#Cutely devouring the angst again

[raynesbunny]

𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄's heart ached in the absence of your presence, as he found himself consumed by the chilling emptiness.

He yearns to hear the melodic sound of your voice, longing for the comfort it brought to his soul.

He longs to gaze upon your bright smile, which always light up the darkest corners of his world.

He craves for the warmth of your presence, a source of solace and refuge from the coldness of his life.

Sadly, everything had unfolded too late, leaving the stoic young man with a heavy heart burdened by the weight of regret.

—

I'm late for the trend but— It's finally done!!! I can finally eat meals properly /hjo((*^▽^*))o

The fan art is based on the angst little story[rayne x reader] written by @kyoghurts (did I tag the right person? HELP) I apologize if the shadings are kind of off— shading is my biggest enemy<33 (enemies to lovers troupe /j)

Edit: also- I'm not so sure what to write, so I chose blanks and dots(༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ) AND I LOVE THE STORY SO MUCH, I'D READ IT AGAIN AND AGAIN<33 (I just want my tears to fall out and feel my heart clench in pain—) + the words have been edited.

[fics-lovebot]

enhypen fic recs

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

i´ll be constantly updating this list so make sure to check it out often for new recs

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

divider creds: @kyejiz

LAST UPDATED: 11/09/2024

poly / ot7

their s/o falls asleep waiting for them - ( @heeliopheelia ) fluffFFYY

you take your engagement ring off during an argument - ( @heeliopheelia ) angst, love it

come back to me..please - ( @thinemoonshine ) text, angst, they want you back after they messed up but you´re over it. I read this when i want a lil angsty angst bc there´s a lot of begging and shi

leche of the sirens - ( @thinemoonshine ) dark romance, mature themes, revharem, obssesive and possesive behaviour, corrupt nobles!enha, siren!reader. GRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (insert that one pic of a werewolf ripping his shirt) THIS IS THE BEST THING I´VE READ IN A HOT MINUTEEEEEE!!!!! omg I literally DEVOURED this, pls pls pls i cannot wait for the last part

you´re short - ( @nikrangdan ) fluff, crack, love itttttt

when you block them from your spam acc - ( @heeslomll ) text, fluff, crack, THIS IS SO FUCKFIJR FUNNY LMAO

"i wanna break up" prank - ( @luvrseung ) text, crack, JAY IS MY KIND OF MANNNN, and riki LMAOOOO why is he like that. hyung ver. , maknes ver.

makeup voiceovers - ( @kairoot ) fluff, crack, this is so creative omg, I love itttttttt

posessive - ( @kairoot ) text, fluff, crack, DKJSADKJHKASD so fun to read

dear husband - ( @atrirose ) fluff, you doing that one tiktoktrend where you call them husband outta nowhere, so cuteee

pretty boy - ( @atrirose ) fluff, tiktok trend where you call them "pretty boy"

exe.enhaboy_stopped_working.exe - ( @star-sim ) fluff, making them flustered. the Jay and Ni-ki ones are my favsss

is your girlfriend single? - ( @star-sim ) fluff, crack, youtuber! non-idol bf! enhypen. when your youtuber bf finally shows you for the first time to his audience and the chat starts simping. maknea line, hyung line PLSSSSSSSSSSSS READ IT, ITS SO GOOODDDD

"i want to break up" prank - ( @enha-stars ) text, crack. "wanna hear it in spanish? NOH" LDSJHFSJFDH WHY WOULD HE-

"we´d make a cute couple" - ( @sainns ) text, fluff, crack. NOT jay asking at what time u had a thought last night so he can be prepared lmao

“If you were walking past a strawberry field and you were very hungry, would you eat a strawberry?” - ( @luvrseung ) text, fluff, crack, heesung aint even know wtf he did lmao

hands - ( @cypherchii ) text, crack, enha legal line. "aint nobody looking at that", the sunghoon one .... no bc author is so real for that

another man paying for your nails - ( @joysbaereal ) text, fluff, crack, JAYYYYYY once again being the standard

a little less scandalous - ( @bywons ) fluff, suggestive, bad boy!enha

"i miss being single" prank - ( @joysbaereal ) text, fluff, very suggestive, sunghoon needs to chill out LMAO. hyung line

for their doll - ( @dioll ) fluff, enha hyung line. items the´d have in their car just for you, soooo cuteeeeee :(((((

i´ll be your bf - ( @chaconnenha ) fluff, angst, jealousy & possessiveness, minor suggestive, "you're not his girlfriend, and he's not your boyfriend, but.." I LIKE THIS

the other man?? - ( @thinemoonshine ) text, jealousy, crack, they are NOT about to let their girlfriend be in the same vicinity or presence of another man—especially, not one-on-one.

brought the heat back - ( @neos127 ) toxic!enha, highschool au, the sunghoon one was sexy ngl LFJSDFKJSH

sending them dirty texts while being surrounded by family - ( @heejake-hoon ) hyung line, VVERY suggestive. SDLFKJLDKJFH STOPPP I HAD TO PUT MY PHONE ASIDE WITH THE JAY AND SUNGHOON ONES,,"Be careful what you wish for, baby girl… you know damn well this dick doesn’t play fair." HAD ME TEARING UPPP

when you wear their shirt - ( @heejake-hoon ) suggestive, hyung line. miss girl pls STOP with these, i´m delulu enough

last added! charmed by her - ( @xoamiiren ) noona!reader, younger bf!enha, BC WHY DID HEESUGN AND JAY HAD ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

heesung

ex-bf! heesung texts - ( @fakeuwus ) crack, fluff, he´s SIMPIIINNGG

down bad - ( @boyfhee ) texts, crack, loser!hee, ITS SO FUNNY BC HE´S WEIRF AF UNPROVOKED SDFJS

hopeless - ( @star-sim ) FLUFF, emo!heesung, horrendously down bad! heeseung, cute sweet!reader. absolutely no one would have expected the dark, brooding, and rough heeseung lee to be hopelessly head over heels in love with the sweet, oblivious you. AAAAA THIS IS SO CUTEEEEEE

who r u? - ( @jlheon ) fluff, you and heesung are in situationship but none of the members knew your knew, so they make up all these plans to lowkey figure it out. this was soooo entertaining lmao, i loved it

jay

random texts with bf!jay - ( @enha-stars )

too sweet - ( @star-sim ) fluff, suggestive, badboy!jake, nerdy!reader, downbad!jake. Jay is scared he will hurt you in the future so he tries to break things off but at the end of the day he´s whipped LMAOOO, I LOVE ITTTTTT

say it back! - ( @star-sim ) FLUFF, non-idol! bf! jay, clingy cute!reader, whipped!jake, like fr, UGHHHHHHHH SO CUTE AND DOMESTIC

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jay

pictures of bf!jay enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

jake

fuck buddy jake - ( @heeseungsbm ) smut, lowkey fluff bc he´s got a fat crush

texts with ex-bf!jake - ( @bywons ) fluff, CRACK, he´s down bad fr

pictures of bf!jake enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jake

brought the heat back - ( @jayniks ) smut, idol!jake, giving him a bj while he´s on weverse live sdlkjlsd WHEWW

hello kitty meets batman - ( @star-sim ) fluff, angst, lowkey smut, dark horror creator youtuber!jake, downbad!jake, beauty vlogger youtuber!reader. fans had no idea their fav youtubers were in a long-term secret relationship. THIS IS SO GOOOOOODDDDDDDD plsss, i wish i could read it again for the first time

things we never said - ( @hoonigiris ) very angsty. it’s heeseung’s wedding, jake’s had too much to drink, and really, he just misses you. perhaps what happens after are the things he should never say. This is realllyy well written, i loved it

clingy bf jake - ( @onyourmarkks ) PLSSS i want him so bad :((((((( he´s so bf

taste of heaven - ( @moonstruck-muses ) vamp au, smut, fluff, angst, vamp!jake, human!reader. he´s keeping his true nature a secret. THIS HAS IT ALLLLL and the smut is so gewd too, pls i would love the see another part of this

last added! grwm to break up with my bf prank - ( @jaeyunwon ) fluff, LSDJFLSKJ JAKE WAS HEATED, so cute

sunghoon

texting bf!sunghoon - ( @heeslomll ) text, fluff, crack, HE´S SO UNHINGED LMAO

texting bf!sunghoon - ( @heeslomll )text, THEY ARE HORNY AFFFFFF

texts with ex-bf!sunghoon - ( @saursoob ) text, crack

sunghoon as your downbad bf - ( @jaeyunwrld ) text, crack, fluff

random ass texts - ( ( @saursoob ) fluff, crack, downbad!hoon

freaky bf!hoon texts - fluff, crack, very suggestive, downbad!hoon, mentions of pee kink,,,IKYFL

pictures of bf!sunghoon enha sends you - ( @enha-stars ) text, fluff

emergency contact - ( @hoonatic ) ANGSTYYYYYYYYY, fluff, exes to lovers. weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. i love it SO fucking MUCH plssss

the pussy eating competition - ( @karinasbaby ) smut, HELLO???? THIS WHOLE CONCEPT IS CRAAZZZYYYYYYYYY, bc WDYM there´s a competition of how many times a guy can make a girl squirt under 5 minutes??????? IM- it´s good yall

crush - ( @star-sim ) fluff, crack, non-idol! bf! sunghoon, sleepy!hoon, dumb!hoon. AAAAAAAAA i love it :( so domestic and fun and cute and :((((((

without words - ( @slytherinshua ) fluff, PLEASEE I NEED HIMMMMMMM :(((((((((( they´re so in love

sunoo

espresso - ( @star-sim ) dark academia au, downbad!sunoo, loser!sunoo nerd!sunoo, popular!reader, lots of sexual frustration. I LOVE ITTTTTTTTTT SMMM

jungwon

july jewels and music notes - ( @atrirose ) text, fluff, crack simp!jungwon. LOVE THIS, it makes me cackle

too much, baby? - ( @onlygarden ) smut, dom!jungwon, noona!reader, lowkey size kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT IS THISSSSFHDFHSKDJ

xo (only if you say yes ) - ( @rinanextdoor ) fluff, popular!jungwoon, secret admirer!reader, PLSSSS i need to read the next parts, it´s so good. I can only IMAGINE to fluff

ni-ki

disclaimer: he may be 18+ but I don´t feel comfortable reading any smut about him, so there won´t be any listed in here

that's your bf - ( @jlheon ) text, on going smau, fluff, crack, onlinebf!niki, idol!niki. LMAOOOO niki is dumb asl, bc if i was talking to some guy online and he said his name was riki, and then he sends some old niki pinterest pics that can be easly reversed searched, I would also NAWT believe his ass

sweater - ( @star-sim )fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, non idol bf!riki, happy ending, he gets insecure bc he doesnt recgonaize the sweater you´re wearing,

boys night - ( @star-sim )fluff, crack, non idol!riki, where his six friends tries to help him text his school crush. I LOVE THISSS, such a fun read

random texts with bf!riki - ( @sainns ) fluff, CRACK, "if u were my ex i wouldnt get over u, i would start tweaking like austin mcbroom" LMAOOOO he´s so real for tar

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!riki

gamer!bf riki - ( @alvojake ) FLUFF, IM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET RN SDKFSLHSJDFH this was so CUTE

necklace - ( @rikiislvr ) fluff, idol!riki, i WISH this would happen to me but i´m too broke to be frequenting the same stores as him alsjfha, need a part two asap plss

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference

[aikaterini-drag]

A New Chapter PART 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You and Rafe decide to try for a baby and that makes him excited and determined… to say the least.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+, p in v sex, extra spicy, a tiny bit of anal play, heavy on breedìng kink and cοckwarming, shameless smut guys.

This belongs to the “Loving You” series. Find it here.

It was a few months ago when you and Rafe had the pregnancy talk. You’d been together for three years and got engaged last year. Your wedding was planned to take place in six months, but you couldn’t resist the idea of testing fate and ditching protection and seeing what happens.

It was Rafe’s innermost wish and fantasy to get you pregnant. Even when you diligently took the pill, he was obsessed with cumming inside you, filling you with his load. Now that you stopped taking the pill and gave him permission to knock you up, he was excited, utterly devoted and determined to make it happen. Sometimes, he would even compete to see with how much of his seed he could fill you up with.

This morning had been wonderful. You’d woken up in Rafe’s arms and spent the day making chocolate pancakes and sharing lazy touches and kisses. But he had to leave soon. He had an urgent meeting to get to, but he couldn’t stop kissing you against the door.

“Rafe, your meeting,” you murmured between kisses.

“Rafe,” you warned again while he dragged his teeth along your chin. Your fingers fumbled to slip on his jacket, you managed to get one arm into the sleeve before he wretched it from your hands and let it drop to the floor.

“Don’t ’Rafe’ me. I just want to kiss my fiancée.”

Hands cupping your face, Rafe didn’t just kiss you, he possessed your lips, his tongue tasting your mouth. You felt the blush spreading over your neck while he pressed the line of his body and backed you up against the door. His thighs cradled you, his hard cock strained through his clothes, poking against your oversized hoodie.

“We… d-don’t have time,” you whispered against his lips, but your protest was weak.

He looked at you, kissing you with his eyes.

Before you could say another word, he lifted you, and you gasped as he carried you to the bedroom, his steps quick and effortless. He tossed you onto the mattress, following you down and pinning you beneath him like a predator about to devour his prey.

“Rafe,” you tried again, but he silenced you with another kiss. “Mhhh… meeting—”

“I have a few minutes,” he drawled against your mouth, his teeth nipping your lower lips. “And I know exactly how to spend them.”

“You insane man—” you smiled because it never took just a few minutes for Rafe to make love to you. But your thoughts faded as his hands roamed your body, peeling away your clothes. Your hoodie came off first, and then your panties, you wore nothing else.

“You know you’re obsessed with this, right?”

He grinned. “It’s my honor, really.”

A deep groan escaped him as he shed his own clothes, baring himself to you shamelessly. At his image, liquid warmth gathered at your pussy. Rafe was a masterpiece of a man, with a broad chest and shoulders, hard nipples, and a virile chest. His hips were narrow, his legs long and muscular. And his cock. Oh, his gorgeous cock. You licked your lips as you reached down to cradle it in your palms. His shaft was hot at touch, thick and hard, curving angrily toward his bellybutton. The cockhead gleamed with a bead of pre-cum that made your mouth water.

Propping a pillow under your hips, he brought you close, bending over you on all fours. Your legs wrapped around him eagerly and he breathed out sharply. He held onto your hips with his calloused large hands, stroking his throbbing cock against your soaking wet pussy.

“There’s my good girl and my cute little pussy.”

“Rafe…” you undulated against him as he rubbed his the head of his dick angst your clit.

“Want something, baby?” he drawled, his shaft teasing you without penetrating.

“Rafe—” you tried to get him inside you, but he pushed your hands away and kept the length of his fat cock draped over your slit.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow,” he breathed against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Slow?” You exhaled, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I can’t. I can’t do slow.”

“Then tell me exactly what you want.” He closed his lips around your nipple, wetting it, then turned to give the same treatment to the other. “Or should I stop and go to my meeting?”

“Don’t you dare,” you mouthed while he fondled your breasts.

“Say it then. “

He cupped your ass, rubbed the round cheeks lightly before slapping them. You gasped, more wetness seeping from your pussy. You felt empty, and he was edging you when he knew the simplest of his touches made you go crazy with need.

“Baby…” you whined, tracing your hands over his bunching shoulders. “Want your hands all over me, your cock inside me. I want you to put a baby in me.”

“I’ll fuck you pregnant,” he said, his thumbs opening the folds of your pussy and let only his cockhead past the tight resistance. “When we marry, everyone will know you’re carrying my seed. You’re going to look so beautiful in your wedding dress, your belly round, carrying our child.“

“Hm… I want that too, please,” you choked out, shimming your hips, begging desperately to have his perfect cock shoving into you.

In one swift move, the blunt cockhead glided deeper and you tensed all over. Grabbing your inner thighs, he forced them wide apart and marveled at the sight of your little slit being forced open by his dick. Damn, you looked down and let out a long drawn out moan. No matter how many times you did this, he was so big, it seemed impossible that something that thick and long could fit inside you, yet it always did, perfectly.

You were so wet that his cock slid right in, the tip kissing your cervix. It was a tight fit and your walls clenched tightly around him as he brought his thumb back to your clit and rubbed round and round. His ministrations made you see stars, your hands fisting the bedcovers, thighs trembling.

“Mhhh… Full?” he purred against your lips as he allowed you to adjust.

“Hn… so… full.” You met his gaze, your eyes misty.

“So tight and wet,” he gritted. “Pretty pussy is squeezing me so hard, making a mess all over me.”

“Want more,” you whined, locking your heels around him.

But Rafe was in another dimension.

“You’re dripping all over my halls, baby.” His eyes were on you, his dick throbbing inside you while he played with your swollen clit. “Fuck, look at that, so pretty. Let it go, baby, let it go.”

“Hmm… I’m about to— come, Rafe, oh, Rafe, yes, yes...”

One, two three strokes over your poor clit and you closed your eyes, your body thrumming and clenching around him almost painfully. Your orgasm hit wildly, explosively, and you grabbed onto his pecs while you shook and cried out his name. And then he finally started thrusting. His surged powerfully inside you and you trembled with aftershocks, cumming again, so hard that you tried to push him away.

Rafe wouldn’t have it and kept fucking you through your orgasm, devouring your lips, his tongue licking into your mouth while his fingers pinched and circled your nipples. Your whole frame shook from his urgent thrusts, your juices dripping all over him and making a mess of the sheets. It was too much, too good.

Panting furiously, you forked your fingers in his hair, tugging and bringing his mouth to your nipples. A husky growl and he responded, suckling one bud in his warm mouth while circling the other with his thumb. You arched to meet his thrusts, your bodies colliding in perfect rhythm.

A gasp left you when he slapped your butt and flipped you onto your stomach. Meaty hands brought you to your knees as he crawled behind you, his thighs opening you up. Raising your hips, he filled you in one smooth motion and you cried into the mattress, your cheek rubbing against the cotton sheets.

Cupping your hips, he started a primal rhythm, wet slaps echoing in the room. Running his hands from hips to your ass, he drew your cheeks apart, exposing the tiny bud of your asshole and moaning lewdly at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy.

“So damn beautiful,” he whispered against your ear, nipping your neck.

The sound of his phone ringing broke the moment but he scowled and ignored it.

“Rafe…” the sound of the phone pulled you from your pleasure-filled world. “Must be from work—”

“Fuck the meeting. They can manage without me.” He gathered some of your wetness and rubbed it over your pouting hole. “All you have to worry about is taking my load in your pussy.”

You squirmed from under him. “Hnn… You’re not playing with my pussy right now.”

“I’ll play with whichever part of you I want. I want you to wear that pretty diamond plug in your ass.”

“Later, now fuck me, please,” you whimpered at his powerful fullness filling you and not damn moving. “Move, come on, Rafe!”

The phone finally stopped ringing.

“Is that a promise?” he asked, eyes dark with desire.

“Yes! Do anything you want.” You mewled, blubbering his name repeatedly. “You always make me feel so good. Please, please.”

“I’m at your service, baby.”

Slowly, he slid out, his cock frothing with your wetness.

“Haah…” you clutched the sheets, “yes…”

And then back in. In and out, over and over again, burying himself into the hot, sweet pleasure of your cunt.

Panting and sweating, Rafe rotated his hips, his thrusts turning primal and sloppy. Reaching down, he touched where you were joined, manipulating your folds. He spread your outer lips, working on your clit. You gasped, whimpering and shifting restlessly as he pounded into you while rubbing you senseless.

It was so intense, so overwhelming and you could do nothing but take the pleasure he offered. Licking your dry lips, you rocked against him, sliding back and forth on his fat cock, never missing a beat. Rafe breathed in short sharp gasps, hunched over your body.

“I’m close,” he growled, gently slapping your clit. “Fuck—”

And then came the blinding moment of release.

You climaxed first, convulsing with spasms and Rafe followed, shoving his cock all the way inside, giving loud bellowing moans as he stuffed your pussy full of his seed. You felt the warmth and pressure as he emptied himself inside you, packing you so full while gripping your waist to make sure you stayed there and took it all.

You weren’t sure how much time passed with him bent over you, his forehead pressed to the curve of your neck, lazily kissing your skin. You still shivered with little aftershocks, a pleased smile on your face, your eyes fluttering slowly.

Rafe sighed as he angled his face to kiss your cheek and lips. Craning your head, you responded, opening your mouth to his tongue as he pulled his messy shaft out of you, still hard despite his release. A small whine escaped your throat as he shifted away, his warm hands rubbing your waist and ass.

“No,” he said, watching his seed leak out of you.

You winced a little at the sensation. “It’s too much—”

“Don’t move,” he cupped your ass, keeping you still. “I need every bit of it inside you.”

You couldn’t resist laughing. “Rafe Cameron, you shameless slut.”

“Slut for you and your pussy,” he said, his voice dark and husky.

“Stay,” you murmured, “inside.”

Gently, he set you on your side and spooning you from behind, he impaled you, inch by incredible inch. Air was forced from your lungs at the invasion. He hugged you, one hand fondling your breast, the other guiding your face to kiss you. He kissed you languidly, brushing his lips against yours, rubbing your flat belly as he whispered how pretty you’d look carrying his seed.

“I really really want this to work,” he whispered in between kisses.

“I know, baby,” you smiled against his mouth, stroking his cheek. “I want it too and I love how devoted you are in your mission.”

“I’ll make it happen.” He let his forehead rest against yours. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry for being so intense.”

“I love you for it, Rafe Cameron. And I feel like this time, it worked.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König masterlist

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader {Mythical AU, dubcon smut, 18+}

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

Part 1 | Part 2

Christian Woman {Romance, fluff, smut, 18+}

König x Nun!Reader | This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting. You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores, and the relationship turns out to be far from platonic. König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Possession {Dark fic, angst, smut, 18+}

König x Maid!Reader | Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT {Historical AU. Roman Auxilia soldier!König with his spoils of war gf. Slow burn, romance, fluff, eventual smut, 18+}

König x F!Reader | The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Valkyrie {Dubcon, smut, flangst, romance, 18+}

Virgin!König x F!OC | The situation had indeed taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Just Friends {Dark romance, smut, violence, heavy angst, 18+ WARNING: Not safe or sane}

König x F!Reader | She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Even Demons are Lonely {Angst, pining, König POV, yandere, 18+} He comes back after a mission {Fluff, mild smut, angst, yandere, 18+} Just Friends playlist (by @evil-squint-etc) Art for Just Friends by @shizukaay0

[arminsumi]

when is daddy coming home ?

g. satoru ⋅ fem wife reader

note: WOW i'm so sorry for writing this anyways tagging @satoruhour for no reason except i'm evil 👍 ik we need fluff comfort rn but i had to get out at least one devastating post. anyways. enjoy the suffering!!

warnings — heavy pure angst prepare to suffer and cry more than you already are, implied death, chapter 236 spoilers

playme ♪ oh god it's you i watch tv with / when i wake up i see you with me... as long as i'm here, no one can hurt you

scurrying around the kitchen, there's no free time when you've got a little mouth to feed. and you smile when you see your cute little girl devouring the bowl of steaming food. it's satoru's favorite, he asked you to make it today especially and you don't know why.

an hour goes by. you observe your child drawing a scribbly heart.

" what are you drawing ? " you ask, and she replies with " something for daddy. "

" it looks beautiful. who's that ? "

" that's you. and that's daddy. and that's me. "

" are we inside a heart ? "

" yup ! we're inside daddy's heart, because it has the most space. "

your heart feels a peculiar pang, and you look out the window. how strange, you felt like your whole world caved in for that split second.

" mommy, when is daddy coming home ? " your little girl asks innocently.

" soon, angel. "

you ring his number.

gojo satoru ~ i'm busy right now, leave a message — ow !

you remember the day he made this prerecorded messgae. his ow at the end is a reaction to your little girl biting him when she was teething, that was years and years ago now.

the little bell on her bracelet sounds. it's the bracelet that you and gojo wove together in high school; your little one had found it in your memory box and loved it so much that she asked if she could have it as her birthday gift.

that bell chimes as she moves her wrist to color in satoru's eyes with the prettiest blue crayon. and for some reason, it sounds louder than ever; you stare at it. why are tears coming forth?

the tv is playing. the birds are chirping. the world keeps spinning. but your world? it feels like it broke apart. and why? what was this feeling? you felt like... like something devastating has just happened.

you try satoru's phone again, wandering aimlessly into the kitchen. it feels eerily quiet and joyless.

gojo satoru ~ i'm busy right now, leave a message — ow !

you try it again.

gojo satoru ~ i'm busy right now —

you try it again.

gojo satoru ~

gojo satoru ~

gojo satoru ~

he was mimicking the way you always said his name in high school.

and you start breaking down crying, trying and trying repeatedly as if it would change anything. you don't need someone to knock on your door to tell you he's gone, because you can feel it; his spirit isn't in this world anymore. you and him were completely connected, a string between the two of you that linked your hearts and subconscious no matter the distance between them.

when you look up at the sky, there's an endless blue. but all you really think of when you see that sky is his eyes. when you first met, that was one of the first things you told him.

" your eyes put the skies to shame. "

and he replied with something so cheesy that for some reason made you fall in love with him right there.

" aw. well, you put the angels to shame. "

the food goes cold. in his last moment, when he detached from the world, he was thinking about returning home to you. that's why he had asked you to make his favorite, after all. he thought it would be nice to enjoy such a simple thing after saving the world.

it's funny, even if he would have saved the world, he wouldn't have been able to come home to boast about it to you; because you never knew that side of him.

you never knew he was gojo satoru.

you just knew he was your gojo satoru, your doting husband.

when those eyes stared up at the blue sky for the last time, he thought;

at least i got to say i love you to you this morning, and give you that big kiss. treasure it baby, there will be no more now.

rest well honoured one.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[cottonlemonade]

Six And A Half Minutes [part 3]

word count: 1850 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: University!AU Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: smut - and lots of it, smidgen of angst, friends to lovers

warnings: mdni, nsfw, swearing, mentions of insecurities, more loving degradation, horny love drunk Suna

[part 1] [part 2]

It took a couple of seconds for his words to register. Your head was still swimming from your climax and the taste of his cock fresh on your tongue.

“You don’t have to, you know.”, you said finally, nervously kneading your hands in your lap again.

“Don’t get all fucking cute and shy after what you just did. I can only take so much.”, Rin frowned with a smile, softer than you’d ever seen, “C’mon.”

He got off the couch, staggering for a moment before regaining his balance, and then stretched his hand out to you.

Of course you had been in his room countless times, had commented on the messiness of clothes strewn about and teased him how he even managed to get girls into his bed. Well.

You lay back on his sheets, very very aware that your best friend hovered half naked above you and you were caged between his arms and thighs.

“First things first.”, he said matter of factly and leaned down. You half expected him to go back to sucking on your nipples but instead he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss turned from sweet to sloppy and you felt his hand slide down your side to your pajama shorts. Rintarou made quick work of them, flinging them into some dark corner of his room and then began teasing your clit through your panties. He grinned when he felt how drenched you were and you moaned into his mouth.

Your shirt and bra swiftly followed your shorts and he scooted down, making sure to get some more licks and sucks in at your breasts and came to kneel before you on the bed.

“You gotta spread your legs a bit further, alright?”

His casual tone made you squirm a little and you were sure Rin could feel the new surge of juices soaking through your panties.

You did as you were told.

He almost drooled when he peeled the fabric to the side and saw your glistening puffy pussy lips just begging to be devoured. He couldn’t wait to fuck you but all in good time.

You let out a loud moan when his tongue swiped through your folds the first time. He wrapped his arms around your plush thighs to keep you in place as he continued, tracing circles around your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. His recently spent cock hardened again in his pants and he ever so slightly moved his hips against his bed for some friction.

Fuck, he could taste you for hours. The room was quiet except him slurping, sucking and kissing your pussy like he had never tasted anything so delicious. He was completely drunk on you, reveling in your sounds and squirms. He wanted to kill that bastard that dared to cheat on you when he had the most heavenly pussy right there in front of him. But then again, maybe he should thank him actually. Rintarou sighed at your sweetness.

Letting go of one of your thighs he brought two fingers to your mouth. “Can you get those nice and wet for me, baby?” His eyes were filled with the same hunger as before, setting softer kisses on your clit for a short break while you complied and sucked his fingers into your mouth.

“That’s it. You’re doing great…”

You shivered for a moment when he used the newly slicked fingers to tease your hard nipples for a second. He chuckled against your pussy, closing his eyes in bliss again when he lay his tongue flat against your folds.

“Now, let’s see how long it takes for you to be begging to cum, hm?”

As it turned out, not long at all. He really hadn’t exaggerated when he said he was good with his fingers and tongue.

When his long fingers entered your still dripping pussy you were sure you would pass out. His lips latched to your swollen clit, he slowly began to fuck you with his fingers, picking up the pace every couple of tongue swipes.

Your juices ran down the back of his hand - a waste in his opinion. He held onto you tighter, nibbling your clit now as his fingers quickly darted in and out, before keeping them inside you, curling and scissoring.

You covered your mouth with your hand, arching your back.

“Nono, none of that. Let me hear you.”, he panted, replacing his tongue on your clit momentarily with his calloused thumb, “Go on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Mmh! Fuck, Rin - oh my god, don’t stop - don’t ever stop! Please, I need to cum.”

He almost nutted in his sweats at your desperation.

He kept his tongue on your cunt through your orgasm, slowing his finger fucking again.

“You think, my pretty little slut can take my cock next?”, he said in a low voice, pulling his fingers out of you, examining the little strands of cum forming between them with interest.

He took off his sweats and knelt between your legs, his hard cock lined up with your sensitive pussy, still pulsing from your last orgasm. Wiping your cum on his cock made him twitch in anticipation.

“Look at me. You ready?”

Instead of a reply, since words did not seem to form currently, you just spread your legs a little further.

“Fuck, you’re incredible.”

For a few strokes he let his cock just glide through your folds, coating it well in your juices, then slowly pushed into you.

“Shit, nngh, relax a bit more, alright? Or I won't be able to fit... Fuck, you’re tight.”

Muttering sweet compliments he bullied his cock further and further into you. When he finally bottomed out, he guided your legs around his waist and leaned down to take your hard nipples into his mouth again. He couldn’t get enough of you. He let you get used to the feeling of him filling your cute little cunt while he happily licked and sucked more hickeys into your skin.

“You can fuck me now.”, you said quietly after a few minutes of slow deep kisses, just enjoying the feeling of his cock inside of you and Rin was close to proposing on the spot.

“As you wish.”

One arm used to propping himself up, the free hand grabbing onto your waist he began to move.

Waking up the next morning, Rin was confused to find the other side of his bed empty. He sat up and looked around the room now illuminated by the early morning. Dust danced in the gray sun beams.

“Y/n?”, he called, getting more confused by the second. Your discarded clothes were also gone. Just then he heard the door open and you stepped inside. Seemingly having just come out of the bathroom, you were dressed in your comfortable pajamas again. Rintarou clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Why are you dressed?”, and not even waiting for a reply he added, “Come back to bed.”

He lifted the blanket and in the dim morning light you caught a glimpse of his magnificent naked body as he patted the spot next to him, “C’mon, it’s getting cold.”

You stepped closer to the bed and were pulled into his arms, your back against his warm chest.

He hummed sleepily, then muttered, “Too many clothes.”

Soon his hand found its way under your shirt and began to caress your tummy and breasts.

“Lift your leg a little, baby.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”, he said simply, kissing your neck.

You let him lift your leg ever so slightly and a moment later felt him slide his half hard cock between your thighs. You gasped when he pulled your pajama shorts and panties to the side and rubbed his length along your folds again that were getting wetter by the second.

Setting opened mouthed kisses to your neck he moaned quietly into your ear.

His hand under your shirt again, he cupped your breasts, squeezing in tune with the thrusts of his hips.

When you had woken up that morning all your bravery from last night was gone. Everything that happened seemed like the worst mistake you ever made. What happened between you was nothing more than a fluke and he would discard you just like your ex had done. Or what if Rin thought you were only using him as a rebound. But wow, you got way ahead of yourself there. He probably also simply craved some release. This was just two best friends helping each other out, right? Even now you faced away from him as he used you - “Look at me.”, Rin's voice cut through your thoughts and his hips slowed, looking into your eyes when you turned your head. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. The kiss was drawn out and sensual, his tongue gently pushing open your mouth to slip inside.

“There you go…”, his hand wandered lower to your plush thighs, digging between them to toy with your clit, “You’re doing so well for me, hm? - Keep your eyes on me, y/n.”, foreheads resting against each other he sped up again.

It didn’t take long for you two to cum together, whiny and panting.

He kissed you once more.

“Now I’m all sticky again…”, you complained with a little pout.

He chuckled and nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“We can take a shower in a bit but let’s just stay here a little longer, alright?”

He held you close, nose buried in your hair, breathing deeply.

After a bit of silence he said your name.

“Hm?”

“Just in case it wasn’t really fucking obvious … I love you.”

_________________

Three months later:

Rintarou had a request while you were fooling around on his couch again.

“Do you remember that pink crop top with like the flowers on it?”

“Oh, you mean the one you told me not to wear again because it’s too small which then made me cry myself to sleep? Yeah, I remember.”

“Woah woah woah, I distinctly remember I said not to wear it in front of other people.”

“Oh you distinctly remember, do you?”

“Sure fucking do. Cause I kept waiting for you to wear it again in front of me.”

You raised a brow.

He kissed your neck and grabbed your breasts.

“Cause your tits look absolutely delectable in that thing.”

“Oh really?”

He hummed, sucking your nipples again, refreshing his latest set of hickeys.

“And then if you pair that with no bra and like… only some cute panties… shit, I’d make sure to worship every inch of you and then fuck you so thoroughly you’d forget your own name… hmm, pounding you to watch your tits bounce in that shirt… Damn, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

“Pervert.”, unfortunately your insult came out as a gasp when he brought his hand between your legs and dragged his fingers through your puffy pussy lips, drenched from his words.

He grinned, bringing the glistening fingers to his lips and giving them a mischievous lick. “As if you didn’t already know, my beautiful little slut.”

a/n: this concludes officially the most explicit thing I have ever written. Yeah.

[holylulusworld]

Valentine reloaded

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former!(any male character) x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, fluff, Bucky being the best, flirting

A different kind of Valentine

Bucky pulled the chair for you and whispered soothing words in your ear. He tried to help you forget about what happened earlier that day. “That’s my favorite restaurant, doll. I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I wanted to try it out for so long. But—” You sighed deeply and shook your head. “I like it already. The ambiance is nice, and I like the cute aprons the waitresses are wearing.”

“You have a good eye for details,” Bucky smirked at your flustered state. “Relax, doll. I won’t bite or eat you alive.”

“Maybe I’m into biting,” you retorted and mirrored his smirk. “You never know about people’s kinks until you end up in bed with them.”

Bucky laughed at your attitude. “I like you already.” He said and sat down to have a look at the menu. “What do you like?”

“I like it spicy, wild but with lots of kissing and gentle touches,” you grinned at Bucky. “OH! You meant the food.”

“You are something else,” Bucky snickered and dropped his eyes to the menu. He’d love to hear more about your preferences in the bedroom but decided against it. You were still hurting and tried to hide the pain another man caused with your cockiness. “I’d love to know everything about you.”

“I think you’d get bored, just like him if you knew everything about me,” you whispered. The light in your eyes and the smirk gone you tried to keep yourself together. “Sorry, I didn’t want to ruin your mood.”

“Doll, you are hurting,” Bucky grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “The man you loved broke your heart and left you for some other girl. You can be sad about it.”

“I don’t want to be sad,” suddenly aware that you are at a fancy restaurant, with a very attractive and nice man you shook your head. “He doesn’t deserve a single tear. Whatever we had, he ruined it and I’m not going to let him win. Let’s eat.”

“Let’s eat, Y/N,” Bucky nodded and squeezed your hand before turning his attention back toward the menu. “I’ll go for meat tonight.”

“I knew you were into some meat,” you winked at Bucky and smirked again. “I’ll go for pasta.”

Bucky nodded and called for the waiter. You ordered your food and released one last sigh. This night should’ve been special for you and your now ex-fiancé. All you wanted was to make him happy. And now you realize, it should’ve been him trying to make you happy for once.

“What do you want for dessert?” Bucky asked, watching you with concern. You were lost in thoughts, and he tried to bring you out of your intrusive thoughts. 

“Can you recommend anything?” You asked and looked at Bucky, taking your time to drink his features in. Just now you recognized his eyes, bluer than the ocean you longed to see again for the longest time.

“Doll, you can order whatever your heart desires. My treat,” he softly said. “What do you like? I like the awfully sweet stuff.”

“Sweet,” you giggled. “Really? I thought you were more into the manly kind of dessert.”

“I’m man enough to admit that I like sweet desserts and to caress a woman. All these testosterone-driven wanna-be men are fake. A real man can admit his feelings and make sweet love to a woman.”

“You are laying on thick, huh?” You smiled at Bucky. “I like a man who can manhandle me but make sweet love afterward. The perfect combination of roughness and softness.”

“Y/N, you are making it hard for me to be a gentleman,” Bucky cleared his throat and tried to ignore the desire growing in his pants. He’d love to get to know you better before devouring you. 

“Well, you started this, Sir,” you pointed your finger at Bucky. “You cannot talk about your qualities and expect me to not fall for you.”

He chuckled at your words. “I’m warning you, Y/N. If you want me to, I’ll make you fall for me so hard you’ll not even recognize that I put a ring on your finger before you are walking down the aisle.”

“A shotgun wedding then?” You challenge. “I bet you look even better in a smoking. Let me just get a nice dress and we can drive into the sunset.”

“What will you do if I kidnap you and make you my wife?”

You shrugged. “What’s the worst thing that could happen to me? If you wanted to hurt me, you had more than one chance to do so.”

“You are tempting me, doll,” he laughed and tried to play it cool. Bucky was mesmerized by you the moment you slapped him with your clutch. No one ever dared to lay hands on James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone fears the ruthless mobster. “I can still kidnap you after dinner.”

“Good plan, Sir,” you winked at Bucky, feeling a weight get lifted off of your chest. Somehow being around this stranger, you just met helped you forget about your ex-fiancé and his betrayal. “I’m starving and can’t marry a man on an empty stomach.”

“A very good plan, Y/N,” he smiled at you. “Let’s make this dinner worth your time, sweetness.”

Dinner was pleasant. You ate, drank, and chatted with Bucky. Honestly, you didn’t have so much fun for the longest time. 

You soon find out that Bucky is easy to talk to. He never judged you or made a face when you ordered the most expensive and delicious dessert you ever ate.

He simply enjoyed your presence and the fact that he made you smile more than once.

When it was time to pay, he refused to let you pay a single buck. It was his pleasure to invite you. 

Bucky helped you into your jacket and held the door open for you. You walked next to him, feeling hope bloom in your chest when he suddenly grabbed your hand to hold it.

“That okay?” He murmured. “If not, just say it. I don’t want to overstep.”

“I overstepped by slapping you, Bucky,” you stopped in your tracks to look at him. “You didn’t deserve the slap, or to get yelled at. I’m sorry.”

“Doll, I’ll give you reason in the future to yell at me. Believe me, I’m no saint,” he grinned and wrapped you in a hug. “But I make up for it in the bedroom.”

“Bucky,” you slapped his chest and giggled. “Can we…do this again?” You asked. “I pay next time. I mean…can we go out together or have coffee?”

“We sure will, Y/N,” Bucky said and slung one arm around your shoulder. “Or we could just get married tonight.”

“You’re not funny,” you teased but leaned your head against his shoulder. “Thank you for tonight. You don’t even know me but tried to cheer me up.”

“All for a pretty and sweet dame like you,” he simply said and walked you toward his car. “I’ll drive you home, and make sure you sleep well. I won’t leave you alone tonight.”

Bucky kept his promise and settled on your couch. He knows how hard it is to get your heart broken by the person who should love you the most.

Even though he just met you, Bucky felt responsible for you. That his heart was beating a little too fast close to you didn’t help.

“Fuck,” you sniffled while walking back out of the bedroom, rubbing your tired eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Hey,” Bucky got up from the couch to wrap you in his arms when you started to cry again. “We agreed on not crying over that bastard. Didn’t we?”

You nodded against him. “Yeah.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you hold me for a while?” You hid your face in his chest. “Please.”

“Of course, doll.” He softly replied. Bucky wanted to tell you that he would hold you for all your life if you allowed him to do so. “Let’s get you to bed. I won’t leave your side.”

Best Valentine ever

Tags in reblog.

[killuintense]

❝ two fools in love ❞

rookie!leon kennedy x fem!reader.

summary: just you going to look for Leon at the police academy.

content: 1.3k words, pure fluff, a little little bit of angst (reader miss leon), comfort, subby and cute Leon ofc.

note: the calm before the storm (I plan to do a longer one shot of angst :p)

It was Friday afternoon and the weather was colder than you expected, especially when you left the warmth of your home. You were walking through the crunchy autumn leaves that intruded on your way to the police academy, where an anxious Leon was waiting for you.

You hadn't seen him since Monday. He had kissed you goodbye with a lazy, clingy kiss —just like him— at the door of your apartment, promising to see you again at the end of the week. And finally that moment had arrived, giving you a feeling of excitement that ran through your whole body with enthusiasm. It had been difficult for both of you at that new stage in your lives, where the blond would have to go to an academy every month and only leave to see you on weekends, where both would spend from Friday to Sunday glued to each other without being able to separate for a second. But then everything would end and they would have to say goodbye. Sometimes you would accompany him, and sometimes he would leave alone, but not before sinking into your arms and filling your face with kisses, making sure you could not forget him for the remaining week.

You wondered if he thought of you as much as you thought of him, because it was suffocating to walk into the apartment and smell his scent even when he wasn't there, to walk by the refrigerator and look at the pictures of the two of you on that last vacation you had. Leon would circle your waist with his lips pressed to your neck and yet you were still able to see his smile and his little eyes slightly narrowed as you held the camera turning that selfie into a beautiful memory that you needed to see often to be strong and keep holding on to his arrival, reminding you that he loved you more than he could surely show. Although sometimes he was very messy, and you ended up finding in the least expected place some of his notebooks with reminders about some element that he should take into account for the physical exams they took at the academy every so often; his handwriting was as strange as he was, cursive leaning to the side as if his mind was faster than his hands. And as the days went by you refused to put in the washing machine the last T-shirt he had worn before he left, which held his cologne and his warmth. His smell of roses, so particular but masculine, and you could only remember the desire to devour him every time you saw him again, standing like a pathetic child who only expected your approval for everything, who blushed even with your slightest pampering or compliment. He emanated that warmth in which you wanted to sink and die, to die in the happiest way of all, where you never let go of him and only remained in love with him and his love.

You thought the nights were the worst, and sometimes you struggled to choose which was harder, the coldness of the bed or the coldness of your body, without his arms around you, without his silly jokes with that sleepy and tired but mellow voice, with his lips leaving wet kisses on your face and neck. You stroked his hair, that soft clump of golden hair, somewhat dull at times as he whispered that he loved you, and down your spine ran a shiver that made you giggle like a fool, asking him to stop even though deep down you knew he wouldn't because you really didn't want him to.

He was so naughty, always doing what he wanted and getting away with it, behind that silly and pathetically shy attitude, always letting his hands travel a little more than the coverage of your nightgown, squeezing and biting the way you loved it. It was too much to see how delicious you were in his eyes, the way you managed to elucidate in her eyes that there was never enough of your body to satisfy his hunger. That's why the nights were empty without his company, but so full of warmth when he was there, so full of that hungry love he gave you.

Now, in the distance you could see him, saying goodbye to his companions who were also greeted at the entrance by their families or partners, some of them leaving alone as well. But he was lucky enough to know that you would arrive at any moment, stealing a smile as he looked around like a puppy anxious to meet his owner. He was too cute for your heart to bear it a second longer, so you decided to cut his waiting short, jumping behind him while hugging him by his shoulders, having to slightly tiptoe because of the height difference "Waiting, big boy?" you murmured with your voice choked in his neck giving him a soft kiss, making him not hesitate a second longer to turn around and wrap his strong and chubby arms around you, which always knew how to hold you with determination.

"My love" he said happily, hugging you, feeling that that torture was finally over. And, no lie, Leon was an exaggerated person by nature, dramatic as shit; he looked at the little picture he had taken of you every time he felt that his stay at the academy was like being in a war, and your picture smiling at him was the only light in his path (that day the major Krausser made him wake up at 4 a.m. and he felt he was really dying). "I missed you so much..." he said after a sigh of relief, squeezing your waist before seeking your mouth desperately, giving you a kiss loaded with pleasure and welcome, those kisses that felt more meaningful than any other because they had the genuine desperation of needing you in order to feel alive. He pressed you against his body as his tongue caressed yours, dominating the kiss by his eagerness to have his way with you, leaving you the opportunity to suck on his lower lip with mellowness before pulling away.

"Wow, did you miss me?" you resist, stroking his face and squeezing his cheeks. You always made sure he was well fed, you hated the idea that in his training they weren't attentive enough with the food and made him go hungry, but his cheeks were always fluffy, his arms strong and his legs and chest... you found yourself more than you'd like looking at him morbidly, wanting to squeeze him so badly. And well, why deny that more than once he scolded you for biting him too much in those places where a simple kiss didn't do his figure justice.

"I'd say the same about you" he murmured against your cheek while in his tone you could feel his playful chuckle. Both of you glued to each other with decorum and that was one of the things you liked most about Leon, he wasn't ashamed to show you your love in front of anyone, not his academy mates or strangers, he was proud to have such a fucking beautiful girlfriend and denying it would make him an idiot. And he could be a dramatist, but never an idiot. "I feel like my stomach is going to explode if I don't give her some of those delicious hot chocolate pancakes you always make" you resist as you look into her bambi eyes, big and blue. Your legs were working too hard not to bow down to him because of the tenderness he caused you, but you really couldn't help but be weak in front of that blond.

"Leon you look like a giant baby asking me to make you a snack" you laughed, biting his cheek with desperation before hanging on his shoulders to stare at him, your gaze surely reflected that overflowing love you had for him "But you're my baby so let's go get those pancakes" you feel his happiness hit your face at the moment a smile of complacency feeds your ears.

Disentangle themselves from that smothering embrace but soon it doesn't take long for him to take your hand and entwine it with his, gently caressing your knuckles. You start walking towards the apartment amidst banter and fleeting kisses, you sometimes gently tap his shoulder when he tries to kiss you but you run your face to spite him, and Leon swings his hands together, sighing like a fool in love. They were both fools in love.

[fandomonetwo]

ain'tcha just the cutest — miguel diaz

▸summary: you have a phrase that you love to say to your boyfriend. miguel loves when you say it. win-win.

▸characters: miguel diaz, gn!reader

▸tw: fluff and sweet moments and cute stuff

▸a/n: uhhhhhhhhh personally i'm an angst girly but i need to expand my skills

IT IS A well known fact that Miguel is not a morning person. He is a bomb-sleeper. An earthquake could hit and he'd simply switch to the other side and continue dreaming.

This is the reason why you were awake, and he was not. Mind you, it was nine in the morning, but you had nothing to do, so you could kill a couple hours more.

You were not a strong sleeper. You were a lightweight, and once the slumber was gone, it was gone. It had happened a few times, but it was lessening recently, which you were thankful for. It just meant that you still got up early, sometimes at the crack of dawn.

It also meant that Miguel had his arms around you, restricting your options of escape as he snored delicately next to you. You wouldn't move for the world, but you had needs, and unfortunately, his arm was, in fact, pushing down on your bladder.

You tried slipping from his grip. He only tightened it and grumbled. You tried waking him up. He only cuddled more into you. You tried to wriggle out and forcibly remove his harm from around you. He simply slapped your hand away in his sleep and sighed as he placed back around you. It was futile. But it was cute.

But you really needed the bathroom.

So you resorted to an absolute manipulation strategy. You placed kiss after kiss after smooch after peck on his face until her eventually had to rub his eyes open. You took your chance, darting from his grasp before he could secure back to him. You chuckled lightly as you heard him whine into the pillow.

You came out of the bathroom finding him in exactly the same position he was in a couple of minutes ago, breathing deeply and half his head smushed in the pillow. You knelt next to the bed, brushing his very lovely hair away from his face. He grumbled again, grabbing your hand lazily and holding it to his chest.

You chuckled again, getting back into bed in a sitting up position so to be more comfortable as you played on your phone. You stroked his hair after freeing the hand he had grabbed.

"Ain'tcha just the cutest?" you mumbled under your breath. He nuzzled into your ribs, tickling you a little.

There was no reply, but that was the first time you said it.

The next time you said it, it was his birthday. You had wished him a happy birthday, and had given him his gift. It was a bracelet that he commanded you put on him immediately.

After the day went by, you paid him another visit, carrying a wicker basket with a blanket over the top. When you announced it was picnic time, he nearly tripped after trying to put on his best pants quickly.

Luckily, you managed to get to the grassy spot you had meditated on using a few hours ago without harm. He was fine, you were fine, everything was fine. You laughed through the afternoon, you kissing into the sunset, and you ate into the evening.

He must've been ravenous, because when you looked at him after taking a picture of the sunset on your phone, you burst out laughing. This boy had tomato sauce all over his face, and he still continued to devour the plate of spaghetti in front of him.

"Whatcha laughing at?" he asked, his words muffled because of the spaghetti. This only made you laugh harder, falling backwards as you clutched your sides. Poor guy was so confused when you started gasping for breath, looking at you with wide eyes.

When you sat back up, you grabbed a napkin from the basket, bringing it to his face. You held his face in one hand and wiped the sauce from the other. The previous exaggeration was not quite true. It was not all over his face. It was just gathered in the corners of his mouth, like a toddler. He waited patiently for you to finish bathing him, grinning at you when you halted.

You giggled, patting his face with the hand that was previously holding it. "Ain'tcha just the cutest?" His face lit up more than it did before, and his eyes could rivals lying saucers.

The most recent time you said it was when there was a rumour going around school about you. Something about you and your relationship history, which was actually over way before it began. But people loved to hold onto things that gave them a reason to poke their nose where it didn't belong.

So, you never let it bother you. Miguel was a little harder to persuade, but eventually, he left it alone. And it was a good decision. The rumour died down, the people lost interest, and you had a good day at school. Until you stepped into the cafeteria to see Miguel and another student tussling on the ground. The two boys were rolling around, and only did they separate when two teachers pushed past the masses of people and forcibly pulled them away from each other. Both were sent to the nurse, and you followed behind. They were sat on the two beds that were there.

You sighed as you stood in front of your boyfriend that had his head down to look at your feet. He was swinging his legs and cracking his knuckles and playing with his fingers.

"Look at me, please." Your voice was gentle and held room for negative response. But he'd never deny you anything, so he looked up at you. You sighed again.

His face wasn't as bad as the other guy's, but it was still roughed up. He was holding a tissue to his bleeding nose, his eye was a little red, he had a scratch on his cheekbone, and his knuckles were spotted like a dalmatian.

You took another tissue, wet it with your water bottle, and held it up to his scratch. You just cleaned it a little, and his twitched his eye a little. You heard the nurse and the other boy talking in the next room.

You finished cleaning the scratch before putting on a plain bandaid. You stroked his cheek.

"What did you hit him for?"

Miguel grumbled. "He was talking about you and the other guys, about how he was one of them and that he made you feel better than I do."

You frowned. You didn't even remember the other guy's face, how could he have—

Oh.

You scrunched up your nose. You'd forgotten about that.

"Miguel, he was a one night stand. Two years ago. We were at a party, and a little tipsy, and we did it." You leaned a little closer to his face. He met your eyes with his own. "I can assure you, I didn't even remember his face until now. How could he have made me feel good?"

He breathed out a laugh. "What about me?" He was blushing a little bit as he asked. "Do I make you feel good?"

You kissed his bandaid, holding his face in your hands, smushing it a little. "You make me feel best."

He grinned. He liked grinning. He had a good grin. "I make you feel best?"

"Yes, you do."

"Even though we don't..."

"Even though we don't."

"I love you lots, you know?"

That made you giggle. "I love you lots too." His eyes shone like stars when you said that, making you bump your noses together. "Ain'tcha just the cutest?"

"I am?"

"You are."

You kissed his bandaid again.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 2 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Jessica off. With a little bit of help, he manages to get a few minutes alone with her again. And all she does is effortlessly make him want even more.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was still perplexed the following afternoon as he listened to Maverick lecture about the efficiency of the modified fuel system in the F/A-18. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Reed would have done a much better job speaking on the topic. And looked cute while doing it. 

He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, trying to determine where exactly he had fucked things up. It seemed like she was into him while they were at the bar. The cheap beers and peanuts at Chippy's let Jake know she would be relaxed enough to hang with his friends. And the way she looked and her PhD in physics let him know she would hold his interest. If he was looking for someone to date, it would be Professor Jessica in a heartbeat.

She was so charming and intelligent. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it only took her an hour last night to recognize that Jake wouldn't be enough to hold her interest. She really went running for her office as soon as they were outside.

"Damn," he muttered once the aviators were all dismissed for the day. When he unlocked his phone, his browser was still open to the tab of Jessica's profile on the San Diego State University website. That little photo of her wearing her glasses and a blouse with the top buttons undone was really messing with him. He practically had the About Me section memorized by now, and she'd said nothing about a spouse. He went to close out of it, but he couldn't. 

"Hey, you need a ride again today?" Bradley asked him, checking his own phone.

"Nah, I got my truck back this morning," he replied. "But thanks."

Bradshaw just shrugged and grunted in response, but then he was holding up his phone for Jake to see the screen. "My wife apparently has a message for you."

Sugar: Tell Hangman I ate lunch with Dr. Reed today. And she wanted to know if my sexy aviator husband happened to know another sexy aviator by the name of Jake Seresin.

Jake perked right up at that. "Mind if I text Dr. Tits myself?" he asked, and Bradley handed over his phone. 

"Just as long as you don't call her Dr. Tits. Jesus, I'm shocked you're still alive."

But he wasn't listening. Rather he was already texting. 

Hey, it's Jake. Did Jessica say anything else? After we had some beers at Chippy's, she kind of ran off. I'd like to see her again, but I'm not so sure she'd want to see me.

Jake sent the message and stared at the screen. "She might not be able to respond right now," Bradshaw was saying. "She's got a late lecture this evening." But the messaging app was telling Jake that she was in fact currently typing. 

"Shh," Jake said, devouring the message as soon as it arrived.

Sugar: I told her I know you. Be thankful that I painted a much, much prettier picture of you than I could have. But she didn't say much else. However... she does have office hours until 7:00 tonight. Just so you know.

Jake groaned and handed the phone back to Bradley. Of course he was relying on help from the woman he had accidentally given a vulgar nickname. He didn't know what he should do. On one hand, he'd love to show up at Jessica's office and pick up where they left off. On the other hand, there was a good chance it would be awkward. But he wanted to know what he did wrong. 

While they were at Chippy's, Jake had been thinking about inviting her to have dinner at his place one night. He thought about making her smile and laugh in his kitchen while he tried to convince her he was smart enough to keep up with the conversation. Imagining how it might feel to press his lips to her elegant neck.

"Yeah, I'm going," he grunted, checking the time. 

"Going where?" Bradshaw asked, looking at him like he had two heads as they finally exited the deserted classroom. 

"Visit your wife at work," Jake replied with a wink. 

He just rolled his eyes in response. "Tell her I'll pick her up at 9."

Jake didn't even bother to change out of his flight suit. He'd only been out on the tarmac for a short period of time today, so the jet fumes didn't seem to be an issue. He grabbed his wallet and keys from his locker and rushed for his truck. It was already after 6 o'clock. Depending on traffic, he might not even make it to campus before Jessica's office hours ended. But what did he have to lose?

"Come on," he complained, merging with the congestion of cars leaving North Island. Everyone was creeping across the bay bridge, and Jake was watching the minutes tick away. When he was finally close to campus, he tried to remember where Bradshaw had parked yesterday. He cut down a side street and came out near the math and science building, but there was nowhere to park. 

"Shit," he said, and then someone was pulling out of a spot further up the block. Somehow he managed to successfully squeeze his truck between two other cars, and he hopped out onto the sidewalk. He tossed his sunglasses onto the front seat before locking his truck, and tried to fix his hair as he walked toward her building. He could see Chippy's across the street, and he briefly wondered if she might head over there if he couldn't find her office in time. 

When he tried to open the door to the math and science building, it was locked. He jiggled all the door hands, but none of them were open. There was a card reader off to one side, but no students in sight. "Fuck," he groaned. The building was probably only left unlocked yesterday for the mini lectures. 

Jake started scrambling for his phone so he could call Bradshaw and get his wife's number. But then he saw her walking down the hallway inside, and he pounded on the door. She turned and looked at him with a cautionary glance until she realized it was him. Then she walked over and pulled the door open for him.

She grinned and said, "Just in time for office hours, I see."

"Thank you," Jake said, and he didn't even call her Dr. Tits. "I owe you one. For the information and for opening the door."

She just pointed him toward the row of elevators and said, "Dr. Reed's office is on the fifth floor, to the left when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks!" he called out as he practically ran to push the little up arrow. And now he was nervous. Why did he think this was a good idea? As the doors slid open, he registered that it wasn't too late to just go back to his truck and drive home. But as they started to close again, he found himself darting inside and pushing the number 5. 

If he got completely shot down, then so be it. And if she was already gone for the day, then maybe he'd consider stopping by Chippy's and running the risk of having her bartender friend give him the third degree. But it would be worth it just in case Jessica wanted to talk to him again. 

Fifth floor. He turned to the left and read all of the names on the doors as he made his way down the long hallway. And then he saw it on the placard on the second to last door on the left. DR. JESSICA REED, PHD.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jake let out a deep breath before he knocked. 

"Come in."

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside her small office, he smiled. Jessica was sitting at her desk, writing something down in that red notebook he saw yesterday, and when her gaze slid up his body, her lips parted in surprise when she met his eyes. "Jake."

"Dr. Reed," he drawled. "I almost missed your office hours."

Her eyes were wide, and she nudged her glasses up higher on her nose with the backs of her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Jake took a step closer to her desk, and she slowly stood. And hell if she wasn't wearing another cute skirt today. 

She was eyeing him curiously, still waiting for an answer when he said, "You told me I could borrow your copy of the Journal of Propulsion Science. The edition with the information about Super Hornets."

"Oh," she whispered, her face falling a bit. "Right. Of course." She turned away from him and started to search along some shelves that were jammed with books and periodicals. His eyes roamed over the back of her body all the way down to her feet and her high heels. He watched as she pulled a few glossy journals out and turned to hand them to him. "Here's the Propulsion Science journal, and here are a few more that might interest you. I don't need them back. You can keep them."

Jake took them and immediately set them down softly on her desk without looking at them. "Thanks, but that's actually not the only reason why I'm here."

"Why else are you here then?" she asked carefully, and Jake wished there wasn't a large desk between his body and hers. He felt himself starting to hesitate again, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way.

"Listen, Jessica. I was having a pretty great time last night at Chippy's." He was trying to gauge her reaction as he added, "You're beautiful, funny and smart, and hey, I'm only human. And I thought you were maybe feeling what I was feeling? And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought we were having fun? And it didn't even seem like you expected me to lay down my usual bullshit, which was really nice."

"Oh," she gasped. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "No. You're not wrong."

He shrugged at her, heart pounding as he asked, "Then what did I do wrong? Why did you run off?"

She laughed softly and looked down at her desk. "I nerded out so hard."

Jake grinned as the sheepish look on her face. "You must have been able to tell I was enjoying myself. God, I could have stayed at Chippy's with you all night long. You know more about my jet than I do, and I have the NATOPS memorized."

She ran her fingers nervously along the top of her desk as she looked at the stack of journals he was meant to take with him. As Jake planted his hands on his hips, she glanced up at him. "It's just too good to be true."

He shook his head slightly. "What's too good to be true?"

"You."

He raised one eyebrow, about to ask what that was supposed to mean when she said, "There's always a catch with the charming, good looking guys, right?"

"A catch?"

She licked her lips and pressed her palms on the desk, leaning a little closer to him. "I've been through this before. There's always someone else. A sexy naval aviator in his uniform shows up to my lecture and then flirts with me? Please. There's always another girl."

Jake was kind of stunned. "I would never do that."

But she still looked apprehensive as she said, "As soon as you started ignoring calls and messages, you said you had to leave."

Bradshaw. He was ignoring calls from Bradshaw who was trying to tell Jake to meet him at the Bronco. And he was only ignoring him because he didn't want to leave her at all.

When he didn't respond right away, she shrugged and said, "Figured it was your girlfriend calling you."

Jake made sure she met his eyes before he said, "I don't have a girlfriend."

She barely hesitated before asking, "Wife?"

"I don't have one of those either."

Jessica slowly pushed off from her desk so she was standing at her full height, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. She looked a little embarrassed now as she messed with her glasses. "That's all really useful information to have," she muttered, picking up the stack of journals and walking them around her desk. 

Her steps were intentional and deliberate, the little click of her high heels muffled in the small space. Even in those shoes she only came up to his chin, and she didn't stop until she was right in front of him. He could smell her shampoo or perfume. He could see gold flecks in her eyes. This time when she held out the journals, they grazed his flight suit. He took them in one hand and murmured, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, and Jake almost tossed the literature aside and pushed her against her desk when her fingers met the patches on his flight suit. He stood still against his desire to tilt her face up and press his lips to that pout. She looked good, and she smelled good, and Jake was convinced she would taste good, too. Then she glanced up at him, fingers still tracing his patch that said HANGMAN. 

He cleared his throat softly. "What if I decide I want to return the journals after I read them? And what if I have some questions only an expert would be able to answer?"

She smiled and said, "Then I would implore you to find me and avoid Dr. Leeland and the rest of the physics department."

Jake laughed softly, but then she removed her hand from his flight suit, and he started to reach for her. But she was already turning toward her desk, tearing a page out of her red notebook. As she bent at the waist, Jake stifled a groan and rubbed one rough hand over his mouth. Her skirt rode up along her legs, exposing so much skin, he couldn't look away. Perfect, gorgeous skin from her bare thighs down to her ankles and those stupidly high heels. 

He was definitely caught staring after she finished scribbling on the sheet of notebook paper and spun to face him. He wanted to ask her if she wanted another three dollar pint and some peanuts, but she folded the paper in half and handed it to him before he could gather his thoughts into a sentence that actually made sense.

He glanced down and saw that she'd written her office hours in her neat penmanship. 

Dr. Reed's office hours for journal topic discussion:

Tuesdays 5:30 to 7:00

Thursdays 6:00 to 7:30

"I might be willing to stay late again. For you." 

Jake looked up into her pretty eyes and tapped the sheet of paper. "Any chance you'd add your phone number for me, Dr. Reed?"

The soft smile and dreamy look she bestowed on him had him grinning like an idiot, he was certain. He wanted that phone number in the worst way. When Jessica's fingers ghosted along his patch one more time, she said, "Maybe I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Yes." Jake would make it a point to come back on Thursday. 

--------------------------

Professor Jessica thought she nerded too close to the sun. And Jake really did give off some of the telltale signs of a man who is up to no good (including but not limited to looking hot in his uniform). Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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[buddierecs]

fluff buddie fics.

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

cinnamon kisses by: tawaifeddiediaz "buck wakes up from a nap, cuddles eddie, proposes, and devours cinnamon rolls, in that very order." word count: 3.5k important tags: sleepy cuddles, getting together, first kiss, soft buddie, friends to fiance. if i loved you less by: spaceprincessem "buck can't use his phone for two days. eddie sends him text anyways" word count: 1.9k important tags: soft boys in love, getting together, love confessions, text messages

got me feeling like it's all gonna be okay by: wafflesofdoom "eddie struggles to voice his want for physical affection to buck as their relationship turns romantic, and buck helps him embrace his clinginess again." word count: 8.3k important tags: established relationship, light angst, ptsd lucky just to linger in your light by: hattalove "in which eddie accidentally waxes poetic about buck to the new york times." word count: 4.9k important tags: getting together, pining!eddie diaz, gay disaster!eddie diaz

the ordeal of dating your captain's (adopted) son by: polish_amber "or, the au where miscommunication abounds as eddie seeks advice about his new relationship, bobby despairs over his adopted son's career prospects and his refusal to talk about it, and evan buckley-nash juggles training at the fire academy, building a family with his new boyfriend, and trying to work out how to tell his overprotective dad that he's already chosen the life he wants, actually. It takes a goddamn tsunami, of all things, to get the story straight." word count: 60k important tags: miscommunication, firehouse 118 crew as family, bobby nash is evan buckley's parent, light angst, protective!bobby nash, developing relationship those two firefighters by: darkfairytale "#thosetwofirefighters starts to gather a following on social media, as everyone tries to figure out if those two cute firefighters from the 118 in LA are a thing or not." word count: 64k important tags: crack treated seriously, oblivious!buddie, internet, social media, slow burn

and here, too, am i by: daisies_and_briars "six months into their marriage, eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks." word count: 41k important tags: established relationship, married!buddie, parenthood, very soft i got all my sisters with me by: ipretendtovesane "eddie's sister has a baby, buck meets the diaz girls, and they're sickeningly in love for nearly seven thousand words" word count: 6.7k important tags: meet the family, established relationship, christopher diaz has two dads a discovery of boxer briefs by: princessfbi "he had to be dreaming, right? or maybe just in heaven and painfully aware of the warm fluttery feelings in his chest that were making him dizzy. because there, in eddie’s kitchen, was buck in a pair of socks with one pooling down his ankle like the elastic had been overstretched, an oversized hoodie, and a pair of grey briefs and it shouldn’t be the thing that made eddie’s head spin but it was." word count: 3.6k important tags: lazy mornings, cuddling, soft!buddie, sharing clothes, morning kisses

i'm cold but you light the fire within me by: beulaugh "buck shows up for career day at eddie's school, and both of them struggle to rein in their attraction." word count: 22k important tags: different first meetings au, teacher!eddie, first kiss, careers day it's golden, like daylight by: rarakiplin “hmm,” buck hums, and eddie feels the vibration of it under his mouth. buck’s nose nudges against the side of his head. “have you thought about that?” eddie laughs against buck’s shoulder, unwilling to lift his head. “thinking? right now?" “shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “i mean, would you want to? be married again?" word count: 8.7k important tags: secret relationship, weddings, first dates, getting together i'm someone you maybe might love by: allyasavedtheday "five times someone realises buck is in love with eddie and one time buck realises he's in love with eddie." word count: 6.5k important tags: 5+1 things, feelings realisation, love confessions, first kiss of accidents and inevitabilities by: tawaifeddiediaz "the one where they accidentally kiss, and the cards fall right into place." word count: 3.5k important tags: accidental kissing, soft!eddie diaz, getting together sounding like the rest of my life by: coupe_de_foudre "eddie does a Ravi and swaps shifts for a bit, only everyone on b shift is convinced that he and buck are married. they might not be as wrong as eddie initially thought." word count: 6.6k important tags: pining, getting together, didn't realise they were dating hey now, hey now by: fallingthorns "after returning to the 118, eddie becomes a full-time paramedic and ravi becomes buck's partner. eddie absolutely doesn't feel anything about that, not at all." word count: 10k important tags: 5+1 things, jealous!eddie diaz, paramedic!eddie diaz, getting together, grumpy!eddie diaz 911, what's your emergency? by: coupe_de_foudre "the 911 operator!buck fic that no one asked for but got anyway" word count: 20k important tags: different first meeting au, getting together, idiots to lovers the kermit verse by: hattalove "how is eddie diaz like kermit the frog? let buck and christopher count the ways." word counts: 8.7k important tags: getting together, first kiss, christopher diaz is a national treasure and i just want to wrap you up, want to kiss your lips by: bucksbuddie "five times buck steals eddie’s clothes and one time eddie gives them to him." word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, getting together, soft!buddie, light angst, sharing clothes, sharing a bed whatever life throws at you by: flirtyhale "it's his first day back after two whole weeks off. two whole weeks of spending his honeymoon in hawaii. with his best friend and love of his life. buck sits in the locker room, and doesn't want to take his wedding ring off." word count: 12k important tags: marriage, boys in love, honeymoon, family feels tell the whole wide world and this room by: hattalove "in which we learn about fermented milk products, discover that dolphins are sex fiends, and realize that sometimes, it really is all about knowing and being known." word count: 5.2k important tags: established relationship, marriage proposal, kissing

nobody knows you, baby, the way i do by: allyasavedtheday "buck and eddie bet hen and chimney that they know each other better than they do and a rivalry ensues. featuring one-upmanship, codependency, ravi as reluctant quizmaster and eddie believing his will is the ultimate trump card." word count: 3.7k important tags: bets and wagers, feelings realisations, first kiss

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

List (Sorted by Characters)

list sorted by story content

fics rec 1

status update: life’s super hectic, not sure when I’ll start updating fics again (but I hope I can finish 🐬 anon’s request first)

Hello, I’m HalloHello. Thanks for reading!

This is a side blog so I can’t leave likes or follow others with this blog I’m so stupid I’m sorry :(

Simon "Ghost" Riley

New Year Fireworks + We Both Broke Our Promise (F)

Invincible (F)

My Heart Can Sleep When I'm with You (F)

Daisy Dukes - 1 2 (F)

His Only Asylum + Bring Me to Heaven (F, 18+, gore and knife)

Bed All Day (GN) (18+)

Inhale Our Sorrow, Exhale Our Future (GN)

Bedtime Story (F)

Unexpected Encounter (F)

Ghost*Reader with Scars and Hide Their Face (GN)

Smut Challenge - Neighbor!Reader (F) (18+)

Husband!Simon with Car Crash Wife!Reader (F)

Simon Got a Flu (GN)

Nine things Simon Riley Might Annoy (intentionally or not) His Shorter Partner (GN)

Sleeping (truly) with Simon (GN)

Domestic Life with Retired Husband!Simon (GN)

Simon with A Gammy Reader (GN)

Perv!Simon Riley with Yandere!Reader (GN)

It Isn’t Fate Bringing Us Together (It’s Me) - 1 2 (Dark Fiction, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)(GN)

Palette (F)

Ex-bf!Simon Riley*F!Reader (F)

End This Repeating Dance (GN)

Silly Moments between Simon and Reader (F)

Simon Taking Care of You When You Accidentally Injured Yourself (F)

Simon Riley, Will You Marry Me? (F)

Soulmate AU - Separate Endings (GN)

How To Remember? (F)

Voicemails (F)

Your Inviting Lips (GN)(anon ask)

Remember-me-not (GN)

The Last Dance (GN)

Two-way Trap (F)

Simon Exploring Your Cute Reactions (GN)(evil 🐼 anon)

Simon Loves Your Chubby and Adorable Face (GN)(🦈 anon)

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple (GN)(req)

Hey, how are you? (F)

Grim Reaper!Ghost*Reader That’s Always Alone (GN)

Shower with Simon Riley (GN)(anon req)

Watch You From Afar (GN)

Till It Blooms Again (F)(🐬anon)

John “Soap” MacTavish

Smut Challenge - Neighbor!Reader (F) (18+)

Regret Devouring Me (GN)

John Price

How To Remember? (F)

The True Me (GN)

Watch You From Afar (GN)

König

Spider Webs - 1 2 3 bonus chapter 1 (F) (18+)

His Only Asylum (F, 18+, gore and knife)

NSFW Alphabet (F, 18+)

Vampire AU Headcanons (GN)

Cat Café AU Headcanons 1 2 (GN)

Cat Reader Headcanons (GN)

TF141

In Pairs - Price Soap Gaz Ghost (GN)

What Makes You Unique (GN)

Cream Puffs (GN)

Sweet Flavor of Your Lips (F)

Vampire AU Headcanons (GN)

Cat Café AU Headcanons 1 2 (GN)

Cat Reader Headcanons (GN)

Wild Pets - 1 1.5 (F)

Tf141 with a Fragile Reader (GN)

Tf141 with a Reader Who Sucks at Baking but Wants to Bake Them a Valentine’s Day Dessert (F)

Tf141 with gap moe (contradictory-characteristic cuteness) reader (GN)

Melt Down The Snow (GN) (🦈 anon)

Some Thoughts about Demon!TF141 (GN)

More About Demon!TF141 (F) (18+) (anon req)

Demon!TF141 but Reader Becomes Demon Too (F) (anon req)

No Tolerance!! + It's Nice To Come Back Home (F) (🦈 Anon)

TF141 men seeing you wearing face chain for party (F) (🦈 Anon)

TF141*Reader Angst in Few Sentences (GN)

Always By Your Side (GN)

TF141*Reader Fluff in Few Sentences (GN)

Not Dying Alone (GN)

Counting Down To Heaven (GN)

Each Other’s Shelter (F)

TF141 with A Reader That Can Fall Asleep Anywhere and Anytime (GN)

Spine Chill (GN)

Mafia!Tf141*F!Reader ch1 ch2 ch3

[worldofkuro]

Could you make a angst!reader x alastor story?

Prince Charming

Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Notes: Well, I hope you'll enjoy it because I sure did while writting it! Tw: Death. Tw: Mind Break. Tw: Blood

Thud

You stared at the blurry sky. Alastor always loved rainy nights like this, he always felt like he turned off the sound around and he could think clearer and be more in control. You had teased him, saying that you could easily destroy his concentration if you wished which made him laugh. You were his greatest weakness. You were his human heart. That's what he said during your wedding vows. He was human because you were next to him, because you were loving him. How could you not? He was your Prince Charming.

Thud

You looked weakly at the man above you who stabbed you once again. You couldn't scream or cry. You couldn’t feel any pain, you just felt.. Cold. You were sure that Alastor would feel so warm against your cold skin. He would hold you close to his chest and talk about his next broadcast’s topic. Sometimes you would ask him to bring up a specific topic you wished he would have deepened. 

Thud

You felt a tear streaming down your face. Were you going to die? Alone ? You turned your head to the side as the man took your purse and looked inside it. You were laying in a puddle of your own blood on.. grass? You tried to look around, there were so many trees… Oh yes, you took a walk in the forest near Alastor’s house, trying to give yourself some courage, before your husband’s return. You wanted to go where he had proposed to you but you didn’t expect to be followed and worse yet, you didn’t expect to be stabbed again, and again and again and again..

Will Alastor be okay? How was he going to react to your death? You husband wasn’t a violent man, always trying to talk things through, that's one of the reasons you have loved him. You didn’t want to close your eyes, afraid of not being able to open them ever again. You didn’t want your last living image being this man killing you. You wanted… Alastor.

“ Darling !”

You blinked, smiling softly. Now you could hear his voice. Maybe God sended an angel with his voice so you could go in peace. You could rest now…But not with the dreadful scream that echoed in the night.

You opened your eyes, that you didn’t even remember closing, and saw a man stabbing your assaulter. You wanted to lose your sense of hearing as the screams of the man were now cries of begging. You almost scoffed, he was pathetic. 

“ Darling, my love, mon coeur, look at me.” The man knelt next to you and then you recognized your husband, dirty in blood. You always told him that red suited him but seeing him covered in blood… Was it your blood? His?

“ Don’t do that to me, Love. Keep your eyes open, look at me.” he tried to stop your bleeding with his hands as he kissed the crown of your head. You giggled, you were right, his skin was so warm against yours. Now you could let go. Now you could say goodbye… You wanted to say goodbye.

Please God..

“ A…Last…”

“ At last ? What do you mean my Love?” he chuckled nervously, tearing his shirt to stop the bleeding. You almost chuckled, it was the first time you saw Alastor so out of control. You were almost sad to not be able to see more of it.

“ Alas…tor..” you bring your hand weakly toward his face, wiping blood off from his face. “ Kiss…Me…” you coughed blood, tilting your head to the side to spat the red liquid from your mouth. You wheezed as your vision was beginning to darken.

“ Darling, Look at me !” he took your face between his hands and kissed you like a starved man. You were surprised , you expected a cute peck on your lips, after all you had blood all over yourself, but Alastor was pressing his tongue against yours, like he wanted to devour you, to eat you,to consume you,  to be the final thing you would feel before leaving. You kissed him back weakly as you felt yourself not being able to breathe anymore.

You weren’t scared anymore, you would not die alone but in the arms of your Prince Charming and with the baby you were expecting.

—

He stepped back as he watched your body sink in his arms.  He stared at your face, blood looked good on you but he needed to bring you home to clean you. You wouldn’t like to wake up with blood all over the bedsheets. His sweet Angel.

His heart was beating but yours wasn’t.

He put his head against your bloody chest, waiting to hear your familiar heartbeat but he didn’t hear anything.

How odd.

“ Darling… My Love, look at me.” he stared at your face, waiting for you to open your eyes, tell him that everything was going to be okay.  His smile widened as he grabbed his hair, pulling it without noticing.

His heart was beating but yours wasn’t.

“ Are you … sleeping my Love?” he asked, tilting his head toward your face. No answer. Mhn… He knew you liked fairytales, sometimes you would not open your eyes in the morning until he kissed you like some kind of Prince Charming. He didn’t like the idea, he wasn’t nice like this but seeing the love in your eyes each time he put up this act was worth it.

He leaned toward you and kissed your lips and then looked at you. He pressed his ears against your chest.

His heart was beating but yours wasn’t.

Mhn… So, God decided to punish him for his crime of killing by taking you away from him. God took his angel back. He began to chuckle but then he laughed maniacally, his head tilted back, his smile wide.

You were his. You were his heart. You were what made him human. He did kill, hiding this side of his personality to you. He wanted to protect you, there were so many maniacs here. Just like the man who took your life.  

But with you gone… He couldn’t feel anything. He wasn’t human anymore.

He smiled as he held you in his arms. He stroked your cheeks lovingly.

His heart was beating but yours wasn’t.

“ Don’t worry Darling, they won’t kill me. How could you kill someone without a heart, mhn? I’ll avenge us my dear.”

He would become the devil that would paint New Orleans in red. He will kill them, the one who took his sweet darling from him. His chest was empty, not heart beating the only thing left working was his mad mind, already looking for a way to kill his next victims. And well, if you wanted to stop him?

Don’t throw away your shot.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Down Bad - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 800 Summary: You get ghosted after a one night stand with your handsome neighbor. Warnings: Drinking, smut remembrance, angst. A/N: Happy Tortured Poets Department release day! Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge AGAIN. I previously wrote Paper Rings for it. TBH, I stayed up until 3:30 AM listening to TTPD last night with @ohheypedrito and your girl is STRUGGLING TODAY, but well worth it. What an album.

Masterlist

One night out with your friends, one shared glance, one half smile, one opportunity, one drink bought, one phone number drunkenly tapped into his phone. 

One date, one heated make out session in his truck, one moment of being heaven struck, one naked body left alone in your bed as he quietly leaves without a word. 

One text telling him you had a good time, one week since you’ve heard from him, countless hours of yearning for your neighbor. 

Across the street and two houses to the left, Joel Miller lives. Well manicured lawn, cute daughter who goes door to door selling Girl Scout cookies, large truck parked out the front dinged and well used. 

You’ve been down bad for him since you first moved in, a quick introductory hello and wave one early morning as you took your dog for a walk, how could you be so attracted to a total stranger?

That stranger ignoring you from that moment on, leaving you feeling nuts. Sometimes you’d take your dog for a walk when you’d notice him mowing the lawn, sneaking a glance under your sunglasses, watching the sweat make his skin glisten. Teenage crush vibes, teenage petulance coming out because you can’t have him or his attention. 

You never see him with another woman there, only his loud, precocious brother Tommy who stops to talk with you whenever you’re outside. You know he likes you, but you’re too drawn to his older brother’s beam to even want to lead him on. 

That night shared between the two of you, it almost feels like an evil experiment. He fucked you, fucked you hard, stared into your eyes as he came all over you, devoured your cunt as if he was starving, made you cum so hard it felt like you were floating in a cosmic cloud of sparks, then he left you naked and alone. He owned your body, like it was some sort of hostile takeover. 

You’re barely even sure it happened, like if you speak about the existence of that night, everybody will tell you it never happened, that you’re nuts.

Why did he leave you like that? Why did he strand you the way he did? Why can’t you have him? Why cant you have an us? 

Doesn’t he know what you would do for his attention? How you feel like you could just die when you think back to that night? You’re pathetic for him, isn’t it romantic?

You replay the words he uttered against your skin as he fucked you. “You feel so fucking good, like you were made for me.” 

The taste of your sweat against your lips makes you almost want to cry as you try to run the thoughts of him away on the treadmill at the gym. The last time you sweat like this his cock was stretching you, his hand holding your cheek, his tongue languidly licking into your mouth. 

——

After a night of staring at the ceiling, sleep not visiting you, tossing and turning not being able to get the thought of the weight of his body against yours, you decide to sit out on your porch with coffee in hand, staring at the sky as dawn approaches. A door slamming across the street startles you. He’s outside. This is it, you live in the same old familiar town, he can’t escape you, you can’t escape him. You trudge across the street, only clad in your shorts and your old Rangers shirt. You wave at him to get his attention as he finishes lifting his tool box onto his lift gate. 

You see him swallow as you stand at the edge of his driveway. 

“G’morning,” he nods. “Quite early.”

“It is. Could’t sleep.” 

“Happens to me too.”

“Mm,” you tap your foot, arms folded across your chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“S’complicated.”

“Try me, it’d make no difference.”

“Alright,” he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re too good. I don’t think it’s smart… for me to be with someone right now. Too much going on, ’n it’s safer if we just leave it at that. It’s better for you.”

“So, you fuck me, whisper all those sweet things in my ear, make me feel like I’m the chosen one, then just leave? How romantic Joel.”

“Never said I was the romantic type.”

“No, you’re just the fuck ‘em and strand ‘em. I guess.”

“Listen,” he looks down at his watch, “I gotta get goin’, got an important job to start. I really would like to talk more, I respect you too much ’n I really like you, I just think it’s better if you find someone else.”

“Right, well, see you around neighbor,” you bite.

Fuck it, you can’t have him. 

[riseatlantisss]

A New Beginning

Pairing : Astarion x gender neutral!reader, short and sweet one-shot

A/N: Minor spoilers for Astarion’s arc in BG3. The first half is from reader’s POV, the second half is from Astar’s POV, hope its not too confusing! Enjoy! Written while listening to this on repeat TW : mentions of abuse, trauma, PTSD, but most importantly : lotsss of cuddles

English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes <3

It’s unlike anything else, the vivid pain of helpless past trauma that radiates through the body like a burn, the horror of it tight as a fist around the throat. Astarion knows it all too well. But in that moment, safe in his bed with the love of his life in his arms, the pain heals.

The room is pitch black as you wake up, except for the dim light of a candle glowing from your nightstand. The air around you feel cold, but the bed is warm and comfy. You don’t feel like getting up just yet. Astarion is laying on his side, facing you, eyes closed. Messy white curls are falling on his forehead and his arm is wrapped around your waist. You smile as you contemplate your so-called scary, blood-thirsty vampire boyfriend’s cute bedhead. He looks pretty damn adorable.

"You realise it's rude to stare, don't you?" Astarion says, voice gravelly and eyes still closed peacefully. "How did you know I was staring?" You ask, almost shocked. "It comes with being a vampire, darling!" He replies before tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you nearer. 

You chuckle and roll on top of him. He pulls you even closer and holds you there for a long, delicious moment. Your fingers clutch on his curly silver hair. Since Astarion made the shattering discovery that physical contact did not necessitate pain, he has been eager to use touch for comfort. Fortunately for you, when it comes to touching him, you can never get enough.

His fangs glimmer like daggers as he brushes them along your skin, devouring you with kisses, drawing his lips lower and lower until they are resting above your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. His skin pale and his eyes red, burning brightly in the near-darkness, sharp and piercing, he glows in the dim light of the room.

The way Astarion feels in your arms—the mixture of fragility and tensile strength—makes the protectiveness surge in your chest. His warmth pierces straight through 200 years of vampiric cold. Sometimes you find yourself thinking about all the horrors he had to endure under Cazador’s control, and you shiver. You know how tough he is. Everyday he gets up to fight the same demons that left him so tired the night before. And that, my love, is bravery. You think, running your fingers through his hair and down his neck as he lets out a long sigh of joy and relief. You are so proud of him. He is free now and that’s what matters most but what’s done is done, and you’ll never be able to protect him from the past.

“Astarion, are – are you happy?” You timidly whisper, a barely noticeable worry in your voice.

Was he happy ? The words resonate in Astarion’s mind. No one ever asked him that. No one ever cared about his feelings. Never. Before you, it used to be simple. Someone else did all the thinking for him. He never had any question to answer. Hunt victims for Cazador, entertain Cazador, push through the pain of his constant abuse, and repeat. So fucking cruel, but so fucking simple. Now it is all so... complicated. Everything is different. Now, he has someone who truly cares for him ? A friend ? A lover ? Gods help him.  

But it's true. You hadn’t done anything but go out of your way to make Astarion happy since the day you’d met him. Even if he thought he was the last person that deserved to be happy. Yet every time he holds you in his arms, he is. He is the best kind of happy, a pure and wonderful happy that lights up his insides and makes his dead heart beat again. He actually didn’t think a vampire could get this happy. Brooding is in the job description. Angst is a part of the daily routine. Nobody can be a vampire without some anger issues and major emotional baggage. But in that moment, safe in his bed, holding the love of his life in his arms, he is nothing but happy. He is home. That is a gift and one he will be eternally grateful for.

Hoping actions would speak louder than words, he decides to keep quiet and pulls you in for a long, sweet kiss, holding you even tighter, never ever wanting to let you go.

“I love you,” he breathes softly after a while, keeping his mouth as close to yours as he can. “I love this. And I want it all.”