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wutheringcaterpillar · 8 months ago

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An Act of Violation

Summary: Cillian takes advantage of you during a sex scene on set.

Warnings: Noncon, age gap (reader is 18), sense of grooming, p in v, oral (f receiving), Dark!Cillian, virgin!reader, creampie, trauma inflicted, fingering

This is purely fiction, not in relation to Cillian Murphy or his real life.

After landing your first big role at the ripe age of eighteen, your co star Cillian took you under his wing. Giving you acting lessons, taking an interest in your hobbies, sharing friendly banter. He had learned very quickly that you didn’t come from money, merely gliding by with rent and food, living from pay check to pay check. He took you on several lunches, dinner, acting as if he cared. He was calculated in his plans, earning your trust and friendship, knowing all your secrets. After your mother’s passing, you had no one, completely and utterly alone in this big, scary world.

Thanking the barista, you made your way to the set, nervous about filming your most intimate scene, although you were quite uncomfortable with having your body on display for everyone to see, you knew sex sells and you could trust Cillian to make you comfortable and guide you. After all Peaky Blinders was on the rise to popularity and emotional attachments with their viewers. The pressure to be perfect on camera waited down on you like an anchor, without this role you’d have nothing, you had to be amazing.

Cillian met you at your trailer with the script, going back and forth rehearsing your lines, suggesting motions, and sounds to make a great sex scene. You didn’t really bat an eye at it, thinking he was just being helpful, trying to ensure your comfortability but when you were on set shedding your clothes preparing, your world turned upside down.

“Action!” Going into character, acting as if you were aroused, Cillian’s hand slid seductively over your bare thighs while your breasts hung visibly present.

His thumb trailed down your bottom lip slowly, lips agape and drawn into your features.

The camera focused in on a side view, filming the intensity and chemistry from the lustful gaze, magnifying the power balance Tommy held over your character Addison.

Running your hands down his chest, there was little conversation, just pure desire. This scene was intended to be hot, electric, rough as your characters didn’t get along, it was simply Tommy being his usual self, enforcing a manipulation tactic to Addison into bed with him. She was the enemy’s daughter, and turning to Tommy when he convinced her that her family betrayed her, wanting to sell her off to the highest bidder. As much as she held a profound hatred for Tommy, her need for revenge was stronger.

He angled his head burrowing his temple to the side of your face when in that moment you felt a movement from under the sheet just barely covering your most vulnerale area. This wasn’t scripted, his arms were supposed to stay on either side of your head to show the muscular tone of his shoulders and back.

None of production batted an eye, simply trusting that Cillian was trying to make the scene more intimate, as if he might be warming your character up by fingering her when that wasn’t the case at all.

You were beginning to panic when the protective garment over your vagina was suddenly swiped down onto the mattress.

A wave of panic and fear weighed down on your chest, but what were you to do? This was your first big role, and you needed the money, Cillian knew that.

In a low, hushed tone, you leaned in toward his ear, voicing the concern.

“What are you doing?” Your question was answered when the head of his hardened cock pressed against the entrance of your dry, unwanting hole. When you tried to wiggle your hips up away from him, he simply pressed down with his strong hand, holding you in place.

“Just lay still and act your part. This is important to you isn’t it?” Sliding down beneath the sheet, you were left having to improvise and act as if this was planned. Within seconds Cillian tongue was on your heat, lapping at your folds and inserting a finger in your tight walls. Your hips bucked up from the unexpected violation, but you had to stay in character when you were internally screaming.

Curling your fists in the sheets, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to pretend this wasn’t really happening, reminding yourself you had to keep yourself composed in Addison.

His plump, plush lips sucked at your labia as he entered another finger, drilling into your virgin aching hole relentlessly. From the camera’s perspective all they could see was the bump of his head under the sheets, more focused in on your facial expressions.

The director made a call from behind Cillian, motioning for a closer connection. Wanting Cillian to run his hand lovingly down your cheek, whispering his lines in a lustful, charismatic voice. Your eyes stayed transfixed in his corrupted gaze, hiding the impending fear portruding every part of you.

“After this moment, you’ll be my property. Only belonging to me.” Though the lines were fake, his words struck a nerve. Panic ensued, when one of his hands gripped viciously at your breast, noting the hardened state of your nipples.

“Alright now let the sheet fall down your back and look into her eyes, showing a raw passionate connection before ravishing her lips, not being able to resist her any longer.” Cillian did as he was instructed with his own take, hiding the smirk and building tension.

His cock was throbbing at the sight of your unwanting body beneath him, fully on display for his own personal view.

Clashing his lips against yours, he thrusted forward, penetrating your body with his long, girthy member.

What was meant to come out as a cry for help, came out sounding like a muffled moan from your quivering lips being captivated by him.

You needed this role, you couldn’t do anything to jeopardize this job.

You were stranded, breathing in his mint scent, and his cruel blue eyes embedded in your mind, along with the feeling of your most private area being ripped a part from how dry you were.

Your skin formed goosebumps when his hans grasped at your sides, squeezing them as he pounded you down relentlessly.

“Now Y/N, we need you to be completely enveloped. This scene needs the hatred, the aggression, but also the burning desire and attraction.”

Cillian shoved his tongue down your throat, grinning from ear to ear from the warmth of your walls deciding to take control of the scenario playing out.

He had been resisting you for awhile now, but seeing your nude body beneath him, the delicate untouched features of your skin made him think with his cock, wanting to be selfish for once in his life.

He could feel your insides starting to moisten involuntarily, turning into a rather hot, slippery slope warming his penis with each forceable movement.

You felt humiliated, used, like some inanimate object. Feeling suffocated between the weight of him on top of you, and the mattress folding beneath your battered body. Was this all he wanted?

Put yourself in Addison’s shoes you’d repeat to yourself over and over, as if that somehow justified the situation.

The burning in your downstairs intensified when with one strong thrust, he quietly literally took the air from your lungs, but you were able to form it into a glorious moan that was believable.

“Fuck, Tommy keep- oh keep going.” Sliding your hand up the nape of his warm neck, you held him down closer, trying to deepen the kiss, Addison aching for every piece of him, while you were screaming internally for this to be over.

Rhythmically, along with Cillian, feeling his whole length protrude your once virgin walls painfully, balls deep inside of your sore pussy, it had felt like a shot in the arm, only it wasn’t.

Sitting up, and fixing the sheet, he had you on his lap, wanting to see your enticing, inexperienced body ride him while adjusting the sheets so production couldn’t tell.

The pain slowly turned into pleasure when the head of his cock hit your cervix, grinding, and claiming you as he’d wanted to for so long. Taking your innocence and fragility for his own.

He could feel your heart beat rapidly against his chest, but was pleased to notice that your body was enjoying this, you were feeling pleasure and riding him all on your own.

You hid your face in his neck, biting down aggressively on his shoulder, though the pain you were causing him was nothing toward the humiliation on you felt. As your hips swayed, and the tip of his cock brushed against the sweet spot you didn’t know you had.

An unexplainable, pleasurable feeling washed over your core, toes curling, and back arching from the approaching orgasm.

“Tommy- Tommy I’m going to-“ You felt disgusted, violated, unsafe, how was no one noticing what was happening with all the changes in the script or did they just trust Cillian to that extent.

An unexpected, loud, lustful moan escaped from between your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Cumming onto Cillian’s shaft, you crumbled in his arms, falling week as your body convulsed. Wishing you could shield yourself from embarrassment, and shamefulness, not wanting to give the predator the satisfaction of knowing he pleased you.

Why wasn’t he pulling out? In a swift motion while you were still desperately riding out the phenomenal sensation. He layed you back down once more, his balls slapped against your bare ass as he pulsated inside of your deflowered rose, painting your insides white with his seed.

“Cut!” As the crew dispensed in search of a robe for you both, Cillian glanced down at the mess, smirking, knowing he had pushed you over the edge enough that you came for him.

Still avoiding eye contact, your co worker tossed you the robe. You flustered to put the fabric over as a shield, pulling your panties from the nightstand drawer, forcing them up to act as a shield, heading back to your trailer.

Cillian covered the stain sheets with the comforter, knowing production usually didn’t clear a set for hours and were always in too much of a hurry to notice a small little stain.

Rushing into your trailer, you slammed the door shut before falling onto the sofa, wrapping your arms around your legs, curling into a fetal position as you wept. Disgust washing over you as his seed continued to seep out from the notorious sexual assault.

What was supposed to be one of the most memorable acts of your life, something you were to decide when you were ready was taken away from you, yet you still had to act through the pain and abuse. Your skin was crawling, as the walls caved in, thought running wild on if this was really worth it if you were going to be subjected to an object.

Not being able to bare the stench of him any longer, in a fitful rush you shed yourself of your clothes, throwing the soiled panties into your bag to throw out the evidence one you were home.

Before changing, you went into the bathroom to start a shower as if you could cleanse away the damage he’s done, cleanse away the memory of his touch and intrusion, but it didn’t work.

Sitting on the toilet, you awaited for more to come out, the tears rolling more abundantly down your cheeks as you saw his semen sitting blatantly in the water.

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Cillian walked in without waiting for you to answer.

Shuffling and scrambling to put your clothes on, he peared the door open, finding you in a state of panic as you pulled a new pair of panties over your coveted area, trying to hide what he’s already seen.

“I don’t think there’s a need to be all embarrassed Y/N. You did great today, felt great might I add.” Uunable of looking him in the eyes, you turned to face away from him, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, not wanting to seem weak.

He closed in the distance, his chest pressing against your back, as his hand slid inside of the wasteband of your pants agonizingly slowly.

Flinching away from his touch, he simple backed you up against the wall leaving you stuck between the hard surface and his touch.

Your stomach churned, forming knots as tears prickled at your eyes once more when his digits combed over your clit, caressing the deflowered skin, and moaning slightly against your ear, causing you to wince away from his unwanted touch.

“Please stop…” You managed to croak out behind the pain.

But your pleads went unnoticed, moreso ignored as he began to rub circles into your overstimulated, throbbing pussy that was still burning from just moments ago.

“Why are you doing this? You- you didn’t ask or care to know if-“ He silenced your words by shoving his fingers right back up into you, allowing the warm liquid from you both to drown his fingers.

The smell of your sex making him hard once more.

“You know all I’d have to do is speak to production. They trust my judgement in character. If I happen to slip up and say I don’t think your right for the part, they’d have to replace you.” He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent while his fingers teased at your hole that belonged to him now.

“Is that what you want?”

“No! Please-please I’ll do whatever you want. I need this job desperately.” Ah there it was, he hadn’t expected you to submit so quickly. He chuckled behind your ear, placing a kiss of satisfaction beneath the lobe of your ear, before patting your dripping cunt and removing his hand.

“Atta girl. Knew you were wise. See you tomorrow then, maybe rehearse early on before everyone else arrives. Oh, don’t forget we have one more scene to film, your outfit is on the table., be ready in an hour.” He left biting his lip, turning around and winking at you with a sadistic, egotistical look on his face. You had nowhere to go, no one to turn, most of all no one to believe you.

Collapsing to the floor, you cried relentlessly onto the cold, hard tile, falling to pieces as flashbacks entered your mind of the way he touched you. The way his eyes gleamed with a sick amusement. How could you have been so stupid to believe Cillian was your friend and not noticed all the signs? He ruined your experience of possibly being famous, unable to watch your work on Peaky Blinders ever again without the constant reminder and scene of you losing your virginity.

Pulling yourself up from the floor trying to catch a breath, you did your best to shake off the feeling, clothing yourself for the final scene of the episode that was supposed to be a cliff hanger for the plot of Addison.

The makeup artist noticed your distress, asking if everything was alright to which you just shrugged it off by saying you were reading a script for a future episode and you had become emotional. When she pulled your hair back to remove it out of the way of your face, you unexpectedly flinched from her touch, unprepared for the sudden motion. Questioning you once more, you claimed she had startled you and everything was alright.

When you walked outside to join the crew, the scene before made you nauseated. Seeing Cillian laughing, and chatting with the other actors as if nothing had happened. They were all so oblivious to his charm, and having the advantage of knowing him for so long, they never blinked an eye.

Walking toward the crowd, Cillian glanced your way still laughing and smiling, watching as you stood a good lengths away from him but of course that would draw attention, wouldn’t it? Everyone believed to know how close of “friends” you were, so you made your way closer to his side, ready to act once more, pretending as if everything was okay. He massaged your shoulders, asking if you were okay as if he cared. He just wanted everyone to believe he was a good, caring, hard working man that was willing to help anyone. Taking your position in the alley in the pissing rain, Cillian stood watching your every move from the other end as he waited for his cue to come in. The constant stare was troubling, but once again, no one seemed to notice or think anything of it. Cillian was and always will be more important and a step ahead of you, he would always be the star.

#Cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #ranaewrites

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hsunrry · 3 months ago

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lights up // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~700

warnings: smut18+, dirty talk (degradation, praise), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, spanking, hair pulling

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“last shot everybody!” director yelled, and your boyfriend Harry went into the group of people. it’s not like you were jealous at all, looking at him being touched by other people for music video purposes. it was even worse. as soon as they started recording and you saw all of that, you had to press your thighs together, feeling arousal spreading through your body. you felt it so hard you had to sit. Harry noticed that and right after last shot he immediately went to you, thinking you’re just not feeling well.

“baby, are you alright?” he cupped your cheeks in his hands. you looked up at him from the chair you were sitting at.

“yes, it’s nothing.” you smiled slightly. he narrowed his brows.

“i know it’s something. let’s go to my trailer, you’ll tell me, okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb and you only nodded. his trailer was big, but it has to be, right? you’ve been here already for 3 days to shot this music video, so you two obviously had to sleep somewhere. everything necessary was in here, starting with vanity table through shower and bedroom. he closed doors behind you. “so, what’s going on, hm?” he caressed your waist. you looked up at him, biting inside of your cheek.

“it’s stupid.” you mumbled, making him chuckle softly.

“it’s not baby, i’m sure. just tell me.” he kissed your forehead. you took a deep breath and you whispered.

“there is a possibility, that i liked what i saw a little to much.” his eyes darkening at your confession.

“is that so? my dirty little slut get turned on by her boyfriend being touched by the others?” he licked his lips, looking down at you. at this point your panties were drenched. he gripped your chin. “answer.”

“yes.” you said, making him groan. you don’t even know how that happened, but he was standing naked behind you and you were leaning on the vanity table in front of big mirror, with your panties inside your mouth. he slapped your ass, going with his fingers to your slit and pushing two, knuckles deep.

“so fucking wet, just for me, aren’t you?” you nodded, feeling him fingering you fast. he pulled out eventually, licking his fingers clean. he was looking into your eyes through the mirror this whole time. “gonna take me so well and deep as always, yeah?” without waiting for your answer, he pushed his full length inside you. your moan muffled with your panties. he gripped your hips, pounding into you fast and rough. “fucking whore, didn’t even flinch at my big dick.” he pulled out your panties from your mouth. you gripped the edge of the vanity table with your hands. your head tilting down from overwhelming pleasure, but quickly after that his hand pulled your hair back. “look at yourself in the mirror, cunt.” he panted, moving even faster. “dripping wet from looking at your boyfriend, so fucking sexy, don’t you think?” he slapped your ass, thrusting deep and fast.

“fuck-, yes.” you gasped, looking up into his eyes through the mirror.

“good girl, swallowing my whole dick with her pussy, just how i like.” he went back to grip your hips, feeling his orgasm approaching. “i’m close baby, gonna lick you, i can’t hold back much longer.”

“that’s fine, no need to, i’m gonna come, just few seconds.” you whined. at this point you were sure someone definitely knew what you two were doing here from intensity of it. loud moan escaped your lips when you finished. your pussy clenching on his cock, milking him deliciously. he groaned, his dick twitching inside you, emptying himself in your cunt. he stopped his movements, pulling out after few seconds. he turned you around, immediately pushing his finger inside you. you gasped at the feeling.

“shit, sorry sweetheart, but we can’t let you drip here.” he pecked your lips. “i’m gonna take care of you, my love.”

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copypasteking · 4 months ago

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Ok, I don't usually post about these kinds of things, but I think I want to briefly talk about the new Overwatch hero because I've barely seen anyone talk about it yet.

So this is Juno, the newest addition to the Overwatch 2 roster, we currently don't know much about her. Now, don't get me wrong, I think the design is appealing enough, pretty cute even - in a vacuum (hehe), it would be fine. However... if you've been following the development of Overwatch at all and seen the other heroes, especially the female characters, you may see why this design is frustrating to me.

Why yes, it's another conventionally attractive young woman in a skin tight suit, despite being some sort of astronaut. Damn, must be some amazing future tech that allows people to wear space suits that look like body paint and yet still provide protection against radiation, vacuum and extreme temperatures. One could argue that this isn't her full suit and she is just wearing this in-game because combat, but come on. I want to add that having a body like this isn't bad, of course, it's more so the fact that the women in this game are rarely allowed different proportions or facial features.

And yea, I wasn't kidding when I said skin tight.. Certainly she also has movement animations with gratuitous hip-swaying to accompany this certified Blizzard-Moment™ of a design. The animations are cool, but this combo left me stunned when I watched the trailer haha.

The sexualisation part isn't the only thing that bothered me, of course. I actually liked this concept art much more - it provided a bit of bulk and visual interest while still retaining that sleekness that they wanted to have in there.

But for some reason, they stripped her of this, leaving it almost a bit under-designed, especially for Overwatch 2 standards.

All of this is just my opinion, and I want to emphasize that I don't fully hate the design. I'm just lamenting what could have been and the fact that, for a new hero, they just made cute Overwatch girl number 12 again. In the end, they want to market to straight gamer boys so eh, it is what it is.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch juno #thanks for hearing me out I had to get this off my chest #creepy marketing guy strikes again ig #also please don't get me wrong I also love women #but Overwatch is so weird about them sometimes #female armor #juno overwatch

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ashwhowrites · 1 year ago

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I got an angsty request for you! Eddie and Best Friend Reader who secretly have feelings for each other, but Eddie starts to be a bit distant after his deal with Chrissy because he's hanging out with her a bit so reader gets bummed out but Friday at their regular movie night, they end up having sex. I'm talking that sweet, been wanting to do this forever sex and the snuggle afterwards. Eddie even drives her to work the next day. After some convincing from Steve and Robin, she decides she's going to tell Eddie how she feels so she gets them to drive her back to Eddie's trailer only to walk in on him having sex with Chrissy on the couch. She rushes out of there to catch Steve at the stop sign, while Eddie is trying to yell for her. Maybe Eddie tries to explain but she's not having it because she's hurt. You can choose how it ends just whatever you do make him grovel.

Angst? You came to the right person. I hope this is what you were looking for :) thank you for requesting

⚠️no happy ending

Ex friends

Y/N has been in love with her best friend, Eddie, since middle school. Back when he had a buzzcut and played air guitar as a hobby. She grew up with him and watched him grow up to become this pretty boy with long hair and guitar skills that made all girls weak. She knew Eddie like the back of her hand but could never place his feelings for her. It was the one thing about him she could not understand.

Not many people liked Eddie, she never had to fight for his attention. But lately, he has been meeting with the most popular girl in school. Y/N grew insecure quickly and drowned in her own jealousy. Eddie became distant with her, and she didn't know how to handle that. But Friday nights were the one night he was all hers. They had movie nights, and it was a rule that no one else was invited.

The movie played, and the sounds of screaming filled the silence. Y/N felt thrown off because of Chrissy and didn't know what to say. It almost felt like Eddie didn't know what to say either. Both felt the distance, and neither knew how to deal with it.

"Are you okay? You seem quiet." Eddie asked, pausing the movie as he looked at her.

"Yeah, just quiet today." She shrugged. She did not want to tell her best friend about how jealous she was. Some things Eddie did not need to know.

"You're never quiet with me. Talk to me, sweets." She melted at the name. Her body fell into him when he cuddled next to her and placed her head on his shoulder.

"I miss you, Eddie." She admitted, closing her eyes. Eddie was confused, laughing softly. "I am right here, silly."

"I know, but lately you've been busy with Chrissy. I miss having you around." She confessed. She worried that she would sound stupid but, Eddie held her closer.

"I've missed you too." He said, kissing her forehead as he rested his head on top of hers. She moved her head, turning to look at him. His head moved at her movement, looking down at her.

"Really?" she asked. He smiled and nodded his head. Leaning down to peck her nose. She smiled at the affection, closing her eyes. Eddie wasn't sure what came over him. But he felt this magnetic pull towards her lips. He's always had an attraction towards her. He knew he liked her, but he also felt something with Chrissy.

But looking at her soft face resting against him, he couldn't stop the thoughts. He leaned down, closing his eyes as he connected his lips to hers. She was shocked when she felt his lips. She opened her eyes to confirm that he was kissing her.

She closed her eyes and kissed him back. His hands held her hips as he moved her on his lap. She moaned in the kiss as she straddled his lap. Her mind was racing. She was making out with her best friend. Her tongue was exploring Eddie's mouth. His hands burned through her skin. Was this happening?

He pulled away, his eyes blown out with lust as he stared at her. She tried to catch her breath as she looked at him. Neither spoke, and neither made any effort to stop. His hands slipped under her shirt, yanking it over her head. His mouth latched onto her chest. Destroying the soft skin with his teeth. Her hands worked on his belt, he took the hint and lifted his hips. He removed his mouth from her, tugging down his jeans and boxers, kicking them off. She stood up as she removed the rest of her clothes.

He watched from his spot on the couch as she stripped. Her skin glowing and the red marks forming on her chest. His stomach was doing flips seeing her like this.

She crawled back on his lap, his hard cock resting between her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she lowered herself on him. Eddie moaned as he felt her sucking him in. She hissed as she settled on him. Moving her hips as she slowly began to ride him. Taking her time to get used to his size.

Her lips attached to his neck, creating her own marks as he helped her hips roll against him.

She felt amazing clenching around him, he loved how she leaned back and bounced on him. Her chest was in his face as he tried to focus on fucking back into her. Lifting his hips to smack deeper inside of her. He loved all the sounds that left her mouth.

He wrapped his arms around her, turning them around so her back was on the couch. He balanced on his knees as he fucked into her. The new angle allowed him to push deeper inside of her.

"Fuck, you feel so good." She moaned, her hands reaching to feel him. He leaned down, connecting their lips. His left hand met hers, holding it tightly as his right hand moved down to her clit.

She gripped the hand that was holding hers, clenching her walls around his cock as she got close. His fingers knew exactly what to do on her clit and she was seeing stars.

"Always wanted this," Eddie confessed against her lips. The words hit her lips in a puff of air. His words washed over her and made her feel warm everywhere.

"Wanted this too." She admitted, smiling as he smiled down at her. Their smiles meet in another kiss.

"Close? Gonna cum for me, baby?" He encouraged. His lips were soft as he pecked her between the words. His hand still holding hers, the other rubbing her clit as fast as he could. She felt like a work of art under his gaze. The way he watched her with adoration and love.

"Cum with me." She pleaded, using her free hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Cum in me, Eddie."

Eddie's head was spinning. "Fuck, you are beautiful," he moaned. His forehead rested on hers as he got close. Their eyes stared into each other. Their hands gripped each other's.

The closeness they both craved was found. The distance vanished as she milked him. She came on him with a silent scream, his cum filling her as he bit her shoulder. His curly hair covered her face as she drowned in him.

He slid out of her slowly, hissing as the cold air hit his sensitive cock. He was fast to grab the blanket that was thrown over the couch. Covering their naked bodies as he cuddled into her neck. She smiled as the warmth of him covered her skin.

He rubbed her skin softly, luring her to sleep as he kissed her neck one last time.

~~~

When she woke up, she had a small fear of what would happen. But as she slowly stirred awake, she felt Eddie's fingers rubbing the inside of her thighs. She moaned quietly at the soft touch. Gasping as he slid his fingers inside of her.

"Morning, sweetheart." He said into her ear, She shivered at the rough sound of his morning voice.

"Morning," she gasped, his fingers working inside of her skillfully. Her back was against his chest, somehow moving as the night went on.

"Need a ride to work?" He hummed in her ear, she wasn't sure how he could easily have a conversation as he fingered her. She choked out a yes.

"Better cum before you're late."

~~~

"He's dropping her off, that's a good sign," Steve observed as Y/N made her way out of Eddie's van.

"Still in yesterday's clothes. She spent the night, another good sign." Robin added.

Y/N walked into work with a wide smile on her face, and a small ache between her thighs as she walked up to the counter. Both her best friends stood there with a smile.

"Everything looks like it went well! Did you talk it out?" Steve asked, he knew Y/N was struggling with the Chrissy situation. Y/N vowed to both her friends, to talk it out with him at movie night.

"Um, we talked a little," Y/N said honestly, scratching her head as she blushed to the floor.

"Okay? But you worked things out?' Robin asked, a confused look on her face as she tried to read Y/N's body language.

"We had sex," Y/N whispered.

"YOU HAD SEX?" Steve shouted, Y/N looked mortified as she stared at Steve.

"Shut your mouth, dingus! We have customers." Robin scolded, trying to politely smile at the elderly couple that was glaring.

"So are you together?" Steve asked, this time keeping his voice low.

"I'm not sure? I mean we didn't really talk about it this morning." Y/N said.

"You woke up, didn't talk and he drove you here?" Robin questioned, digging for something else.

"Um, well. He kinda fingered me this morning so my mind was blah by the time I was in the car." Y/N added, embarrassed as she chewed on her nails.

"Okay well, congratulations on getting laid by the love of your life," Robin started, "but you need to confess how you feel."

"I mean we had sex! Doesn't that say something?" Y/N tried but Steve gave her a dad look.

"Nope. That doesn't tell us anything. You have to know where his mind was during it and how he feels now. Make sure there's more than just sexual feelings there." Steve explained. Robin nodded with him.

"I agree with Steve, which is strange," Robin said

~~~

Y/N took a deep breath as she got out of Steve's car. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up as she walked to the door. She watched as he drove off, She found herself at Eddie's trailer because Steve refused to bring her home until she talked to Eddie.

She was terrified but she tried to remember it was just Eddie. She's seen him puke on himself and he has seen her fall drunkenly into a pool. They'd seen each other at their worst, this was her best friend. She can tell him anything.

She took the key from her purse and unlocked the door. She didn't have time to remove the key from the door when she saw them.

Chrissy was on her knees, face on the couch as Eddie fucked her from behind. His eyes closed as his arms wrapped around her. Y/N felt sick as she watched them, not sure why she was torturing herself for so long. Not even five hours ago, she woke up on that couch next to him. And now he's fucking Chrissy on it.

Chrissy was the first to notice her, immediately screaming as she removed herself from Eddie, hiding her body under the blanket. Y/N panicked and ran. Ran right out the door, praying Steve didn't make it far.

"SHIT, SHIT" Eddie screamed, throwing on his boxers as he raced out the door right behind her. Chrissy sat on the couch, embarrassed from being walked in on, but confused by Eddie's anxious reaction.

Eddie cussed to himself as every twig in the grass stabbed his bare feet, but he continued to run.

"Y/N WAIT! PLEASE!" He screamed, seeing her figure in the distance in front of him.

She sighed in relief as she spotted Steve's car at the entrance of the trailer park. Pounding on his window, watching as he screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" He screamed, unlocking the door as she rushed in. She was panting as she locked the door. He looked at her but she didn't say a word. Her face was soaked with tears, she was breathing heavily from the running, and motioning for him to drive.

"Please" she whispered, but before he could pull off, Eddie ran in front of the car.

"Baby, I am so sorry. Let's talk please." Eddie pleaded, Steve looked between the two confused. Y/N refused to look at either of them. Her eyes locked on her feet.

"Drive," she demanded

"I can't! He's in front of my car." Steve said in a duh tone. Y/N reached over and slammed on the horn, Eddie covered his ears but refused to move.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!" She screamed

"NOT UNTIL WE TALK," Eddie screamed back, his voice muffled by the glass.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?" Steve asked, she looked at him. Her eyes were red and wet as she choked out, "he was fucking Chrissy."

Steve felt any amount of calmness in him vanish. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. Locking it so Eddie couldn't get in if he tried.

Steve stayed emotionless, waving Eddie over to him.

Eddie walked over, his eyes looking into the car as he watched her. "She won't come out, but she wanted me to tell you this," Steve started, Eddie nodded. "Yeah, go on." He encouraged and prepared to listen so he could fix this.

"Yeah just..," Steve said then bunched up his fist and knocked Eddie straight in the jaw. Y/N screamed from inside the car. Eddie groaned as he got knocked to the floor.

"Son of a bitch." Eddie groaned, holding his cheek as he felt the heat of the punch forming.

"Have Chrissy ice your jaw." Steve snarled out, getting back in his car as he zoomed off.

~~~

Eddie called and called. He left voicemails, he wrote letters, and he even showed up at her house for a week straight. But she refused to speak to him. He hated that he couldn't even explain to her what happened, because he didn't know himself. He hurt her and he had no explanation other than he was an idiot who fucked everything up.

His jaw was bruised, but his heart hurt more than anything.

But she was hurt too, and it hurt not knowing why Eddie did what he did. She wasn't sure if she could handle hearing what Chrissy had that she didn't.

He regretted Chrissy more than anything.

She regretted Eddie more than anything.

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #ashwhowrites

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dixons-sunshine · 9 months ago

Note

Soooo I just read your Shopping Spree fic with young Daryl- and ohmygosh it is one of the BEST fics about young Daryl I've read!!

Your writing is absolutely incredible!!

I'm not sure how busy you are, and don't feel forced to do this pls I really just got on here to thank you, but perhaps a part 2?

Seriously, thank you for the amazing writing :D

Make sure you drink water- and don't skip sleeping for writing!!

Dyeing For The Haircut | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Part two to Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams, but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: After months of watching you practice haircutting- and hair dyeing techniques on multiple people around the trailer park, Daryl's curiosity lead him to ask you for one of your "magical" hair transformations—hair dye and everything. His request turned out to be one of the best decisions ever when you gave him the best, most loving hairstyling experience of his life, as well as some kisses inbetween.

Genre: Fluff, some angst if you squint (mentions of Daryl's dad.)

Era: Pre outbreak

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to money problems, sexual content but nothing major, Daryl is low-key a thigh guy in this, reader's mom is implied to be a single parent.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request lovely. And thank you so much for your kind words! When I saw your ask in my inbox, I legitimately teared up at the compliments you gave me about my writing. Writing is something that I do to pass the time and I never thought that people would actually like it, so reading that really made me feel like I was on cloud nine. And that you think that my little story about young!Daryl was one of the best you've read? I can't even begin to explain how honoured that makes me feel 😭. I've read a few young!Daryl fics worthy of being actual novels, so that is the best compliment I've ever gotten in my life. I hope that this is an okay attempt at a part two. It's kinda random but since there weren't any specific requirements I had to meet, I went with my gut. I hope you like it! If you specifically wanted a part two with the reader's mom confronting her and Daryl after catching them making out, let me know! (btw, the same goes for you. Stay hydrated and rested, lovely ❤️)

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

—

“Are you sure? I might make a mistake, you know.”

“I know, but I gotta know wha' everyone's ravin' 'bout. Besides, my hair's gettin' too long fer my old man's standards. I'm one growin' hair strand away from bein' told my hair is too long to be considered manly.”

You shook your head at your boyfriend with a small laugh and motioned for him to follow you into your trailer. Once inside, you headed into the bathroom to retrieve the pair of scissors you've used for cutting hair multiple times over the past few months, as well as a towel, a comb and a hand mirror. Satisfied with the items in your possession, you walked back into the living room and saw Daryl seated on a wooden chair, his legs crossed as he read the back of a box of hair dye he bought earlier that day, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daryl lifted his gaze from the box to you, a boyish smile gracing his face as his eyes followed your movements. You placed the items in your hands down on the ground next to him and motioned for him to give you the hair dye, to which he complied.

“Are you sure you wanna dye your hair? Once I do it, there's no turning back,” you asked for the hundredth time since your boyfriend had asked you to do his hair, uncertainty clear in your voice.

Sensing your hesitance, Daryl gently grabbed your hips and tugged you over to him, bringing you to sit in his lap. You straddled him and wrapped your hands around his neck, watching him take the final drag from his cigarette and turn his head to blow the smoke away from you. He leaned down to put it out in the ashtray on the ground and then turned his attention back to you, bringing his hand back to rest on your hip.

“'M sure,” he finally responded, running his hands down your body to rest on your things. “I've been wantin' to go brunette fer a while now. Jus' never had the money to go to a salon and I dun' have the balls to try and dye it myself. I trust ya. Yer gonna be fine. 'S jus' me.”

You nodded and gave him a smile. You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before withdrawing. “You're amazing, you know that?”

Daryl scoffed and ducked his head, the tips of his ears reddening, a telltale sign that he was blushing. “Nah,” he denied, shaking his head. “'M not. Yer the amazin' one. Ya make me want to be a better person.”

“Aww,” you gushed, using one of your hands to gently cup his cheek, Daryl subconsciously leaning into your touch. “Careful, Dar, or I might start to believe that you actually care about me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Nah, I actually despise ya. I jus' keep ya 'round 'cause ya kiss real damn good,” he joked, a teasing smirk on his face.

You let out a mock offended gasp and playfully shoved his chest, making Daryl laugh fully, a rare sound that you cherished whenever you heard it. You laughed with him and leaned forward to lay your head on his shoulder, your body wracking with laughter. You could feel Daryl's arms move from your thighs to wrap around you, bringing you into a loving hug.

“'M jus' jokin'. I do care 'bout ya,” Daryl whispered into your hair, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I know. And I lo- care about you, too,” you replied, pressing a feathery light kiss to the exposed skin on his shoulder, eliciting a small hum of satisfaction from him.

The clearing of someone's throat caught your attention, and you hastily got off of your boyfriend's lap, turning to face your mom, who looked at you with a small smirk on her face.

“I'm leaving for work,” she started, her eyes trailing between you and Daryl. “I'll be back around midnight. Just thought I'd say goodbye to my daughter before I left.”

You could feel heat flushing on your face. You hastily nodded at your mom. “Okay, bye Mom. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she responded, before turning her attention to Daryl. “Bye, Daryl.”

“Bye, ma'am,” Daryl bid quietly, refusing to meet your mother's intense gaze.

“By the way,” your mother started, grabbing her jacket that was draped over the couch. “This isn't a Mary and Joseph situation. I'm not gonna believe that my daughter magically got knocked up. Anything happens, use protection. There should be a box of condoms in the bathroom.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, hurriedly pushing your laughing mother out the door and shutting it. You turned to Daryl and saw his bright red face, his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Sorry about her,” you apologized, moving over to grab the scissors and towel. “She has no filter when it comes to embarrassing her daughter, apparently.”

“S'fine,” he said, straightening his back. “Compared to wha' she told us the first time she walked in on us all those months ago, I'd say this was alrigh'. It was pretty tame.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, recalling the embarrassing memory from the first time you and Daryl kissed and confessed your feelings. “After you went home the next day, she gave me so much shit and so much unneeded advice on safe sex and all that lovely stuff.”

“Sorry I got ya into trouble.”

“It's fine. My mom walking in that day was awkward as fuck, but I wouldn't change anything. Things changed for the better that day,” you replied, shaking the towel out.

“Damn straight,” he agreed, eyeing your movements. “Ya gonna cut my hair now?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, draping the towel across his shoulders.

“Wha's the towel fer?” he questioned, accepting the handheld mirror you offered him.

“To try to prevent any hair from falling on your clothes. Hairstylists use these cape things, but the towel will have to do for now,” you explained, using a hair clip to clip the towel together, keeping it in place around his shoulders, before moving to get the hair dye ready for use when you needed it.

“Ya do the same thing with the others?” he asked, watching as you finished mixing the contents of the hair dye together in a disposable container before grabbing the comb and scissors, moving to stand behind him.

“Yeah. Basically everything I do right now while cutting and dyeing your hair, I do with everyone. Except, of course, for charging you. The others have to pay me.”

“How much do ya charge 'em?”

“Depends on what I have to do,” you started, softly combing his hair, smiling at the small shiver you felt go up his back at your gentle movements. “And it also depends on how well-off they are. For instance, I wouldn't charge Mrs Hathaway as much as I charge Mr Langdon.”

“'Course not,” Daryl agreed. “Mrs Hathaway is a pensioner. She dun' make nearly as much as Langdon does. Guy's an accountant. Only reason he even lives in this shitty trailer park is 'cause he's a fuckin' cheapskate and dun' wanna give his girl a better life.”

You smiled at your boyfriend. “Yeah, Mr Langdon is a dick. But he pays okay, though. Even tips me from time to time.”

“Ya do know tha' the only reason he pays you tha' good is 'cause—”

“He has a thing for me,” you cut him off, bringing the scissors up to his hair to start cutting it. “Yeah, I know. That's why I bring pepper spray with me whenever I go over to his trailer. If he tries something, his eyes are gonna burn like five hells.”

Daryl chuckled. “Smart girl,” he complimented you, earning a small giggle from you in return.

“Thanks,” you thanked him bashfully, continuing to snip at his hair with the scissors.

After a few more minutes of cutting and measuring to ensure that his hair was at an even length, you softly tapped his shoulder to signify that you were done. He held the mirror up to his face and examined his new haircut, humming in approval.

“Good job,” he complimented, lowering the mirror before turning his head to look at you. “My hair's still longer than my usual cut, though.”

“I know,” you acknowledged, nodding your head. “I know we have to keep your hair on the short side so that your father doesn't get mad, but I like your longer hair. It compliments your features more. Besides, I remembered you mentioning that you've been wanting to grow your hair out but he won't let you, so I only trimmed it to the point where your father won't get pissed over how long it is.”

Daryl looked at you, awestruck. “Thanks. It looks good.”

He vaguely remembered mentioning that he wanted longer hair, but it was a small thing that he didn't think you'd remember. So hearing you say that made him adore you even more, made him fall in love with you even more. Those three important words—I love you—almost fell from his lips at that moment, but he quickly caught himself. He was scared to admit that he loved you out loud, scared that if he did, the universe would somehow take you away from him. No, he couldn't let that happen.

You locked eyes with him for a moment before setting the scissors aside, moving to grab a pair of disposable plastic gloves and the container holding the hair dye. With the container in hand, you turned to Daryl and adjusted his head so that he was looking forward again, before going to work on dyeing his hair.

The entire process of applying the colour changing paste was spent in silence. You were silent because you were focused on the task at hand, and Daryl was silent because he was focused on the bliss your hands in his hair was giving him. His eyes were shut as your hands moved through his hair in gentle movements, all of his racing thoughts fading away.

Once the task was complete, you put the container aside and moved to the garbage can, throwing the gloves away. You turned to Daryl and saw him watching you, and you gave him a small smile that he easily returned.

“Now wha'?” he asked, standing up and stretching, his back cracking after sitting for so long.

“Now we wait for half an hour before we wash your hair and apply the conditioner to keep the colour in your hair.”

“So we got half an hour fer some fun?” Daryl asked suggestively, a small smirk on his face. He walked over to you and brought you into his arms, his hands going to rest on your hips.

You giggled and took his hands from your hips, entwining your fingers. “Slow down, Romeo. We're not doing anything until that dye is washed off. I don't want to stain everything.”

“Worth a shot,” Daryl replied playfully, earning a small, playful shove in return.

He laughed before pulling you back into him, leaning down to give you a slow, hungry kiss. You wrapped your arms around his midsection and returned the kiss, kissing him back deeply. After what felt like an eternity and only a few seconds at the same time, you pulled back with a breathless giggle.

“You wanna watch a movie while we wait to wash your hair?”

“Sure,” Daryl agreed, untangling himself from you and allowing himself to be pulled over to the couch. He sat down and watched you grab a random movie from the limited supply before doing the small task of getting it into the player and pressing play.

After the opening credits successfully started playing on your crappy television, you moved over to the couch and sat down next to Daryl. Instead of resting your head on his shoulder like you normally would due to the dye in his hair, you rested your head against the back of the couch. Daryl moved one of his hands to lightly grip your thigh, keeping it their for the remaining 25 minutes.

After the time passed, you paused the movie and got up, extending a hand to Daryl. He took it and followed you into the small bathroom, following your instructions and sank to his knees, leaning his head over the tub. You then gently started washing the dye off his hair, making sure to be careful and not get any water in his eyes.

In no time at all, you were done. Daryl was towel drying his hair, looking into the mirror in the bathroom with an impressed look on his face.

“I'll be damned,” he hummed in approval, looking at you in adoration. “It looks good. Ya should consider openin' yer own salon or somethin'.”

You smiled shyly. “I'm glad you like it.”

“Everyone was speakin' the truth. Ya truly are a magician when it comes to hair. I dun' think my hair's ever been cut this good, and the dye job looks like it was done by a professional. Ya really did good.”

“You don't regret dyeing your hair?” you asked curiously, moving to embrace him from behind as he continued drying his hair.

“I wasn't sure if it was a good idea at first, but I like the way it looks. I dun' know if dyein' my hair will be a regular thing, but I dun' regret dyein' it now,” he admitted, casting the towel aside and turning around. He moved his arms around you and brought you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“You look good. I might have to start fighting off the ladies soon. Everyone's gonna want a piece of you now,” you said playfully.

“Nah,” Daryl chuckled. “I doubt tha', but if they do, I'll be tellin' them all about my beautiful girl.”

You smiled and withdrew from his hold. You looked at the small window and saw the sun setting, a few stars already appearing in the sky. “Do you wanna stay over?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Ya sure? I can go home if ya want.”

You laughed lightly, a sense of deja vu flooding you. That was the same response he gave you all those months ago. “No, I want you to stay over. It's been a while since you've stayed over, anyways.”

“Alrigh', if yer sure,” he relented.

“Come on, we've got a movie to finish.”

Together, the two of you walked back to the living room. You sat down on the couch and pressed play on the movie you were watching, the sound flooding the trailer. Daryl sat down next to you, but instead of focusing on the movie, his eyes remained fixated on you.

Feeling his gaze on you, you turned to him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, 'm jus' wonderin' how I got so lucky with someone as amazin' as ya,” he confessed.

You smiled lovingly at him. “By being amazing yourself.”

You moved your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. Daryl turned his head and kissed your palm, before moving his feathery light kisses to your wrist. After placing one final kiss on your wrist, he pulled you into his arms and cuddled up to you. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. You focused back on the movie, but your attention shifted back to him when he muttered three words into your hair.

“I love ya.”

You smiled up at him, your heart beating faster at his confession. You placed a tender, loving kiss on his lips before resting your head back on his chest.

“I love you, too.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

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genandguice · 4 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. ryan gosling

warnings: i do not condone these thoughts or actions….

infidelity. smut. and with plot 👎🏼 also reader smoking cigs. female reader. oral m receiving, piv, little bit of breeding

𝐰𝐜: 4.7𝐤

Ryan’s touch on your abdomen is so slight that it tickles, and you find yourself smiling against his lips as they move sensually against yours. Every faint movement from him sends a tingle across your stomach. For a moment, you’re distracted from the heat and the pulsing between your thighs, you let yourself moan into his mouth just to keep from giggling, until his hand starts to travel further north. His fingertips are destined to grip the curve of your breast, and you tremble in the anticipation, your moans become unsuppressable. The muscles in his back stretch and flex under your hands and your legs tighten around him as the notion of his strength settles in your mind; how deeply, how harshly he could ram his hips into you, how tight he could hold you down, or how easily he could hold you up, how these very muscles would feel under your hands, using all his brawn to lift you up and down on his cock.

“Cut!”

“That’s lunch everybody! 2 hours today!”

The sound on set resumes around you as your costar lifts away from his position above your half-naked body, taking his body heat and his natural, masculine smell with him. A pang of disappointment replaces his warmth as he leaves you, perfectly chipper and unaffected by the sudden halt as he pulls his t-shirt back on, bringing you back to reality. You aren’t a controversially-aged couple dramatically kindling a resisted desire, but an unknown actress and her married A-list costar.

You’d always heard he was great to work with, a gentleman and a sweetheart, that he had great chemistry with everyone on set, but that wasn’t the case with you- he hardly spoke to you.

You give a multi-million dollar performance moaning and writhing underneath him, and he doesn’t seem to notice you at all.

You think he must be desensitized, all the roles he’s played with so many women, a scene is just a scene. But more likely, he just loves his wife.

Either way, it seems you’ll never have the chance to abolish your yearning for the real thing.

Your silk robe is handed over by a nearby assistant and you wrap it around yourself, deep in racing thought, hoping no one had noticed the ever present wet spot in your sole article of clothing. You’ve been shockingly invisible to most of the crew, despite being the leading lady, and most currently one of only two nude bodies in the room, but it finally pays off as you’re able to scurry to your trailer unbothered. With your cunt literally weeping, screaming for attention, you’re thankful for an extra long lunch. Maybe if you take care of yourself the next take won’t be so stimulating. It’ll be nice to spend some hours locked away.

Trailer locked, blinds shut, robe open, panties down, and you’re in wonderland. It’s almost embarrassing to be so worked up like this over someone you’re working closely with, but as your middle finger seamlessly and mercilessly glides over your slippery bundle of nerves, you couldn’t give a shit. The mental images of Ryan pounding into you, the guttural sounds he’d make as he hits that spot deep inside you, earnestly driving you toward a life-changing orgasm, it was all you could think. Your back arches up off the dark leather couch, your moans heighten in pitch, volume, and frequency even as you try to hold them back, and you’re finally at the edge.

And then someone is knocking at your door.

It takes everything in you not to scream. It’s as if everyone you work with is cock-blocking you at every step. You throw a quick, silent tantrum, kicking your feet and punching your fists in the air, furiously grieving the second suspension of your pleasure, before you tie your robe to hide your body and stickiness once again. You kick your panties to the side before you crack the door.

“Hungry?”

Of course it’s him.

“Kinda thought I felt your tummy rumbling so I brought you something.” Ryan gestures to the bag of takeout he shakes in his other hand. You want to be frustrated, the ache between your thighs is painful, but he just has a way about him that cheers you up. You crack, and you snicker, and it pulls a smile from him.

“My tummy?”

He shrugs and looks at you as if you’re the one who’s ridiculous while he opens up the bag. “Your tummy.”

His terminology makes you feel like a little girl, and it’s conflicting. On the one hand, it makes you feel precious, and desired, as if he’d eagerly sweep you up in his strong arms, pet, caress and cradle you like a kitten, call you a “cute little thing”, but on the other hand, it’s just more evidence that he’ll never take you seriously. You are just a little girl to him; too young and silly to garner any real attention.

“It is reportedly- reported by you, your favorite.” You inspect the bag with one arm slithering through the door, while Ryan waits patiently and confidently for you to approve.

“It is my favorite, where did you hear that?”

Again, he shrugs, but this time with a humbly accomplished smirk that blesses his features all too well. “I have my sources. But you can only have this food on one condition.”

You huff a laugh. “What condition?” What could he want from you?

He gives you that “you’re ridiculous” look again. “You let me eat with you.”

Immediately your mind has returned to its racing, but one thought stands out among the others. “Ryan, I’m still in my robe.” You laugh nervously, feel your cheeks getting hot as your thoughts turn dirty, the confession turning your attention back to your bare crotch lingering underneath the garment. But he’s oblivious to that, and consequently unfazed.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And I do not believe in the sexual objectification of female nudity.” He points a finger at you as he corrects himself, “Or near nudity.”

He’s dangerously convincing; finally giving you that characteristic Gosling charm and the attention you’ve wanted for, and although it’s almost alarmingly sudden, it’s irresistible.

“Alright.” You open up the door and let him in, cheeks still burning. You feel more naked and displayed like this than you do when you aren’t wearing it, the fabric highlighting and accentuating every curve of your body. But Ryan walks right past you as if it’s nothing.

He takes a seat on your dark leather couch, freshly dry of your sweat, but not before covertly noticing the discarded panties behind the door.

The twitch is his pants makes him second guess himself, maybe he shouldn’t have done this- but nobody will know about a slight involuntary reaction to finding out the young girl in front of him was truly naked beneath a single, thin layer. He has plenty of control over himself. You’re his costar, he can’t avoid interacting with you just to subside meaningless temptation forever.

But his doubts linger back as his eyes lift and land on you. The way they’ve done your hair up for the movie, how the color of the silk compliments your skin tone, how the fabric hugs your thighs with each movement. His minds eye shows his hands sliding up the inside of them, bound for the sole part of your body still unknown to him. Though you settle into the opposite end of the couch, as far as you could be, he finds the proximity intoxicating, and his thoughts difficult to purify.

“Why’d you wanna eat lunch with me anyway?” Your legs are carefully tucked under your knees to shield your undress, arm resting on the back of the couch, resting your head on your hand, cigarette delicately balanced between your fingers on the other. The food has long gone, and you still have nearly an hour left for lunch, but for whatever reason, he’s stayed; sitting, legs spread wide, listening, laughing, blabbering back, occasionally slapping his hand on the couch, so close to touching you, to emphasize his sentences.

And with every passing minute, you feel the pull between you growing stronger, more tangible. The air around you is static, you can barely look him in the eyes, and he can’t allow his gaze to linger anywhere but yours.

“We hardly know each other. It’s a little un-gentlemanly of me to touch you the way I do and not know anything about you.” He laughs, and you swear you see a rosy hue spread across his cheeks. “But I also thought you could use a friend, you know. You must get lonely in here all by yourself.”

“What makes you say that?” You look at him curiously as you drag from your cigarette.

He’s taken aback by the question, as if he doesn’t have an answer, he just assumed you must be lonely, and his demeanor shifts as he spends a short moment reflecting. His body tenses, almost imperceivably, he guards himself up, and then it’s over as fast as you could notice it.

“Well,” he laughs, “Maybe I’m projecting.”

“…Are you lonely?”

“Everybody gets lonely sometimes.”

It hurts to hear that he hurts, but it downright sickens you that it gives you a flush of hope. Why would he come here now, confide that in you, if not to act on it? It was a reach, but one to give you just enough reason to abandon all shame and morality standing in your way.

“Your family doesn’t travel with you?” You cautiously elongate your legs out toward him as you put out your cigarette, careful not to flash him. When he delays to answer you, eyes lingering on the hemline lying in just the right position to keep you covered, you know you’ve trapped him.

“Ryan?”

He shakes his head, eyes unmoved, and softly speaks. “No.”

He’s faired no better, made no progress clearing his thoughts since he stepped foot in your trailer. He can’t explain the effect you’ve had on him, not anymore, not with the way he’s half-hard in his pants and remains seated, gazing at the apex of your thighs, hoping the robe would rise just a few inches higher. But no, it’s only his cock that continues to rise, and at this point, he’s a willing participant.

“That must be hard.”

As you make your risky, but valid remark, his eyes finally meet yours, and the state of them confirms your suspicions; dark and hooded, he’s voluntarily trapped, with no ambitions to escape.

“It is.” His gaze lingers on you, almost daring you to continue, and the atmosphere thickens. Where your attraction was once unrequited, it was now matched, filling the air with a steaming fog of sexual tension.

“Your wife doesn’t get nervous about you being so far away, and lonely? Getting close with other women?” You edge closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

“It’s not usually such a problem.” His eyes are everywhere, rapidly roaming your body with a hunger that makes your skin tingle. From your lips, to the slope of your shoulders where your robe threatens to slip, to the gentle swell of your breasts against the fabric, back up to meet your own ravenous gaze, traveling in a never-ending loop.

“Usually?” Your voice is raspy with need.

“This is different,” he admits, barely above a whisper. You can see now how his breathing is quick and heavy; the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control it, mirroring your own arousal.

“How so?” You shift onto your knees, now mere inches away from him and the erection straining against his pants.

“I’ve never been in such… irresistible company.”

Ryan is a good man. It was something you’d always known, something you were always told. You still believed it. Just as you believed you were a good young woman. But everyone has their weaknesses. And yours just so happened to be each other. All the time you’d spent together on this movie, trying desperately not to indulge this very feeling. What if something cosmically, intensely amorous lie on the other side of it?

“So you want me to… help with your loneliness?” Your tone eases into a seductive tenor that fuels the sinful craving taking over him.

Ryan’s adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, and he nods, silently pleading for you to relieve him.

“Are you sure?” You ask, closing the gap between you and snaking your hand over his thigh, feeling how it trembles at your touch. You lean in to whisper, lips gently brushing his tragus, “I wouldn’t want to desecrate your vows.”

Your freshly-manicured fingers massage the tent in his crotch, stroking every ounce of hesitation right out of him. He couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to.

“God, yes.”

You hum in his ear, giving him a squeeze, feeling the thickness of him. You’ve thought about it so many times, fantasized about this very moment where he picks you over it all. The weight of endless possibilities presses down on your mind as you sift through every dream, looking for a perfect place to start. To taste his cock, to feel his tongue lapping at the puddle between your thighs, to prolong the anticipation until he’s begging for you, or just to kneel below him and ogle his stiff, robust, burly form.

His eyes have fallen shut as he relishes in the motion of your hand. With each touch, he's consumed by impure thoughts he’d never allowed himself to give into before. And after truly indulging his fantasies for the first time, he blurts exactly what comes to mind, with a grunt, as if he’s read your thoughts; “I want you to put me in your mouth.”

Your body responds instinctually, a moan escaping your lips at the mental image he created, and the realness of the sound reverberates in his ear, seeps into his bloodstream and gets him addicted to it. He feels his urges thundering through him, fingertips prickling with restlessness, ready to finally act on his instincts and pull every wanton noise you have to give until you’re hoarse.

You move with an enticing grace, slinking down into the floor between his knees as if it were your natural place. Ryan’s eyes track you all the way, completely enraptured in you, as if the moment might cease altogether if he blinked. His cock jumps as you settle into your position at his feet, so eager to unleash him.

Your eyes are locked as you slide your hands up his thighs, the width of his quadriceps dwarfing them. The fabric around his crotch is taught and strained. Your mouth waters knowing what waits for you there.

The zipper gives without a fight, the pants themselves ready to be free of him. It’s the sound that draws your attention to his cock, the heavy thump of it smacking up against his stomach. It’s every bit as impressive as you imagined; thick, veined, glistening at the tip, and you moan at the sight of it alone.

A tentative hand reaches for your neck, gently petting you with his thumb, but the anticipation mingling with the skin-to-skin contact ignites some kind of impatience in him.

His hand reaches up into your professionally done hair and tugs it tight, sending your head back with a gasp.

“As much as I’d like to take my time with you,” he speaks lowly as he guides your lips to his cock, “we don’t have that luxury.”

His commandeering tone somehow gives you that precious and desired feeling. So hopelessly hypnotized by him that you need his guidance to properly do your job, and you gladly accept it, like the distracted little girl you are.

Your lips wrap around just the very tip of his engorged head, swiping your flat tongue over his slit and savoring the taste of the droplets that soak into it. Ryan shudders and he grips the leather with his free hand as you take him further, quickly growing hungrier, suctioning his cock into your wet mouth and stroking your tongue on the underside of it. He’s heavy on your tongue, tastes of salt and sweat and daydreams come to life and you want more.

One of your hands grips him, sturdy and pulsing in your hand as you pump him up into your greedy mouth, and a needy groan rumbles from his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he speaks behind grit teeth, steadily pushing you further onto him with the hand buried in your hair.

The more he fills your mouth, the more your own arousal pools between your thighs, begging for attention. But this moment was about him. The man who’d always put others before himself, who’d always chosen his career and his wife over his own desires. Your talented tongue massages the thick vein throbbing against it, milking him towards a newly free ecstasy with every motion. The hand that supports your mouth drips with your spit, drooling down his cock and soaking him at the base, properly drowning him in pleasure.

“God, I knew you’d be good at this,” he gasps, unable to take his eyes off the sight of you giving him a fresh new world. The idea of him thinking about you that way, trying to imagine how he’d feel in your mouth, just how well you’d please him, makes your pussy flutter.

You moan around him, spurring him on further as his hips jump and twitch. You find a rhythm, swallowing him down and slurping him back up, letting your wrist fall slack and sloppily twist around him. The sound is fucking obscene, wet squelches of your hand and your throat, sighs and expletives shoving their way past his lips. His hand shoves your further and rougher as he loses himself in the feeling, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with the feeling of his cock pounding the back of your throat. You’re enthralled, all of your senses filled to the brim with him, tears blooming in your ears, cunt empathetically throbbing with the weight of his impending orgasm, until you’re overflowing.

You pull back at a particularly harsh and deep thrust, gagging, coughing, gasping for air, but pumping him through it all. Your mouth is smeared with a shameful amount of slobber, but you wear it graciously, thirsty for his seed. But after all the time you’ve pined after him, the amount of wanting proliferating inside you just today, you need it spilled and planted elsewhere.

Residual groans and twitches flee his body, fueled the sight of you on your knees before him, wide-eyed, cherry-lipped and needy, still dutifully stroking him. It’s a feat for him not to just hold you in this position until he blows all over your pretty face. The way you worship him, the way you crave him, it fulfills his ego, reaffirms his dominance over you. He makes a mental note to mention how much it truly means to him to be treated with such reverence as your hand slows to a stop, but for now, he has a painfully hard cock to attend to, and a surely leaking cunt awaiting his discovery.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He commands, his hand loosening in your hair, returning to its gentle caress.

The aching in your core becomes all-consuming as your deliverance draws near, and you whimper like a neglected pet.

“I want you inside me,” you plead. “God, Ryan, I want you deep and raw,” he grips your hair for purchase as your filthy words thrill him, and you gasp before he loosens again- “Ah! Oh, I want you to make me sorry for tempting you,” you’re panting, “I want to feel everything you’ve waited to do to me.”

He leans forward with a sigh, aiming to sound displeased, but the excited glint in his eye exposes him.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You nod vigorously, thoroughly shameless, and he hums in approval, and then-

His lips crash into yours and you’re both reborn. It’s real, and intense, and passionate, and you can feel how much he’s needed you too.

His hand begins to flow down your back, not bothering to pull your robe off, beelining for the curve of your ass, large hand brushing down and over the skin there with a tantalizing touch. Creeping between your thighs, sneaking up the inside, soaking up your expecting whines. The largest swell of your inner leg is sticky with your arousal and Ryan groans into your mouth as he lands upon it- and then he’s there.

Spreading your pitifully slick labia with his middle finger, circling your clit just once, sending your hips lurching forward, then continuing to tease your folds. You grip his muscular arms to keep yourself steady and they flex marvelously under your palms with his movements, stretching, bulging, hardening like those of a Greek god. You’re whimpering in his mouth, desperate and insatiable, until his finger suddenly plunges inside your gushing hole. Your mouth falls open with a gasp and he groans low and long, slowly fucking his finger into you, carefully stroking your walls and exploring the steamy sanctuary your body had tailored for him.

“So fucking wet.” His voice has regained a softness, as if he’s grateful. He kisses across your cheek and down to your jaw,“Gonna be a good girl?” He wants to sound patient, like he’s in control, like he could walk away if you can’t properly hold yourself together, but his aching tone and his now harsh, deep thrusts prove otherwise. “Can’t have you makin’ too much noise.” He huffs. “Need you to tell me you’ll be good for me.”

“I will.” The words rush from your mouth at a shameful speed. “I will, I will, I will.” You mumble and whimper, clinging to his biceps. “Please just fuck me.”

His impatience climaxing once again, Ryan effortlessly scoops you up like a ragdoll and drops you to lie on the dark leather, strong hands preventing you from bouncing on the furniture to return you to the lewd position you held just before he joined you.

He’s breathtaking above you. He always is. But this time he’s primal, any ounce of his normally cheeky self ceased. A tower of a man, staring down at you with black eyes, wide chest expanding further with his labored breathing, cock standing impressively between you, demanding attention, ready to claim you and reclaim himself.

He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, shifting your hips up, vulgarly unveiling your cunt to his hungry eyes. He showers your calf in kisses and growls in praise of the display below him; swollen, saturated and leaking, calling out to him without a sound.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.”

You must have been seducing him this whole time, winding him up with a vengeance until he had no choice but to give in to keep his sanity. How intensely and honestly you beg for him, how you submit to his will, how your body naturally composes in just the way to please him. He’s lost all resistance to your siren song. And so he wastes no time pressing his cock past your folds, drinking up your breathy, relieved whines as he stretches and plugs your tender hole.

He releases a stifled, husky grunt when his dick is fully buried, rolls his hips against you until he’s perfectly sheathed and settled. You can hear him shuddering while you faintly struggle to adjust to him, uncontrollably clenching around him, unknowingly driving him mad. He’s stiff as a steel rod inside you, so snug against your pillowy walls you can feel him pulsating, every tiny shift and twitch in his hips. You can’t help but be stimulated, you’re so full you can feel it in your lungs, and so you clench, and every little breath makes it worse, your body only mustering tiny, pitiful whimpers.

“Relax.” He hisses through his teeth, massaging your lower stomach where it bulged with the heft of his erection.

“If you don’t stop squeezing me like that I’ll cum fast.” But as much as you can’t stop the fluttering of your walls, he can’t stop his cock succumbing to it, hips subconsciously answering the primal beckoning and starting a slow rhythm, unintentionally forcing you to feel every inch steadily slotting in and out of you. So started a viciously stimulating cycle.

“I- can’t help it,” you whine, “so full.”

His dick twitches, his hips stuttering deep into you, “Fuck yes you are.” Still barely holding himself together, his hips just slightly speed up, gain a momentum, gently knocking into your cervix with his force, jostling your body on the couch. He doesn’t retreat more than an inch or two before hinging back into you, determined to keep you stuffed.

“You like it, don’t you? Like being so full of me you can’t control yourself, like making me lose control.” His hands grip your thighs, white-knuckling, imprinting his nails into your skin. It’s inexplicably sensual the way he fucks you, taking his time to ensure your bodies feel and remember every stroke, despite how close he is, and how little time you have left.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to quiet your noise, muffled squeaks garnishing his thrusts, the pounding on your cunt sends you tightening around him again, all your muscles contracting as he pummels you and-

He whimpers, a strained sound, stilling his hips, eyes shutting tight, orgasm almost overcoming him.

He’s panting as his forearms descend to either side of your head, resting his weight over top of you until his breath is fanning across your lips, your one leg still wrapped over his shoulder and now pinned to your chest.

“Squeezing my cock like this,” his hips resume their leisurely rolling, his cock sinks impossibly deeper with the new angle, he grunts with every thrust, “You want me to cum inside you. Want me to ruin my marriage knocking you up.” The sound you let out is profane, met with a growl from him as he covers your loud mouth with his hand, the impending threat of his orgasm surging once again, but this time it neglects to stop his movements and spurs them instead.

“Be good and quiet for me, baby.” He whispers, catching your lips in a short kiss to make his words stick in your fleeting mind.

“Tell me,” His eyes study yours closely, his shoulder muscles flex as he shifts his weight and his hand slides down your torso, thumb joining with your clit to swirl over it in tandem with his pelvis, “Were you touching yourself thinking about me fucking you like this?” The image of it makes his cock swell inside you.

The way your eyes unfocus for a millisecond is almost enough of an answer for him, but he needs to hear you say it.

“Tell me.” He repeats, voice shrouded in anguish, pleading with you to verbalize how deeply you desired him, to make it all real.

“Yes.” You whine, weakly, brokenly, as you admit your deepest secret, paralyzed in the pleasure of his thumb and his thrusts catalyzing your climax.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he echoes you earnestly, voice straining, “Oh, fuck, yes, yes.” Ryan spends his last spur of energy slamming deep into you, smushing and kissing your cervix, as he begins to peak, pulling you along with him into the powerful, electric whirlwind of finally having every inch of each other.

He’s groaning and cursing feverishly as his cock embeds inside you, spouting, leaking, and twitching right against your deep, needy organ, “Yeah, take it- take it, fuck- fuck, so tight, fuck yes, cum, yes,” his hips stuttering, your legs trembling, juices pouring, you milk each other for all you have. A few gentle kisses on the neck bring you back to earth, and when you turn to him, Ryan gives you one more, real, passionate and lasting on your lips for a while after he pulls away.

“Well the afterglow scene is gonna be authentic.”

FORGIVE ME </3 💋

#ryan gosling x reader smut #ryan gosling smut

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natashaslesbian · 1 year ago

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Hi! 😊

I don't know if your requests are still open but I am just going to leave my request here just in case they are.

So this is a Mama!Nat request where Y/N (kid, around the age of 6 or 7 if it's possible) celebrates her birthday while she's on the run in Norway with her Mama and Natasha tries to make Y/N's day as happy as possible, even managing to buy a cake for her daughter as a surprise alongside a new teddy bear.

I understand if the requests are closed or if you don't want to write this. Thank you so much for your time and I want you to know that I'm a big fan of your work! It's absolutely amazing!!! Sending lots of love 😊🧡

7 Laps Around The Sun

A/N: I absolutely adored this request and loved writing it, thank you sm! This isn’t proof read so please don’t mind any mistakes or typos :))

Word Count: 964

Parings (Mom!Natasha x Daughter!Reader) (Nat x Mason) (referenced to Clint and blackhill)

Warnings: none :))

————

The door to the trailer creaked louder than ever. Why was it always when someone is trying to be quiet things make the most noise. Natasha pulled the heavy door to a close with one hand, the other carrying a large plastic bag of supplies. The redhead heard small shuffles from your shared bedroom and paused her movements, you must have settled again immediately as Nat didn’t hear anything else throughout the cold trailer. Norway was always cold but especially in late autumn, the widow would have to find another safe house to take you too, it was relatively safe here but the winter was fast approaching and Natasha wasn’t going to let you, her daughter, go cold all season.

A while later you stirred again, rolling over to mamas side of the bed. The mattress was cold beneath the sheets, it told you that Natasha wasn’t there. “Mommy” you quietly called out, eyes still shut and your grip tight on the purple baby blanket. Oh how you missed Jimmy, your beloved stuff bear, there just wasn’t any time to grab him before you left. you peeled your eyes open to the dimly lit room “Mamma” you called louder. The doors angle increased and your favourite person appeared “hey there beautiful, did you have a good sleep?” Natasha asked. You hummed and opened your arms wide for a cuddle. Mommy came and scooped you up tightly “happy birthday baby” she said as she tickled your belly. Today you were 7 years old, you felt so grown up, but this birthday was defiantly going to be different. “Thank you mommy” you said as you slid down her slender frame “can I have the chocolate cereal today? As I’m 7 now!” You begged at your mamas hip bone. Natasha had promised that as you were away from home this year you could have a special cereal as a birthday treat, she never let you have anything chocolaty before midday! It was the best she could offer until she laid sleepless last night with a new idea.

“I told you not to knock!” Natasha said as she opened the trailer door “sorry” Mason whispered “I forgot” Natasha stepped out of the door, making sure each lock was secure “ok, just sit here and don’t go inside, y/n’s a heavy sleeper so she shouldn’t wake up” the fugitive explained “I’ll be as quick as I can, there’s a 24 hour store about 20 minutes away so I’ll be like an hour tops” “ok all clear, I’ll be here”

“Actually sweetheart, I have a little surprise for you” your mama said. You eyes and ears perched up “really? What is it mama!” You exclaimed “come with me baby” Natasha said as she took hold of your small hand, wrapping her fingers around your knuckles. Mommy lead you into the main section of the trailer and you let out a loud yelp when you saw the array of pink and purple balloons gently rolling around the room in the dull wind. You looked up at the walls to find a huge banner displaying a sparkly ‘happy birthday’. You were truly amazed, when had your mama had time to do all this? “What do you think y/n?” Nat said “I love it! Thank you so much mommy!” You beamed. “You are very welcome darling” Natasha said as she hoisted you up onto her hip “but guess what?” You perched up immediately “wha mama!” You asked “there’s one more surprise, over by the fridge” your mommy said as she carried you towards the old grayed out refrigerator.

“Cake cake cake!” You exclaimed upon seeing the bright pink sparkly birthday cake, topped with sprinkles and a wonky 7. “I know this birthday is a bit different, but my baby girl always has a birthday cake, no matter what” Nat would move heaven and earth for you. “Wait mama look!” You said as you little feet pattered on the floor after escaping Natasha’s grip “a stuffy bear!” Just left of the cake was a light brown bear, tag still connected to its ear. “So there is!” Mama said, pretending she had no idea where he had come from “someone special must’ve left him for you” she didn’t like to lie, but Natasha just wanted you to have a little magic in your life “maybe uncle Clint?” You questioned “maybe, what are you going to name him?” You hummed for a moment “Peter! Because Peter is my favourite and I miss him” you said, a hint of sadness in your tone, Nat frowned. “That’s a perfect name”

“Who’s that?” You said after hearing three consecutive knocks on the door, Masons secret code to let Natasha know there was no danger. “Well if we’re going to have a party then we need guests” Your mama said as she opened the door to the strange man you’d never seen before “hello there y/n” he said, a little box in his right hand “is that a present?” You said, giving him mommy’s signature smirk “yes it is” Mason said, standing awkwardly at the door frame, his hand way too close to your mom “hey!” You said, alerting the two adults “are you mommy’s boyfriend?” You innocently asked, the pair stood in a slight uncomfortable silence, soon breaking into laughter “no, he’s not y/n” Natasha said as she came to scoop you up once again “then why is he looking at you the same way Maria does? Does he kiss you too?” Natasha couldn’t help but giggle, slightly sad because she was missing her ‘almost’ girlfriend. “Yep, she’s defiantly your daughter” Mason said, Natasha shot him daggers “is it cake time yet?” You said with a huff and a pout “yes baby, it’s cake time”

#marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x little!reader #natasha x daughter!reader #clint barton #blackhill #maria hill

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htchnr · 5 months ago

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♰ anything, dollface ༻ ASH WILLIAMS.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a coffee!

content warning age gap ⋆ reader's in her 20s Ash is in his 40s ⋆ Ash gets a little handsy with himself at the end ⋆ Ash acting like a little perv ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

pairing older!perv!Ash x younger!innocent!Reader.

summary requested by a lovely anon ; HEAR ME OUTTT perv old man ash in the summer ‼️ he is just being soooo nice offering to help you put sunscreen on because he cares about your health 😸. wordcount 0,7k.

Kelly and Pablo found it truly astounding how you went along with almost every weird thing Ash got you into.

dropped his keys and they magically landed under the couch? 'oh baby, you know how my back has been lately, would you be a peach and grab 'em for me?' all while staring at your ass and the back of your thighs when you get down on all fours to grab his keys.

the sun's beating down on the trailer, slowly cooking everyone inside. you walked around, fanning yourself as you waited for an answer from a friend. you were aching to lay on the beach with someone, but knew that Ash wouldn't shut up about melting away, and Pablo and Kelly had jobs to keep them busy.

" you going somewhere? " Ash's voice pauses your movements as you turn to face him. his eyes drag up and down your figure, wearing nothing but a small, pink bikini top and short, flowing, white skirt.

you nod, " i'm waiting for a friend to pick me up so we can go to the beach to tan. " you smile at him, eyes taking in his stupid hawaiian shirt and knee length shorts.

Ash is quick to grab a bottle of sunscreen from the shelf beside him, " have you put on sunscreen yet? can't have you burning your pretty skin, now can we? c'mere i'll do your back, " he's waving you over to where he sits down, patting his lap.

you smile, walking over. " uhg thanks, doing my back alone always sucks, " you groan, sitting down on the small sliver of couch between his legs, your ass pressed up against his eager crotch.

Ash shakes his head, " no worries, dollface, i'm happy to help you out with this at any hour, " he grins as he squirts some sunscreen onto his hand, starting by cupping your waist as he rubs it into your skin. his eyes eagerly following his hand as his large, rough hand gently massages the sunscreen into your skin, dragging across your back, waist and shoulders.

he wonders if he could get away with asking to do your chest for you as well — y'know, to save you the energy of doing it, of course.

he finishes with a squeeze of your hip, giving the plump flesh a firm pat. " all done, baby, d'you want me to do your front for you too? can't have your hands getting all tired before you leave, " he tries, forcing an innocent grin on his face when you stand up and turn around.

he watches you contemplate it, before you're interrupted by the buzz of your phone. " oh! she's here! " you grin, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen. " thanks for sweet offer Ashley, but i don't want to keep her waiting so i'll finish it in her car or at the beach. " Ash pouts when you turn away, he was so close.

you grab your bag, shoving the sunscreen bottle into it, then pulling your sunglasses down onto your nose. you glance back at Ash, watching him sit there with a small pout on his face. " don't worry, i won't stay too long. don't want you to get too lonely in here, " you grin, " later, Ash! " you wave, stepping out the trailer door and shutting it.

Ash sighs sadly, leaning back onto the couch with his hand already palming himself through his shorts. guess he'll wait for you to come back all hot and sweaty, with your pretty, warm and tanned skin. maybe a little sunburnt, so you'd be aching for sweet ol' Ash to rub in some cooling Aloe.

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️ash williams #ash williams oneshot #ashley williams imagine #ashley williams x reader #ashley williams x you #ash vs evil dead x reader #ash williams imagine #ash williams smut #ash vs evil dead #ash williams x reader #ash williams #bruce campbell #older!ash williams x reader #older!ash williams

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mc-i-r · 1 year ago

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Disposable Heroes

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy for me the past couple weeks but I hope that I can get back to writing more regularly. This chapter is the well-awaited Eddie pov, as well as a ton of backstory for him that I didn’t really plan on but it just kinda came out. This chapter is kinda rushed, I’m gonna be honest, but I wanted to get it out to you guys as soon as possible since its been awhile. There are gonna be some major warnings here so I’ll post them below. Take care of yourselves and stay safe, now enjoy!

Tw: homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, domestic violence, referenced drug use, Eddie being incredibly gay

———

It’s a muggy Sunday morning, the summer sun burning through the last vestiges of chilled night air and frosted dewdrops as it rises from its slumber. Like the sun, Eddie rises as well. However, it’s with much less fanfare and grace due to the obnoxious pounding at his front door.

He groans dramatically, shoving his face in his pillow and willing whoever the fuck decided to bother him at—he glances at his alarm clock on the other side of the room, squinting to read the numbers—nine in the morning to go away. His wish must have pissed off some universal god because the knocking only gets louder, making the window above his desk rattle with every shake of the door.

With a sigh big enough to rival the windy intro of “Holy Diver”, he pulls himself to the door in a zombie-like state. Movements sluggish from his interrupted sleep, he misses the doorknob twice before finally turning it, throwing it open with newfound strength to find one Robin Buckley in all her glory. Her fist is raised and ready to knock again, her face the epitome of righteous fury as she glares at him.

“Uh, hey Buck. Whatcha doi—“ he begins, only to be interrupted by Robin shoving past him and barging into the trailer. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling on his hair slightly before shutting the door.

Kids and their manners nowadays.

“Yeah, sure, come on in. Totally fine. I wasn’t sleeping or anything, noooo,” he says to himself before turning to face his intruder. Whatever Buckley is upset about seems serious, and from the icy look she’s giving him it also seems like it’s his fault. Her hands are on her hips like she’s in a Steve Harrington impersonation contest and plans on taking home a first place prize. Something in him squirms at the thought.

But, he is nothing if not a performer. So, of course, he puts on a show.

“Lady Buckley,” he declares in a posh British accent, bowing deeply with a flourish on his arm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine morning?”

He’s expecting a fond eye roll, or a laugh, or huff, or something. He gets silence.

“Cut the bullshit, Eddie. We need to talk about Steve,” she demands.

Steve… Now isn’t that an interesting subject?

Now, Eddie has always been different. He was loud, and jumpy, and fidgety, and the other kids never wanted to be friends with him because they were scared. He was always covered in dirt, always barefoot because he either forgot to put on shoes or the ones he had were too small for his ever-changing feet. He would talk to himself, mutter little reminders under his breath or work through the questions plaguing his mind aloud because he just functioned better that way.

Then, at eleven, he found out just how different he really was. He was outside during recess when he fell off the monkey bars and scraped his hands and knees. He huddled on the ground, tears falling down his small cheeks because it hurt and his wounds felt like they were throbbing. Then a boy, James, ran up to him and asked him if he was okay. James had stark blond hair, a face full of freckles, and bright green eyes. He looked so concerned for Eddie, and was gentle when he picked up one of his hands to inspect the cuts littered there. It was that gentle touch that elicited a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and ever since then Eddie knew.

When he had gotten home to the trailer that day, he felt confused. Other people in his class were constantly talking about who they “liked”; boys liking girls and girls liking boys. About how they would get all nervous around their crushes, and Eddie realized he had never felt that before. All of the girls in his class were just… girls to him. They never gave him that fluttery feeling James had. But… no one ever talked about boys liking boys. No one ever said if it was okay, so Eddie thought it must not be. That boys liking boys wasn’t okay. That he wasn’t okay.

It took awhile, but he finally confessed to Wayne that he liked boys, that he got all the little butterflies that boys were supposed to get about girls. Wayne shook his head and told him that he could feel butterflies for anyone he pleased, as long as they made him happy. They both cried that night, and ended up in a hug so tight they nearly fused together.

Since then, Eddie’s come to accept the fact that he’s gay. Has added it to his whole anti-conformist persona, even. So when high school hit he let himself finally be free. He joined Hellfire club, made friends with the upperclassmen who ran it, and learned all the intricacies of D&D that he never imagined he would. After two years, he met Gareth and Jeff who joined Hellfire much in the way he did. Then, Grant joined halfway through Eddie’s junior year and he quickly recruited him as well. He found his friends, his people, and he finally let himself be himself around them.

He told them he was gay after a long session of lazily practicing in Gareth’s garage and smoking, the weed having loosened both his limbs and his lips. They were all extremely chill with it, even after the weed had worn off. That, however, didn’t exempt them from making fun of him though.

Eddie was loitering in the hallway after school, waiting on Gareth to finish up a quiz he missed the week prior, when none other than Steve Harrington walked out of the pool room in nothing but those little speedos that leave zero to the imagination. Seriously, all those girls were right, holy shit. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he noticed Steve was looking at him with that adorable little confused puppy look before a god damned smirk fell across his face. Eddie’s face, he knew, had to rival that of a Victorian nobleman fawning over a sliver of pale skin shown by a lady across the room with her face hidden by an elaborate fan because he was literally drooling for the man in front of him.

It got considerably worse when Steve leaned down to drink from a nearby water fountain, making Eddie’s mouth go completely dry with this blatant offering of ass right in his face. In hindsight, it might not have been an offering, per say, but it was definitely there and Eddie was definitely staring. So it really wasn’t a surprise that he jumped when Gareth tapped his shoulder, Eddie having not heard him come up behind him, and he turned on his heel so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked. Eddie opened his mouth, squeaked out, “I’m fine” and immediately felt his face go up in flames. Gareth glanced over Eddie’s shoulder and he could see in slow motion the series of thoughts that crossed his mind. Gareth went from concerned to confused to understanding to smug so fast it was almost comical. When their eyes met, Eddie’s went wide.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, and the smug look only intensified.

Once they got to his van, Gareth immediately rounded on him.

“Seriously? Steve Harrington?” Gareth teased. “Of all people, it had to be that douche?”

Eddie groaned and clenched his eyes shut. “I know, Garebear, now shut up before I push you out of the van.”

Of course, news about his little crush spread around his friend group like wildfire, and soon enough he was being teased by them relentlessly. Eddie knew his crush wouldn’t get very far, Steve was very clearly straight and in a happy relationship with Nancy Wheeler of all people. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that smirk.

Just as his crush began to fade away, Steve showed up to school with a busted face and eye bags deep enough to rival shitty vampire Halloween make-up from a toddlers costume contest. Feelings came rushing back, the intense need to protect, to find out what happened and get justice for that pretty face.

Then it kept happening, and Steve showed up to school with a beat up face yet again. However, judging by his stumbling and droopy eyes, it came with a concussion this time. Just when Eddie was trying to figure out who did it, Billy Hargrove came stalking through the empty halls and all attention was focused on his scabbed knuckles. On the hungry glare he sent Steve’s way. On the way Steve shrank back a little on instinct.

And Eddie… Eddie just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could he?

He walked up to Steve, brows furrowed. “Harrington?”

Harrington didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the spot where Billy had been before. Eddie tapped his shoulder. “Steve?”

He jumped that time, like Eddie had actually hit him, and spun to face him. Up close, his face looked a hell of a lot worse and Eddie had to suppress a wince just looking at him. Steve looked at him confused, though it was hard to tell between the swelling and assortment of bandages on his face.

“…Munson?” Steve began. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”

He said it flippantly, with a wave of his hand towards his left ear like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Eddie felt like it wasn’t his place to push.

“You good, man? You look like you got in a fight with a dump truck and lost,” Eddie said. “Badly.”

He expected Steve to scoff and roll his eyes, push past him and hit his shoulder too hard to be an accident. He expected him to spit some barb and walk away, to leave Eddie there in the hallway alone. None of that happened, though.

Instead, Steve smiled. A little self-deprecating, but a smile nonetheless. He huffed a laugh.

“Make it a supercharged dump truck and you’ve got it right,” Steve joked at his own expense. It resulted in a shocked laugh bursting from Eddie’s lips, which he immediately stopped by smacking a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “That’s not funny. I mean… your joke was, just not,”—he gestured to Steve’s… everything—“this.”

“It’s okay man, I know what you meant,” Steve said sincerely and Eddie doubted why he was ever called King Steve. The person who stood in front of him was the furthest thing from what those jocks supposedly worshiped that Eddie had to hide another bubble of laughter.

“Seriously, dude, did you even go to a doctor?” Eddie asked, and at Steve’s wince he knew the answer. He rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders, careful not to land too hard in case he was bruised there too, and led him down the hallway towards the nurse’s station.

“Uh,” Steve began. “Where are we going?”

“The nurse,” he explained. “Figured a look wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little under his arm, and Eddie decided to focus on him during their walk down the empty hallway. He noticed the way his hair bounced a little with every step, how a couple strands were threatening to fall from their perfectly coiffed positions. He noticed his moles and freckles, how he had a smattering of faint ones all over his face from time in the sun. He noticed how his nose was a little crooked now, with a bump on the bridge that wasn’t there before the weekend. He noticed how pretty his eyes were, with at least three different shades of brown all swirled together like melted chocolate with flecks of forest green nestled in the folds.

He noticed that Steve was looking at him.

They had come to a stop in front of the nurse, yet Eddie’s arm was still over his shoulders. He quickly retracted it, but Steve didn’t move away and neither did he.

“Well, this is your stop,” Eddie nearly whispered out. Steve smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and his eyes flitted across Eddie’s face.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he started. Steve took a step backwards toward the station and did a little wave with his fingers that had no right being as endearing as it was. “See you around.”

With that, he disappeared behind the thick mahogany door and Eddie was left there alone, face full of flames and smiling like he was in fucking love with the guy.

Fuck, maybe he was a little bit in love with the guy.

That feeling didn’t waver, not even after seeing him in a skimpy sailor uniform as he scooped overpriced ice cream for toddlers in the Mall. Or, when he was pinning him to the rickety wall of the boathouse he was hiding in after seeing Chrissy murdered in front of him by some freaky wizard from an alternate dimension with a broken bottle to his beautifully freckled throat.

That feeling greatly intensified when he saw Steve take an honest to god bite out of a demonic bat and spit the flesh and blood out on the dried lakebed in the previously mentioned alternate dimension.

And, really, you can’t blame him for falling all the way when he found out exactly who dragged his half-dead body out of hell and saved his life.

So yeah, Steve was a very interesting subject indeed.

“Is… Is he okay?” Eddie questions as he straightens from his hunched position, head tilting to the side and making his bangs fall in his eyes. Robin throws her hands up with a mighty huff and a frustrated groan.

“Obviously not!” She exclaims. She starts pacing around his living room, back and forth in front of the coffee table. “He’s obviously not okay because you’ve been avoiding him and making him feel like shit for months and I’m actually really worried about him ‘cause he’s been doing stupid shit that can get him killed and I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this before it completely ruins him.”

As Robin rambles, her face turns a bright shade of pink. She finishes her speech, sucking in a deep breath as if she ran out of air. Eddie’s brows furrow.

“I haven’t been avoiding Steve,” he defends weakly. He hasn’t, not really. He just… he doesn’t want to get hurt.

Okay yes, Eddie is practically in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean Steve feels the same about him. They’re friends, that’s it. Steve is going to find some beautiful girl and get married and have the houseful of kids he’s always wanted and Eddie will be here, still pining from afar. He knows it would be easier to just forget about him, and forget about the feelings clutching his heart like a starved hawk with its first fulfilling catch in months. That’s why he’s been slowly letting go over the past few weeks, trying—and failing—to get that stupid pretty boy out of his head. Of course, it’s not working, and every day he spends not talking to Steve feels like hell.

So no, he’s not avoiding Steve. He just doesn’t think he could survive it if he confesses and Steve rejects him completely. Staying away means he won’t accidentally reveal his feelings for the man, and judging by how much he’s feeling, it wouldn’t be very hard for that scraggly cat to come clawing and screeching out of the proverbial bag.

Robin, however, thinks the opposite because according to the look she’s giving him, she says he absolutely fucking has.

Eddie sighs. “Okay, maybe I have just a little bit but it’s not—“

Eddie freezes, stomach plummeting as Robin's rambling words take purchase in his mind. She said Steve was doing something stupid, something that could kill him. Flashes of a night now a distant memory play in his mind, one filled with panicked breaths, stilted tears, and a bloody bat with nails.

“Robin… What do you mean by ‘stupid shit’?” Eddie asks tentatively. Part of him wants to know the answer, while part of him fears the idea of ever finding out. Robin only gives him a confused look and crosses her arms.

“Eddie, that’s totally not the point of this conversation and you know it—“ Eddie cuts her off by waving his hands.

“Robin! Just…” he trails off. Should he tell her about Steve? He promised he wouldn’t but…

“Okay, I have to tell you something about Steve but please please don’t tell him I told you because I promised him I wouldn’t but if you also know something about him then I think you should know about this too,” he rushes out, words tumbling fast out of his mouth as his lungs scream for air. Robin’s icy glare has melted a bit, turning into one of anxiety and caution.

He sighs and flops down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks down at his hands. He feels more than sees Robin sit next to him and he knows he has her attention.

“What happened, Eddie?” She prompts, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I had a visit from Steve awhile back, around four or five days ago,” he begins. “It was early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I was writing notes for a new campaign idea in the living room. I could feel that something was… off, so I looked out the window and there he was.”

He ran a hand over his face, pushing his bangs back and pulling on the ends. He glances over at Robin to find her looking at him. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before looking back at her.

“He wasn’t all there, Robin. Like… like he was trapped in his mind or something. I thought,” he huffs a deprecating laugh, “for a moment there, I thought he was cursed.”

He doesn’t mention that the image found its way in his head and can’t seem to find its way out, like a stubborn housefly who keeps banging against the glass hoping to be freed. The thought of Steve floating—eyes rolled back in his head while his lids flutter and his limbs shudder and break one by one—has kept him awake on more nights than he can count. The thought of him being subjected to his worst nightmares given life, all the lies that he tells himself turned to truth. The thought of Eddie being completely helpless, watching him die in agony in front of him.

He doesn’t mention that every night since then, he’s called Steve. He needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. To know he was alive. He never got a call back.

“I got him to come inside but he didn’t stay long. Something spooked him, I think, I just… I don’t know, it was really weird. Like…” he trails off, unable to find the words.

“Like he was in fight or flight mode?” Robin suggests, and he nods.

“Pure instinct.”

Robin groans. “Shit, this is worse than I thought.”

“Wait, did he tell you?” He asks. Steve was so insistent on Eddie not telling her—made him promise, in fact—so why…?

“Well… after a very long, very emotional, and very vulnerable conversation, yes. He told me on his own terms though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she supplies. “He… He didn’t tell me a ton of details, though. Not… Not like that.”

There’s a pause as Robin clenches her eyes closed and looks away from him.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” her voice comes out just barely above a whisper, something he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right next to her. Eddie stays silent, unwilling to break the solemn mood. Robin, however, misses that message entirely as she smacks his arm.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, doofus?!” She accuses, giving him a half-hearted glare that is no less threatening. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, unable to hide the exasperated look on his face.

“He made me promise!!” Eddie defends. “Plus he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t say no.”

“He is really good at that, especially when he wants something. He says he has no clue but I bet you he does,” Robin whispers, almost conspiratory as if they’re sharing a terrible secret. Eddie can’t help but smile and shake his head. Screw Harrington and his stupid pretty eyes.

“Did he say anything else while he was here?” Robin asks after a moment of silence.

“No, that was the only thing he said really, other than an absent ‘I’m fine’ before he bolted out the door. It was a very uh… one-sided conversation,” Eddie explains. “He mostly gave only one or two word answers before he panicked and ran.”

“I’m gonna assume he didn’t tell you why he left?” She asks, and at the shake of his head she curses. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Robin shifts beside him, raising her hand to mindlessly chew on her thumbnail. He thinks the conversation is over. Or, rather, wishes it were over.

That universal god must really hate Eddie today because Robin roughly shakes her head and waves her hands around, letting out a huff.

“Okay, one problem at a time. That was totally not the point of this little talk and you know it, Munson,” she admonishes. “Why. Are. You. Avoiding. Steve?”

She punctuates each word with a, quite literal, punch to the arm. Eddie reels back, dramatically clutching his bruised arm and gives her a fake glare.

“Ow!!” He rubs his arm. For her incredibly bony arms, she really can pack a punch. He’s only half joking that it hurts.

“Answer the question!”

“Fine fine…” he takes a deep breath, knee bouncing with building anxiety before he stands up, unable to quell the urge to move. He paces twice in front of the coffee table before he has the nerve to look at her waiting gaze.

“So, as you know, I am a raging homosexual,” he states, and at his pause, she nods. “And I miiiiiight have a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, enormous crush on him.”

The end of his sentence is rushed out, words jumbled together as he screws his eyes closed and waits for… whatever Robin’s response is going to be. He waits for five seconds. Then ten. Then twenty-five because yes he’s counting. If he knows one thing about Robin Buckley it’s that she doesn’t know when to stop talking so silence is a very rare occurrence for her and now its been a whole minute and something must be wrong so he opens his eyes to find her—

The only word that even remotely comes close to encompassing the expression on her face is seething.

He instinctively takes a step back.

“Edward Lee Munson you better explain yourself right fucking now or I swear to every god out there that I will rip out your spleen and feed it to the neighborhood dogs before you take a step out that door,” Robin all but growls out, eyes icy and cold as they stare through him. He’s quick to explain because he really quite values his spleen, thank you very much.

“Okay, okay, geez I get it! Fine,” he huffs. “I’ve been avoiding Steve because it’s hard to be around him.”

Robin only raises an eyebrow. Eddie groans. He really wishes he didn’t have to explain his big, fat, gay love this early in the morning.

“It’s hard because he’s so…. So Steve all the time. He’s so kind and caring and hot— god, Birdie, he’s so fucking hot—“

“Okay, yeah, I didn’t need to know that,” Robin interrupts.

“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish. “Every little smile he gives me feels like a swarm of butterflies are fighting horde-style to get out of my stomach. I just…

“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie confesses. The way her eyes blow wide is comical, and he’s half expecting them to pop and burst like they do in cartoons.

“But I know better,” he gives her a sad smile. “I know that I’m not special, he doesn’t mean it like that. Like I want it to. And…. And I know he never will.

“I thought that distancing myself would make the feelings go away, make it… I don’t know, hurt less? But not seeing Steve at all… fuck, it hurts worse than dying and I know what that feels like. Now I don’t even have him as a friend,” he scoffs at himself, shakes his head a little and focuses on a framed picture of him, Steve, Robin, and Dustin from graduation on the wall. Focuses on how Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, hand gripping his upper arm as he smiles shyly at the camera. How Eddie himself is leaning into his side, tucked under his arm as if he belongs there. As if he’ll ever belong there. He looks back at Robin.

“But this is what’s best. I can’t have my stupid heart feeling things my brain knows it shouldn’t,” Eddie ends his little speech by flopping back down on the couch. Part of him regrets telling her, but another small, itty bitty part is almost grateful.

Eddie’s always had a way of caring too much, even from a young age. Wayne could tell you better than anyone that Eddie has always had a soft side. He could tell you that Eddie refused to let him kill any of the bugs that got into the trailer when the weather turned cold and insisted that they be put outside under the trailer where it was at least a little warmer. He could tell you that every time Eddie would see another person cry, he would too.

He’s just always been like that, so carrying this around with him everyday? It was becoming too much to bear, having to put on a face around everyone so no one could tell. So no one could see how it was breaking him inside. Wearing him down to the bone. Slowly, slowly killing him.

Robin sighs beside him and he had almost forgotten she was there. Her voice is quiet and strangely gentle as she speaks.

“Why do you think that, Eddie?”

What?

“What?” He asks incredulously and knows his face is in a similar state to his voice.

“Why do you think Steve wouldn’t like you like that? Has he said anything to make you think he wouldn’t?” She clarifies, which really doesn’t clarify anything at all for him because what?

“Um… are we talking about the same Steve? You know, Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ resident ladies man? Why the fuck would you think I’d have a shot?” He explains. “He’s so painfully straight and I am so painfully not, Robin.”

Robin just looks at him like she’s trying to read his mind. Or, rather, push a thought into his mind. Waiting for something to click. It doesn’t. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Besides, Steve never tried to talk to me about the whole distance thing, so I just—“

“You know what happens when people assume things, Eddie,” Robin interrupts.

“—figured that he didn’t mind,” Eddie finishes with a glare. Robin closes her eyes and takes a breath as if calming herself. She pinches her nose, right between her eyes like Steve always does when he’s frustrated or tired, and turns to him. She takes his hands in hers, and her face is only a mere mask of calm, the tumbling waves of anger rolling just under the surface.

“Eddie,” she begins. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that Steve doesn’t talk about his feelings? That he would keep it all bottled up inside like he does with literally everything else?”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “I only found out about this whole… thing two days ago and that was only because I just so happened to catch him falling asleep at work. He wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t ask him, I know that for sure. He… Eddie, he honestly believes that this is all his fault. That he’s the one that fucked everything up between you and he kids.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what do the kids have to do with this?”

“You haven’t told them anything?” Robin asks, eyes going a little wide.

“Have I told a bunch of teenagers—whose opinions I regretfully respect—that I have a crush on their babysitter? No, I have not.”

“Okay, yeah that was a stupid question, sorry,” she amends. “Just… the kids are avoiding Steve and I can’t think of a reason why.”

“They’re what!? Wait, why haven’t I heard of this until now?” Eddie exclaims. Robin gives him a look that makes him deflate a little. “Let me guess, you only found out two days ago?”

“Bingo, we have a winner!” Robin fake cheers, raising her arms in a mock-celebratory fashion. She drops them with a huff. “They haven’t talked to him in weeks, Eddie, and I think it’s because you have been avoiding him.”

Her tone isn’t accusatory, but it still makes him feel like shit.

“They must have picked up the sense that something was going on between you two and assumed they should be avoiding him too,” she suggests. Eddie leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t get how they could think that, though. I mean, Steve has been nothing but good to them for years now.”

“I know,” Robin agrees. “But they’re kids. Stupid, dumb, ungrateful kids, but they’re still kids.”

Eddie drops his head in his hands, pressing hard on his eyes until spots form behind his eyelids.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” He asks it rhetorically, but Robin gives a noise of agreement anyway. “How do I fix this, Birdie?”

“You could start by talking to him,” Robin suggests.

Now isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Because knowing you have feelings for someone is one thing, but telling them? That’s something so far out of the realm of possibility for him that he’s never even thought about considering it.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Buckley?” Eddie exclaims, looking over at her with wide eyes. “I’d like to keep all my teeth if you don’t mind. I mean, I know I’m not your type and everything but some poor schmuck would probably like to look at this face one more time before it's beat all black and blue.”

Robin only rolls her eyes at his rambling—which is rather hypocritical of her if you ask him, since she seems to treat rambling as an Olympic sport she plans on winning every time she opens her mouth. She grabs his face between her hands and honest to god shakes him.

“I can’t tell you everything, but I’m telling you to trust me and talk to him,” she practically demands, giving him a pointed look much like the one from before. Except he still doesn’t know what it means, as that final piece has yet to click into place.

He nods in her hold, partially afraid of her now, and she releases him.

“We need to fix this. Now,” Eddie insists. He looks over at her. “We need to talk to the kids.”

Eddie stands up, running to his room and groaning at the mess he left. Tossing his sheets and blankets back on the bed, he reaches under his bed for the walkie he knows he last saw under there three days ago. Except, it’s not there. He stands up, scrunches his eyebrows, and thinks.

Let’s see… it was next to the keychain that was on top of the VHS sitting on the books on the corner of the desk, then he moved it when he had to answer one of Lucas’ questions which he did while he walked around the trailer and he laid it down when he finished to get some cheese from the fridge, meaning—

Eddie runs back to the kitchen, finding the walkie on top of the fridge, right where he thought it would be.

“Got ya!” He grabs it and runs back to the living room where Robin is waiting very impatiently.

“Where even was that?” She asks but he ignores her, electing to set the frequency so he can talk to the kids all at once instead of answering her. He presses the button.

“This is Eddie the Banished calling an emergency Hellfire meeting pronto,” he orders into the speaker. “I repeat, emergency Hellfire meeting.”

He waits for a response. One minute. Two minutes. Three—

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the button again. “Over.”

Immediately, Dustin responds. “Hear you loud and clear, Eddie. Is this a code red situation? Over.”

“Nope, not a code red. More of a uh…” he glances over at Robin who shrugs. “Code yellow? I think. Over.”

“What the hell is ‘code yellow’? We don’t even have one of those,” comes Erica’s, as always, sarcastic remark. Eddie can faintly hear Lucas yelling in the background.

“Munson, you better not be shitting with us.”

“I promise you, Red, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, people! You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking! Over.”

“Shove it, Dustybuns, the adults are talking.”

Eddie has to hold the walkie away from him at Dustin’s responding shriek. He presses a hand over his eyes. These kids are going to kill him one day.

“Guys, this is serious. Just get your asses over to my trailer as soon as possible. Robin’s already here, does someone have Little Byers and Supergirl?”

“I’ve got them. Over and out,” Mike responds.

“Erica and I are on our way. Over and out,” Lucas says.

“Be there in fifteen. Over and out,” Dustin declares. Eddie glances at Robin, sharing equally nervous and worried looks. This is not going to be fun.

Thirty minutes later, all of the kids are cramped in Eddie’s living room. Lucas, Max, El, and Mike are scrunched together on the couch, while Will and Dustin sit on the floor in front of them. Erica claimed Wayne’s recliner as soon as her and Lucas got there, refusing to move for the older teens.

Robin is standing next to him, hands on her hips again—really driving home the whole “Steve is my platonic soulmate” bit—as he stands there with his arms crossed. The two of them remind Eddie of disappointed parents about to tell off their kids, which, in reality, isn't too far off.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin asks, still breathless from the trek there. “I literally just got home an hour ago. Why did you call us and make us bike all the way here in the heat?”

“Because you deserve it for being shitheads,” Eddie defends and rolls his eyes. He’s met with a cacophony of dweeby teen voices as they retaliate.

“What did we do this time?”

“What?! We didn’t do anything!”

“What did Dustin do, now?”

“Me? Why am I the one being blamed? I wasn’t even here!”

“Because you’re too damn nosey, dude.”

“Ouch, Lucas. Ouch.”

“Hey!” Eddie yells, clapping his hands to get their attention. It startles them all enough to quit talking over each other and look back up at him. “Okay, I’m just going to get to the point. Why are you all avoiding Steve?”

Mike gives him a confused look and crosses his arms, his expression the epitome of teenage angst.

“We thought you hated Steve, dude. You would always leave the room whenever he was around with some shitty excuse so we just decided to do the same,” Mike answers. Dustin nods from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, we all thought he did something or said something to you since every time we brought him up, you’d shut the conversation down somehow. It just… naturally progressed from not talking about him to not talking to him either,” Dustin explains.

“Steve stopped showing up to things, too. He used to help me practice but he’s not shown up in weeks,” Lucas adds.

“Mom’s gotten really worried about him. He’s not shown up to dinner in a while, either,” Dustin chimes in. He shrugs. “We just thought the feeling was mutual.”

Eddie clenches his eyes closed and throws his head back. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. He hears Robin shift beside him, and knows firsthand the look she’s giving them right now.

“Have any of you even considered asking Steve about this?” Robin asks accusatively. “Or even talking to him about anything other than rides or movie nights?”

Silence falls over the room, so thick and suffocating that Eddie briefly prefers the air of the Upside Down to this. He pulls his hair, scrunching down on the floor and balancing on the pads of his feet.

“This is all my fault,” he groans, twisting strands of hair frustratedly.

“It is,” Robin agrees and ignores the glare Eddie sends her way for that. “But we can still fix this.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Mike asks.

“Why does Eddie look three seconds away from strangling himself with his hair?” Max hesitates, sounding the most cautious he’s ever heard her. Eddie groans and avoids eye contact with the group.

“The reason I’m avoiding Steve isn’t because I hate him. It’s uh… quite the opposite, actually,” he explains, nervously fidgeting with his rings and pulling a thick strand of hair to hide his face. He glances at Robin, who gives him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, and he rolls his eyes.

Max and Erica give him equally smug smirks while Will looks at him with wide, understanding eyes. The rest of the group, however, look confused.

“Wait, then why are you avoiding him?” Dustin asks.

“Dude, that makes zero sense,” Mike counteracts. El just looks lost, almost like she’s trying to read his mind. Which… he really wouldn’t be surprised if she could at this point. Eddie sighs.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie redirects. “The point is that an issue with me and Steve shouldn’t affect you guys’ relationship with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, and he deftly ignores the pointed look she sends his way. “Steve has been there for all of you for years.

“Dustin, wasn’t it Steve who helped you catch D’art when he escaped from your cellar? He bought pounds of meat for you to lure a demodog away with, then fought a pack of them by himself to keep you safe. Steve put himself in the line of fire again against said demodogs in the tunnels after he was beaten unconscious by Billy, then sacrificed himself to Russians just so you and Erica could make it out alive a year later.”

Dustin clamps his mouth shut from its gaping position—likely from him wanting to defend himself from the truth—and has the decency to look sheepish. Eddie turns his gaze to Lucas.

“Lucas, wasn’t it Steve who helped you train for basketball when you started to show an interest in it? He practiced with you every week, even after a long shift at work or when he felt like shit, just because you asked. Steve protected you against Billy because it was the right thing to do, and took a beating so you wouldn’t. Not many people can say they’d do that for someone else, especially not against anyone as vicious as Hargrove,” Eddie adds. Lucas drops his head in his hands, knee bouncing from his place on the couch.

“Max,” Robin begins. “Steve checked up on you every day after Billy died. He would bring you food or ice cream or a distraction, but he was always there. He would drive you to the arcade just to cheer you up, let you beat him at Dig Doug and Pinball just to see you smile. Steve was terrified to let you be the bait for Vecna, he… he kept telling me that he wished it was him instead. That he should be the sacrifice, not you.”

Robin wipes her eyes where they begin to tear up, and Eddie uses the pause to look at Mike. He still has his arms crossed, but the smartass look on his face has dwindled a little.

“Mike, I know you don’t like Steve because of him and Nancy, but you can’t hold onto that grudge forever. What happened between them had nothing to do with you, so there's no need to be mad at him for it,” Eddie states. Mike isn’t looking at him now, and something tells Eddie that the kid just needs a reality check. Hopefully, this will work. “Steve has been protecting you from the beginning, even when you were more than hostile to him. You’ve at least got to give him credit for that.”

Eddie looks around, sees the morose expressions on the kids’ faces.

“Steve has picked you all up countless times from Hellfire, waiting the entire session out in the parking lot while wasting away in his car. He was there rain or shine, snow or sleet, and he never missed a day. Not once,” he states.

Eddie first found Steve’s presence after Hellfire to be confusing, an anomaly. He didn’t know that the Steve the kids talked about was the same Steve he had a debilitating crush on in high school, not until he saw him waiting outside after the first session the kids attended, leaning against his maroon BMW like a Calvin Klein model. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach at the sight, because one thing about Steve Harrington was that he’s unpredictable. Eddie just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.

“You know, usually when people graduate they tend to stay away from high school, not willingly come back,” Eddie teased.

His words seemed to spark some life into Steve, as he jolted from his relaxed position against the hood to stand firmly beside his car. Steve ran a hand through his hair, and looked Eddie up and down.

“You’d probably know more about that if you managed to actually graduate, Munson,” Steve quipped, but it wasn’t mean. He had a smile on his face, and the air around him was friendly. Some of the anxiety churning in Eddie’s gut eased at the sight.

“Besides, who says I’m here willingly?” Steve asked rhetorically, as Dustin made his appearance by running up to him and immediately began talking his ears off about the new campaign. Steve turned his full attention on the boy, nodding along to certain comments even when Eddie knew for sure Steve didn’t know what the hell Henderson was talking about. The other kids soon crowded around the former jock, all talking so incredibly fast that Eddie was surprised the sound barrier survived their cracking voices.

Eddie watched as Steve glanced at him over the kids’ heads, giving him a loose smile and a shrug as if saying, ‘what can ya do?’

Soon, all the gremlins piled into Steve’s fancy car, still talking and gesturing wildly with their hands. Eddie had a passing thought that he should get Steve some earplugs or something to at least help drown out the noise. He immediately shook his head at the thought and jumped in his old, beat up van, driving home to an empty trailer and trying desperately to forget Steve Harrington existed.

“He always waits until the excitement starts to wear off before he takes you all home, letting you talk to each other for nearly an hour after each session despite the fact he never has a clue what you’re talking about. He always listens to you guys, no matter what,” Eddie supplies. “Did you guys know he has mixtapes for each of you?”

At the question, they all look at him with varying degrees of confusion and an all-too-late realization. Eddie huffs, while Robin mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, ‘of course they didn’t.’

“There’s one for each of you, filled with songs you like or mentioned liking at some point despite some of them not being his own taste. He listens to you, all of you, and it fucking hurts to know you don’t see that,” he exposes, and part of him regrets letting a bit of his anger out. Though, the kids need to know this is serious, that you can’t go through life assuming the worst in people, so if being angry is what it takes then so be it.

The kids have various emotions on their faces, ashamed and regretful being the two most prominent. Dustin clears his throat and looks up at Eddie, flicks his eyes to Robin, and returns them to his lap.

“I… I didn’t realize he did so much for us,” Dustin quietly admits, and a small part of Eddie cheers at finally teaching the kid a thing or two about humility.

“We’ve been taking advantage of him for… for so long,” Lucas breathes out. Max nods morosely beside him, and Will raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth.

Mike rolls his eyes, still petulantly crossing his arms. “Why should we even care about him? All he’s probably doing is wallowing in his fancy house or something.”

He says it with a layer of snark so thick, all the kids turn to him with varying levels of bitchy glares. Eddie, however, can tell his attitude is a mask, a way for him to hide how he’s truly feeling to prevent from being too vulnerable. From being too open. Eddie knows a lot about that.

It started when Eddie was four and he scraped his knee on the harsh gravel outside his parents’ run-down home in Kentucky. Tears rolled down his chubby cheeks as he ran inside to tell his mom, who he knew would take care of him. She told him to play outside, and not come in until she told him so, but his knee really hurt and he was scared they would have to cut it off if it bled too much. At least, that’s what Charlie—a kid who lived two streets over—said they would do.

When he stepped over the threshold, something felt off. The house was quiet, more so than normal, and it set him on edge. The TV was filled with static that grated on his little ears, and he covered them with his hands as he made his way over to turn it off. He picked up the antenna off the floor, wondering how it got knocked off the top of the TV in the first place. He looked around the living room, finding it in a similar state of disarray. He followed the trail of broken things before him; the overturned coffee table, a spilled ashtray, a stray pillow, and the chair his dad always sat on, pushed far out of its normal place. He questioned who could have messed up his house like this, leaving a big mess behind.

He found his answer when he ventured into the kitchen, just a few short steps from the living room, and found his mother laying on the floor. She was on her stomach, arms splayed out as if she tried to catch her fall and head turned to look at the doorway where little Eddie stood. Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing, the floral pattern of her dress moving with each breath. Shards of ceramic were spread out around her, littered with droplets of dark blood that spilled from a cut on her forehead. It dripped down the side of her face, along the curve of her cheek and onto the floor where it formed a small puddle. Her skin was pale in the artificial light of the house, the soft yellows doing nothing to soften the tones of her ashen face.

“Mama!” He ran up to her, falling to his knees beside her still body. He shook her, trying to get her eyes to open, but all it rewarded him was a pained grunt. His eyes welled with tears again, this time for his Mama, but nothing he was doing was working.

A shadow fell over the floor and he looked up to find his father blocking the light from the gold-colored light fixture above the kitchen table. His face was stern and dirty looking, his stubble well past the point of a five o’clock shadow and leaning more towards a sleazy strip club owner. There was a smear of blood on his face from his hand, which he noticed was bruised around the knuckles. However, the sight of what was in his other hand made him freeze, entire body going stock still.

In his father’s left hand were the remnants of the broken plate on the floor, the jagged edges cutting into his skin where he gripped it tightly. Matching blood littered the edge, and a splatter of the dark liquid traveled up his hairy arm and disappeared into his rolled up flannel sleeve.

He looked up at the figure before him, and the tears spilled over against his will.

“What happened to Mama?” He asked. “Why won’t she wake up?”

“‘Cause she’s sorry, son,” his dad answered, throwing down the ceramic and causing it to shatter against the floor. Eddie flinched, and his father caught the motion. He hadn’t been able to quell it, hadn’t learned how to hide his fear yet. The man scowled at him, lip curling as he grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him off the floor in one solid motion.

“She’s weak, Edward,” he began. This close, Eddie could see the redness of his eyes, and the deep purple bags that hang underneath. “Just like all women. Do you wanna be weak, boy?”

Eddie shook his head, and his father gripped his arm tighter. “Answer me!”

“N-No sir,” Eddie muttered, voice small and weak in the face of his father.

“Then stop that fucking crying, don’t be a sissy. I ain’t raising a fucking faggot, Edward.”

With that, his dad dropped his arm and stumbled into his bedroom down the hall. As soon as his figure was gone, Eddie turned back to his mom, crouching next to her. Sometime when his dad was talking, her eyes had opened and her breathing grew stronger. Eddie felt like it was nothing short of a small miracle.

“Mama, are you okay?”

“‘M okay, baby,” she replied, pushing herself off the floor with a grunt. She sat up with Eddie’s help, and frowned when she saw the reddened mark on his arm. “I shouldn’t have let him do that to you.”

“You were hurt, Mama. ‘S not your fault,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his arm out of her grasp to wipe at some of the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding, too.”

“Oh,” she began, reaching up to touch the wound as if she hadn’t realized it was there. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just a little scratch. Mama will be okay, promise.”

She didn’t look okay, this close, with her sunken-in face and slowly forming black eye Eddie hadn’t been able to see before. But his Mama was always right. Always.

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his little pinky. His Mama smiled, and raised a shaky hand to lace her pinky with his.

“Pinky promise.”

A year later, he was riding in the car with his Mama, backpack at his feet. She was dressed nicer than he ever remembered her being; a baby blue, short-sleeved dress hugged her slender frame, paired with white heels, white bug-eyed sunglasses, and a sheer white scarf she had tied around her hair. Her suitcase was in the trunk, but his father was nowhere to be found.

“Mama?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Dad?” He asked. His Mama cleared her throat before she answered, voice shaky.

“He’s not coming with us, Eddie,” she said. “We’re going somewhere far away from him. Somewhere new.”

“Where?”

“Have a look for yourself, honey,” she said, pointing to the window. Eddie crawled up on his knees to look out, seeing a sign welcoming them to a place called Hawkins. He sat back down in his seat, looking back at his mother.

“What’s here?” He asked. His mother smiled.

“Your Uncle Wayne. He’s my brother,” she supplied. “We’re just going to pay him a little visit, okay?”

A few short minutes later, they were parked in front of a small trailer, a gruff looking man waiting for them on the newly-built porch. They got out of the car and Eddie grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders before his Mama led him up the steps.

“Eddie, this is Uncle Wayne,” his Mama informed. He looked up at her and she nudged his arm, urging him to say something.

“H-Hello, sir,” Eddie greeted, sticking out his small hand for the man to shake. Wayne huffed a laugh and crouched down, causing Eddie to take a step back on instinct, before he took his hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie,” Wayne began. He let go of his hand but stayed crouched. “You can call me Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, or Uncle, or—hell, Todd for all I care. Just none of that ‘sir’ business, you got me?”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, si—uh, Uncle Wayne.”

“That’s better, boy,” Wayne said, smiling as he clapped his shoulder softly. Wayne had kind eyes, blue and soft around the edges. They weren’t mean like his fathers. Instead, they looked exactly like his Mama’s—save for a few extra wrinkles around the edges. “Why don’t you go on inside while your Mama and I talk?”

Eddie did as he was told, walking in the trailer and taking in his surroundings. It was small, smaller than his house, but cozy. A couple mugs were hung up on the wall, paired with three trucker hats and a framed picture he was too far away to see. An old, floral patterned couch sat on the long wall of the living room, a coffee table in front littered with an opened can of Coke and a half-eaten bag of chips. The windows were open to let light in, making the space feel much bigger than it actually was.

He stepped into the kitchen, just a pace away from the living room, and took in the red-toned wooden cabinets and cream countertops stained with coffee rings yet to be wiped away. There was a hallway to his left where he found a single bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was small, just big enough for a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. A single toothbrush sat in the cup on the side of the sink along with a bar of soap and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. On the other side of the sink though, Eddie noticed an unopened toothbrush. It was blue and had sparkles throughout its plastic. At the bottom, there was a small dog sticker and it made him smile a little.

His attention soon wandered to the bedroom, where he found a little twin-sized bed and tons of boxes. The bed was bare, save for a folded up quilt near the bottom with a pillow on top. The boxes were filled with various things; clothes, books, a cassette player, shoes, and tons of other small trinkets. He sat on the ground, pulling a box closer to look through it. There were thin books near the top labeled ‘Hawkins High’, and he flipped through it to find pictures upon pictures of people. He read the names, sounding them out to see if he could get them right. Some of them were weird, though, and he quickly put the book down to look at something else.

There was a box of cassette tapes to his left and Eddie scooted over to look through it. There were tons of names he didn’t recognize as he rifled through the plastic cases, though one stood out to him.

He picked up the Fleetwood Mac tape along with the cassette player from a box near the closet, plugging it into the wall and putting the tape in. He eyed the front door, seeing it still firmly closed. Just then, the tape clicked, causing him to jump, and he pressed play.

The familiar voice filled his ears, and he smiled. He and his Mama used to listen to Fleetwood Mac back home in the kitchen while they made supper, singing along with the tape or the radio to fill the house with music. The sound of it brought a smile to his face, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the words.

Engrossed in the music, he barely registered that the front door had both opened and closed until a soft hand was laid on his shoulder.

“Eddie, baby, I have to go,” his Mama said, and he jumped to his feet. He kinda felt bad about going through Uncle Wayne’s things without him being there, but if they were leaving then he didn’t think he would get too mad.

“Where are we going now, Mama?” Eddie wondered. His mother’s face turned pinched, and she lifted her glasses to look at him directly. She wore make-up, much more than she usually did, and as she crouched down Eddie could see it was barely disguising a bruise along the top of her right cheekbone.

“Eddie, only I’m leaving,” his Mama corrected. “You’re staying here with Wayne.”

At that, his whole world fell apart.

His mother, his Mama, was leaving him. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t go with her, that he couldn’t stay with his Mama like he wanted to. Wayne seemed nice from their brief interaction, but he didn’t know him. Not like he knew his Mama.

His stomach sank to his feet, and it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water over him. His eyes grew wide as tears welled, spilling over his cheeks.

“Why, Mama?” Eddie sobbed, wiping at his face because he wasn’t supposed to cry. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“You just can’t, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she stated. It felt hollow, her explanation. Like she was hiding something.

“But why?”

“Because you just can’t, Eddie!” She snapped, and Eddie’s breath caught. She sounded mad, but Eddie had never heard her get mad, not at him at least. He didn’t know what he did, only that she wouldn’t let him go with her.

She took a breath and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“But- But you can’t leave me!” Eddie wailed. “Mama, please!”

She opened her arms and he fell into them, clinging hard enough to deem separating impossible. She hugged him back just as tight, and Eddie saw evidence of tear tracks streaking through her caked-on foundation.

“I know, baby, I don’t want to leave you either,” his Mama soothed. “But Wayne is going to take care of you, okay?”

Eddie looked over her shoulder to see Wayne leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, smiling sadly at him. Eddie screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his mothers neck.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Eddie mumbled before he moved to look at her. “Pinky promise you’re gonna come back for me.”

His Mama cried and wiped at her cheeks, smearing the make-up and making the bruises appear fresh on her pale skin. She held out a pinky, and Eddie laced his with hers.

“I promise, Eddie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. Her and Wayne shared a hug on her way out, and Eddie caught Wayne wiping his eyes too. He and his uncle stood on the porch as his mom drove away, waving until her taillights disappeared around the curve of the road.

That was the last time he saw his mother.

Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw his father.

He stayed with Wayne for two months until his father found him. They had grown accustomed to each other in that time, Eddie having warmed up to another parental figure and Wayne having gotten the basics down for caring for another being. Wayne insisted he start school in the fall, and he was two weeks in when all hell broke loose.

His father rolled up to the trailer in a fancy-looking sports car Eddie knew his dad didn’t have the money for. He stumbled out on the gravel, banging on the door until Wayne pulled it open.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne asked, standing firm in the doorway.

“I’m here to get my son,” his father demanded. He pushed past him and stormed the place until he found Eddie in the only bedroom—Wayne having set up a cot in the living room.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see his father again, mostly because he didn’t think the man really cared for him. That was prominent when he snatched Eddie off the bed and hauled him out of his room.

“Dad?” Eddie questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you away from here,” his father responded, glaring at Wayne who stood blocking the doorway.

“You’re not takin’ him anywhere, Al,” Wayne countered. He crossed his arms, looking far more intimidating than Eddie ever imagined. “He’s happy here.”

“He’ll be even more happy with me,” his dad insisted. “With his real family.”

“Son of a bitch, Al, I am his real family!” Wayne yelled. “You ain’t got the means for takin’ care of that boy, and you know it.”

His father stood toe to toe with his uncle, glaring at him. He whispered something Eddie was too far away to hear, but it made Wayne deflate completely.

Eddie didn’t want to leave. He found that these past two months with Wayne were filled with more happy memories than he ever remembered having back home. Wayne was nice, a little rough around the edges but he was a big softy inside. He cared about people, that much was evident in the way he was constantly helping people out around the park. He was a good person, so leaving him felt like his Mama all over again.

“Come on, son,” his father demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the trailer. Eddie looked back at Wayne, eyes stinging. He waved, and Wayne waved back. He watched the trailer from the backseat until he couldn’t tell which one was theirs, only facing the front when his dad snapped at him.

They rode for hours, far past the Indiana state line, until they ended up in a strange city filled with tall buildings and blinding lights that made Eddie’s eyes sting. They went through the city, stopping on the outskirts in a run-down neighborhood even more decrepit than his old house in Kentucky.

He spent two years with his dad in a city he came to know at St. Louis, but it never felt like home. Not like the trailer with Wayne, or anywhere his mother was. He learned how to hotwire cars and how to drive like a bat out of hell whenever his dad told him to. He learned that he was too much to take care of; his father constantly complained about feeding him, keeping him clothed, taking care of him like a father should. He learned that showing emotions would only get you hurt, that he had to hide them to survive. He learned what all the different white powders did to someone, how they would affect your mind and your body. How they made his father violent, or remorseful, or depressed, but never happy.

His father was on a bad trip when a rush of red and blue lights invaded their windows, sirens blaring and making Eddie’s ears ring. Their front door was kicked open, the old wood splintering easily under the force of a steel-toed boot. Police flooded the house, and Eddie was grabbed and dragged out before he had time to comprehend everything that was happening.

He was sitting in the back of a cop car with the door open, body completely still as police went in and out of their house. He couldn’t let them know he was scared out of his mind, that he was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew the best way to get through it was to show nothing at all. To be indifferent. Emotionless. It was the only thing his father taught him that he deemed useful.

His father was dragged out of the house by two policemen, kicking and screaming at them but Eddie couldn’t hear what he was saying, ears having gone deaf to anything other than the ringing in his head. Next thing he knew, his father had broken free and punched one of the officers, causing several to tackle him to the ground and handcuff him before practically throwing him into a car and hauling him away. All Eddie could do was watch, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him.

“You got somewhere to go, kid?” One of the cops that took him out of the house asked, leaning against the open door and blocking the flashing lights. Eddie nodded, and the cop took him back to the station where he called Wayne.

“Eddie, son, where are you? Are you okay? If that bastard hurt you, I swear to god—“

“Wayne,” Eddie began, his voice rough from not using it. “Can you come get me?”

A pause. “Sure, kid, where are you?”

“St. Louis,” Eddie supplied. There was cursing on the other end, muffled so Eddie couldn’t tell what was said but he knew Wayne well enough. Even after only two months, the man had become more like a father to him than his own dad ever was.

“I’m coming right now to get ya, just hold on tight, okay? I’ll be there ‘fore the morning.”

True to his word, Wayne showed up right before dawn in his beat up truck. He stormed the station like a madman, looking for him. He was rumpled, like he threw on just enough clothes to be decent before booking it all the way here. If he knew Wayne, that’s probably exactly what he did.

“Eddie? Eds, where are ya?”

“Sir,” the lady at the front desk interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice—“

“Wayne!” Eddie perked up from the desk chair he was sitting at in the station, running around desks before jumping straight in his uncle's arms. Wayne held onto him just as tight, and he could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle or two come from the man.

“I was so worried, Eds,” Wayne whispered. “I tried lookin’ for ya, I swear I did, just—If I’d known he’d taken ya to another state I wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I searched the whole damn country.”

“I know, Wayne,” Eddie muttered. “I missed you too.”

As much as Eddie tried, he couldn’t put up that mask of indifference around his uncle. He could try, sure, but it never worked longer than five seconds before he saw right through it and it crumbled at Eddie’s feet.

“Let’s get you home, son,” Wayne insisted and before he knew it, Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat of the truck as they took the highway home.

Since then, Eddie and Wayne had become inseparable. There were no secrets between them, no masks. They weren’t needed, not when Wayne was more than good to him. They weren’t wanted, either, since Wayne made sure to remind him that showing emotions wasn’t a bad thing. That it was good, healthy.

It wasn’t until much later in middle school when he learned that having a mask was necessary sometimes. Especially when people started calling him a freak and a weirdo because he wasn’t identical to everyone else. Because he lived in a trailer with someone that wasn’t his biological parent and wore hand-me-down clothes that were baggy on him since his growth spurt hadn’t hit yet. He donned the air of indifference he had left behind long ago, letting the names and rumors bounce off his skin like water off an umbrella.

That need intensified when high school hit and the rumor mill grew exponentially. Suddenly, he was bombarded with accusations of Satanism, prison time, drug dealing—though that one was true—pet raccoons, and, at one point, an army of undead babies he sucked the life out of that he could command at will. Really, the shit people came up with was astounding, and Eddie learned to shove it all away. None of it was true—save for a couple things he would never, in a million years, tell another soul at Hawkins High—so he made sure to act like it was true. Let people believe what they want to believe. In the meantime, Eddie used it to his advantage to prevent anyone from getting too close. From looking past the barrier he put up between himself and everyone else.

So yeah, Eddie knows a little bit about where Mike’s coming from.

“Actually…” Robin starts. “Steve’s not doing so great—“

“What?!” Dustin squawks out, cutting Robin off and all but jumping up from his seated position. “Why the hell did you not start this whole damn thing with that?!”

“We were getting there, Henderson!” Eddie clarifies. “Now sit your ass down.”

Dustin—for once—does as he’s told. Eddie looks to Robin and gives her a nod, letting her have the floor.

“Steve’s got it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself for us, that he’s only needed or wanted when he can put himself in the line of fire. So, like the caring dumbass he is, he’s been wandering around Hawkins at night because he’s worried that something will happen.”

“But I closed all of the gates,” El starts, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched like a confused puppy. “We are in no more danger.”

“I think part of him knows that, Supergirl,” Eddie explains. “But he needs to know for certain, to make sure you guys are absolutely safe.”

She nods, and sadness finds its way to her eyes. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that learning how to live all over again is never easy.

“He’s not been sleeping much,” Robin continues. “It’s like he’s barely there anymore. Like he’s just… a shell.

“He thinks you all hate him. He thinks he deserves this for all the shit he did in the past, even though we all know he’s more than made up for it by becoming a decent fucking human being,” she spits out. There’s anger in her eyes now as she glares at a stain on the carpet, unwilling to look at the kids but needing to get her point across. “He broke down in my arms because this is the fifth fucking time the people he’s loved has left him and I think… I think this time broke him.”

She raises her head and looks over the kids, tears balanced on her lower eyelashes and threatening to spill over.

“You’re his family, the family he got to choose, and you still… you left. Just like everyone else has.”

The room fills with silence as the words sink in.

“How… How do we fix it?” Will asks, his quiet voice now loud. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a motion that keeps reminding him of Steve—before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I know part of it is my fault, I admit that. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to him all of the sudden, I should’ve… well, there’s a lot of things I should have done but I didn’t, so I plan on fixing that,” Eddie admits. He looks around the room, makes as much eye contact as he can to drive his point home. “You should too. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it, not this time. Not for this.”

The kids all nod, and Eddie gestures to the door to dismiss them. They all look like kicked puppies with slouching posture and ducked heads, walking out of the trailer with their tails between their legs. Dustin and Mike are the first to hop on their bikes, ready to either apologize and get it over with or get as far away from his and Robin’s disappointed glares as possible. Before they can push off, Eddie calls out to them.

“Hey! Give it a couple days,” Eddie orders. “Steve… He’s going to need some time. Go to him when he’s ready, okay?”

He’s met with various nods and ‘will do’s as some of them take off, their knobbly knees hitting the handlebars of their too-small bikes. Then, he notices a particular brunette has yet to leave, her bike with little white training wheels still standing in the grass. Her big brown eyes lock with his and, even though there's a porch between them, he can feel the seriousness in her gaze.

“I miss him. He was always very nice to me,” El confesses. “He always gave me piggyback rides.”

Her face falls a little. “I did not know we were being mean to him.”

Eddie finds himself softening a little at her words.

“I know, Supergirl,” he winks at her. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

She giggles in response and hops on her bike, meeting up with Max who stopped to wait for her a few yards away.

Eddie closes the door, falling against it with a thud. He groans, the sound bouncing off the thin door and out in the empty trailer. He turns to go to his room, preferably to wallow, before nearly jumping clean out of his skin.

Well, he thought the trailer was empty, except there now stands one Robin Buckley who has resumed her unimpressed, hands-on-her-hips, "you're a fucking dumbass" position from earlier.

"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaims. A hand comes up to grab at his heart which is actively trying to beat out of his chest as his lungs grapple for air. "Birdie, I forgot you were there."

"Yeah," she deadpans. "Clearly."

Eddie straightens up, and quirks an eyebrow at her rather over dramatically. Robin rolls her eyes.

"Well?"

"It's a deep subject," Eddie sarcastically responds. Robin, unfortunately, doesn't find that funny. "'Well' what?"

"Go apologize!" She yells.

“Okay, okay, geez!”

Eddie pats himself down, looking for the keys to his van before Robin clears her throat. He looks over at her to see an unamused quirk of her eyebrow before she points to the hook by the door where his keys hang.

“Thanks, Buck!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together in prayer to the saint she is. Grabbing them, he throws the door open and clears the steps in one jump, stumbling a bit on the landing but really, he’s quite proud of this rare athletic appearance.

Jumping in his van, he slams a random tape in the deck, grinning a little at the song that plays first. Despite his obvious avoidance of the second track, the Master of Puppets album still holds a very special place in his heart. So it's really not a surprise that the song that just so happens to play first reminds him of the very man he’s going to see, sacrificial tendencies and all.

He slams on the gas, tires squealing as he peels out of Forest Hills trailer park faster than he ever has before.

He’s not running away this time; not running from a small cheerleader’s body trapped on his ceiling, not running from angry town hicks with their fiery pitchforks, and not running from a creepy interdimensional demon who enjoys sucking the life out of depressed teenagers.

No, this time, he’s running to something. Running to Steve.

He just hopes Steve will let him.

———

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Fic tag list: @madcapromantic @hannahhook7744 @h3rmitsunited @willim-billiam-byerson @stuftzombie @acowardinmordor @zerokrox-blog @my-chemical-sexuality-crisis @grimmfitzz @ladygrimheart @bestwifehaver @blanketlicker @fishinforfiish @vi-an-te @orionchildofhades @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @whackyrach @stevie-crow @missmagillicuddy @1cookieburn1 @mightbeasleep @jettestar @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @imyelenasexual @yikes-a-bee @that-agender-from-pluto @sufjuringstevens @gregre369 @sofadofax @lolawonsstuff @rajumat @ksierra674 @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window @justforthedead89 @vanillatwist @actually-races-erster @background-noise-headache @warlordless @largechaos @noctxrn-e @hope-can-be-your-sword @foundintheshallows @burningoffaroad @obliosworld @lemon-astra @midnightskeeper @venteraltus @lovelyscot @juleswashere3 @child-of-cthulhu

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#stranger things #steddie #pre steddie #disposable heroes #disposable heroes mcir #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things drabble #stranger things fic #robin buckley #robin gets to punch eddie like she wanted to #eddie munson backstory #i gave him a life oops #domestic violence #child abuse #homophobia #stay safe yall

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jennaslittlesidepiece · 1 year ago

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It’s been a long ass day | Jenna Ortega

Pairings: Jenna x Reader

Summary: Jenna has been working all day on set and she comes home to find you touching yourself in her trailer, she decides to join in on the fun

A/N: This is my first fic, please be kind to me

Jenna walked into her trailer after a long day on set, feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement. As she entered, she froze in surprise, her eyes widening as she saw the you laid on her bed with your hand between you legs shamelessly. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she watched, feeling a surge of desire. The sight before her ignited a fire, and she couldn't resist the urge to join in.

She leaned against the wall, watching you closely as her own hand slides down her body, tracing the petite curves and freckles that adorned her skin. Jenna's dark brown eyes locked with the yours, a sultry gaze filled with longing and anticipation. As she slipped her hand into her shorts, she gasped slightly as her delicate fingers came into contact with her throbbing centre. Teasing herself as she watched you grab at your chest and do the same. Her touch grew more deliberate, fingers grazing over her sensitive areas, mirroring your own movements.

Jenna's breath grew shallow, her heart pounding in her chest. She reveled in the feeling of her own touch, her body responding to each movement. When she began to make tight circles around her clit, her lips parted, soft moans escaping as pleasure coursed through her.

She reached a hand up to grab her breast, her body growing more sensitive with each passing moment. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the you, she watched in awe as your eyes squeezed shut, mouth slightly agape. Her movements became more urgent, her pace quickening as pleasure built within her.

"Mmm, Y/N you're so naughty," Jenna whispered, her voice laced with desire. "Just watching you... it's driving me wild."

Her dark brown hair cascaded around her face, damp with exertion. Jenna's freckles stood out against her flushed skin. She arched her back, her hips moving in sync with her hand as she felt herself coming closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck…I’m gonna cum!” She said squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back for split moment before looking over your body hungrily.

You were close too and the thought of the both of you releasing together send a shiver through your body.

Jenna's small frame trembled as waves of ecstasy began to wash over her, her moans growing louder as her pleasure reached its peak and her body begin to shake with the intensity of her orgasm, waves of ecstasy washing over her. She bit her lip, her eyes never leaving yours, as you both let yourselves succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, reaching a powerful climax that left you both gasping for breath.

“Fuck Y/N that was intense” she said as she slipped her hand from her shorts, small beads of sweat collected on her chest and forehead.

“What are you doing back from set so early?” She said quirking a brow at you. “I-I-I missed you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you” You replied with a small pout as she walked over to sit beside you.

“Well…I don’t have to be back for another couple hours, how about I show you how much I missed you and make up for lost time hmm?”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter #vada cavell #wednesday addams #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #tara carpenter x you

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nerdraging4point0 · 5 months ago

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Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Fourteen // A MIW/Bad Omens PolyAU

Tropes and Tags: why choose romance, MF, MFM, MFMM, MM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist (see MP to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @synthetic-wasp-570 @beaker1636 @thesazzb @itsjustemily @vinyardmauro @circle-with-me @tearfallpixie @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @letmeadoreyoux @latenightmusiclover @transparentwitchnightmare @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @emofangirl02 @rumoured-whispers @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @dominuslunae @sunsshinesunny @jilliemiw86 @h0rr0rqu3en @yournecessaryevil @bloody-delusion-expert @mortallyuniquepeach @missduffsblog

Chris’s POV

The energy of the venue still pulsed through the air, the thunderous beats and roaring crowd leaving a lingering ringing in my ears. As the masses slowly filed out, the floor was left littered with the remnants of the night's festivities - discarded solo cups, shimmering confetti, and the occasional lost earring or bracelet. Meanwhile, the crew was methodically disassembling the technical equipment that had brought the stage to life, carefully packing it all away onto the trailer to be transported back to the warehouse.

Yet in the midst of this bustling post-show activity, we three had sequestered ourselves in a darkened corner, lost in our own private reverie. Sweaty and flushed, I struggled to push back the long tail of my shirt, desperate to get a better view as my rock-hard cock disappeared into the warmth of my girlfriend Eve's pussy. Balancing precariously atop the stacked storage boxes, I threw my hat on backwards, Eve straddling my lap with her short black dress bunched up around her hips, the fishnets that covered her shapely legs torn to provide unimpeded access.

Standing behind her driving into her ass was Rick, sandwiching our girlfriend between us, his dark hair falling in his eyes as his lips kissed her neck and hands roamed up her torso to cup her breasts through her dress.

I fumbled in the dimly lit space, my fingers instinctively reaching for the familiar outline of my phone in my pocket, I could barely maintain my grip on the device as the scene unfolded before me. Eve was bouncing rhythmically on my throbbing cock, her movements perfectly synchronized with Rick's powerful thrusts. Watching their bodies intertwine, I was transfixed - the way Eve's hair cascaded over her face, the way Rick's chiseled cheeks puffed out as he exhaled sharply, pushing the stray strands away from his eyes. The sight was utterly captivating, and despite my best efforts to maintain composure, I couldn't resist the urge to capture a quick snapshot, the camera shutter clicking discreetly.

A sly grin spread across my face as I typed out a message, my fingers trembling slightly with excitement. But just as I was basking in the thrill of my voyeuristic exploits, Rick's seductive drawl snapped me back to attention.

"Are we boring you, Chris?" he purred, his hips never missing a beat as he drove into Eve with renewed fervor, eliciting a guttural moan from her open, panting mouth. Reflexively, I bucked my hips to meet his rhythm, the sensation nearly causing me to climax then and there. Eve's voice rang out, her scream echoing in the confined space, but Rick quickly covered her mouth with a large hand, muffling the sound.

"Now, now, babygirl," he admonished, his tone laced with a hint of warning. "You wanna get us caught?"

She shook her head, her eyes bulging wide with a mix of desperation and vulnerability. She looked absolutely captivating, drawing us in with a raw, primal allure that was impossible to resist. In that moment, I couldn't believe my luck. We moved quickly chasing the release till both of us were spilling inside her. I pulled my pants back up, hastily securing them just as a few crew members were walking by. I let out a sigh of relief when neither of them turned our way, suddenly jumping when Eve placed a hand on my chest.

“Anything?” she asked in a hushed tone.

I pulled out my phone, scanning the text and re-reading the message I had sent, my heart sinking as I shook my head, struggling to keep the corners of my mouth from betraying my disappointment. Her eyes immediately went downcast, the glistening of tears betraying the depth of her anguish, and I watched helplessly as she turned to Rick, who swiftly tucked her under his arm, the two of them making their way out of the venue.

We had known when he left on tour that it would be difficult, that the distance and time apart would be challenging, but nothing could have prepared us for just how much we would miss him. For the first couple of weeks, he had kept in touch faithfully, texting the group chat multiple times a day, sharing updates and photos from the road. But slowly, gradually, the messages had become less frequent - down to just once a day, and then, after a week had passed with complete silence, the worry and dread began to set in.

I didn't want to jump to conclusions, didn't want to believe the worst, but deep down I knew what this prolonged lack of contact likely meant. He was pulling away, creating distance, and my heart clenched painfully at the realization.

The past month had been a whirlwind of change and uncertainty for all of us, including Rick. After his first date with Eve, he found himself unsure of exactly where he stood with her - was he her boyfriend? Her partner? Her casual fling? The poor girl had to spell it out for him, clarifying the nature of their relationship as he slowly and hesitantly took on the role of her boyfriend. Rick struggled with the confusion of not being Eve's one and only, having to come to terms with the fact that he was sharing her with Noah and I. But as the weeks progressed, he gradually grew more comfortable, even embracing the position of neutral mediator. It was a refreshing change of pace for Rick, who relished the opportunity to provide a calm, levelheaded presence amidst the emotional ups and downs.

Then, just before Noah left for a big tour, everything shifted again. I spent a few intense days with the two of them in Los Angeles, and the experience seemed to alter the very foundation of our unconventional relationship.

I was off doing a podcast while Eve spent some alone time with Noah, flying in just two days before he left. We’d used the restraints from Noah’s secret box a few times together, this time she was tied down by her wrists and ankles secured by soft red rope to each leg of Noahs bed. Noah and I happily lying between her parted legs.

Not sure if it was just the fact that our tongues kept gliding past one another, or the stolen glances between us, or maybe it was that stupidly well placed golden grill he’d put in his mouth beforehand; whatever it was I was flawlessly lost in it all. So when our tongues slid past one another again-I wasn’t sure who moved first- but soon our tongues were mingling with each other, pushing into one another's mouths with some fire I hadn’t known I could feel.

We didn’t really bring it up much afterwards, Noah and I hadn’t discussed it completely, but the way I teased him told me he didn’t seem to openly object.

Rick and I took turns showering at the venue before we all piled back on the bus. It seemed weird to use a bus for a three night sold out show. But we were nothing if not consistent when working.

With it being our last night, most of the crew were taking the next flight out in the morning, opting for a hotel instead of being on the road with us. It was just the three of us, Vinny, and a few crew members who'd all retired to the back of the bus by the time we were on the freeway.

“Has anyone tried calling him?” Rick sat on the couch across from us, Eve’s head in his lap as he twirled one of her long curled strands around his finger. Her eyes drooping as she fought to stay awake.

“A couple times,” she mumbled as sleep started to melt into her body.

“He’s always texting that he is sorry he missed the call. Usually after she is asleep. I wait up and try calling back but it goes straight to voicemail.”

I glanced down at my phone once more, the text I had sent to Noah earlier that evening stared back at me, the delivery status updated to "read" nearly half an hour after we had already set out on the road. A sinking feeling began to settle in the pit of my stomach, and I couldn't bring myself to mention it to the others.

"Is it me?" Rick asked suddenly, his brow furrowed with concern. I simply shook my head, trying to push down the growing sense of unease. It couldn't be something I had done - Noah was always so reliable, so quick to respond. Surely, if I had done something to upset him, he would have said something by now.

My guitarist's next words, however, caught me off guard. "Was it the kiss?" he inquired, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raising in my direction. I snapped my head up, staring at him in shock. How on earth could he have known about that? My eyes quickly darted to Eve, who was fast asleep in his lap, oblivious to the conversation unfolding. If her word alone wasn't enough to confirm the truth, the telltale blush I felt creeping across my cheeks gave Rick all the answer he needed.

Noah’s POV

As I sat at the makeshift dining room table, the surface was cluttered with a jumble of scrawled notepads, each one filled with a scattered mess of lyrics and half-formed ideas. Fragments of melodies and phrases were scrawled haphazardly across the pages, some lines crossed out while others were circled or connected with arrows, the disorganized chaos taking up nearly every inch of the paper. It was the disjointed, frenzied creative process laid bare - the struggle to capture the elusive spark of inspiration and mold it into something coherent. In the midst of this lyrical battlefield, I found myself lost, sifting through the wreckage of my own thoughts, searching for the seeds of a song that had yet to fully blossom.

Several nights before we headed out the band and crew threw a small party for the upcoming sold-out European tour. As I watched my girlfriend effortlessly converse and bond with my bandmates, I found myself mesmerized, unable to take my eyes off of her all evening.

The guys couldn't resist teasing me, playfully insisting that I was clearly in love, though I brushed off their comments at the time. But deep down, I knew they were right - the undeniable connection with Eve had blossomed into something far deeper than a casual fling.

Later that night, as she straddled my lap I was suddenly overcome with a profound realization. In that moment, with her legs wrapped around me and our breath mingling together, the words I had been holding back for so long came spilling out. "I love you," the confession like fire on my tongue, the vulnerability betraying the weight of those three little words. It wasn't the most conventional time or setting to make such a declaration, but with her skin against mine and our heartbeats in sync, it felt like the only appropriate time.

So what was the problem?

I couldn't believe I had allowed myself to become entangled like this, emotions that I knew deep down would only lead to heartbreak in the end. What was worse? It wasn’t just her I had feelings for.

When Chris arrived at my door, we took off immediately to my room. I’m not sure where my head was at, where I'd gotten the idea or what possessed me. But the way her juices glistened off his lips, and the sounds he was making-I was so close I could see the three scars of his previous piercings on his bottom lip- I lost control. I leaned in, capturing his lips with my own. He hesitated at first but I was persistent, my tongue cleaning all of Eve off his still closed lips, but then he relaxed, opening his mouth to let our tongues mingle together.

I’m not sure if it was feelings or just lust but he was driving me just as insane as her, the smell of him, the taste of him. I was a man being driven mad. Then the way he looked standing in my kitchen as I finished packing my shit, seeing him lean against the counter with his arms crossed in his nike joggers and t shirt. His hair grown out, dark roots with lilac tips, every so often I’d catch his hands running through it to keep the strands out of his eyes.

I couldn't quite put my finger on whether it was genuine feelings or a more primal, carnal lust - all I knew was that this man was driving me just as insane as Eve does. There was something about his scent, a subtle yet alluring blend of cologne and something innately masculine, that sent tingles down my spine every time it wafted past. And the taste of him, the memory of those lips against my own, haunted me.

The incessant buzzing of my phone on the table sent a jolt of dread through me. Pulling me from the constant replay of my memories. I knew exactly who it was from - one of them, the people who had slowly been tearing my world apart. For a few agonizing minutes, I tried to resist the urge to look, to bury my head in the sand and pretend I hadn't seen it. But the pull was too strong. With a trembling hand, I finally flipped open the screen, my eyes immediately drawn to the image that filled the display. There was Chris with Eve - straddling his lap, her thighs cradling his hips as his hands gripped them possessively. Hovering above them, hands firmly grasping Eve's waist to hold her in place, were a set of familiar, heavily-inked fingers. Fingers I had only ever seen in photos. Seeing them there, intertwined with their bodies and me not there, it felt like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs.

The text beneath the delicious image making my heart flutter.

Room for one more baby 😘

After that fateful kiss, he had taken to playfully teasing me with affectionate pet names and gently ruffling my hair, the terms of endearment continuing as we texted back and forth in the following days. At first, I had simply played along, not thinking much of it. But as time went on, I gradually found myself becoming more and more drawn into the idea of being his "baby" - the way the words rolled off his tongue, the underlying intimacy they implied, it all started to slowly chip away at my carefully-constructed defenses.

Somewhere deep down, I could feel myself beginning to melt and surrender to these new feelings, allowing myself to be enveloped by the sense of belonging and security that his affections seemed to promise. Yet just as quickly, my own stubborn pride and need for control would reassert itself, reminding me that I was the one in charge here - no one took possession of my heart without my explicit permission. I was the king of my own castle, after all, answerable to no one. But the truth was, they already had - my traitorous heart had betrayed me, opening itself up against my will. Feeling a surge of panic at this loss of autonomy, I did what came most naturally to me in times of vulnerability-I ran.

“Alright guys,” Matt's voice broke the silence, dragging me out of my thoughts, glancing up I saw him gathering the band around the kitchen. Jolly was still half asleep drinking his coffee as Nick and Folio rubbed the exhaustion from their eyes. “I got an email about a festival in Vegas, they want a response by next week-since we will be back state side to turn in the new live recordings it would be best for me to meet with them if we plan to go through with the festival. I guess, bottom line, who votes for the festival?”

“Book it.” my voice was harsher than I had intended. The other band members whipped their heads around to look at me, surprised by the abrupt answer.

Jolly paused, mouth hanging open, “Noah, you sure?”

“We’ve been going non stop, i’m not sure how much more we could take,” Nicholas argued. I only shrugged my shoulders, whatever they wanted, but I knew I wanted to stay busy.

"If Noah is on board, I guess so am I," Nicholas said halfheartedly, his tone conveying a clear lack of enthusiasm. I glanced up from my work, peering at the group through my lashes, and saw the rest of the guys nodding along in agreement. With a final, fleeting glance towards Matt, I could see the resolution forming on his face - this was happening, regardless of any reservations. Bowing my head, I returned my focus to the task at hand.

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #Chris Motionless fic #Chris Motionless smut #ricky olson smut #ricky olson fic #miw band #miw #chris motionless #chrismotionlessfanfic #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white smut #polyverse

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