#joseph quinn story

[fezcco]

joe’s laugh is so recognizable 😭

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson × AHS Asylum) Part I

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murder of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. When he can't convince people that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is committed to a mental hospital. But the only way out is to prove to the psychiatrist that he is not crazy. If he cannot convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. And he must hurry to do so because Vecna has come to finish the job he left unfinished. As Eddie fights for his life, what is the most his psychiatrist can do to save him when she learns he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because Eddie is innocent, but because the two of them have developed feelings for each other over time.

Warnings: It's inspired by the horror series American Horror Story, so it has a lot of horror elements. Mention of blood, hospital, electric chair, execution, injury, sex, nudity, (+18 please, MDNI) extremely depressive thoughts, depression, drugs, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and attempts, violence, smut, claustrophobic, dark moods. (please tell me if I have forgotten anything.) please DO NOT READ if at least one of these is a trigger for you.

1989, Eddie Munson's Perspective.

The police officer punched me once more in the face. I swallowed the blood that filled my mouth. My eyes were so swollen that I could only squint. The police officer took a handkerchief out of his pocket and started walking around the room. He wiped the blood off his hands in disgust. But it was my blood, not his.

"Do you hear that sound, Munson?" he said through clenched teeth. Then he continued, "That's the voice of the Hawkins people who would destroy you in two minutes if I gave you to them. They want justice. We will give them the justice they want.''

I swallowed the blood that filled my mouth again. "I didn't do anything," I said, barely breathing. He walked quickly towards me and kicked the chair I was sitting on. I groaned in pain as I hit the floor, the sound of the iron chair hitting the floor echoed around the room, like a banshee screaming. My hands and feet were handcuffed. That's why I couldn't move, the police officer was already kicking me from where I was lying. I heard the door creak open and a familiar voice came running towards us.

Hopper: "Stop it! For God's sake stop! What are you gonna do?! Are you going to kill him?! He's just a child!''

The police officer who stopped kicking me spat on me. He was pointing at me. "He's not a child. He's the devil himself.''

Hopper grabbed the police officer by the collar and threw him out. Then he helped me up off the floor. When he uncuffed me, I looked at my wrists, bruised. I could no longer figure out where it hurt the most.

I could hear chants and shouts from outside, "Die, Munson! You murderer! Give us the murderer! His punishment should be execution!"

Hopper: We're getting you out of here. In an hour.

I didn't look up. "Who reported me? Who told them where I was? God, how can they find me after all these years?''

Hopper shook his head in a negative way. "I don't know. This is beyond Hawkins now. The FBI is on the case. You're all over the national news. Newspaper stories are being printed about you from all over the world. There's a caravan of reporters and news stations outside the front door. You're going on trial for killing four people and putting one in a coma.''

I said loudly, "Four?! Jesus Christ! Vecna only killed three people and put Max in a coma. Who's the fourth?''

Hopper didn't seem to know what to do. He was as bewildered as I was. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Jason. They say it was you who killed him.''

I punched the table. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? All the deaths in this town are blamed on me?''

Hopper: They're looking for someone to pin it on so they can get rid of the backlog of cases they can't explain. There's no one to defend you right now. The lawyers are dropping the case. And that suits these filthy pigs.

I asked the question that had been on my mind all along, afraid of his response. "So what's going to happen to me now?

Hopper looked at the clock on his wrist and headed for the door. When he opened it, I was relieved to see it was Dustin, Steve, and Robin. For a second I thought it was that asshole again. My bones ached when Dustin ran up and hugged me. I probably had more than one fracture.

Dustin: Dude… They're sending you away. They're sending you to Bloomfield.

Eddie: Bloomfield? What, I'm going to Michigan? Do you guys know how far that is?!

Steve sat down at the table in front of me.

Steve: If you stay here, they'll kill you. Prosecutor Robert wants to execute you on this case and become a national hero. That's why he won't let the crowd kill you. You're going to a safe place.

I laughed sarcastically. "When I get to the prison there, they're going to put me in the electric chair and make me Eddie double cheese toast anyway.''

Robin smiled nervously, biting her lips. I knew that smile.

Robin: Yeah, about that… You're not going to prison.

I raised one eyebrow and looked at her to continue, but it was Steve who spoke.

Steve: You're going to a mental hospital, man. You're going to Chassell mental hospital.

I grabbed my face with both hands, i was laughing hysterically.

Hopper: We somehow convinced them that you committed these murders, but that you were mentally unstable. We told them that you kept saying it was some creature you made up in your head.

Eddie: Well, that's already true!

Hopper: Of course it's true, you shithead, but they don't know that, and when they do, that's what they'll tell you! We're saving your life! If they are not convinced you are crazy, they will execute you.

Again I asked a question I was afraid of the response, "What if they are convinced I'm crazy? Then what happens next?''

Everyone looked at each other.

Hopper: This time there will be a discussion about you staying there for life. They will appoint a highly skilled and experienced doctor to determine that. Don't make a mistake. Prove to the court that you are crazy. After the court receives the psychiatrist's report and orders you to stay in the hospital for life, we will come to get you. We will also find the asshole who reported you.

There was silence for a while.

Eddie: What about Vecna?

Robin: Nothing's happened in three years. I don't think it will happen after this time, but if it does, we'll be prepared.

Steve took something out of his pocket. It was a walkman. I took the tape out and looked at it and I saw the name Eddie Mix on it. Steve explained it before I asked.

Steve: I put your favorite metal songs on it, you know you might need it. You should guard this better than your life and keep it safe. Your life may depend on it. So if he comes hunting you…

Silence again. When I stood up, everyone straightened up.

Eddie: Okay, one last question. How do I pretend to be crazy when I'm not?

Hopper shrugged. I felt like I had just asked the easiest question in the world and I didn't even know it.

Hopper: Just tell them the truth. No need to lie.

I nodded my head in agreement. I handed my hands to Hopper to cuff them. That's what the people wanted. They wanted to see the murderer caught.

The camera flashes...

Chains wrapped around my feet...

The people booing and throwing things...

I got into the police car amid curses I didn't know which one to listen to. A long journey awaited me. I never thought that one day I would leave this town where I was born and raised like this. But one day I would come back here, exonerated, they would come to get me. I knew it.

I walked through the door of the hospital, whose gloomy atmosphere could be seen for miles around. The hospital was old and decrepit, with peeling paint and flickering fluorescent lights that cast an eerie glow on everything. The air smelled of antiseptic and decay, like something had died there a long time ago but never been properly disposed of. And in the distance, I could hear faint whispers and moans from the patients who were trapped inside.

It smelled disgusting inside. It was black and white, maybe gray. It was as if they were living in a movie from the fifties. There was no sign of life in their eyes, if there was a smell of despair, it would smell like this place. I wondered what to do in such a dull and boring place.

The people in blue clothes were patients. I could tell right away. The ones in white were nurses and the ones in white coats were doctors. I had been to enough churches to know that those in black were nuns. Of course, that was a long time ago. And then there were the guards. I noticed that they all had tasers in their pockets. None of them carried real guns.

The big hall was a vast, cavernous space with high ceilings and also peeling wallpaper. There were rows of metal chairs bolted to the floor, like something out of an old-fashioned movie theater. And in the center of the room stood a massive statue of some long-dead saint or martyr, its face twisted into an expression of agony.

A male nurse was accompanying me as I walked towards the guards. Since I was the only one dressed differently, even the patients noticed me. One of them pointed a pointing finger at me and laughed. You turn around and laugh at yourself, you jerk.

For a moment it occurred to me that if I stayed here I might actually go crazy. I turned to the nurse next to me.

Eddie. Eddie: Where are we going?

The corridors… well, they were narrow and dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights that cast strange shadows on the walls. I could hear footsteps echoing down them at odd hours - sometimes from other patients shuffling along in their slippers, but other times from things that didn't quite seem human.

Nurse: To get you a ward to sleep in and to get your patient clothes.

I laughed like I was teasing.

Eddie: Will I have a roommate?

The nurse gave a laugh that made it clear he was mocking me.

Nurse: Satan-worshipping assholes like you should be left alone.

As I walked through the dirty and narrow corridors, I wondered which doctor was my doctor. Meanwhile, the nurse continued to complain.

Nurse: I don't understand why they put you in ward A. You assholes belong in C ward.

I hadn't lost my cynical smile. "They must love me very much. They didn't want me to die.''

There were guards bringing a stretcher from across the hall. A white sheet was draped over the person lying on the stretcher. They carried the dying patient past me, emotionless and sullen.

The smile on my face was gone and the nurse was enjoying it.

Nurse: See, Munson? This is your only way out of here once you're in here.

We went into a big laundry room and there were big baskets of the same color blue clothes. Blue dresses for women and blue suits for men. They looked like pajamas. An orderly woman was sitting in front of the door, chewing gum and flipping through magazines.

I noticed that it hadn't stopped raining since the moment I arrived here. All the windows were barred. I wasn't supposed to be in jail, for fuck's sake.

The male nurse left me there. I went over to the person at the door.

Eddie: I was wondering if I could get a L size, I'd like to wear a little looser.

She didn't even look up. "Do you want a personal chauffeur or a cook? Go and get one of those clean ones over there that fits you. Don't bother me.''

I rolled my eyes.

Eddie: Is there a bag or a closet or something I can put my stuff in?

The woman looked at me and lowered her pointy secretary glasses down to the tip of her nose.

"You think this is a hotel, son? The only thing you take with you when you come in here is your body. We even take the wedding rings of the married people who stay here. Because even with that, they somehow find a way to commit suicide or kill someone else.''

I frowned, "How is this allowed? Don't the police do anything?"

The woman thought I was joking and laughed, but when she realized I was serious, she nodded carelessly.

"Most of the people who sleep here have no family or acquaintances. No one comes after them. We are happy to have another empty bed because there are too many patients and too few employees. Now a new psychiatrist will come for you. As if it wasn't enough that we took you."

She was waving a pen in my direction.

I put on the blue hospital gown and put my hair up.

The cell was small and cramped, a musty smell that made my nose wrinkle. There was a single metal bed frame in one corner of the room, with a thin mattress covered in stains and tears. A rusted toilet sat against one wall, barely functional and caked with grime. And next to it was a sink - more like a metal basin than an actual sink - where patients could wash their hands if they were lucky enough to have access to water.

The whole place felt suffocatingly claustrophobic, like there wasn't enough air to breathe properly. And when i looked closely at the walls or floorboards, i could see faint scratches or gouges from previous patients who had tried desperately to escape.

I lay down on the bed and looked out of the window with the bars. Then I stood up quickly. I made a few laps around the room, which was already three steps long. They had taken everything. They had taken my walkman too.

I heard the guard shouting from outside.

"It's almost nine o'clock! Lights out soon!''

anyone who wants a tag list for part 2 please let me know 🩶

my first language is not English so I apologize if I made any translation mistakes, please share with me my mistakes and your thoughts about the fic, I would be very happy. 🫶🏻

[hllfireclb]

Me asf:

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

Request: hi! I know this is a long shot but could you please do a quiet place: day one imagine between Eric and reader??? I don’t mind what happens! Thank you. I hope this is okay to ask!!

A/n: thank you so much for the request! This isn’t linked to the actual events of the films so no spoilers for anyone who sees it! Enjoy!!(:

One last hug

One finger was lifted to Eric’s lips his eyes wide as he stared at you, you had just stepped on a shard of glass and were now facing the consequences. About fifty of these crawling alien things making you want to run. But Eric kept one finger to his lips his other hand extended out towards you to ensure you wouldn’t run. As you stared at him and he stared at you a flash of recognition crossed across his features. This wasn’t your day. Nor was it his. You had both survived for an exhausting 1500 days at that point, and now, it seemed these aliens were finally going to get you.

His breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling before his hand extended out to stop you slowly turned his slender fingers stretched out towards you “come here.” He whispered, a reassuring look in his eyes as the prowling monsters chittered and growled as they got closer, trying to sniff the both of you out. You hurried towards him, the glass crunching underneath your feet as you grabbed onto his hand before your arms tightly embraced around his neck holding onto him like your life depended on it— which, thinking about it, it did. Your breathing was heavy and shaky eyes filling with tears as his arms snaked around your waist gripping onto you. He was the one facing all the monsters getting closer and closer, his fingers curling into your T-shirt as he saw the cruel monsters get closer and closer their claws crushing glass underneath their feet and he breathed heavily. You could sense that he was looking at them— looking at his death coming straight at him and so in a comforting manner you lifted a hand to caress against his hair, running your fingers through the soft dry mess of dishevelled hair

“Eric listen to me,” you soon whispered feeling the way he trembled but didn’t dare let go of you, “shh..” he tried to whisper his adams apple bobbing up and down as he struggled to contain his sobs “breathe… Eric…” he watched as the monsters grew closer and closer until they were only a few steps away his grip on you tightening “Eric close your eyes.” You gently coaxed the man and he let out a strangled sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “I’ve got you. Just keep your eyes closed.” You heard the chittering in your ear as you could practically feel it’s sharp teeth digging into your skin, but, seemingly the monster didn’t instantly attack….

You and Eric shared one last hug together, expecting it all to go dark. Expecting to die a cruel death just like the poor people whom had been killed by these monsters… but, nothing happened, the monsters didn’t attack. Instead their chittering grew louder as the sound of helicopters grew close Eric’s breathing growing heavy “Eric..” you whispered frightened, the man lifting a hand to press over your mouth silencing you as the helicopters grew closer the loud sound

“Survivors head to the dock. A boat will pick up any remaining survivors. The attackers cannot swim. I repeat survivors head to the dock.”

The voice spoke through the PA system of the helicopter and before you knew it you had pushed Eric down holding onto him tightly as the monsters instinctively followed the loud noises of the helicopters the rumbling of the helicopters making the monsters gallop past, snarling and growling, you burying your face into Eric’s chest as you both panted you gripping onto him repeatedly begging whoever was up in the sky at that point to just have mercy…

Your breathing remained heavy as the monsters continued to pass until seemingly all the monsters had fled, pursuing after the helicopters. You breathed heavily before pulling away looking at Eric who looked horrified but still he didn’t speak, instead he looked behind your shoulder the final chittering one another monster making your blood run cold, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks as your body began trembling, a distraught look on Eric’s face as the monster got closer to the both of you, before Eric opened his arms wide for you, pulling you into a tight hug as he stared up at the beast, listening to you as you sobbed babbling out terrified whimpers of how you loved him knowing it was the last thing you’d both hear….

He breathed heavily tears in his eyes before he forced you to gently look into his eyes the monsters hot breath fanning over the both of you. “Close your eyes.” He whispered with a reassuring smile, as he closed his eyes just as you did, as you both embraced each other desperately… darkness encasing the both of you, embraced in one another’s arms, forever.

I hope this is okay. Sorry it’s sad): I’ll make a happier one if it’s requested!!

[zombiewhor3]

STARS AND SEX

eddie munson x fem reader

WARNINGS: characters are 18+, reader is able to consent, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, smut, consent is given, penetrating sex, no protection (wrap it before you tap it!)

-

she could feel the cool metal of the roof press against her shoulder blades just where the fabric of the tank top she wore seemed to cut off.

Her hair sprawled out amongst the metal roof as she had a half empty bottle of liquor resting in the soft grasp of her hand.

She flicked off the cap and took another swig feeling as the liquid seemed to burn down her throat, like a pit of hell she was swallowing.

She looked to her side to see nothing but the bare metal and well the trailer just a few yards away where the light in Mr. Munsons bedroom was on

the curtains closed but you could see part of an imprint of them, Eddie ruffling his hair or maybe even just trying to untangle his wild bunch of curls he somehow managed to rock.

She liked the look on him and how she could feel her heart lower softly as she saw the shadow disappear and now she took another sip of the bottle and flicked her eyes at the sky.

the light pollution near the homes and the neighborhoods of Hawkins were bad, almost so bad you could barely see the beautiful stars that lingered above in the dark sky.

The stars that shined downed and seemed to give such a beautiful glow to her, in the shitty trailer park she lived in she could see the stars clearly or at-least some what.

And whenever she felt lonely she'd look up at the sky, for hours and hours she'd gaze at the stars maybe getting black out drunk or just staring until she fell asleep a top of the roof.

She could hear a trailer door open and she flicked her head back in the direction of Eddie's trailer watching his metal door shut behind him and his feet hitting the steps on his way down.

He rattled his keys and the sudden ness of a glass bottle hitting the metal seemed to startle him ever so suddenly but he seemed to loosen up when he heard a loud groan from a top the roof.

He looked up to see as y/n sat up, sitting criss cross in her jeans and well a band tank she wore on the often occasions because it was her favorite shirt she had in her collection.

He tucked his keys away and made his way to the ladder of the teens place, "why the hell are you on the roof" he called out watching as her head took a peak at the ground where he stood.

"Why not? It's my roof" she remarked back at him watching as he rolled his eyes, his boots making a soft noise as the ladder squeaked from the shifting weight as he climbed up it.

"why are you up here?" She asked watching as he gestured to the bottle of liquor next to her, she passed it to him and watched as he took a swig.

the bottles neck still clasped in his hands as he stared at her, she sat up adjusting the collar of her tank top so it wasn't drooping.

"couldn't sleep, and that's why I'm guessing your up here to huh?" he responded taking one last large gulp of the liquor in the bottle before setting it back down next to her.

"I never get much sleep, especially with you blasting that loud guitar if yours twenty four seven Mr. Munson"

she watched him smile as his hands clasped together and his arms rested on his knees as he looked down at her as she laid back a top of the trailer silver metallic roof.

"you don't like loud rock music at 12 in the morning" he faked a gasp at his rhetorical question watching as she was the one now beaming back a large smile at him.

Her eyes flicked back up at the sky, "you know I love the trailer park because well there's less light pollution which means more stars"

He furrowed his brows at her words before making up a response to spew back, "I'm sorry did you say light pollution because how the hell can lights pollute something?"

He asked as he pulled out a box of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket along with a silver Zippo lighter.

"Well when there's to much light we can't see the stars so like in the neighborhoods you can barely see any stars because of all the house lights, didn't you take science class like twice?"

She joked feeling as he laid back on the surface next to her a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he blew some of the smoke up into the air.

"well if doesn't mean I pay attention in that class besides there are more important things even though the stars are really interesting"

he admitted and took another drag from his cigarette looking over at the girl who had such a gleaming smile on her face it made his heart beat so fast he felt like it was going to explode.

"you're making that up" she elbowed him and watched as he laughed almost choking on the smoke that came from his pursed lips.

"I am not! the stars seem interesting even though they're just blobs of lights" he spoke watching as she rolled her eyes playfully and took the cigarette from in-between his fingers.

She placed it in her own mouth taking a small drag before handing it back to him,

"you know smoking is going to kill you or at least that's what I heard from Harrington" she spoke blowing out the grey chemicals from her mouth into the atmosphere around them.

"he has a mind of his own stacking all those damn VHS tapes all day, no wonder he's out of his damn mind half the time"

Eddie replied putting out of the bud of the cigarette and flicking it away from him and onto the yellow and green grassy area below.

"you know you're guitar is really loud right?"

She asked sarcastically with no intention of him actually answering the question but yet he replied with something shabby as always.

"I'm sorry does loud rock music bother you princess? because if so I'm just gonna keep doing it to piss you off more and more"

he chuckled back and felt her head rest against the top of his shoulder nudging into his hell fire shirt, her skin forming soft goosebumps but she couldn't tell if it was from the chilly wind running over them or from his touch.

"all I'm saying is I prefer the drums better"

she smiled and she could feel a soft arm wrap around her once he could feel the goosebumps lingering down her skin.

"I'm sure Gareth would love to hear that you're so interested in his critique of a skill, but I bet i could always teach you the guitar or maybe even just give you a show in my own bedroom"

he teased at her watching her face turn into such a bright smile that her cheeks started to ache and her jaw started to throb from all the sweetness he had been feeding into her,

and it was rotting her away.

"i have a band you know?"

he added watching as she nodded, it wasn't rare for her to spend some of her nights watching as they rehearsed in the music room after school,

it wasn't even a surprise since she had a thing for Eddie, and well for his music.

"i've heard you guys play" she admitted watching as his brows furrowed and he reached to pull the bottle of liquor from beside her again once he took his swig he set the bottle down on the opposite side of them and spoke,

"never seen you at the hide out though"

"i stay after school sometimes in the library and sometimes i like to just take a quick peak of the band or maybe until you guys stop playing"

she felt crude admitting this to him, she felt so embarrassed that she was admitting everything to the man laying next to her.

"so you've been watching our practices?"

he smiled at the idea that maybe he had something to look after, a new game of trying to watch her peak through the window while trying to sneaky at the fact she had been admiring not just the band's skills but him.

she didn't say anything but elbowed him softly in the side watching him fake a harsh injury and look over at her, it was silent now, no music or no laughter not even a gust of wind could be heard as they seemed to stare at each other.

-

she didn't understand how she ended up here, she didn't understand how she was pinned down against his bed as he joyfully peppered kisses along her neck, 

leaving a small trail of marks that would still be surely visible without the use of a turtleneck.

she hummed out softly as her hands pulled on the t-shirt he wore and she had slipped it off with ease after the ever so silent begging from her body language for him to strip it away,

even she was shirtless and left in her bra that made her breasts look so perfect.

the lace color blending just right with her skin making him trace his tongue down the valley of her breasts, her hands fumbling at his belt that now even she was starting to feel the fluster from with each second she struggled with the  metal clasp connected to the chocolate leather.

he pulled his lips away hearing her whine and try to pull him back but he was to focused on the idea of watching her struggle with his belt.

"please" she whined at him flashing a puppy dog eyed smile and frowned at the advantage he was having on her by one stupid belt,

without even a struggle involved he managed to pull the belt with ever so ease out of the loop holes of his pants.

to which she had tugged those down to, she tugged them down until they were at his ankles to where he was able to kick them off and away down to the messy floor of his bedroom, the same bedroom he was truly giving her a show.

the crotch of his boxers rubbed against her jeans and he groaned against the skin of her jawline that he was taking his delicate time with to cherish and leave a trail of marks on,

he continued to kiss until his lips felt numb and until he couldn't take the feeling of just grinding against her.

"Could this be anymore cliche?" Eddie asked with a chuckle his two fingers cusped at the fabric waistband of her panties.

"The sex or your bedroom?" She remarked back watching him smile even harder as he gently wiggled off the panties from her body.

He tossed them onto the floor of his bedroom and a gentle hand moved around to unclip the backing of the bra she wore.

It fell off her shoulders and he pulled it away dangling it in his hands with a small smirk before he took a look at her breasts.

Her nipples perked and hard just from the gentle touch of his hands running over them.

She hummed out a moan and bit down on her lip when she felt the lustful grasp of his hands trailing from her breasts down to her lower hips rubbing small circles with his thumbs that was about to send her into a heart attack.

"you want this y/n? I'm not what the call a good influence especially with my reputation around town you know?"

she could see his expression change as he looked at her, not at her body but at her face.

He was looking into her eyes to be polite and well he just couldn't get enough of the beautiful color that filled them.

She grabbed his face, cupping his cheeks as she looked at him, "i can make my own judgements eddie, and I want it so bad"

He could feel his heart leap with her, like he could be himself instead of being ashamed of the reputation he had built up.

The reputation of drugs, the rumors of cults in the hellfire and being the school freak, he felt free from it holding down.

He slipped away his boxers as he rubbed a gentle finger over her clit while he adjusted himself for her cunt.

His tip poked at her entrance and it made her so eager for more of him she whined out pulling on his arms for more of him inside her.

She hadn't even wanted the foreplay now because she was surely to not enjoy it from the underlying eagerness that couldn't seem to be even close to held down by now.

He pushed his full length inside her and he heard a soft gasp erupt from her mouth.

He rubbed at her sides and took his time while he waited for her to get adjusted to the size, she whined softly as he slowly thrusted into her.

"more?" Eddie asked watching as she nodded so quickly that the rapid movement of her head  was sure to give her even just a touch of whiplash from the motion.

He thrusted into her and she let out a soft moan as she gripped at the creases of his arms, he shushed her softly and assured her she was okay and with each thrust he grew faster.

Until she was finally a moaning mess, so cock drunk she couldn't even think mumble a full sentence out of her open mouth.

Her head was tossed back into the pillows and her nails dug into his flesh, her walls started to close around him and she erupted a scream.

It was such a wild sensation it almost felt like she was going to explode from how big he was inside her cunt, she practically could feel him inside her stomach.

"gonna c-cum" she whimpered and he moved her hands to the sides of her, pinning them down he kissed just above her navel while he still continued to keep at the rapid pace.

He whispered to her how well she was taking him and she could only feel her stomach start to want to unravel even more.

"Cum for me it's alright" she could feel him twitch inside her and with just another thrust of his cock hitting her g-spot she came.

Her juices fell amongst onto his abdomen and he filled her gently with his, she panted and whined as he pulled out of her with a plop.

She laid on the bed and slightly had the urge to curl up into a ball, her legs together and her hands holding at her knees.

They felt all wobbly like jello and her throat seemed achy from all the crying out from the pleasure she had been receiving.

He stood up from the bed and she felt his weight shift off, not even a few seconds later he came back with a damp rag.

pulling her legs apart gently he cleaned up the juices dripping down her thighs and he smiled as his thumb ran over the side of her face.

"You okay?, I can tell I wore you out"

he asked watching as she nodded and gently closed her eyes back again because of how exhausted she was.

She wasn't used to this kind of treatment, all the dudes she dated or had been with were pure assholes, they weren't this caring.

Hell half of them didn't even have to the bother to make sure that she was okay, he pulled his own clothes onto her body and got himself dressed while he looked at her.

"Did I do something y/n?" He asked as he pulled over the covers on the both of them and he felt her shift into his arms

"Just not used to being treated this way" he could see her expression was almost sad and yet she still had a soft smile at the corners of her lips

She could feel him tense up and it hit her that the choice of words wasn't the best, "I mean I've never been treated this good Eddie"

He returned back to his normal posture and looked down at her while he placed a soft kiss out onto the top of her head.

"I'm gonna treat you better than good y/n"

[helpwhatsthis]

spot the difference (except there isn't one)

[rxqueenotd]

historically accurate menendez brothers

[icallhimjoey]

tubelift!joe was a sweetheart & reallllly wanted to find out what happened after they went separate ways !!!

jfc it's been a whole YEAR since tubelift!joe, thats insane! but here you go, have some of him! its only short, but hope you enjoy! (a/n: this story will make little sense if you've not read between floors and feelings) Wordcount: 1.8K

---

Funny Story, Actually

It had been ages, but you could still sense it every time. When you'd get onto the tube together, Joe's shoulders would tense as he'd look around the car, scanning his worried eyes over every single person there.

It was just to check. Just to settle something inside of him that was a little impossible to settle, you thought.

You remembered being one of those people, but witnessing it now, knowing what you knew, traveling through peak hours with him was hell.

You noticed how his knuckles lost all colour as he tightly held on to a handrail overhead, his lips all tight, his jaw clenched.

He looked hot.

But that wasn't the point.

"Hey," you poked Joe softly in the side to get his attention. "Did you say you had been to this place before?"

You knew he had been, but it was an easy way of distracting him from trying to make eye-contact with everyone, which he only did just in case he could see something there to worry about.

It literally helped no one, you knew.

"Oh, yea. Couple of times. You know how there's places that exceed your expectations every time you go? Very rare, that. This is one of those."

You smiled. He'd told you the exact same thing about four times, using a different way to describe how much he loved this restaurant each time.

You'd happily listen to him tell you again and again.

"Yea? What did you have last time?" you asked, softly, because not many others needed to hear you ask, or hear Joe's answer for that matter. To be fair, you didn't even need to hear it. You just needed Joe to step out of his tube-anxiety. It was only one more stop.

"Um, I had..." Joe narrowed his eyes for a second, thinking. And then, before he even remembered, he realised what you were doing. He let his breath escape him in a chuckled sigh and reached for your hand. Gave the tube car a last glance before fully turning towards you and giving you a silly face.

"You're a menace."

You scrunched your nose at him, knowing glances shared.

Joe kept hold of your hand when you got off the tube and made your way towards street level. When you were lead into a corridor of which the dead end just held the stainless steal doors to two lifts, you gave each other a look before turning around and finding another way out.

Absolutely no way you were risking it.

Ever since that one night, neither of you had ever stepped foot inside of a tube lift again.

You'd rather race each other up the Covent Garden tube station steps, all 193 of them, than get into a small confined metal box like that again.

Even after the one you'd been stuck in had been fixed.

Even when you were in a group and your friends would go for the lift.

You'd go, "Loser gets the bill tonight!" and set off running up the steps, hoping you'd beat the elevator. You rarely did. And even after a while, it got easier, but it would still leave you out of breath. Still, getting a little exercise would forever win it over having to pee into a water bottle, so it was fine.

You'd take the stairs.

You easily found escalators that time, and you both went to stand on the right to let the system take you up. You turned around and let Joe curl his arms around your waist for a moment, tilting his head back and smiling up at you. It made you swipe at some worry lines that were permanently etched into Joe's forehead whenever you were underground before leaning down to give him a small kiss.

You beamed big smiles at each other, and you weren't sure what prompted you to join the crowd on the left side of the escalator, but you were quick as a flash as you stepped to the side and started bolting your way up the moving steps.

Joe followed just behind you, and you laughed as you felt him try to hold onto your coat in an attempt to keep up.

Happy.

There was just something about knowing you'd make it up and out without getting trapped for hours, you know?

After you touched-out, Joe turned to you slightly out of breath and said, "Maybe we need to start using car service to go places, because–"

"And give into the fear?" you scoffed. "Come on," you held up an arm and humorously flexed a non-existent bicep. "We're stronger than that!"

And you truly believed that, but you felt every single bit of strength leave your body when you got shoulder-checked hard enough to slam the air right from your lungs.

"Ahh," you immediately winced, spinning on your feet from the clash. Joe's hands were quick to find you, steadying you and preventing you from stumbling and falling.

"Sorry, so sor–..." a throat got cleared. "Sorry..."

The woman who had just roughly knocked half her body into yours looked down at her feet as she slung her bag back onto her shoulder, and, oh, my God, you couldn't fucking believe it.

"Linda."

Your former boss.

You sounded more surprised than anything else, because this was something you had dreaded for a while. Running into her. You'd heard that your ex-boyfriend had gone and moved in with her after he'd moved out of the studio you had shared, but that it had only lasted for a couple of weeks.

Served her right, you thought.

"Oh my God. Hi, I'm– sorry. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you?" Linda let a polite hand hover in front of your shoulder - the one you were still holding onto yourself - and gave a regretful smile.

Linda did hurt you.

A little now, but a lot before.

You know, back when you found your boyfriend making out with her in her office and you learnt from you colleagues that the affair had actually been happening for a while but they'd been too afraid to tell you because she was their boss too.

Vile wench of a woman.

You'd gotten your revenge though.

You still weren't proud of it, but... if you could do that night over again, the only thing you would change is that you would make sure you'd actually empty your full bladder into her bag that time.

You gave her a blank stare and then let your eyes drop to her bag.

Holy shit.

There was no way.

"I'm fine." you said coldly, but kept your eyes on her bag.

She saw, and it made her shuffle a little awkwardly

"Good. Okay, good. Sorry. I'm in a rush. We should catch up, soon. Sorry, again." Linda finished her sentence as she ran off, and you stared at her as she tapped-in with her phone and then disappeared down an escalator.

Huh.

Wow.

You felt weirdly okay about all of that, unexpectedly so.

You were definitely not going to be catching up with her soon, though.

When you turned to Joe, he gave you a worried little smile.

"There you are."

"Huh?"

"I asked you a question. Are you okay?"

You blinked up at him and realised you were stood in the middle of a busy bit of tube station. It was the exact wrong place to stand still, so you were quick to move with the crowd. Joe followed, hand on the small of your back.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, sorry. Um. That was Linda. She used to be my boss." you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. "Remember my boss? How I caught–"

"I do." Joe cut you off, no need to repeat the painful story. He had remembered it fine from when you'd first told him, dirty wedding dress and crackling intercom as the background noise and all.

But tonight wasn't about awful memories.

You were about to have dinner with some of his friends - ones you'd met just once in brief passing but had never had a proper conversation with, and Joe was excited. You were going to love them, and he was sure that they were also going to love you.

"Wow... that was... that was weird. She fully crashed into me."

"Yea it was quite the collision, you nearly fell over."

"I'm okay." you assured him you were fine. The clash of shoulders had only hurt for a second.

Joe reached to hold your hand and threw you a warm smile as you made your way down the pavement.

"That's good."

"I think..." you started, eyes narrowing as you tried to remember. "I'm not joking, but I think she was carrying the bag that I... you know."

Joe's eyes bulged at you as his smile grew.

"What?! No way."

"That was the bag." You knew for sure. Kind of hard to forget the bag that you squatted over to piss right into. "I hope she got that professionally cleaned though, why the fuck would she even– wait, why did she keep that?"

Joe laughed at your outrage. He agreed though.

"Maybe she never noticed." he reasoned as you reached the restaurant. His reasoning made you frown at him though because, "Joe, I pissed over everything she had in there, there is no way she didn't–"

"All right, all right, keep it down, will you? This is a nice place." Joe laughed, helping you out of your coat as the host asked if you had a reservation.

Linda.

You couldn't quite get over how weird it was to be running into her in the tube with Joe there. It was almost kind of funny.

It felt like a weird full-circle moment, especially because you knew that whatever she had taken from you hadn't worked out for her in the end. Lost out on a star-employee (you) and on a mediocre boyfriend (your ex).

Maybe the bag was a good reminder for her.

Maybe it kept her grounded.

You had no idea.

The loud greetings from Joe's friends who were already there snapped you out of your thoughts. The restaurant was nice, and Joe's friends were lovely. It was nice to get to know Joe better through other people, but you kind of forgot that you were also a whole new person for others to meet. A person to ask questions about.

You weren't sure why you hadn't anticipated anyone asking the most obvious question you could be asked, but it nearly made Joe choke on his first sip of his drink.

"So, how did you two meet again?"

Joe looked at you over the table after making sure he didn't have any wine dripping down his chin, pursing a smile before giving you a tiny nod.

Joe's friends looked between the two of you, confused eyes darting back and forth because clearly they were missing an inside joke, or whatever.

Before anyone could ask, you cleared your throat and said, "Funny story, actually..."

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous]

Joseph Quinn as Eric

A Quiet Place Day One

Amazon Prime Video: Get to know the characters

[joequinnisgod]

When craving warmth

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x f!reader

Warnings: rpf, smut (protected p in v), teasing, i dunno what else..

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Hiii, it’s been a while………sorry about that :( But here’s a soft!dom!Joe story! I’m also working on other stories, hopefully I’ll be able to finish them soon..

It was late at night when you finally got into bed next to Joseph. Even though you told him not to wait for you, he insisted and tried his best to stay awake, but eventually tiredness got the best of him. He was half asleep when he felt the mattress dip next to him and felt you snuggling up next to him.

He hissed when you rested your cold fingers on his arm, trying to get warmed up as soon as possible.

"Your hands are freezing, love." He murmured as the took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers.

"M'sorry." You whispered and pressed your lips on the warm skin of his back. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I wasn't fully asleep yet."

Still craving warmth, you pressed your feet against his legs, causing him to jump a little.

"Jesus, what the fuck? You just took a shower, how are you so cold?"

"I don't know, I just am."

"...Want me to warm you up?" His voice instantly got deeper and you could sense he was smiling as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. You murmured against his back, too tired to even speak. "Hm?"

"I won't move a muscle, though." You repeated.

"So just the usual, eh?" He teased. You slapped his back lightly at his comment, making him giggle.

"Shut up." You smiled.

"C'mon baby, let's get you warm." He turned around to face you. "Hi." He lowered his head with a smile to kiss you. You felt his warm lips softly press against yours, just slowly tasting them first. You laid on your back and let him hover over you, a satisfied hum escaping his throat.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, making you part your lips. The kiss was slow and sensual, neither of you feeling the need to hurry. After such a draining day, the only thing you needed was intimacy and the presence of your favourite person, in spite of the aching tiredness in your body.

He held himself up above you with his lower arm next to your head, his free hand caressing your side. Your hands found his cheeks in the dark – only the outside lights peeked through the window, softly illuminating the room – and your thumbs softly stroke his face, feeling the scratchiness of his beard. As you spread your legs and pulled them up to help him get more comfortable, his fingers started dancing on your skin where your shirt has ridden up a bit around your lower stomach, the ticklish sensation leaving goosebumps behind. Eventually, his lips detached from yours, making you whine, but you soon quieted down when you felt them on the side of your neck, travelling further and further down. Your fingers got lost in his curls on the back of his head as your neediness got the best of you; making your wrap your legs around his hips, locking him right above you.

"Don't, I'm cold." You stopped his hands as they were about to take your shirt off.

"Okay, baby. We'll leave it on." He placed a quick kiss on your lips. "Can I take these off, though?" His fingers traced the outline of your underwear. You nodded first – then realised he could barely see the movement of your head in the darkness.

"Mm-hmm."

He started sliding your panties down your legs slowly, his lips following the path of it. When you felt his hot breath fanning over your clit, you interrupted him again.

"No, just want you in me. Please, I just wanna feel you close." Your tone dripping in desperation.

"Alright, but I'm definitely having you for breakfast, though." He pressed a gentle kiss below your lower stomach.

His lips met your neck once again, going for that sensitive spot, making you whimper in impatience. He supported himself with his forearm sunk into the mattress next to your head as his free hand pushed his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself. He reached beside you, towards the nightstand's top drawer and grabbed a condom from it. Sitting back on his heels he ripped the packaging open with his teeth and rolled the rubber down his length. After stroking himself a few times, he decided to test the waters and tease you a little. The unexpected soft tapping of his cock on your clit made you gasp at first – then you couldn't stop the whimper that desperately tried to escape your lips.

You realised what was about to go down. Your begging and needy whines were sounds that Joe could easily get off on anytime; they boosted his ego to an unreal level. Knowing you were so desperate for his touch and attention made him feel like he was on cloud nine. As his ego got the best of him, dominance started flooding his mind. He started feeling the urge to tease you..just a little.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"Joe..oh" Another gasp left your lips as he rubbed himself between your lips. "I know..I know what you're..doing...please."

Your tone only fuelled that feeling in him. He wanted to hear and see you become a needy hot mess underneath him.

"What am I doing, darling? I’m not doin' anything." He murmured with his lips right next to your ear.

"You're te-teasing. I can't..take it tonight."

"I think you can. Be a good girl for me, hm?"

Your hands grabbed the sheets as his lips traced the side of your neck, placing there wet kisses. "Think you can do that for me?"

"I, uh...I don't know."

"Let's just see it for ourselves, okay? Tell me if it's too much." He kissed your cheek.

He stopped rubbing himself on your pussy and you felt him slide his tip down to your entrance. He slowly pushed his tip in barely, then pulled it out. Each time he pushed himself in, it was just a tad deeper than before, making you turn into that hot, whining mess he loves so much.

"Is this okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"See? It's not so hard." His hand came up to your cheek to hold your face, his thumb stroking your warm skin.

When he was finally all the way inside you, he let out a soft moan. His hips started rocking slowly at first, then he picked up the pace a little. He pulled almost all the way out each time, before going back in as deep as he could. He wanted both of you to feel every inch of each other. Your desperate moans sounded almost too pathetic, the way he fucked you so passionately and so good was becoming overwhelming.

"You're doing so good for me, doll. So fucking good." His voice almost failed him from the intensity of your hips colliding and the feeling of intimacy and closeness; your hands on his back now – keeping him close, your nails leaving deep, red marks on his slightly sweaty skin.

"Don't you break character now." You whispered, the built up frustration from the teasing giving you an attitude – also hoping this would fire Joseph up even more. When he realised what you'd said to him, he snapped his hips hard, making you moan loudly and arch your back a tad.

"Wanna repeat that, love? Hm? Don't be so shy now." He waited if you were gonna say anything, but your silence was enough for him. "That's what I thought."

His hips started driving into you faster as his hand found your clit. The force of his thrusts made you ride up on the bed with each one as your strangled moans echoed across the room.

"Shh, it's okay, it’s okay. Let it out, baby." His lips showered your cheek with kisses, shooting you.

"I’m close.." You chocked out, hoping he'll understand.

"You wanna cum, darling?"

"Mm-hmm." You nodded, tears forming in you eyes from the overwhelming intensity. "Please, Joseph."

"Cum for me, baby." He whispered in your ear. A few moments later your back arched as you dug your nails into his back, letting out a loud, sinful moan with a few tears escaping your eyes as you shut them tight. You felt Joe's hips halt for a second balls deep inside you as a heavy moan erupted from him, euphoria flooding his mind as well.

"Oh, fuck! Baby, I love you so much."

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, pressing there hot kisses in-between heavy breaths. Your hands got lost between his curls again as you both laid there in the silent, dimly lit room.

"Are you warm now?" Joe giggled.

"I am." A couple seconds later you slapped his back.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"For the teasing."

"You loved it, don't conceal it." He grinned as he pressed his lips onto yours.

"But..it was mean." You pouted and watched him remove the used condom, tie a knot on it and toss it into the bin next to the nightstand.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to be mean. I won't do it next time, yeah?" His big brown eyes stared into yours, his eyebrows arched.

"You'll do it next time, too." You squinted.

"Yeah..probably." He whispered as he kissed you and rolled over with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Have a lovely day / night <3

[fyeaheddiemunson]

Some people are really out here not understanding why Joe acts differently in his AQPDO interviews with Lupita than he did with Jamie in their ST4 interviews.........

[talesofesther]

play our record, just one more time | ch 1

Eddie Munson x Reader

Series Summary: Your dreams know the sound of his voice, even if you haven't heard it closely in years. His fingertips still tingle when they remember the feeling of your skin, like a poorly healed scar. Or, the story of how you and Eddie fell apart, and found each other again.

A/N: First part of… I don't know how many honestly, this story will literally be me going with the flow, mostly. I will try to keep updates regular, focus on try. In any way, really hope you like it, let me know. <3

Masterlist

1976

"You sure you got everything?" Wayne called out, leaning against the front door of his trailer.

A little ten-year-old Eddie came running from his new room, big backpack bouncing on his back, missing a tooth on his infectious smile. His dark locks just about started to curl around the shell of his ear; "yeah, I did."

Wayne frowned as he looked down at his nephew, one of his hands reaching out to tug on the sleeve of Eddie's shirt. "Did you… is this on backwards boy?"

Eddie glanced down at his chest, muttering a soft; "shit," he dropped his bag on the floor and quickly pulled his black shirt off and on again.

The morning sun stung Wayne's eyes, he rubbed at his lashes with his fingers, still exhausted from his night shift. "I'm not cut out for this," he grumbled to himself.

"Sorry uncle Wayne, I won't do it again," Eddie's small voice was quick to say, looking up at him with his big chocolate eyes.

"Nah it's," Wayne sighed, looking down at the boy, at how he already expected a scolding, "s'not your fault boy, come on," he ruffled Eddie's tiny dark curls and walked out to his car, Eddie tailing behind him.

It would take some time for Wayne to get used to dropping Eddie at school every morning before work, making him breakfast, or patching up his scraped knees and going to school meetings because he was now his legal guardian. He never wanted to be a father, but the poor boy deserved one for a change; plus it did feel nice to watch him run off to school just to turn back immediately because he forgot to say goodbye.

Eddie barged through the school doors with purpose, too focused on finding his best friend to notice the lingering looks of his classmates. He met you just about a year ago, after finding a little note on his backpack of you asking if he wanted to sit with you on lunch instead of sitting alone, and since then you'd been attached to the hip with each other.

He spotted you beside your locker, mismatched socks high on your ankles and a bright purple baseball cap on your head, waving frantically at him and already calling out his name. You always greeted him with a quick hug and a; you won't believe what happened this weekend.

More likely than not, it was just a tale of how your dog ate another shoe. But Eddie loved to hear about it nonetheless.

"So you're staying with your uncle now?" You asked, now walking side by side with Eddie, in no hurry to get to your classroom even though the bell had already rung.

Eddie nodded, hands clasping his backpack straps; "yeah, dad left with his friends one night, and uncle Wayne came to pick me up a few days later, he says I'll be staying with him until dad gets back."

You hummed, your sneakers scratching the recently mopped school hallway, "that's good, your dad was kinda mean, is uncle Wayne cooler?"

"Yeah he is," Eddie beamed, innocent excitement bouncing off of him, "he lets me stay up at night until whenever I want and doesn't cut my hair, he said I can let it grow if I want to. Oh and I think he likes good music too."

"Cool," you chuckled, "we should look through his tapes when he's not home to see what he listens to."

"You can come back with me tomorrow after school," Eddie smiled.

"I'll ask my mom, but I'm sure she'll say yes," your shoulder bumped his as you walked. "It'll be fun."

Eddie slowed his steps when he spotted your classroom door, his smile fading slightly. "I miss my dad though, he wasn't the nicest but I didn't want him to leave like mom."

You stopped walking just short of reaching your classroom, at a total loss of how you should comfort someone but wanting to do it anyway. "Um… I'm sure he'll be back, no one would want to leave you, you're too cool. You should write him a letter, let him know you miss him."

A familiar prickling feeling behind his eyes made Eddie bite his lip, "will you help?"

"Sure, we can do it tomorrow too," you agreed, turning to take a step toward your art class but a hand on your wrist stopped you.

Eddie's cheeks turned pink, he let go of you just as quickly as he had reached out. "We- we'll never stop being friends, right?"

"Of course not," you didn't hesitate, words slipping off your tongue easily, "you're my best friend, we'll always be together."

Pursing his lips, Eddie lifted his hand with his pinkie pointing to you. "Promise?" He asked, tone all too pleading for someone this young.

You hooked your pinkie with his, an oath as easy as breathing; "promise."

1977

Only almost a year after the letter was sent, that Eddie's father emerged from the darkness. Wayne was about to kick him out of the house when Eddie walked in. The happiness of seeing his father again spoke louder than the anger of being left alone for a year, louder than all the pain from before.

His father stayed for a week, and even if Eddie's wrist was a little bruised from that one time he almost opened a bag he wasn't supposed to touch, the boy was happy.

He stayed for a week. And then he never came back again.

1978

You saw Eddie cry for the first time when your teacher suggested a father's day project. He had tears silently streaming down his face before he even realized it, you dragged him out of class before anyone could see and make fun of it. He bunched your shirt in his fists and soaked it in tears in the hallway.

From your insistence, Eddie made his gift for Wayne. That was also the first time you saw his uncle cry.

1979

Eddie formed a band with his new friends. You're sneaking into the cheerleading practice.

You don't miss a single one of his band's rehearsals. Eddie distracts the gym teacher for you and tells you to join the cheer team when you get to high school.

1980

You and Wayne put together enough money to buy the burgundy guitar that Eddie had been drooling over for months now.

Eddie gives you your first kiss. It tasted like ice cream, under the sun of a hot summer day and the low tune of I Was Made For Lovin' You playing on Wayne's car. You both laughed afterward, fingers all sticky and cheeks all hot and skin tingling even after you got home.

1981

You and Eddie have your first big fight after he insulted the basketball players. You had just made the cheerleading team; the rumors were already going around about the new girl who was friends with the troublemaker.

Later that day you found Eddie sulking at the lonely picnic table in the woods. You made up; with a bag of his favorite snacks and a cuddle session you never spoke about afterward. A weird weight sits in the air between you after that.

1982, January

A boy asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn't Eddie. You said yes, because it felt exciting, and your new friends said he was the cutest boy in your class.

Your new boyfriend doesn't like Eddie, calls him a weirdo and a freak. The word has a bitter taste, you hate it. But Eddie's all black leather jackets, metal music, and long hair now; and you're all soft pink lipstick, plush cheer pom poms, and weekend partying now. You never tell your boyfriend or your cheerleading friends otherwise, even though you should.

Eddie doesn't like your new boyfriend. He says he's just a stuck-up jock and you can do much better. You don't ask him who would be the better option, even though you want to.

Eddie doesn't sit with you in the cafeteria anymore, he settles for a halfhearted nod whenever you smile his way. He does still give you a ride home and lets you in his room to hear him practice guitar though. It's like he's two different people inside and outside of school.

1982, August

Days in which you don't speak to Eddie at all are starting to become a new normal.

Eddie thinks you see him the same way everyone else does now. A freak, someone to coil away from in disgust. Of all people, you were the last one he expected would do this. Maybe that's why it was so painful. He feels betrayed, so he wears his armor around the person who's seen him in his most vulnerable more than once. It feels wrong. But that's all he knows.

You think Eddie is being petty. You think it's unfair that he can't accept your new friends, that he doesn't want you to hang out with other people or have a boyfriend who just so happens to play in the school's team. You can't help but think that the insults he throws at them, are meant for you too.

You two don't talk much anymore; except for birthday wishes and the few nights you go to watch him play at The Hideout.

Eddie doesn't tell you that he'd never say a single bad thing about you. Not you. Never you.

You don't tell him that he could never be anything other than the sweet boy with chocolate eyes for you.

1984

Eddie is more of a stranger than a friend.

It's foolish, because it's hurting both of you.

You graduated and he got held back, it didn't make much of a difference, you haven't spoken to each other in more than a year.

1986, March

"We have also identified a person of interest. Eddie Munson. We encourage anyone with information to please come forward."

Your spoonful of cereal stopped midway before reaching your mouth as you heard the voice of the chief of police on your television, saying the name of the person who once used to share all his secrets with you, and blaming him for fucking murders.

Before you register what you were doing, you were already dialing Eddie's phone number, your heart threatening to leap out of your chest every time the line rang and no one picked up. When you slammed the phone back on your wall, you felt sick to your stomach, almost puking the little bit of the cereal you managed to eat.

No one knew where Eddie was. You searched, even if you were probably the last person he wanted to see.

Only a couple weeks later, after the earthquakes, after Eddie's name was cleared, you finally had a glimpse of him. From far away you saw bandages on his exposed skin — you wondered what happened, part of you wanted to run to him — and even so, he was carrying a cardboard box over to the gymnasium, helping those who lost their homes in the destruction.

For the first time then, you could breathe again, knowing he was okay. Despite it all, Eddie would always have a piece of your heart.

1986, November

"Absolutely not," you said with an edge on your tone, carrying a stack of freshly returned movies in your arms as you walked around the counter to put them back in place.

Monday's were definitely the slowest day in Family Video, usually, the only thing happening was customers returning the movies from the weekend.

"Y/N please, I've already talked to Keith and after pretty much I and Robin begged on our knees, he agreed to it," Steve tailed behind you, the red neon sign on the back wall shining against his cinnamon hair and green vest, "under the one condition of you watching him for the first days, that's all I'm asking and I'll make it up to you I promise." He finished with a plead, clasping his hands together and giving you his best puppy eyes.

You groaned, leaning back against one of the movie posters on the wall, you did always have a weakness for a pretty boy with brown eyes, "Stevie, it's not that I don't want to help, I just have a lot on my plate already, with the arcade and here." It was true, because you happened to be Keith's cousin, you were the one he trusted most to overlook both places while he was absent, which honestly, was most days. But you didn't tell Steve that he was asking you to watch over the same boy who counted stars with you on an empty lot of the trailer park, the same boy who left a hole in your heart that was yet to be filled. It was all kinds of messy and all kinds of complicated and, of course, it was just your luck that your friends — and coworkers — were now also besties with him. But no one needed to know that, whatever it was that happened between you and Eddie, belongs in the past.

"I know, listen, I know. But Robin and I are gonna help however we can-"

"Why can't one of you do it, anyway?"

Steve huffed, placing one hand on his waist, "some bullshit about how our judgment won't be fair because we're friends, you know how Keith is with these things." He chewed on the side of his cheek for a second, weighing his words, "listen he- Eddie, he's been through a lot, and now that he finally managed to graduate he needs a stable job and… with his history, you can imagine how just about no one will hire."

The wound was still fresh in most of Hawkins, the murders, the false accusations that just about doomed the poor boy, plus the town was still rebuilding, still healing; Steve talks about it as if you didn't know, as if you hadn't seen and worried first hand about it. You don't let it show on your face how much his words freeze your insides.

"This fucking town," you grumbled.

Steve snorted, "tell me about it."

You nag on your bottom lip with your teeth, almost drawing blood. Your stomach is twisting and turning, you're in front of a crossroad and with no idea in which way to turn. But regardless of the road you take, you know it'll be a path you can't walk back from.

Somehow, you think, you've probably made your decision as soon as Steve first asked you. He's right, Eddie has already suffered way too much. You know he won't be happy to see you, let alone work with you, and you're not thrilled about it either. But you made a promise long ago that you intend on keeping.

"Alright, whatever, I'll do it." Damn you and your soft heart.

⋆*☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read Part 2 here

Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Eddie’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @science--hoes @cherrypieyourface @tssf-imagines @astream-ofconsciousness @fentyreligion @fantasylovestoryme @justabeautiful-letdown @crazyrapunzel @yessica41 @dancing-hillary @bakugouswh0r3 @jakebasement @zervopoulouu @forverdaydreamer-blog @fromthedt @oeuryale @mcueveryday @witchbinchstories @call-me-magpie

@loveshineslikethesky @luvmybbies @tvserie-s-world @agirlsguidetolove @hallothankmas @sweetpeapod @forsaken-letters @hazydespair @fangirling-4-ever @electric-cabaret @ollyoxenfrees @twinkofmydreams @paola-carter @masterlistmanic @xceafh @andraimeide @esoltis280 @eddielives1986 @totallynotkaibiased @just-love-reading @murnsondock

[fezcco]

via lupitanyongo on instagram

[megatronmunson]

I thought buzz cut Eddie looked familiar and now this is all I see! 😭😭😭 they almost have the same shirt 😂

[little-bumblebeeee]

Moonlight – part 5

Word count: 1.4k

Part 4 part 3 part 2 part 1

Angst angst angst angst

(Next chapter will be a Steve chapter!!!!)

Nothing happened of course. He just let Steve hang out at his place until he cooled down and Eddie sent him off back to Nancy. Back to Nancy. He can't help but feel a bitter hatred towards the girl despite her doing absolutely nothing to him. He knows it's just jealousy though, jealousy about a boy he'll never in a million years get.

Why does he keep doing this to himself? Wanting what he can't have. Fame, money, boys, a life in general.

Because he's Eddie Munson. The world has it out for him.

He stabs his pencil through the paper of his sketchbook, his blood going cold as he realizes he shouldn't have done that. The dragon on the page now has a gaping hole in it's chest, and while he could try to fix it, he doesn't want to fix things right now. Fixing needs effort, and he doesn't have that in him at the moment, not while he's sitting on his bed crying over a boy.

"Eddie Munson, crying over a jock. What a twist, huh?" He comments bitterly to the ratty Garfield plush in front of him, slumped over from the lack of stuffing in one side, droopy eyes scratched to practically nothing. He still keeps it though, because he loves it.

Some things don't need to be fixed. They're lovable the way they are.

And yet nobody seems to love Eddie. Sure, his mom loved him, but that was when he was a kid, and he can't help but wonder if she would still love him if she was around today. Wayne too, but that's different, hard to see. He wants a different love, he wants Steve's love. He'll get rid of it soon. This stupid, horrible crush on a boy. A boy who's both a jock and a werewolf. God, what has his life become?

It's been a week since he stopped Steve from spraypainting all over town, and he can't help but realize.. he missed the full moon. Steve would've already turned back by now, all alone. It's fine. It's not like Steve needs him, and Eddie was wanting to distance himself from Steve. This is good for them both.

Yet guilt eats away at him, squeezing and twisting at his insides, making his lungs close up and his throat catch. He can hardly breathe, and it hurts. He feels like he should apologize, but he can't, it's not even necessary. Steve never needed Eddie there, not when he's been transforming all by himself for years and years already by the time Eddie found him.

He can't go to school. He can't even risk the chance of seeing Steve, can't even risk the chance of seeing this damn boy. It hurts. It's horrible, it's.. Eddie gets up, going out to the small kitchen as if his body is on autopilot. He opens the fridge and closes it a couple times, his brain empty from the lack of accomplishment of grabbing something from the barren shelves. He doesn't know what to do with himself. It's a feeling not unknown to him, but it's never been at the hands of a boy who looks both like a God and Just Some Dude. What is wrong with him? He's Eddie Munson, of all people he should be immune to Harrington's charms.

But he just isn't.

Nothing is working, either. Not food, not drawing, not his music, not D&D– hell, he even tried going on a walk. Nothing. Is. Working. He tried to lose himself in his interests, tried to let them consume him completely like they do when he doesn't want them to, but not even those want him now. His guitar isn't calling to him, neither are his books or the figurines that still need to be painted.

Eddie needs to talk to this boy. Even once. He doesn't care if he'll be rejected, he truly doesn't, he just.. needs to get this feeling out. Shoes on his feet, keys in his hand, he stills. He didn't even open the door yet.

He can't do this. He should be confident, but no, he's shaking like a leaf, his stomach churning. He doesn't even take his shoes off as he walks back to his room, slowly slipping into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. He doesnt like this feeling. He doesn't like when the only things beckoning him closer are the things that will hurt him most. How when he thought Steve was in danger he was so ready to leave, yet now he can't even open the front door?

There's something wrong with him. Always has been, always will be. If he's not killed or doesn't do it himself before he graduates he'll be driven out of this hellhole of a town, either going to jail and reuniting with his no-good dad or being completely alone for the rest of his life. People would talk and wonder. They'd discuss and gossip about Mr. Munson, the shut-in neighbor with a cat who nobody sees outside unless he's working or on his porch, the man who doesn't speak, the man who stays inside when he doesn't have errands, the man who drinks himself to bed every day. They'd wonder what happened to get him like that– if he had a wife who passed away or something.

He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat at the thought. He doesn't want that but it seems like the only future for him. The Garfield plush on his pillow that he found comfort in since he was a child now seems like it's mocking him, it's lazy eyed stare and wide sleepy smile staring him down.

That's when he hears the tapping on his window. There was knocking at his door earlier but he didn't bother to answer, knowing that if it was his uncle he wouldn't be knocking and would just come inside, not really caring about visitors.

He doesn't get out of bed, but he hears the window slide open, harsh sunlight burning his eyes as someone tumbles into his room, shoe covered feet landing on Eddie's carpeted floors.

And his voice.

"Eddie? What's going on? You weren't there.." Steve says quietly, hesitantly walking over to Eddie's bedside as if he was sick or something. He must look pathetic, buried under a thin blanket, clutching a stuffed animal, with his hair a mess and his eyes all puffy and red.

"You weren't there." Steve repeats. "I waited for you. All night. I don't even know what happened– I just know I woke up and I... I was covered in blood. I don't know what or who's blood it was– I'm freaking the fuck out!" He says, pacing Eddie's room. The boy jolts up, rubbing his eyes and throwing the blanket off. That's when he finally gets a good look at Steve. The tired eyes, his uncharacteristically sunken and pale skin, dried blood on his hands as if all he could do was try and wipe it off his skin with what he could find and shove some clothes on before going straight to Eddie.

"Shit shit shit, shit, shit! Okay.. okay, blood. You didn't kill someone, you couldn't have. You're not that kinda... person.. werewolf.. thing." Eddie says breathlessly, getting up out of bed and realizing that half of this blood is Steve's. The way it seeps through his blue sweater, creating a dark stain that just keeps spreading.

"I don't know what happened." Steve admits upon realizing what Eddie is looking at, lifting up his sweater to show a gaping hole in his abdomen, next to that patch of hair Eddie has dreamed about again and again.

"Holy shit.. Steve, you got shot*" He says in shock, but Steve doesn't even look surprised. He simply shoves his fingers into the wound and pulls out a bullet, wiping his hand on his sweater. "I'll be fine. It's not even close to the first time, I know how to handle it. You got a first aid kit or anything?"

Eddie blinks a few times.. sure, Steve is a werewolf, he's strong, he doesn't feel as much pain as a normal person. But he just pulled a bullet out of his flesh and asked Eddie if he had gauze with the normalcy of asking if it's cold out today, not to mention he didn't even notice the blood was his own.

Now all he has to do is keep it together when Steve pulls off his shirt to patch himself up.

Tag list: @manda-panda-monium @irregular-child @gregre369 @cartercaptainofthemoon @oatmilk-vampire @she-collects-smut @jhrc666 @fairytalesreality

Tag list IS currently open! ♡