to smack his chest but deciding against it.

His head leaned down, planting a peck of a kiss onto your forehead. Lingering for a few seconds to breathe your scent in.

“I'm joking.” He mumbled into your hair, eyes fluttering closed. His hand coming further up your front, laying flat against your stomach.

His head returned to its original position, but in the newfound proximity, your breaths became one. Wavering for a moment, he let himself gaze in awe at your complexion. Drinking in every ounce of perfection, which dripped off of you.

“Now who's the one that's staring.” You breathed, his mouth swallowing your thought in a kiss. Your posture tipped towards his frame, a hand finding its way to rest gracefully at the side of his face. Stubble close to your fingertips.

His lips pressed flush against yours, causing his nose to meet your face. Tongues interweaving in dance, lips interlocking with passion. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pulled you towards him, hand now on the small of your back. His palm dragged its way up, and underneath your top.

A groan emerged from his lips as you parted from the bond. Leaving his lips pouted and flushed, eyelashes still closed against his pink cheeks. His hand still lazing on your back, drawing circles in impatience.

You swung your hips around, now sitting up on the bed facing him. He obliged without remark and sat the same way, pulling you in further with his other hand. Your hand had fallen to his chest and now rested flush against him, head raising to bathe in the golden sunlight filtering through the blinds. His eyes winked shut once again as he came forward to lock your lips with his.

“Seb.” You moaned into his mouth, gasping when his lips moved at a sensual pace, coating your mouth in his love. Your prayer was answered by a low hum, as his hands both felt their way around your torso. Your own hands wrapped themselves around his neck, desperate to pull him even closer to you. With your quickened movements, his book was left discarded on the wooden floor, pages open and ruined.

He swallowed every moan that dared to drip off your tongue in sweet praise, letting out a gasp when he let his fingers dance around the edges of your breasts. Your hands locked tightly into his hair, curling strands in between your fingers. Nails scratched down his scalp, allowing soft sounds to escape his throat like honey. Two bodies became one in a haze of cloudy lust.

His hands outlined your breast, almost frightened to touch you in case you shattered into millions of pieces. His tongue traced your teeth, as he attempted to consume every inch of you. His fingertips faltered, resting his thumbs against your chest, narrowly missing what he wanted to touch most. A slow hum erupted from your throat, threatening to break out into a moan, attempting to communicate your genuine need for him. Yet he still faltered.

You considered the fact his tongue was down your throat, yet he wouldn’t let his hands cup your breasts.

“Touch me.” You moaned in between kisses, acknowledging his hunger to feel you. Interlinking your souls together with a simple intimate touch.

Immediately his hands shifted into place, palms pressed flush against you. A strained noise choked in his throat at the action, a sound that sent an electric current running down to your core.

His hands began to work at a steady pace, moulding you like clay. His long fingers were covered by the cloth dividing him from the real world. Kneading you slowly like dough or putty, causing you to moan with every squeeze. You shifted positions so your heel sat in between your legs, desperately hoping for some friction against you.

He suddenly broke free from the kiss, panting into the air still coated in sun. His glistening face glowed in ecstasy and light, sunbeams bouncing onto his skin. His eyes worked their way down your front to meet with his hands beneath your top, the outline squeezing flesh. Your eyelids drooped at the sight of his features glimpsing your body.

Your hands released from his neck, and found their way to the hem of your shirt, tugging the fabric to pull it over your head. Once it was tossed at the side of the bed, you thanked God that you hadn't worn a bra that day. Your hands, gripped into his shoulders tightly.

Seb’s hands stopped for a second with the newfound sense of freedom, loosening their grip for a moment. You let your head lull backwards, gazing up at the ceiling and closing your eyes as his hands resumed their routine. A curse trickled from your lips in a stolen breath as your over-sensitive skin was pleasured.

“Oh, my God.” You uttered, repeating it like it was your last word on Earth. As though Sebastian was keeping you afloat along a river of satisfaction.

You couldn't see his face, but you knew he was smirking. Enjoying the way your brows furrowed with every movement of his hands. His head came up to meet your exposed neck in open-mouthed kisses, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“You’re perfect.” He declared in between kisses, sucking sensitive spots on your skin and provoking loud groans from both of you.

As his fingers worked pinching your skin and nipples every so often, you wondered how you got so lucky. To be located in the city of dreams, and wrapped in a musician's arms, with his piano-player fingers working overtime to please you.

You couldn’t be happier.

#ryan gosling #la la land #sebastian wilder #damian chazelle #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling fanfic #ryan gosling fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #emma stone #hioreh fanfictions #sebastian wilder x reader #sebastian wilder fanfiction #sebastian wilder fanfic

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fortheb0ys · 2 months

Text

Sorry for the screenshots, I posted it without finishing what I was saying :)

THANK YOU, POOKIE🙏 YOU GUYS FEEDBACK ALWAYS MAKES ME THE HAPPIEST😭 I JUST LOVE HOW YOU EXPLAIN MY WRITING :)

I think older men with braces is so underrated. I think people tend to think braces is something we get when we're young but people don't realize how often older people get them. Hell, I've seen a burly mid 40 construction guy have them. AHHH HE LOOKED SO PRETTY😢

I have such a huge oral fixation that I just love love love them I can't even explain :3

AAAAHHHHH PUPPY PLAY JEFF🙏🙏 THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME AN IDEA!!

Tiny lil drabble below :3

I'm just I'm imaging dog sitting for Shauna while she's at "book club".

Jeff's a but weary of you at first cause he's a loyal doggie to Shauna.

Of course, you'd be friendly and tried to win him over. You'd bring treats, toys, and take him for walks down trails Shauna said he liked. He'd just take the treat to his puppy crate and munch on it quietly or play with his new toy alone in the backyard as you sat on his porch, watching hoping he'd want to play fetch. You'd always treat him kindly, calling him a 'good boy' whenever he'd do the smallest things.

But nothing worked. Most days he'd sit and whine at the door, waiting for Shauna to return home. You'd never try to push him, knowing he was only really ever comfortable around Shauna.

You'd push you luck and try to give him pats but he'd shy away from you touch and give you warning nips at your hand. Jeff had a biting problem that Shauna was training him on and knew it would get him in trouble if he bit you hard.

Unfortunately was going to be a situation that he'd find himself in.

Jeff had a plush bunny named Bunbun that Shauna had gifted him for one of his birthdays. It had became his most precious item. He'd never leave it out of his sight, taking it everywhere he went.

It'd seen better days and was a bit raggedy. Though in Jeff's eyes that what made it special. All his happy memories told their story in each hole and stain.

One day while Jeff laid down for a nap, you thought it a kind gesture to surprise him with his Bunbun all fresh and fixed up. You sneakily take his plush without waking him and patch and wash it up.

You wake him up for dinner and show his plush fixed up Bunbun. To your surprise, Jeff does not take it well. You ruined him. All those special memories washed away. It wasn't the Bunbun Jeff knew nor liked.

Jeff was seeing red. With teeth beared and a growl sounding deep from his chest, he lunged at his biting deep into your hand. You quickly throw him off, now just as angry as him. Blood oozes from your hand as you cradle it to your chest.

You yelled at him calling him a 'bad dog', taking him by the collar to drag him to his crate and locking him inside till Shauna came home.

Now alone to reflect on his actions, Jeff felt the guilt weight on him. You were just trying to be kind. Tears welled in his eyes as he whined out.

It felt like an eternity before Shauna had come home.

Jeff could hear you explain what happened and her apologizing profusely than the door closing as you leave. When she comes in the room, a look of disappointment paints her face.

"Jeff, what the fuck? Why would you do that? He's just trying to be fucking nice and you bite him! You're such a bad dog."

Before Jeff could argue his case, Shauna stormed out turning off the lights leaving Jeff locked in his crate alone in the dark.

All night Jeff cries. Why was it just earlier he was a good boy but now he's just a bad dog? He just was upset about his bunny and he's working on his biting problem.

He fails into a restless sleep, only to be awaken by the front door slamming shut. The early morning sun is telling him that Shauna has left without giving him a goodbye kiss. She must still be mad at him.

Before he could sulk farther, Jeff hears footsteps. He perks up thinking Shauna hadn't left but he sees you walk into the living room. Jeff grins, happy to you back. You must have forgiven him but the empty look behind your eyes tells Jeff something different.

You walk over to his crate, unlocking it. Without saying a word you sit on the couch, turning on the television to fill the silent room.

Jeff shyly walks over to sit next to you. He takes his place, a gap taking up the space in between you.

"H-hello, Y/N." Jeff nervously tries to apologize but he's not sure how.

"Jeff, I'm only here cause Shauna paid me in advance. I'll be gone at the end of the week." You said coldly before Jeff could even apologize.

Jeff countenance falls. You used no nicknames. No sweet tones. You hate him. Shauna hates him. He really was a bad boy. Tears once again fill his eyes and this time he couldn't quietly cry. He sobbed out apologize, pleading that he was a good boy.

His begging broke you. It was clear Jeff was genuinely remorseful.

"Jeff? Puppy? It's okay. I forgive you." You comfort him while pulling him in, holding him close to your chest.

Once he calmed down, Jeff apologized properly, explaining his motives and with his explanation you agree to start over again.

Jeff was still a bit weary mostly but soon you found yourself caring for him most of the week. Shauna spent more and more time at her book club.

Of course Jeff didn't take it well. Spent his time whining for her return. You kept him preoccupied with toys, walks and playtime. His separate anxiety was a bitch but you seemed to fill her place just a bit.

Unlike the first, your kindness didn't go unappreciated. Jeff and you grew closer. He was much more hyper, was attached at your hip and wanted psychical and emotional affect. Even when Shauna came home, Jeff was upset to see you leave.

Shortly after you found things had became more sexual. You were bathing Jeff after he gotten himself dirty while playing in the mud.

Jeff was enjoying his bubble bath, you both giggling and splashing each other one minute than the next Jeff finds himself pulling you into a bruising kiss.

You pushed him off, asking what Shauna would think. Jeff admits to you that there's no book club, that Shauna's cheating, that's he's just a mutt to her.

God, you knew you shouldn't have went farther but everything felt so right with him. If he wasn't Shauna's puppy than he'd be yours.

From that moment on, you and him began your relationship.

He'd greet you at the door, completely naked with only his ears on and a tail plug snug in his asshole.

His tail plug wagging as he bounces up and down excited to see you. You'd be fucking him on the couch within a minute. His beg panting filled the room.

You'd have sex so often that Jeff rarely ever wore clothes while around you. The moment Shauna left so did his clothes. He'd dress when you left but the fabric on his skin felt so foreign.

His energy sure came in handy as well. Different positions, different places in the house, he could fuck for hours. His sexual urges were unsatisfied. At times you'd arrive to watch him and he'd be in his puppy crate masturbating. The mess in his crate signaling he'd had already came a few times already.

He'd look at you with big puppy eyes, begging to have your cock in his mouth while he pushes his plug in and out of his hole.

By the time you put your cock in him, he's cum more times than he could count. The blonde fur on his tail now a dark brown, completely soaking wet. His cock's sensitive that he whimpers as you stroke him.

He loves belly rubs especially after sex. His tummy slightly bulging from how times you've cummed in him. His belly looked like it was a full litter of your pups.

He was always a loud pup. From barking at anything and everything or crying for attention. During sex he was no different. He'd whine and whimper. You bought him a bone gag to keep the noise down.

Remember his biting problem he'd be working on?

At times you'd leave the house covered in bite marks. When Jeff was completely lost in the pleasure, he'd bite unknowingly. When he'd realized what he had done, he'd lick your wounds clean.

Jeff would wear a plug constantly. He loved the feeling of being full. Whether it was the plump head of your cock, plug or toy, he craved the feeling.

Praise was always a big thing to Jeff. He needed to be reassured that he was a good boy due to the rocky start of your relationship. Whenever he felt like he had be bad, he'd cry and beg for you not to throw him away. You'd pull him into a tight hug and cradle him till he calmed down. Once he did, he was back to his hyper and horny self.

#thank you 🥭#whole thing was inspired by you #jeff sadecki x male reader #jeff sadecki x reader #jeff sadecki #x male reader #x reader #yellowjackets x male reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #sub character #top male reader #dom reader #dom male reader #☆*cj's inbox 📥#☆*🥭

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aroacesetitoff · 4 months

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Infinight Interns Reference Sheet + Headcanons

Bartholomew Finn

-Vest of Slow Descent-i made it green based off his canon design and then gave it "feathered" hems to allude to its ability

-pre-Draconic Transformation Bart-gave him silver jewelry and the only draconic traits are gold freckles, fangs, and shorter horns

-post-Draconic Transformation Bart-gold jewelry to match with his dad (Simsun), and of course claws and scales and larger horns

-boatswain's call whistle-a reference to the Jebediah + Capt. Marge

-gave him the thigh dagger sheath-cause why not. I think Bart's that character in movies that has a shit ton of knives hidden in the most improbable places

-he's got a 17 string lute, but lets be honest i aint drawing 17 strings. painted a wave design on the body and the soundhole/rosette has a dagger design

-Breath Diagem/lute pick ftw

-scars on his hands (from doing hot boi sailor shit)

-not shown but i think he's got a bunch of tattoos (like "I <3 Mom" for Marge, flowers for Gum Gum, crossed anchors, etc.)

-pupils are slitted like dragons and a very dark shade of blue

Kyborg the Mighty/Kydelius of Everwinter

-Fun Fact: i used to do archery! so some of his gear is based off of stuff I had. But you know cooler

-Canonically his hair pretty loose, and its pretty but my god its gonna get caught up in his bowstring man. braided/tied it back for practicality

-thigh highs. no notes

-gave him an armored version w/ fur because his current design didn't feel like Everwinter-y enough

-its not terribly visible but he has the Belt of Sick Trick so i put a bird on it (vaguely Tony Hawk reference)

-the Longer Bow Krystallina-gave it a snow fall design + red accents

-scars from archery, since this guy shoots barebow

-the left (flesh arm) side is the most armored and unscarred, and the right (metal arm) side is scarred + unprotected (bc u know its metal)

-pupils are really dark shade of red as a reference to the Source Diagem

-metal arm-i took an anatomy class not a robotics one, so the structure is based off human musculature (kinda) and i put the Source Diagem in his shoulder instead of his hand

Gum Gum Galindor

-star boi 🌟

-constellations on the inside of the brim of his hat that Bart sewed for him-(Bart's a sailor, he knows his constellations)

-the flowers (orange @ blue) on his hat represent him & Bart. The orange ones bigger bc u know thats his big bro right there

-the hoodie+pauldron+cross body strap combo is a direct copy of Bart's design bc thats what younger siblings do u know

-made the patches to repair his coat stars bc why not

-Random Axe of Kindness-the cute lil heart does not detract from the fact that its an axe

-timeskip design i went for a gardener vibe bc he works in the Orchidnage now-i think despite having the worst dad of the group, Gum Gum would be a pretty good father figure

-Staff of Flowers-i wanted to reference Dia w/ this one so I tried to have this be the most colorful part

-Bart pierced his ears at one point

-i gave him constellation freckles that showed up post Dia reveal

-he has his manacles yeah but i wanted to design friendship bracelets for the rest of the team

-Mudd's-green thread with pink & white flower beads-the charm is Gumbo

-Bart's-leather cord with blue & gold beads and an anchor charm

-Kyborg's-brown leather cord, green beads, and a red arrow charm

-made his pupils a lighter shade of blue that glows when he uses Wild Magic

-edit: lots of scars, some from fighting, a lit from just tripping and shit. Also a dog bite from that one time

Mudd Bramblecrack

-i love him but it was so hard to come up with a design

-the pink streak keeps moving bc im inconsistent and also bc he has to redye/cut his hair constantly

-the "fur" cloak is the Cloak of the Secluded Garden, and its actually pine leaves & grass

-gave him a very simple tunic w/ a bramble design bc we would try to disguise his noble bg

-i put Mudd in a kilt bc i have free will and also he's Scottish. I dont think he would ever wear one unless for formal occasions tho bc i think they take a while to put on

-Gumbo :) + badger armor -this ones very specifically inspired by Lonna Bowstripe from the Redwall series

-originally had the purple gems on his tunic, made em earrings instead bc thats cooler

-Bramblecrack signet (?) ring-also the Virtues Diagem. Both this and his earring are purple bc its an ace reference (for me). The ring is definitely an ace reference bc i made it a black metal and put it on his right middle finger (ifykyk)

-pink paw pads + talons-less of a firbolg thing, more of a Moon Druid thing

-eyes are a rlly dark shade of green but glow a brighter shade when Wildshaping

-pupils are a rlly dark shade of purple (Diagem ref) and also horizontal like cows

Okay I think that's everything. If not ill just come back and edit it 🤷. working on the OG Infinights next so stay tuned or whatever

#my art #tales from the stinky dragon #tftsd #bartholomew finn #stinkydragonpod #mudd bramblecrack #kyborg the mighty #gum gum galindor #headcanons

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melonmilkshake · 2 months

Note

hiii :3 if youre still taking reqs could i maybe ask for a fic where randal has a very very sensitive neck and the reader fucks it up (like not bad enough for it to bleed, but they bruise it up really bad by biting him too hard and they keep touching the bruises on his neck to hurt him more) and it makes randal cum in his pants?

umm no pressure obvs ^^;

Randal Ivory x reader

Smut?? Maybe...

Its short

They/Them | gender neutral

(I had like 20 + requests but most of them I had to delete because of not enough info... for right now I have 11 more requests that im gonna do ^_^)

TW: hickeys, biting, and cum

Biting and teasing Randal

You had to place your hand over his mouth repeatedly so he could shut up because of how loud he was anyways you didn't want Luther to walk in on the both of you but either way he would notice the dark purple bruises on Randal's neck.

Each touch was sending Randal spiraling. He was panting like a dog as you nipped and licked his skin. His body was trembling while drool ran down his chin, the wet saliva getting on his uniform shirt.

His sensitive neck felt like it had been stabbed by the most sweetest and delicate thing. It was hard to describe what he was feeling.

He had his legs open revealing his bulge that was begging for attention. He threw his head back giving you more access to his neck. You sucked on all the right parts which made Randals legs quiver as his panting turned into loud moans.

When you pulled away a trail of saliva was connected to your mouth and his neck but was broken when you pulled away far enough. "P-please more... D-don't stop." He whimpered. He was so close to the edge and you just had to pause.

His bulge was not softening up and he really didn't want to masturbate to fix the problem. Suddenly your fingers touched the sensitive skin on his neck making him gasp.

The way your finger tips brushed and pressed on his delicate skin that was now painted with dark purple and red marks was making him whimper.

He started rubbing his bulge the sensation was to much for him to resist but even then his orgasm wasn't happening just yet.

The way your giggles filled the room was like music to his ears and he could not get enough of it. That's when he felt a tingly feeling in him and he moaned loudly while he came in his pants.

A small wet patch could be slightly seen in the dark black material of his pants. He slid down his chair slightly so obsessed by your touch it was all to perfect for him.

"Mm... feels good." He said quietly despite not forming correct sentences. You smiled at his dazed face while his cock softened up. "Good boy." You mumbled and ruffled his hair.

#ranfren oneshots #ranfren x reader #oneshots #ranfren x yn #randal ivory x reader #randal ivory oneshot #randal ivory x yn #character x you #character x reader #character x yn #randal ivory x you #character oneshots #smut #ranfren smut

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 10 days

Text

Changes chapter 2

< Previous chapter

The girl nervously fumbled with the hem of her dress as Lucien rang the doorbell. The house in front of her was large and covered in a white layer of paint. She could smell the presence of a dog and the presence of a creature that was like Lucien - and her, she reminded herself. She flinched as the porch light switched on, wincing as the brightness burnt her eyes. She looked up as she heard the door click, a lock switching open, and then the door quickly being opened. In the doorway stood a man, dressed in a typical 80s suit with shoulder patches and a pattern that could only be described as horrific. He was wearing thick framed glasses, his har combed back neatly. Overall, he looked nothing like she expected. The girl looked at him, really taking him in, her face blank. He didn't look like Lucien, who was dressed in all black and covered in tattoos. No, this man looked absurdly normal. Too normal, maybe. With uncertainty, she looked at Lucien. He gave her a kind smile.

"This is Max," Lucien told her. "Max, this is Julie."

The man - Max - smiled kindly at her. "Why don't you come inside, both of you. I think we have a lot to talk about."

Julie hadn't wanted to go inside, but after Lucien laid his hand on her back with gentle force and pushed her towards the door, she realised she had little choice in the matter. The door closed behind Lucien, and the three of them were standing in a brightly lit hallway. There were objects with bright lights and bright colours everywhere, flashing and turning. Every where she looked, things were moving and turning. It was like the man had built his own miniature carnival in his living room. Julie winced, focusing her eyes on the floor, the lights being too much.

"It's alright, Julie," Lucien said, guiding her to a less bright room. She looked up, nervously biting her lip. She hadn't known what to expect when Lucien had told her that he knew someone who could help her, but this wasn't it. As she looked around, she realised they were in a kitchen. The walls were covered in white tiles, and the cabinets wrapped in a wood patterned vinyl. The sink was filled with dirty dishes, but most of them were glasses and cups. No plates, pots, or pans. Julie couldn't help but wonder why that was. Surely Max had to eat as well, right? In the middle of the kitchen was a small round table, with five chairs positioned around it. Max had sat down at one of them and motioned for them to do the same. Slowly, Julie sat down across from him.

"Do you know what you are?" Max asked. Even though his expression was on the stern side, Julie could pick up on the hints of worry in his voice. She frowned slightly - what did he mean? She was just Julie. And on what she was - or rather what else she could be - she wasn't sure. No one had told her what they'd been doing back there, and Lucien hadn't exactly asked or explained anything.

After a moment, she shook her head, not looking Max in the eye. Instead, her eyes focused on everything around her. The doghairs on the floor, the half empty bowl near the backdoor, the empty cup with a red liquid in the sink...

"Do you know what happened to you?"

Julie shook her head but then slowly nodded. She did remember things, bits, and pieces. Flashes of light and pain, flashes of laughter, flashes of people bidding money. But nothing concrete, nothing that would explain how this happened or why.

"Just bits and pieces, hm? Maybe that's for the better, dear. Don't focus too much on it." Max gave her a kind, sorrowful look, as if he felt terrible for what happened to her. Maybe he did. Julie wasn't sure, but she hoped that the compassion wasn't an act. If she were to stay here, she'd rather stay with a man who was genuine.

Slowly, she nodded. That made sense - that forgetting could be better than remembering the horrors. It had already happened, so why focus on it? Julie looked up as Max stood up from his chair.

"I've got a room for you upstairs. You're welcome to stay there, if you want. I've made sure that no sunlight will be able to get in. There's a small bathroom attached to it if you want to get cleaned up. Try a bath instead of a shower, alright? There are towels in the bathroom." Max looked at her. Normally, he'd explain how running water was an issue and that it could burn - but now wasn't the time. The girl was scared and frightened, most likely brought here against her will. She needed some time alone to settle and to think. He just hoped she would accept his help because she needed it.

With a hint of uncertainty, Julie looked at Lucien. When he nodded with an encouraging smile, she followed Max upstairs. He led her to a soft white room. Dark green black-out curtains hung in front of the window, blocking any light from outside. In the middle of the room was a large bed, covered in blue blankets. Across from the bed was a small desk, a pile of paper, and some pencils laid on top of it, as if to invite her to write or draw. Above the desk was a small corkboard, where she could hang decorations if she wanted - or so Max told her. Next to the door, across from the window, was a wardrobe. The old wood had also been painted white, with some floral patterns on the edges. Julie looked at Max, giving him a shy, thankful smile. It was the first time since she could remember that she had a room of her own to stay in.

"It's alright, dear." He stood in the doorway. "The door can lock from the inside if you prefer that. Try and get some rest, Lucien will also be here tomorrow evening."

Julie nodded, comforted by the thought. She may not have known Lucien that well - or at all, really - but he was a familiar face. A familiar face that had proven to be helpful and kind towards her. She closed the door, locking it. She waited, expecting to hear Max return, but he didn't. It was really okay to lock the room. She thought for a moment but felt too tired to wash herself now. She could always do that tomorrow morning, right? She took off her shoes and laid down on the bed. It was comfortable. The blankets were warm. With a soft sigh, she drifted off to sleep.

"What on earth happened to her?" Max asked as he returned downstairs.

"I don't know. She doesn't talk, she wrote that she could speak but something forced her not to. But that's all I know. I've been feeding her in the past couple of days by filling a refill cup. I have no idea if she can even comprehend the fact that she needs to kill to survive."

"But she did drink the blood?"

"Gulped it down."

Max nodded, thinking. "Alright." That was at least something. As a newborn, vampires need more blood. That was a simple fact. Whether Julie knew about what she was drinking or not, the fact that she had consumed blood would only make the hunt easier. She knew what she was getting out of it, so to speak.

He noticed the sun rising - he felt it happening before he even saw the sky beginning to change its colour - and he led Lucien to a sunproof room. It was next to Julie's. Max went into his own room, biding the man good night.

Max woke up early the next evening, realising he needed to make a plan. First, Julie had to learn what she was. She had to realise that she was a vampire and what it all meant. Second, she needed to feed. Properly. Getting blood in cups would sustain someone, but with a newborn vampire, it would not suffice. She would need more. A lot more. Thirdly, he needed to know what happened to her. The lack of words coming out of her wasn't just a response to trauma or a strange new situation. No, he was quite certain someone compelled the girl to be silent. At least, he hoped so - seeing that there were other more permanent ways of shutting someone up while letting them live. He shook his head - no, she probably still had her tongue and vocal chords, and this was just the result of someone compelling her. He sincerely hoped it was - he could probably help her overcome the compelled command, but healing such severe and delicate injuries? He wasn't sure if he could.

"Julie? I need to go, kid." He heard Luciens voice outside his room. "No, I can't stay. I have to go, my mate needs me. He's been hurt."

It was quiet for a moment before he heard Lucien speak again. "You can always reach me, and I'll be here as soon as I can. I promise."

Then, there was silence. Max stepped out of his room, having given them as much privacy as he could. Julie's door was closed, and Lucien stood in front of it.

"Go to your mate," Max nodded, "She'll be fine here."

"Thank you, Max. For everything."

David had gone off on his own tonight, curiosity of this new girl driving him to go and visit Max. He had expected to find the house empty, the older vampire taking the newborn out to feed or on a flying lesson or something. Instead, he found the front door wide open. Thorn was nowhere to be seen. Inside, the lights were on, and he could sense Max' presence inside the house. It was only when he landed in the yard that he noticed the girl - young woman, he realised - sitting on the steps of the front porch. She was staring at the ground in front of her, sulking about something.

"You must be-"

The girl looked up, fear flashing in her eyes. Within seconds she was inside, the front door slammed shut. Inside, he could hear Max speak. "I'll go see who it is. In the meantime, you should drink some of this."

David waited, and it didn't take long before Max was outside. He gave David a stern look, but both men knew it wasn't that serious.

"I thought you boys had decided to give her time to settle in?"

"I was curious."

"You should meet her properly, now that you're here." Max decided. Seeing Julie's response, it was best if she knew David wasn't a threat. Maybe it would benefit her if she knew the boys, having vampires closer to her turning age to hang out with - who also understood to a certain extent what she was going through.

"Her senses are all fucked, aren't they? She didn't even notice I was there."

"She's not attuned to them yet." Still, Max made a note of it. If he too started to feel like she wasn't attuned to them, he had to do something about it. It was dangerous for her otherwise. What if she didn't hear a hunter or a werewolf? She wouldn't be able to get away in time.

David shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it, you've got your job cut out for you."

"Her case is tricky, trickier than any of yours had been."

"Seriously?"

Max nodded. Objectively speaking, up until that point, David's change had been the most problematic. He'd been changed during the war, being saved from death by Max. The war stopped for no one, and during the change, he had almost lost his life again when a bomb hit close by. It had been touch and go for quite some time, especially since a leg had to be reattached, and Max found it explained the bitterness the vampire had quite well. Once David was fully turned, everything went fine, but still - sometimes, in the early years, the killing brought back unwanted memories. It hadn't been easy, and even though he had come to terms with it now, sometimes he still had a bad day.

"Shit."

The two of them walked inside, and Max was glad to see that Julie was drinking from the cup of blood he'd given her. She looked up only when they stood in front of her, making Max wonder if David had been right about her senses.

"Julie, this is David. He's one of my -" he paused, looking for a better word but finding none, "sons."

"I didn't mean to scare you." If David had been troubled by the usage of the word son, it didn't show. As the boy looked at Julie, he gave her a rare, kind look.

Julie nodded quietly, taking a sip from her glass, pulling her legs up, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"I have three other boys. You'll probably meet them later tonight." Max looked at her, realising that he didn't want her to be alone. Not because he didn't trust her - but because he was certain that it wouldn't be to her benefit. It would be best for her if she saw other people, other vampires. If she could have a tiny bit of a normal life, maybe it would help her come to terms with her vampirism.

Max had to go to the store tonight, if only to check in, and knowing David and the others, they would show up. Taking Julie along seemed like the right plan. She could meet the others, and he could see how shed respond to the boardwalk. Besides, it would be a good way to see if she had any control and to take her out to feed afterwards.

David stood in the kitchen still, looking at the girl at the table. "If anyone ever gives you trouble, you come to us, alright? We'll handle it for you."

The girl looked surprised before smiling. Everything about her seemed to scream thank you, but no words came out. David nodded before letting himself out. Max was right. The others needed to meet her tonight, just so she'd know who were on her side and who could help her if necessary. There was something about her that made him care. It was something that surprised him. Normally he wasn't like this.

Max sat down across from Julie. "I need to go to town in a bit. I have a store there and I need to make sure everything is alright. I'd like you to come with."

Slowly, the girl nodded, her feet touching the ground again.

"I want to leave in an hour, does that give you enough time to get clean and ready?"

Yes, she thought quietly, that would be enough time. She just needed to get washed, and fhen she was ready to go. It wasn't like she had makeup or an elaborate wardrobe to go through, wondering about what she would wear. She only had the one dress she was wearing now. The man looked at her with a kind smile, and she went upstairs. She went to the bathroom, letting the tub fill with warm water and picking a floral soap to pour into it.

Downstairs, Max couldn't help but wonder about the girl. If he wanted to help her, he needed to know what happened to her. He picked up the phone, ringing Luciens number, but he got no answer. He didn't think any of it, deciding to try again later.

Next chapter >

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #max tlb #david tlb #dwayne tlb #paul tlb #marko tlb #changes

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ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression · 1 year

Text

Follow me to live (pt1)

1.7k words

Triggers: child abuse, animal abuse, blood, violence, not directly but like defintley a hint at sexual assault in the past.

“You can’t just call me a bitch and expect me to respect you!” You shouted

“Well don’t act like a bitch if you don’t want to be one!” Your dad yelled. His eyes were piercing through your soul. He was trying to make himself bigger as if he was trying to scare off a bear.

You wanted to back down but held your ground. He had hurt you too much, he had scared you too much. It was time to show him that you were stronger than him.

“You’re just like your dad!”

One black eye later and you quickly shoved some of your shit in a trash bag. You left with your dad crying on the floor and apologizing.

So… here you are now. Living in little Russia surviving off ramen cups and a water filter. However, today you wanted to switch it up a little and find some happiness in your life. The cold air nipped your face as you began to walk outside.

Some parts of this shit hole were quite nice. You weren’t a religious person, but you were always impressed with religious art. Hence why you were here, mouth agape at the beautiful pieces of colored glass. However, it was starting to get dark and you did not want to be out after dark. You were about to turn around and walk back to your apartment when you heard something.

Was that a whimper?

You heard the soft sound again and began to follow it. Against your better judgment, you went behind the church and found a chained-up dog.

It was a gray pitbull, which looked abused and malnourished. Seeing the slight cuts on its skin and its ribs poking out made you want to cry.

“Hi baby” you crouched down slowly, giving the dog your hand. The dog sniffed your hand and began wagging its tail.

You unclipped her from the chain and slowly picked her up. “Come on girl, let’s go home.”

—————

You locked the door behind you and slowly put the dog down. You grabbed a bowl and began pouring water into it.

“Here you go baby” You softly put the bowl at her feet. You smiled softly as she gulped the water down.

You had some leftover rice that you decided to heat up and put some chicken broth in. Your guess of her being malnourished was proven right when she ate all of the food in one bite. While she ate you inspected a small gold coin that was attached to a leather collar that you had yet to take off.

“John Wick” you said while running your finger over the name.

“Is that your name or your owner's name?” You sighed and flipped over the tag to find any other information. Which, of course, there was nothing

“So you got like- a first name and last name?” She licked you in response. Taking that as an answer you got up.

“Alright John Wick, let’s patch you up.”

——-/

The next morning you were awoken by John licking your face. “You hungry Wick?” You smiled at the cute dog.

How could someone ever abuse this cutie?

You got up and went to the fridge, determined to find John something. The chicken immediately caught your eyes and your stomach started to growl.

“God I can’t believe I’m going to sacrifice my meal for a dog… worth it though.”

——-/

Two weeks passed, and you and John were now attached by the hip. She had begun to gain some of her weight back but was still healing from cuts. You had stitched them, which was easier than you thought. Wick was surprisingly very calm during the whole ordeal.

You two were snuggling in your bed listening to some podcast about celebrity gossip. “John, can you believe that the Kardashians are still relevant?” She sighed in response while eating popcorn out of your hand.

“Aye John. I was thinking… I have some extra nail polish.”

She glanced at you in response.

“Can I paint your nails?”

—

“Andddddd done!”

John Wick's nails were now painted a beautiful sparkly purple. You had decided to paint your nails the same color.

“John, we look so cute together!”

You hugged the pitbull as she licked your face.

——-/

“Alright, John! Today is the day, your first walk!” She wagged her tail and you attached the leash to her. The leash belonged to your old childhood dog, who also happened to be a pitbull. Moxie and you had a bond that transcended lifetimes. You teared up, maybe John Wick is my little Moxie.

Usually, you had taken John out for a quick piss on the little grassy area near the stairs. However, this was different, a milestone in her progress.

You walked with her around the town, smiling as she smelled everything around her. The walk was so peaceful and nice that you hadn’t even realized you passed the church. That was until someone jumped on your back and stabbed a knife into your shoulder.

“Jesus fucking-“

A hand covered your mouth and you slowly were back in a very very bad memory. Freaking out, you kicked the man in the groin, not once but twice. He loosened his grip and fell to the ground.

“John, are you okay?” You quickly scanned over her body trying to ignore the still, very visible, knife lodged in your shoulder.

Footsteps started to echo from the alleyway of the church. You tightened your hold on her leash and began sprinting.

Bullets started to skim past your body as a random car started to follow you. The footsteps and yelling behind you did not falter, even when you zigzagged down different alleyways.

You were about a block away from your apartment, hiding in the shadows of an alleyway. Their footsteps began to get louder as you held your breath. John, please don’t bark.

The men then passed your alleyway and you let out a shaky breath. “Maybe no more walks…. At least for a bit.” You pet her head and began making your way home.

—

You shut the door and turned on the lights. “Are you okay baby? You’re not hurt anywhere are you?” Searching her body more thoroughly. You sighed in relief when you saw no bullet holes.

“Thank god you’re okay John.” You pat the dog, trying to ignore the pain coming from your right shoulder.

Man that was my good arm too.

You stumbled your way into the bathroom, with Wick following shortly behind. Flicking on the lights, you screamed as you were met with a barrel of a gun.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You slowly stepped back and put a protective arm out. “Wick stay behind me.” You looked down at the dog but she didn’t seem to listen to you. She ran at the man with her tail wagging. He recuperated the love with a soft pet on her head.

“What did you call her?” He asked, still having the gun pointed at you.

“Wick. Her name is John Wick.”

He slowly lowered the gun, “No, MY name is John Wick.”

You gripped the door frame for extra support as all the adrenaline started to slowly leave you. Rubbing your head in confusion, you were trying to figure out what was going on.

“So… are you her owner or something?”

“Yes.” He slowly put the gun back into his jacket.

“Well, you’re a shit owner. I found her outside of the church, poor girl was starving and abused.” You glared at him. Still trying to keep up some facade that you weren’t going to pass out from the pain at any minute.

“She was kidnapped.” He said sternly as if he was trying to justify the poor dog's abuse.

“You look young. Where’re your parents?” He seemed to quickly want to change the conversation.

“Look man, I appreciate the concern and everything but-“ you glanced at the mirror gagging when you saw the knife in your shoulder.

He quickly made his way toward you and guided you to a kitchen aisle.

“What are you-“

“Lay on the counter.” He demanded.

“Man, I just washed this too.” Your warm skin was met with the coolness of the marble. That’s one thing that always really confused you about this place. Everything in this apartment was so shitty, but you randomly had marble countertops.

“I’m going to have to pull the knife out and stitch the wound.” He pulled out a first aid kit from his jacket.

“Don’t you dare.” You tried moving off the countertop but his one hand held you in place.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT- I’m getting used to it just leave it in”.

He began to grab wipes, a thread, and a needle from the small box.

“I never and I mean never broken a bone before! Not to mention stitches and a fucking stab wound!” You began wigging in place as he threaded the needle.

“Always a first for everything.” He hummed.

“I will scream-“

“Don’t forget that those Russian men are looking for you.” He scolded.

“They don’t belong to you?”

“No, but they are after me, now you too.” He walked away. You sighed in relief thinking that talking more was going to delay the whole process. He got a cup of water before starting where he left off.

“So- like how did you get involved with them?” You nervously asked. Maybe next you’ll ask what he thinks about the weather

“Talking more will make this whole situation longer than it needs to be.” You groaned at his answer.

He quickly put a hand over your mouth and pulled out the knife. His hand had muffled your screams, which really didn’t do much. You then kicked your legs out, frantically trying any way to get rid of the pain.

“You done yet?” He asked unamused. As if his kid was throwing a tantrum because they couldn’t get a toy they wanted.

You nodded and he removed the hand from your mouth.

“Alright time to stitch”

———/

Reader was like LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING! LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING!

Anyway this is new and very inspired by @arece so check their series out.

#platonic reader #john wick #john wick x reader #teen reader #gender neutral reader

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 8 months

Text

Primetober Day 7: Alone in the Universe, with all extra prompts (Autophobia, Isolation, and Weaponised Abandonment Issues)

Sci-Fi AU. Mad scientist Dream, training his beloved creation Tommy, finds out that he’s terrified of being alone, and realises he can use that to his advantage. Warnings for severe dehumanisation (Dream literally sees Tommy as an animal), some body horror from non consensual body modification, human experimentation, abuse, isolation, imprisonment, drugging, conditioning, codependency, and references to forcing people into dangerous situations.

ao3 link

—— When Dream entered the lab, Tommy was crying.

Curled up in the corner of his cage, he was hunched over, trying to make himself as small as possible despite his hulking size. His stinger-like tail was wrapped around himself protectively, the venom-filled stinger at the end only stopped from breaking his skin by the thick, dark fur covering patches of his skin erratically. His eight eyes were scrunched shut, yet even that wasn’t enough to hide their glow.

Interesting. Very, very interesting.

“Hi, Toms.” Dream spoke softly and calmly, like he was speaking to a child. Tommy usually hated it- same with the stupid nickname- but his ears pricked up the second he heard Dream’s voice, eyes snapping open and painting the lab in bright blue as he smiled, or as close as was possible with his disfigured maw.

Unable to stand up on two legs, both due to his twisted form and the smallness of the cage, he raced forwards on clawed hands and cloven hooves, immediately racing towards Dream’s side, scrambling so fast he collided face first with the hard light bars. Dream chuckled, reaching a hand into the container and scratching behind his ears like he was a puppy. Not even trying to hide his instincts, Tommy thumped his tail against the floor violently, flapping his hands and purring.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said, voice distorted and blurry through his new vocal chords. Dream had made sure that he’d be able to speak with them, of course. While a weapon didn’t need to speak, he quite liked his test subject, enough to grant him a name, which he’d reluctantly accepted over Subject 193. Still, it was a surprise- ever since he’d gotten his new mouth, perfect for crushing tanks and drones, he’d refused to talk, just sitting there staring.

Dream laughed. “What’s gotten into you?” Tommy was always a fighter- that was what made him perfect for the process. Earlier subjects, the timid and weak, faltered. Tommy’s defiance and spark, more than being entertaining and making him an enjoyable conversation partner, meant he was able to not only survive but thrive throughout the experiments. Seeing him like a lost puppy was bizarre, to say the least.

Tommy blinked. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” he repeated like it explained everything.

It had been a few days, Dream supposed, but he’d left Tommy with plenty of food. Even if he hadn’t, the alterations to his internal biology could let him go weeks at a time without a drop of water or a bite of food as long as he didn’t do anything strenuous. It just didn’t make sense- Dream would kill for a few days alone in his lab, without Punz constantly coming in to bug him about the next shipment of weapons or dropping off new subjects, and he liked Punz. Tommy always insisted that he hated Dream, so why wasn’t he happy about that?

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

“Are you scared of being alone?” Dream asked, his mouth quirked into an amused grin. The idea that Tommy, angry and violent and insistent he didn’t fear any pain, could be so easily reduced to an obedient attack dog just by a few days alone, was both hysterical and deeply useful. After all, Tommy wasn’t just Dream’s personal lab rat; he had a purpose to serve, and while his strong will was important, so was directing that towards the correct purposes.

Unlike the other living subjects, Tommy wasn’t going to be a bonus attack dog for Punz or a gift to anyone else who’d give Dream rare genetic samples to study, of course. Tommy wasn’t the first of the successes, but he was absolutely Dream’s magnum opus, handling the most mutations far more gracefully than many subjects that only had about one or two major changes. More importantly than that, he was the closest thing Dream really had to a friend- at least in the long months Punz was away on mercenary jobs- and therefore, he’d kept him as a pet and his own personal bodyguard.

After all, it’s not like he was a person anymore. That was the kindest arrangement possible for a beast built to kill.

Reluctantly, Tommy nodded his head, eyes glancing to the floor in embarrassment as his slit pupils dilated. Dream couldn’t help but grin at how expressive Tommy always was. He was aware that most people probably found him terrifying, a beast in a vaguely human shape, but as far as he was concerned, he was as adorable as the kittens he used to have as a child, if not more so.

Petting Tommy’s head again, Dream fished for the remote in his pocket for Tommy’s collar. A shock collar, of course, would have been cruel. Not to mention stupid- wild animals bite back if cornered, after all. No, this was more sophisticated, a design of his own. As he pressed the button, a concoction of chemicals was injected through the heavy skin of Tommy’s neck, sending an immediate batch of endorphins and serotonin into his system. It was a way to cause an instant feeling of satisfaction and happiness and served as a far more effective way to get Tommy to behave.

The carrot certainly held more use than the stick, after all.

Tommy chirped happily, his eyes squeezing shut in the closest approximation to a smile he could make. Dream continued to scratch behind his ears, before moving his hands to scratch at the base of his first set of horns. “Good, good. Very good, Tommy.”

“I’m not-“ Tommy said in protest, struggling to make sounds outside of the involuntary chirps and purrs out his mouth. “I’m not a fuckin’ dog, man. You don’t have to treat me like one.”

“Well, you’re not human, are you?” Dream said, the argument pre-prepared in his head. Subjects always got so insistent about it, so he needed to have a quick refutation. Extreme stress made the process much more dangerous. “Your mind and your body are different now. Tommy, if you’re not going to let me take care of you, who will? Everyone who looks at you would think of you a monster. Isn’t it better for me to treat you kindly?”

Tommy blanched, the dull grey of his skin turning white. “They- they already abandoned me, before I was…”

“Shh, shh. You know we don’t talk about ‘before’. This is who you are now. You’re Tommy, you’re my creation, you’re mine. Don’t worry about ‘before’, Tommy. This is your life now. Is that so bad?”

“Yes! No. I dunno.” Tommy whined, pulling away with a start like a kicked puppy. “I hate you.”

“Do you want me to leave-“

“No! No, no, no, please. Don’t go, Dream. Please.” Tommy hit him with the puppy-dog eyes, far more effective than any puppies could ever be, considering he had eight of them. “I’ll be your weapon, or whatever the fuck, if you just stay.”

Dream chuckled. “Chill out, Toms. It was just a joke. This is my lab, idiot. I got a new order from Punz, anyway, I’m gonna be spending all day here. Since you’re talking now, we could chat, even.”

“Oh.” Tommy made a whining noise again, a frustrated one, as he tried to hide behind his matted blond hair- one of the few things remaining from the original human boy that had become Tommy, along with the electric blue of his eyes. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“Sure you did.” Dream shrugged, before pressing a button to dissipate the cage into nothing. Tommy blinked, unused to being allowed free, as Dream sat at his desk, fiddling over the next weapon design.

“Heel.” Dream said absently, and Tommy stayed still for a second before, reluctantly, slinking over to sit beside Dream, allowing him to run his fingers through his fur, something to keep his hands busy as he drafted new ideas in his head at a million miles per hour. He sent another dosage of reward chemicals through Tommy’s system at the obedience, smiling. “See, you know your place now, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Tommy growled. “I just-“

“Don’t want to be alone?” Dream laughed. “Then be a good test subject, and you’ll never have to leave my side. I might even let you meet Punz. I mean, he’s very interested in how strong you are. You should be grateful I keep you here, instead of sending you off to die alone on the battlefield.”

Tommy was quiet, looking to the ground with a conflicted look. Still, he stayed still, like a trained attack dog. He truly was Dream’s most perfect specimen.

Today was going to be a productive day.

#my writing #cprimetober #c!primeboys #dream smp #dehumanisation tw #body horror tw #human experimentation tw #Abuse tw #Isolation tw #imprisonment tw #drugging tw #conditioning tw #Codependency tw

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

Text

Enjoy 2.5k of soft YTAU Steddie at a pumpkin patch. City boys and farms don't mix well.

X X X

“We should go to a farm or something, for pumpkins and cider and stuff,” Steve says over dinner in the middle of October.

Eddie looks up from where he’s stabbing at a piece of chicken and smiles, body warming. His boyfriend likes to keep things interesting, and it’s not a secret they both love participating in Autumn activities. They need to get pumpkins soon anyway, and going to a farm could be fun, though he’s never been.

“Hell yeah,” the artist nods, reaching over to squeeze the man’s hand. “Have you ever been to one? I can confidently say I haven’t. Not many farms in Chicago.”

Steve grins at him and nods, squeezing Eddie’s hand back before swallowing a bite of broccoli. He thinks he could watch the younger man eat all day, as weird as it sounds. It’s cute, the way Steve looks and tries to decide what piece of broccoli he wants before getting it, unlike himself, who just snags the closest one.

“I’ve been going basically every year with the kids,” his boyfriend admits, even though said ‘kids’ are now in their early twenties.

“God you’re adorable,” the long haired man smiles, feeling like he just wants to hug Steve right all day long. “So is it like all those cliche pumpkin patches you see in movies? With like hay rides and corn mazes and stuff?”

“Pretty much. Hawkins may be a small town, but it does festivals and fairs pretty well,” Steve confirms.

“Ooh, this’ll be fun.”

“Mhm! They have cider and a little store usually. They’ll do fun stuff for little kids like face painting and slides.”

As they finish eating, Eddie thinks about how Hawkins is compared to Chicago, how out here it’s calmer and more down to earth. There isn’t as much violence or noise, and the weather change is gradual and pretty. The trees near his apartment (and really everywhere) have turned gold and red which makes the tattoo artist stupidly happy- nomore heat or blinding sun or bugs.

They do the dishes together, something that’s ridiculously domestic and makes both of the men blush when they stumble over each other or realize how nice it all is. Steve rinses everything off, then hands it to Eddie, who puts it in the dishwasher, particular about how things go. Steve has his little things too, like how he has to make his bed every morning even if he stays at Eddie’s and the guitarist is still in it.

“So Tumblr has decided my pathetic city-raised body is going to be no match for the farm,” the man sighs dramatically as they lay on the couch, curled up together.

Steve chuckles and his lips quirk up, playing with Eddie’s hands as ‘Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince’ plays in the background.

“Yeah? I mean maybe they have a point. Have you ever even been around hay or horses or anything else of that nature in your life?”

Has he? He and Wayne always got their pumpkins at the dinky little pumpkin lot that was just already picked pumpkins sitting on grass next to the park. He’d loved it all the same though, especially the first few years he’d lived with his mom's brother. Wracking his brain, the twenty eight year old finally looks at his boyfriend.

“…I don’t think so. But! My body has a great immune system! And it’s not like I’m allergic to all things outdoors, I’m just allergic to all the mold and shit in Autumn,” Eddie grumbles, though he’s not actually upset.

“What you’re saying is that I better put extra tissues in my pocket tomorrow?” Steve grins, and Eddie shoves him playfully.

“They’ll be for you. Don’t farms usually have cats?”

“And dogs.” That one makes Eddie’s smile drop but he rights it quickly. “Plus I go every year, I know it doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll be fine Stevie, don’t you worry your cute little head.”

Eddie is decidedly not fine, as they walk around the large open area. It starts about twenty minutes in, after he’s breathed in enough hay and dust and animal dander to finally settle in his head and trigger his histamine response. The artist is determined to have a good day. He’s already taken his allergy pill like usual, but it seems it’s going to do nothing for him as he sniffles, right hand fingers laced in Steve’s left.

“You okay Eds?” Steve asks, watching him curiously, eyes sparkling.

“Y-snf! Yeah, I’m good! So we have our drinks, what’s up next?” He asks, rubbing his nose on his left wrist, hand holding a styrofoam cup of hot apple cider.

He tries to remember he’s going to need to watch what he eats carefully the rest of the day, with all the sugar there’s bound to be in the drink.

“Thought we could look around the store, maybe look at all the cute animals,” Steve beams and god he’s so damn adorable all relaxed like this.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Eddie swings their hands as he’s led to the log cabin-esque building that holds jams and honey sticks and other food items, along with little toys for kids.

As they browse, the long haired man finds a hand carved slingshot. He brings it to Steve, who’s looking at a jar of strawberry jam. There’s a very thin coating of dust on the tables, barely noticeable, but Eddie notices. His eyes are starting to get itchy, and he blinks hard to try and get the slight watery feeling to go away.

“Found a cool slingshot.”

“What are you, five?” Steve teases him lightheartedly, looking at the weapon. “Pretty cool though. You going to get it?”

“Nah. Would end up in a drawer somewhere forever,” he shrugs and looks at the jar. “That looks yummy.”

“Yeah I think Robin will like it. I might steal some too,” Steve says thoughtfully.

Unable to help himself, Eddie presses a kiss to his boyfriends lips, pulling away with a grin.

“What was that for?”

“You’re just too cute for your own good Harrington.”

As they walk back outside, Steve runs to put the bag containing the jam in the car. While he’s gone, Eddie pulls a tissue out of his pocket and blows his nose, grimacing when it’s more productive than he’s expecting. It knocks loose more congestion, and his nose twitches, sensitive from all the allergens around him.

“ihGKtSHew! ihKSHHUHew! iiKhCHew!”

“Bless you,” Steve says, coming up next to him.

“Thanks,” Eddie presses close and sniffles, rubbing his nose again.

“You good? Your allergies aren’t bothering you are they?” The smirk on the ex swim captains face tells Eddie he knows they are, and that he was right- Tumblr was right. And that’s absolutely not going to fly with him.

“Nope! Just a random tickle,” Eddie smiles and leads Steve through a small crowd, towards the sectioned off area that has a bunch of small goats, pigs, and baby cows.

“They’re so cute,” Steve watches the goats as they’re instructed to come in so they can pet them.

You’re cute, Eddie thinks, watching the man bend down to rub the brown goat's head. He looks amazing in his dark washed jeans and tight fitting sweater, a Ralph Lauren quarter zip keeping him warm. His hair is styled perfectly as always, and the very slight wind leaves Steve’s cheeks just barely pink.

Leaning down to pet another goat, Eddie sniffles and rubs his face quickly on the shoulder of his own black sweatshirt, though it doesn’t really help the tickle that’s in his head. The two men stay with the small barn animals for ten or so minutes before realizing they should let others get a chance too. Stepping back out, Steve brushes his sweater off, seemingly unaware of the fur and dust he’s just moved off onto Eddie.

Nostrils twitching, runny from both the slight chill in the air and his allergies, the artist sniffles twice, then rubs his nose on his wrist, attempting to control the overwhelming tickle. When that doesn’t help, he rubs it against, this time longer, dragging his damn nose tight against the outside of his hand.

“Pumpkin patch?” Steve asks, tone excited and almost childlike. Eddie melts.

“Sure St-snf! Stevie.”

They find their way to the large tractor that they can board to get them to the pumpkin patch section. As the men sit, Eddie tries not to breathe for a moment, as particles of dust from the hay billow up into his face. His eyes feel a little gritty and he wipes at the barely there wetness under them, sniffling. Steve’s watching him with big eyes, and though he wants to indulge his boyfriend, he wants to prove to him he can be a small town guy more.

As he and Steve look around, other people board as well, and soon they’re all sitting knee to knee, and the tractor starts rumbling. Nostrils twitching, Eddie leans his elbows on his thighs, turning to watch Steve. He presses the cuff of his sweatshirt to his nose, trying to rub the tickle away subtly. It doesn’t help, not even close. If anything, it worsens the sensation ten fold, and he curls away from the woman next to him, leaning against Steve, cuff still pressed tight to his nose.

“nGKT! ihGKt! Snfsnfsnf! iiGnKTew! Guh…”

Steve licks his lips, watching. Eddie looks up and sniffles, and as he pulls his sleeve away, both can see it’s damp, just as damp as his nose. Before he can do much else, his eyes are fluttering again, the itch still swirling in his sinuses from stifling.

“iiHGkTSCHew! hih’iGSH’uhEW! eh’KTschh’EW!”

Not having time to do much else, Eddie presses his face into Steve’s shoulder, but he doesn’t pull away, instead he rubs his face on the soft material, allergic tears spilling onto his face.

“ihGKshhEW! hah’KTSCHew! ahikSHH’uhew!”

A few ‘bless you’s’ from others around them make Eddie cringe. Steve blessing him is one thing. Others, not so much. The ride into the patch is bumpy and the long haired man keeps as close to his boyfriend as possible before remembering he has tissues. Yanking them out of his pocket, he presses them tight to his nose, rubbing at it, pinching his nostrils and jiggling his septum, trying to get at the intense itch that’s consuming his head.

“hihKShhEW! ah’IGkSHhEW! hih-IkshhEW! Oh mby god,” Eddie blows his nose.

Steve’s still watching, but he looks torn between arousal and sympathy. Eddie starts rubbing at his right eye, both watering enough he genuinely looks like he’s crying, cheeks splotchy. Everyone hops off of the tractor when it stops in the field, and Eddie tilts his head back slightly, giving Steve a perfect view of his irritated, pink nostrils, quivering in allergic anticipation.

“Sneeze baby, I got you,” Steve murmurs, pulling him off of the wood and hay, then wrapping an arm around him.

“ahIKShhEW! ihGKshEW! F-snfSNF! Fuck…-ikshhuhew!”

“Bless you baby, we’ll make this quick ok?” Steve looks at him from where he’s got his tissue pressed against his nose again, hand now rubbing his left eye.

“Sou’ds good, I’mb okay Stevie,” Eddie promises, but he’s honestly not sure he is.

This doesn’t feel like dust allergies or even dog allergies. This is an entirely different level of allergic hell he’s never experienced. It’s like fluff is rubbing against his nose, like it’s in his sinuses, teasing him. His eyes are truthfully too watery and itchy to really be able to help Steve pick a pumpkin, but he goes along with it anyway, judging his boyfriend’s picks even if they’re blurry.

Steve keeps him close, and Eddie doesn’t mind. He thinks maybe the twenty seven year old is worried, with the amount of soft touches and hesitant looks he keeps getting. He doesn’t think there’s necessarily anything for Steve to worry about until they’re heading back to the main area, and the tattoo artist starts coughing.

It’s low and chesty, and even when he stops, Eddie finds he’s having a hard time catching a full breath

Not wanting to freak Steve out, he sniffles soupily and sits back up straight, giving him a smile. He must look wrecked, because a guy next to him gives him a sympathetic smile too. Pumpkin in his lap, Eddie rests an elbow on its top and starts rubbing his eyes again.

“Eddie, honey, you gotta stop rubbing. It’ll just make it worse, your hands are covered in all the dust and stuff,” Steve tries to be logical but the other man doesn’t want logic, he wants relief.

“They’re itchy.”

“I know, but-“

“ihHgkSCH’ew! snfsnf! iigkTSHhuhEW! SNF! hh! h’IHkSHew!”

“Bless you,” Steve runs a hand through his boyfriend's hair.

“snggf! Fuckin’ hell,” Eddie grabs his last tissue and blows his nose quietly, coughing after.

Maybe he’s not entirely cut out for farms, he decides, once he slides into Steve’s passenger seat, pumpkins sitting in the trunk. The younger man rifles through his middle console and pulls out napkins, then grabs the water bottle he brought. Leaning out of the parked cars door, Steve douses the napkin in water, wrings it out, then hands it to Eddie, who raises an eyebrow.

“Wipe your face off babe.”

Oh.

“Damn Harri’gto’d, we’re you a Boy Scout?” Eddie does as he’s told, wiping his face and neck down, coughing again. His chest feels oddly tight.

“Eds, hey, look at me.”

His eyes snap up to Steve’s, who are bright with worry.

“You sound awful. Are you breathing ok?”

“I thi’gk so? My chest is a little tigh’d a’d I feel like shit, but I’mb okay Stevie.”

Though he doesn’t look fully convinced, Steve buckles up and starts driving. Only half paying attention, Eddie realizes they’re at Steve’s once the doors of the Beamer are being unlocked.

“Brought you here, we can shower and then get you in clean clothes and I’ll put ours into wash. I don’t even wanna step into your apartment with this shit.”

Half an hour later, they’re stepping out of the shower, Eddie groggy and head feeling like it’s filled with concrete. The shower’s definitely helped, he doesn’t feel like he wants to claw his face off anymore, his eyes aren’t watering as bad either.

“So…you wanna tell Tumblr or should I?” Steve teases, and Eddie groans dramatically, which earns him a quick kiss.

“I will. They’re all gonna be so smug.” Eddie slips on some of Steve’s sweatpants, tying them tight.

“Tell’em you started having breathing issues. That’ll make’em feel bad for you.”

They end up on the couch, Eddie half awake after a slightly more than recommended dose of Benadryl, and Steve playing with his hair.

“They’re smug,” the artist grumbles, putting his phone down. “Called it.”

“They just wanna tease you, mister ‘I’ll be able to handle it’.”

Another kiss.

“Ngh, fuck all of you for being right.”

“Gladly Eddie, just tell me when and where.”

“Menace.”

Steve laughs, pulling Eddie closer, who melts against him.

“I had a fun time, even if I did feel like shit.”

“If we ever do that again, now we know to dose you up, at least,” Steve nuzzles his cheek.

“Was gonna suggest doing it with Chrissy when she comes down, but honestly it’ll probably set her off too.”

“No one’s allowed to be miserable for your birthday weekend. So no pumpkin patches,” Steve says, lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah. We can just get them from the store to do with her.”

“Sounds like a plan baby.”

#my fic #ytau #em #st #sh

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