#my silly little guy part 2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainba · 7 months ago

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Yandere OC (Kairos) x dom! Reader

AN: I couldn't figure out how to make this GN,, so I just decided to make two versions where the reader is afab and the second one is amab!! (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡

I was gonna write and post a Luka fic first,, but I kept getting asked to make another Kairos fic, and I got inspired to write one!! (Except I went a little overboard,, I was planning on just writing something small at first,, but couldn't stop writing (´,,•ω•,,)♡)

((Luka fic is still in the making, mwehe))

TAGS: 18+ !! Dom! reader, Kairos being Kairos 💜

Wordcount: 1700~ ish

MDNI.

(AFAB reader!)

With you pushing him gently onto the bed, Kairos’ eyes shake uncontrollably. His heart is pounding against his chest, his hands are trembling with unbridled excitement. He can’t believe that any of this is actually happening… His wildest fantasies are finally coming true.

“L-love, please,” he mumbles sweetly as he moves his arms above his head, compliantly spreading his legs for you. “P-please, make me feel good, please,” he whines as he lifts his hips in the air, begging for you to give his cock some much-needed attention. “I’ll do anything for you!”

He writhes hotly as your hands reach down to unzip his pants– and his bulge pokes out, his dick yearning to be freed. “T-touch it, please, touch it! E-even just a little bit..!” He whimpers cutely as he bucks himself into the palm of your hand, and you can’t help but give in to his demands. His lust is palpable… His cock twitches like crazy.

It’s so powerful, seeing him melt under your touch.

You can’t stop yourself from smirking as you massage him.

“Who’s my good boy?”

Kairos’ purple eyes widen; his heart stops. He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “M-me, me, I’m… I’m your good boy!” His thrusting grows faster, more erratic, needier. There’s precum already leaking from his tip, forming a wet spot on his boxers. It’s adorable how desperate he is.

“G-good boy, I’m your very good boy..!” He pants heavily as he feels himself growing closer and closer to his climax; he’s already mere seconds away from coming undone. He needs this– he needs this so bad.

But you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

He looks so confused– almost hurt– when you move your hand away. “W-wha-” He tears up a bit. “W-why did you stop?”

Instead of answering him, you smash your lips against his own, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He gasps loudly when you move on top of him, straddling his hips. You warmly kiss his cheek as you point down between your legs. “Grind against me until you cum,” you whisper those magical words. In an instant, Kairos’ eyes light up.

“Y-yes, I’ll– I’ll do that–!” His small hands shakily grip your hips as he pulls you down onto his bulge, and he ruts into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..!”

His eyes are shut tightly as he focuses on how good he feels. Your warmth against his own, the love and attention you’re giving him– his head is spinning so fast. It’s almost too much. His nails dig into your thighs as he throws his head back, unashamedly moaning your name.

“I… I love y-you, I love you!!” In an instant, he cums into his boxers, not caring about how messy it is. His body is trembling all over as you reach down and pet his soft hair, praising him while he comes down from his high. “I love you too~” You coo, smiling all the while.

You get up from your position once Kairos finally calms down, his breath evening out and his eyes fluttering open. However, before you can get too far away from him, he pulls you down and holds you next to him on the bed. “Y-you– I– I have to make you cum too,” he whispers as he kisses your lips over and over again. Kairos attempts to push his tongue into your mouth, but he’s honestly not very good at what he’s doing– he’s so messy and inexperienced.

At least he’s trying his best..!

Kairos tries to move on top of you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you push him down even harder into the bed, straddling him once more. He whines, “l-love– what are you doing..? I– I want to make you feel good!”

Kairos struggles against you as he tries to get on top, but you simply won’t allow it. For tonight, you want to be the one in charge, not him.

His face flushes as you tell him this, and he still can’t believe he’s not dreaming. He gulps, “if… If I c-can’t be on top, then… Then does that mean…” His thoughts go haywire as he imagines you fully riding him. Now he realizes that he absolutely needs to see you bouncing on top of him– he needs to see his cock disappear inside of your warmth over and over again until he inevitabley comes undone a second time.

Fuck, he wants to cum inside of you so badly.

Desperately, Kairos reaches out to remove the last of your clothes, but you smack his hands away. “Ah-ah, you’re not allowed to do that.~” You put on a fake, innocent smile as you grab his wrists and pin them by his sides. “For tonight, you’re not allowed to touch me… Okay?”

Kairos hesitantly nods as he digs his hands into the black bed sheets beneath him, trying his hardest to resist his deepest urges.

But you move so painfully slow– and he knows it's on purpose. You’re teasing him. The smirk on your face drives him crazy as you slowly remove his black boxers. He’s already hard again.

Your fingers dance around his tip and gently massage it, teasing him lovingly. He wishes so badly to thrust into your hands again, but he knows that’s not what you want. So he forces himself to be still as you take your time fondling him.

Kairos obeys your wishes like a good boy.

He gasps a little when you fully wrap your hand around his length, lazily stroking him. It feels so good– really good– but it’s just not enough. It’s not nearly enough. “P-please, just… Just f-fuck me already, love! I.. I can’t t-take this anymore!”

Kairos squirms and cries as you start to stroke him even faster, giving his cock one last squeeze before you finally begin to remove your own underwear. His heart skips a beat when he finally sees your pussy on full display.

It’s so close to his dick– so, so close– he has to be inside of you. Now.

“L-let me put it in, please, love,” he shakily raises his hips a bit more, but he still somehow musters the willpower to not force himself inside of you. “Please, please, please…”

Very gently, you rub his cock against your clit, and you exaggerate a moan. In that moment, a borderline-evil idea strikes you, and you wonder if it’ll be enough to make him lose his self control.

“Hmm… I’m not so sure if I should put it in. Maybe some other time would be better?”

With a wink and a laugh, you slowly start to move away from his cock, and his eyes grow impossibly wide in horror. “N-no, no!” Kairos’ hands shoot up from his sides and harshly grip your hips, refusing to let you go. He then shoves his entire length inside of you.

And it feels wonderful.

“D-don’t, don’t tease m-me like that ever again! Y-you can’t just do that!!” Kairos starts relentlessly pounding into you, his eyes shutting tightly as he relishes the way your cunt squeezes around him. The sweat of both your bodies mix together as you begin to move in sync.

Kairos’ movements start to slow down as you take control once again, both of your hands resting on his shoulders as you push him down into the mattress. You gyrate your hips and kiss his skin, eventually moving your hands down to play with his sensitive nipples.

All he can do is dumbly mumble the phrase “I love you” over and over again as drool spills past his lips, the hot sensations turning his mind into an incoherent mess. He opens his eyes once more for a moment, and he looks down to see his cock sliding in and out of your warmth, your juices glistening on his length.

Ah, if only he had a camera on him– he’d take so many pictures to cherish this sight.

Deep down, he can’t believe that he had to spend over 23 years without you in his life. For so many years, all he had was his stupid hands and a pile of cheap plastic sex toys to satisfy himself with. And a pillow. But now..?

Now he has everything he could ever want and more.

As the minutes pass, he can feel the same overwhelming wave of pleasure starting to wash over him. Kairos opens his eyes and reaches up to touch you again, despite knowing that you told him not to. But you let it slide as you feel a wave of pleasure starting to wash over you, too.

“C-cum with me, please,” Kairos begs. “A-and let me cum inside of y-you, too!”

He picks up the pace from under you as he moves his hands to rub your clit. He’s also not very skilled with his hands either, but his pure enthusiasm proves itself to be enough to make you unravel.

“Oh– Kairos–!”

Your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he continues to touch you passionately, and without realizing it, your pussy tightly clenches his length, milking him for all he’s worth. Your eyes roll back into your head as orgasmic waves roll over you, and the same thing happens to Kairos.

He reaches his hands up to your shoulders and holds you in place on his cock, shooting hot ropes of cum inside you as he moans. “Y-yes, yes… Yes..!” He hungrily grinds himself against you, unable to stop himself.

When the two of you come down from your highs and are brought back into reality, all you can do is smile and bask in eachother’s presence.

“I, I lov-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you happily lunge towards his lips and cut him off with a kiss, falling into the bed beside him. “I love you too,” you whisper as you gleefully kiss his nose. He warmly kisses your nose back, tears of joy pouring from his eyes.

He clings onto you tightly, wrapping his arms and legs around your body as he pulls the blankets over the both of you. You can shower later– or tomorrow– but for right now, all he wants to do is hold you.

And for one of the rare times in his life, Kairos manages to peacefully fall asleep.

(AMAB reader!)

With you pushing him gently onto the bed, Kairos’ eyes shake uncontrollably. His heart is pounding against his chest, his hands are trembling with excitement. He can’t believe that any of this is actually happening… His wildest fantasies are finally coming true.

It’s so powerful, seeing him melt under your touch.

You can’t stop yourself from smirking as you massage him.

“Who’s my good boy?”

But you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

He looks so confused– almost hurt– when you move your hand away. “W-wha-” He tears up a bit. “W-why did you stop?”

“Y-yes, I’ll– I’ll do that–!” His small hands shakily grip your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, and he ruts into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..!”

You get up from your position once Kairos finally calms down, his breath evening out and his eyes fluttering open. However, before you can get too far away from him, he pulls you down and holds you next to him on the bed. “Y-you– I– I have to make you cum too,” he whispers as he kisses your lips over and over again. Kairos attempts to push his tongue into your mouth, but he’s honestly not very good at kissing– he’s so messy and inexperienced. But… At least he’s trying his best.

Kairos tries to move on top of you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you push him down even harder into the bed, straddling him once more. “L-love– what are you doing..? I– I want to make you feel good!”

Kairos struggles against you as he tries to get on top, but you simply won’t allow it. For tonight, you want to be the one in charge, not him.

His face flushes as you tell him this, and he still can’t believe he’s not dreaming. He gulps, “if… If I c-can’t be on top, then… Then does that mean…” His thoughts go haywire as he imagines your cock ravaging him. Now he realizes that he absolutely needs to see you pounding into him– he needs to see your cock disappearing inside of his tight hole over and over again until he inevitabley comes undone a second time.

Kairos hesitantly nods as he digs his hands into the black bed sheets beneath him, trying his hardest to resist his deepest urges.

But you move so painfully slow– and he knows it's on purpose. The smirk on your face drives him crazy as you slowly remove his black boxers. He’s already hard again.

He obeys your wishes like a good boy.

He gasps a little when you fully wrap your hand around his length, lazily stroking him. It feels so good– really good– but it’s just not enough. “P-please, just… Just f-fuck me already, love! I.. I can’t t-take this anymore!”

Kairos squirms and cries as you start to stroke him even faster, giving his cock one last squeeze before you finally begin to remove your own briefs. His eyes widen when he finally sees your cock on full display.

It’s so close to his ass– so, so close– he needs you inside of him. Now.

“J-just put it in, please, love,” he shakily raises his hips a bit more, but he still somehow musters the willpower to not force himself onto you. “Please, please, please…”

Very gently, you rub your cock against his entrance, and you exaggerate a moan. In that moment, a borderline-evil idea strikes you, and you wonder if it’ll be enough to make him lose his self control.

“Hmm… I’m not so sure if I should put it in. Maybe some other time would be better?”

With a wink and a laugh, you slowly start to pull away from him, and his eyes grow impossibly wide in horror. “N-no, no!” Kairos’ legs begin to shake as he wraps them around your hips, refusing to let you go. Without much of a choice, you finally shove your entire dick inside of him.

And it feels wonderful.

“D-don’t, don’t tease m-me like that ever again! Y-you can’t just do that!!” Kairos starts relentlessly bouncing on your cock, his eyes shutting tightly as he relishes the way you fill him up. The sweat of both your bodies mix together as you begin to move in sync.

Kairos’ movements start to slow down as you take control once again, both of your hands resting on his shoulders as you push him down into the mattress. You grind your hips against him and kiss his skin, eventually moving your hands down to play with his nipples.

All he can do is mumble the phrase “I love you” over and over again as drool spills past his lips, the hot sensations turning his mind into an incoherent mess. He opens his eyes once more for a moment, and he looks down to see his cock twitching and bouncing as you fuck him.

Ah, if only he had a camera on him– he’d take so many pictures to cherish this sight.

Now he has everything he could ever want and more.

“C-cum with me, please,” Kairos begs. “Please, cum inside m-me..!”

He picks up the pace as he bounces on your cock even faster, eager to please you. He can’t help but squirm and whine as he imagines your cum filling him to the brim, and maybe even spilling out onto the bed sheets.

“Oh– Kairos–!”

Your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he continues to match your pace, and without meaning to, your cock hits his extra-sensitive spot, and his ass tightly squeezes against your length, milking you for all you’re worth. Your eyes roll back into your head as orgasmic waves roll over you, and the same thing happens to Kairos.

His hands grip the sheets beneath him as he shoots ropes of cum onto his own stomach, his mouth hanging open as he tries to catch his breath. He hungrily grinds himself against you, unable to stop himself. And when the two of you come down from your highs, all you can do is smile and bask in eachother’s warmth.

“I, I lov-”

And for one of the rare times in his life, Kairos manages to peacefully fall asleep.

#yandere #yandere male #yandere x oc #kairos posting #yancore #yandere fic #my silly little guy part 2

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sentientcave · 4 months ago

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Dogs Will Hunt (Slasher AU)

Honey It's Alright - Part 1

Read on AO3

Dark Fic! Please mind the warnings

Contains: Stalking, Allusion to past kidnapping, Canon-typical violence, Canon-atypical violence, dub con touching, implied dub con/non con, threats of death and violence, just general bad vibes, playing with my OCs like dolls and putting them in situations. Morgan is from Sparrow, and Kitty is from Wildflowers and Honey. This is not canon to their stories at all.

~7,500 words - MDNI

For the first time in ages, Morgan let herself relax, sitting at the kitchen table, slotting the pieces of her rifle back together, the comforting smell of gun grease heavy in the humid summer air. The windows were open to the night, and there was nothing but crickets out there, a shrill chorus in the background, the occasional chirping frog or whistling bird joining the twilight chorus.

She'd given John the slip-- If he was going to find her he would have by now. It had been months since she escaped his cellar (she'd been down there for weeks because of bad behaviour, and he'd gone hunting, leaving her alone with Soap and an opportunity), she'd dug the tracker out of her skin in Greece, zig-zagged across the continent leaving clues for him to chase down, and then stowed away on a shipping container headed to the states. She'd walked most of the way from the coast to her little house in Montana, where an identity totally removed from her old life waited for her. She was lucky she'd set that up as a fail-safe years ago. She only had three identities that maintained themselves so neatly, and Sarah and Blaire were both a little to close to John's house in Northern England to be comfortable. So she was Rebecca Carter now.

And it was nice. So much like home, and no one looked at her weird for carrying a rifle in the backseat of her truck. She found work when she got tired of pacing the cabin with nothing to do, helping repair a neighbour's tractor, and then a few cars, until everyone in town knew she was pretty handy with anything with an engine. It made her nervous, being so known, but there was nothing for it in a small town. Would’ve been more notable if she never spoke to anyone.

The crunch of gravel coming up the long lonely track that ended at her cabin set her heart hammering, the moment of relaxation gone, but she tried to calm herself down again when she peeked out the window, rifle at the ready, and saw that it was just Kitty driving up in her beat up silver Buick.

"Hey, Kit," she called out, stepping onto the porch, hiding her anxiety behind a big smile. "Car trouble?" The car was making a very unhappy grinding sound that stopped when the car did, although the engine still didn’t sound too healthy. Poor Kitty was running patch to patch with that stupid car, but Morgan was happy to help her out. Kitty was the sort of girl that had sorely needed a friend, and she’d attached herself to Morgan pretty quickly, despite her efforts to stay aloof.

She was too soft. Friends were liabilities these days, nothing but trouble. Another avenue for John to find her, if he was even still looking. He’d probably given up when the trail went cold. Even a bloodhound like him couldn’t search forever.

"Yeah! Could you take a look?" Kitty cut the engine and popped the hood, an apologetic look on her face as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Sorry it's so late, I just got off my shift."

"Hey, no sweat honey. You know I'm never up to all that much."

Kitty was a pretty little thing, a hand-span shorter than Morgan, small boned like a bird, all soft curves and wide doe-like eyes peering out of her round face. Full of anxious energy most of the time, and especially now, nerves stretched thin after a long shift of avoiding grasping hands and smiling wide through it all. She bounced on her toes as Morgan leaned over the engine, watching. "Yeah. Owen said he asked you out. Why'd you say no?"

"Don't like him that much," Morgan said, shrugging. "Had my fill of men."

Kitty bit her lip, folding her hands behind her back. "Forever?" she asked.

Morgan braced her arms on the car, looking over. "Why do I feel like there's an ask attached to that question?"

"Well. Mason asked me out. He's got a friend workin' at the depot, Jack— I actually don’t know his last name— and he'd like to turn it into a double date. Think he knows I won't be so twitchy if you're there with me."

"When's this?"

"Tomorrow night, if you're free. Figured you would be, so I already said yes, but I can ask Mason not to bring his buddy if you can't. No pressure. Lord knows I owe you plenty already, can't ask for a favour."

"You don't owe me shit, Kitty. We're friends."

“Don’t have a lot of friends who do as much for me as you do,” Kitty said, her expression turning sheepish. “You really don’t have to say yes. Just figured you might want to get out, meet somebody. It’s not good for a person to spend as much time alone as you do.”

“Already know everyone I’d like to. But I’ll come along, if you want me too. Promise to be nice and everything.”

Kitty laughed. “Everyone knows your bark is worse than your bite by now, Beck. It’ll be fun. Maybe Jack’ll turn out to be the one. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Morgan grunted noncommittally. “Probably won’t be. Think it’s one of the wheel bearings. Is the car shaking when you drive?”

Kitty nodded. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

“Well it’s not good. Let me get underneath and check it out. The jack’s in my truck.” Morgan went inside to grab her keys and came back out, frowning. Kitty had already opened up the back door of the truck for her.

“Looks like you left it open,” she said. “I don’t even know why you bother to lock it, all the way out here.”

“I’m not keen on the idea of someone getting into my shit.” Morgan gently moved Kitty to the side and leaned in to grab the box of emergency supplies from under the back seat, her nose wrinkling. The cab smelled wrong, like tobacco smoke and cedar— Like John.

Dread settled into her stomach like lead. He’d found her. He’d been in her truck, probably been in her house— She dropped the box back in and scanned the trees surrounding the cabin, hunting for anything out of the ordinary.

“What’s the matter?” Kitty asked. “You’re all pale.”

“My ex has been here. He’s a sick fuck, Kit. I need to get out of town.” She looked at Kitty, the lead in her belly turning molten, hot with guilt and anger. What if she’d put Kitty in danger too? It was a mistake to have friends. A mistake to think John wouldn’t track her down. She should have kept moving, shouldn’t have let her guard down, should have just turned around somewhere and waited for him to catch up and killed him.

Her stomach churned. What if he’d been following her the whole time? What if he’d been in town as long as she had? “Kit, did you meet that Jack guy? He ever been to the diner?”

Kit nodded, her eyes wide as saucers. “Y-yeah, he’s a regular. Beck, you’re really freaking me out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Um. Big. Handsome. Blue eyes, beard, a smile that’s all in his eyes. Um. He’s got a mole, or a freckle on his nose. He’s really nice though, Beck, he always tips well, and he’s never pawed at me.” Kitty scrubbed her hands on the polyester skirt of her uniform nervously. “And he’s been here almost as long as you have. And he’s English,” she added, as if that made it impossible for him to be John, rather than the nail in Morgan’s proverbial coffin.

Morgan swallowed acid. He’d been here for months, watching her let her guard down slowly, laughing at her, watching her get close to Kitty. “Fuck. That’s him.” Morgan grabbed Kitty’s hand and pulled her into the house. She locked the front door and closed the kitchen window. “Stay here a sec. I have to sweep the house.”

“Sweep?” Kitty asked blankly. “But…” She trailed off when she saw Morgan pick up the rifle. “Oh.”

Morgan checked all the rooms quickly, closing windows as she went, hunting for any sign of John. He wasn’t there, thank fucking god. She returned to the kitchen. “Kit, I’m leaving town tonight. I think you should come with me. If John’s been here this long, he might hurt you to get back at me. I don’t want that to happen.” She cupped Kitty’s face, hands trembling. “He’ll know how much I care about you.”

Kitty’s breath hitched, big brown eyes flicking between Morgan’s, like she was hunting for a sign it was a joke, or a lie. “You want me to come with you?”

“Please. I can’t let him hurt you, Kit. I’m going to pack a bag. You think about it. I can’t promise that you’ll be safer with me, but I can promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you alive.”

Kitty swallowed. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered. “Can— Can I get my things?”

“Yeah. Hopefully he thinks we’re still gonna show up for that date. Which’ll give us a good head start. We’ll drop by your apartment on the way out of town.” Morgan marched back to her room, Kitty close on her heels, and threw things into a bag, prioritizing dark, basic clothes and essentials. She pulled her shoulder harness on over her t-shirt and took her pistols from their hiding spots, checking both for tampering before sliding them into the holsters under her arms. She threw an oversized denim jacket on over top and zipped up the bag. “Let’s go.”

Kitty shook from nerves, but held herself together admirably, following Morgan out to the truck and sitting in the passenger seat as Morgan rifled through everything, searching for the tracker John had most certainly planted in the vehicle. Probably in anticipation of her fleeing their “date” the next day.

She found two, one tucked into the curling pages of the manual in the glovebox, and a magnetic one stuck under the back bumper. She stuck that one to Kitty’s car, and tossed the other one underneath it. Then she hopped into the driver’s seat and drove away from the place that had been home for months now, her heart twisting viciously in her chest.

In an instant, Becca became a stranger.

Beck was unshakable, cool and calm, detached. And then she wasn’t.

That someone could frighten her this much… It terrified Kitty. Made her sick to think that a favourite regular— a friend— was someone that would hurt Beck— That would hurt her to get at Beck. That she’d been smiling at him all this time, won over by the accent and the charm, the genuine interest in her sad little life. Those sincere blue eyes. He’d seemed so nice.

She held onto the corner of Becca’s jacket as she checked for intruders in Kitty’s apartment, and then packed a bag as quickly as she could, following Beck’s directions to pack practical clothes, to keep things light. That was easy. There wasn’t all that much in the place she cared about. The only sentimental items she took were the little photo album from her childhood and her jewellery box. She could sell things, if they needed the money. She wasn’t really sure what life on the run would entail. Wasn’t sure if she was up for it.

But she’d try. Better to try, and stay close to Beck. She’d said she’d protect her, and Kitty believed it.

They didn’t say much until they hit the highway, lights from the cars on the other side of the grass median zipping past, illuminating Becca’s face in flashes. She looked grim, serious as a soldier, determined. It was almost a surprise to hear her speak after so long.

“I’m sorry this happened, Kitty. I should have known to stay away from you. I was selfish, and I put you in danger.”

“Selfish?” Kitty echoed, guilt pooling in her guts. “You’re the furthest thing from selfish! Always doin’ things for other folks— Doin’ things for me that no one else would. You’ve been a better friend than anyone in that whole rotten town.”

“You just lost everything because of me,” Becca said.

“I’d do it again!” Kitty declared. She felt bold, unmoored, nothing to lose anymore. “I’d rather have you than anything I left behind.”

Becca’s hand curled around hers, resting on her leg. Kitty’s heart skipped several beats. “I just hope I haven’t made things worse for you. I won’t let him hurt you, I swear. But if— If I ever tell you to run, I want you to run, and don’t look back. If he catches me— Well. It won’t be good. I don’t know what he’ll do to me. I don’t want him to do it to you.”

Kitty swallowed hard. “Who— Who is he?”

“John Price. He’s a killer. We met at a bar near my hometown about two years ago. Northern Ontario. He was nice enough. Handsome, charming. Drugged me. Woke up in the middle of the woods, just me and him. Said he’d give me a half hour head start. He likes the chase. Likes to hunt.” Her face twisted with anger at the memory, but her voice was nearly robotic as she recounted it, as thought she’d locked away all the emotion to keep it from overwhelming her. “I got away. Was more familiar with the area, better than he thought I’d be at running and navigating through the woods. My parents used to have me run— Well, it doesn’t matter. It took me a week to get home. Had to hunt with my boot knife if I wanted to eat, couldn’t stop for long anywhere. It was exhausting. I guess he thought so too, because he gave up the chase, and ambushed me at home. Wasn’t careful enough. I’m usually so cautious, but I was too tired.”

Kitty squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m sorry, Beck.”

“It’s Morgan.”

“Huh?”

“Morgan’s my actual name. Figure you should know it.”

“Oh.” That stood to reason, didn’t it? She wouldn’t have been using her real name if she was hiding out. “What— What did he do to you?”

“Well, he didn’t kill me. I guess he decided I was worth keeping. That I was more fun alive than dead. He took me home with him. Decided he wanted to play house. It was play along or get locked in the cellar for days or weeks. Sometimes he wouldn’t turn the lights on and I’d just have to sit there in the dark, all alone until he came for me. It could have been worse more often, but it was usually the cellar. He didn’t want to hurt me, he wanted to break me.”

Kitty swallowed nervously. "He sounds awful. I can't believe he sat in my diner and acted so normal when he's… like that."

"Well that's the thing about John. When he's getting his way? He's downright pleasant. Didn't get nasty until I tried to run, or broke the rules, or failed a task on purpose. If I played housewife right he was… loving, almost. Some bastardized version of that. Indulgent. It was fucked up." Beck-- No, Morgan's other hand gripped the steering wheel tight. "I hate him. I've tried to kill him a hundred times by now. He just keeps beating me."

She sounded so defeated. Angry and scared. It felt so strange to see her scared, when she was usually so together, so much stronger than anyone else Kitty knew.

They didn't stop until dawn, to fill the truck with fuel and for Morgan to get a shit gas station coffee. Kitty had fallen asleep at some point. Morgan hadn't let her drive when she’d offered, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks, not just one night. The dark circles under her eyes were purple and puffy, but she shook her head again when Kitty offered to drive.

"I can go a little while longer. You get some more sleep."

"B-- Morgan. You've been driving all night. Let me help. You'll want to be sharp if he catches up to us." Kitty reached out and gently tugged the keys out of Morgan's hand. "We'll be better off if we take care of each other. It's not all on you."

Morgan relented. "Yeah. You wake me up if you see anything concerning. Stay on major roads, but just drive anywhere. If he’s following, we can lose him in the mountains for a day or two.” She sighed and leaned back in the seat while Kitty adjusted the one on the driver's side. "I'm sorry, Kit. This is so fucked."

"It's okay." Kitty steered the truck back onto the highway. "Not your fault."

"Yeah it is," Morgan grumbled, closing her eyes. "Maybe I shoulda stayed and fought. I don't know. Just hate that I've ruined your life."

“Didn’t have much of one to ruin. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Morgan turned toward the window with a sigh, cushioning her head from the glass with the palm of her hand.

In the silence, Kitty had nothing to do but think. About how little she really knew about Morgan, about how much she had misjudged Jack— Or John, really. She felt pretty stupid for thinking— for saying anything about her to him. Mistakes on mistakes.

She still trusted Morgan. She’d tried to be distant at the beginning of their friendship, tried to keep Kitty away. But Kitty had been so eager to make a new friend that she’d ignored all those attempts at deflection and inserted herself into Morgan’s life anyway. When she’d said that Kitty didn’t want shit to do with her, this was what she meant.

They spent three days like that. Morgan seemed to have no problem driving twenty hours straight, and wouldn’t let Kitty drive for more than four hours at a time. She was tense, wound tight, jumpy every time they had to stop for gas. She relaxed just a hair on the fourth night, and started driving more purposefully, taking them North through the mountains. She seemed to know exactly where they were, even though it was all windy mountain roads and forests, broken up by the occasional late.

Morgan cursed when they came to a road closure, forced to go around and detour from her planned route, but it didn’t really seem to slow her down any. They stopped at a gas station in some tiny mountain town early in the morning. Kitty was surprised to see Canadian flags flying from some of the houses they passed. Had they gone over a border while she was sleeping? Morgan parked off to the side so they could use the washroom and buy a handful of snacks and a map in case there were any more holdups.

Morgan stopped short, eyes turning sharp. A car had parked beside the truck, clearly too close for her comfort.

Kitty eyed the two men warily as they stood outside their car, smoking. She’d have to squeeze past the bigger fellow to get into the passenger seat again. Morgan spotted that too, and flashed them big smiles. “Any chance you boys are locals?” she asked, voice pitched higher, the slightest southern drawl colouring her voice. How did she become someone else so easily? “We got a bit turned around with that road closure, was wondering if you knew any shortcuts to Vancouver.” She unfolded the map on the hood of their car without waiting for an answer. Predictably, both of the men stepped in close on either side of her, not so subtly checking out her ass.

“Not locals, m’afraid,” the big one said. “But funny enough, that’s where we’re ‘eaded too.”

“Real tricky findin’ places to stop through here.” The other one was big too, but not as big, a baseball cap with the union jack set tilted back on his head and a wide, bright white smile on his face. He leaned on the hood of their car, his fingertips a little too close to Morgan’s hand. “Nearly went through all our cigs. Wouldn’t’ve been pretty’f we ran out before we got here. Si’s a real bear without his nicotine.”

Kitty took the opportunity to slip past to the passenger door, trying to calm her nerves. Just because they were English didn’t mean they had anything to do with John. Morgan folded her map back up, still smiling.

“Thought y’wanted ‘elp gettin’ there,” Si said, tilting his head to the side.

Morgan just tapped her now folded map against his chest playfully. “If you’re not locals, you’re not gonna know any shortcuts are you? You’ll just get me lost!”

“Might be fun, gettin’ a bit lost with us,” baseball hat said. Kitty didn’t much like the edge to his smile. But maybe she was just imagining it.

Morgan laughed. “You ever been lost in the mountains before, sugar? Wouldn’t recommend it. Ain’t that many roads that go anywhere worth goin’.” She bounced back a step, and kicked at loose bit of gravel. “But maybe we’ll see you in the city. We’re headed to the beach. Water’ll be cold, but it’s supposed to be pretty nice. Bet you’d both look pretty good with your shirts off.” She winked at baseball hat and gave them a little wave before circling back around to the drivers side and starting up the truck.

She peeled out of the parking lot, her smile falling away. “Pretty sure those are John’s boys. They’re not gonna be happy when they realize I dropped spikes in front of their tires.”

Kitty blinked. “You— Is that what you were doing?”

“That, and making sure the big guy didn’t grab you or slip a tracker on you. Once we get some distance out, I’ll have to re-check the outside of the truck too.”

Kitty let out a shaky breath. “How do you live like this?” she asked. “How do you know what to do, what to check?”

Morgan shrugged. “You get used to it.”

Kitty wasn’t sure how someone ever could.

After that, Morgan turned grim again, pushing to cover ground fast. The brush with those men had scared her too. She’d been driving all night, but she didn’t stop until the mountains were a ways behind them, and the countryside had turned flat, fields on either side of them filled with waving grasses and the occasional farm. Kitty insisted on taking over at their next stop. Morgan looked wrecked, the days of driving and poor sleep catching up with her. Kitty didn’t feel much better, but at least she’d gotten more rest.

"Where are we going?" she asked once they were on their way again.

"I know a place we can get a plane. Then I figure South America? Lots of places to disappear there." Morgan yawned, glancing in the mirror surreptitiously, as though she expected to see danger right on their tail. “Basically just drive straight down this highway. Not a lot of alternative routes around here. Wake me up in three hours, that’s about when we need to make a couple turns.”

Traffic slowed down to a crawl after two, so she tapped Morgan’s shoulder gently. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I think the road’s closed up ahead.”

“Shit. No getting around it.” Morgan turned on the radio and flicked through stations until she found one that came in clear. “They’ll give a traffic update in a bit,” she said, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She came around fast, like she was used to waking up and moving quick. “We still inching forward every few minutes?”

Kitty nodded.

“They’ve prob’ly cleared a lane, be feeding folks through one side at a time. S’gonna suck, probably add three or four hours to the drive.”

“It’ll give you more time to sleep,” Kitty said.

They waited for the traffic report, grimacing at the details of it. Truck driver asleep at the wheel, veered into oncoming traffic and took out three cars. Only the truck driver and his passenger survived.

“Fuck, that’s a mess,” Morgan said grimly. “They need to regulate the industry better. That shit happens too often. Lots of drivers shouldn’t have a license, and the whole industry is overworked and pushed to get deliveries done in too short a time. S’fucked.”

Diplomatically, Kitty didn’t mention the fact that Morgan had been driving for sixteen hours straight herself. “There’s really no way around?”

“Might be, but that map I bought ended a good eighty kilometres ago. We’d better stay on this road or I’ll get us lost.” Morgan sighed. “We’re gonna lose our head start at this rate.”

“Already? He doesn’t know where we’re going, does he?”

“Doubt it. But I have to act like he’s right on my tail, because he usually is.” Morgan leaned her head back against the headrest with a sigh. “Let me get another hour of sleep, keep checking your mirrors, looking around. You see anything the slightest bit funny, wake me up again.”

Kitty nodded. “I will. Get some rest, Morgan.”

“What the fuck do you mean you rented out my plane?” Morgan snarled, resisting the urge to strangle the airfield manager, but only barely.

The portly, balding man with the name tag that said Tim Kent held his clipboard up defensively. “Look, we haven’t heard anything from you in over two years—”

“You still getting paid?”

“Well, y-yes,” Tim said nervously.

“Then why the fuck would you think that anything had changed?”

“Well, I— I um—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, holding up a hand. It was greed, and thinking he could get away with double dipping. She didn’t need him to say it. “When’s it back?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll have it ready for you as soon as it comes back. There’s a motel, just down the highway— I know the owner, can get him to comp you a room, Ms. Winters.”

If it were just her, she'd sleep in the truck, with the doors locked and the keys in the ignition, ready to drive off at a moments notice. But Kitty-- Kitty needed a moment to collect herself, needed to shower, and sleep in a bed, and regroup. If Morgan had to sleep on the floor in front of the door with her rifle in her lap to make that happen, so be it.

"Yeah. Alright." It was against every instinct for survival she had. She knew that John wasn't far behind, if his boys had been that close. If they even were his boys. Maybe she'd fucked up the day of some totally innocent Brits on holiday.

It didn't matter. She'd just kill John if she saw him. Get it over with. No more fucking around. She couldn’t run forever. Kitty certainly couldn’t. It hadn’t even been a week, and Kitty was already nervous and stressed, on the verge of tears since their run in with the boys at the gas station. Morgan had been living like this periodically even before John.

She got the information for the motel, and about the two women who had rented the plane (two American women, which was a relief. Nothing to do with John, just an unfortunate coincidence), and headed back to the truck. Kitty was crying, and trying valiantly to pretend she wasn’t.

Morgan slid into her seat with a sigh. “Do you want to go home, Kit? I can take you back. I think that’s pretty much the only thing that would surprise him, at this point. I feel like he’s been a step ahead this whole time. Sent me running in a blind panic so he could set an ambush. I’m worried I’ve put you in more danger by asking you to come with me.”

Kitty shook her head furiously. “No! I want to stay with you. I don’t care if it’s dangerous.” She leaned across the middle seat and gripped the collar of Morgan’s jacket, pulling them together for a kiss.

Morgan tensed for a moment, surprise freezing her in place for a long moment. Suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

Kitty retreated quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We can just forget it, I won’t do it again, I—” She halted mid sentence when Morgan reached out and brushed away the tears welling in her eyes again.

“Don’t be sorry. C’mere.” She gently held Kitty’s face and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips in return, tasting salt, humming when Kitty responded enthusiastically, lips parted and hands braced against Morgan’s thigh so she could leverage herself closer. For a minute, Morgan let herself forget that they were parked out in the open, that John was bound to catch up with them sooner rather than later, that they were far from safe, and that it was far from wise. She wanted to lose herself in that moment.

But good sense wouldn’t let her stay there for too long. “Come on. Lets go get something proper to eat. We’re stuck here till the morning. We’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

Morgan drove well out of the way to find a diner to eat dinner at, and watched the door the whole time, barely tasting her food. Kitty, at least, looked a little more settled with a proper meal in her, relaxing slightly even while Morgan twitched at every new patron coming through the door.

"What was he like when he wasn't— I mean— Was it all bad?"

Kitty's question surprised Morgan out of her vigilance, splitting her focus down the middle. It took a moment to figure out a response to that. “I sucked at following his rules. Fought him on everything. So I spent a lot more time getting punished than I did anything else.” She picked up a cold fry off her plate and dipped it in ketchup. “He wanted me to like him. I’m sure he could have been worse.”

Kitty nodded slowly. "What was he like when you did follow the rules?"

"A creep. Making me wear short little dresses without panties while I did housework, if he let me wear clothes at all. Letting me sleep in bed so he could feel me up. Asking if I was done being stubborn or if I was ready to ask for his cock. Fucking pervert." She tossed the fry into her mouth. "It was some kind of fucking game to him. He wanted me to beg for it."

"Oh," Kitty said in a small voice.

"I'm trying to spare you the details, Kit. He's got some ugly fucking demons in him, and it'll be better if we get far away."

"Y-yeah. Of course."

"You sure you don't want me turning the truck around? Could get you back home before—"

"No!" Kitty said quickly. "I'll stay. Just— um. Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I did. He had connections. They fucking delivered me back to him." She slumped back into her seat. “Let’s get out of here. Not safe to stay in one place too long. We’re risking enough with a motel stay.”

Not that she had any intention of staying at the one that Tim had suggested. It was just a red herring, something to hopefully draw attention if Tim was compromised while she found somewhere to stay an hour or two’s drive away.

She finally decided on one as the sun started setting, pulling into a half empty gravel lot. The place was dated, but that was fine. It didn’t need to be perfect. Just needed a door that locked and a bed with clean sheets.

The front desk was run by a bored looking girl in her late teens. She snapped her gum while she booked Morgan in on the ancient computer. She didn’t ask any questions, and she let Morgan pay cash, which was all she cared about.

She checked the room, paranoia winning over the more rational thought that she hadn’t known where they were staying until they got there, so John couldn’t have possibly set a trap for her, and Kitty hopped into the shower while Morgan flipped on the tv and scanned through channels listlessly.

— For a limited time only—

*— A community in chaos to— *

— Refreshing—

Wait. She flicked back to the news channel. A woman with a microphone standing in front of the smoking remains of a building, the unscathed sign at the edge of the parking lot reading Rosemary’s Diner. Red and blue flashing lights haloed her blonde hair, firefighters and police securing the area against the gathering crowd. “Crews are still recovering bodies from the ashes of this beloved local establishment. It is unclear what happened, or why none of the patrons were able to escape before the fire engulfed the building, but—”

Morgan’s head went fuzzy, her ears ringing as the noise from the tv scrambled as her brain tried to make sense of it. No on could escape because they were already dead. She’d killed them by walking into the place. This was her fault.

“Um, Morgan,” Kitty called from the bathroom. “There’s no towels.”

Morgan grimaced. She didn’t want them to separate for an instant. “I’ll go to the front desk and get some. Keep that door locked.”

The night time air was quiet and cool. She locked the door behind her— The place was so old that it had keys rather than cards. She wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a liability. She was too rattled to think it over.

This shouldn’t have shaken her so much. She knew who John was. She knew how dangerous, how depraved he was. It just felt so… Unnecessary. Maybe it was just a message to her. That everywhere she went she’d endanger innocent people.

Morgan pushed the door open and walked into the front office of the motel, blinking in the bright fluorescent lights, frowning at the lack of sound. Hadn’t there been a bell over the door? The bored looking teen who had been there earlier was nowhere to be seen, and the scent of blood in the air hit her as she breathed in, thick, coppery, cloying. There was the bell, lying on the floor next to an expanding pool of red trickling out from behind the desk. This had just happened. Which meant--

"Hi, bonnie."

Morgan whirled around to face Soap, grimacing. He was the only one of John’s boys she'd met before, and she wished she hadn't. He’d been babysitting her when she’d escaped. He’d be eager to hand her back over to John and gain forgiveness for losing her in the first place. He wiped the bloody blade of his knife off on his shirt, blue eyes fixed on her, teeth bared in a feral sort of grin.

She grabbed the computer monitor off the desk and threw it at him, grabbing out a gun. Someone behind her grabbed her hand and yanked her hand up, sending her shot wild, shattering the window rather than blowing through Soap’s head like she intended. She yelped when another hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head backwards.

“Hey there, sugar.” That was one of the men from the mountain town gas station, the baseball hat one, if the sliver of blue in the upper periphery was any indication. Gaz, probably. He didn’t feel like a Ghost. “Why don’t you drop that gun?”

Morgan grabbed for her other gun, only just clearing the holster by the time Soap was on her, pinning her arm to her chest and leaning close, so that she was pressed tightly between their bodies.

Soap traced his thumb down her throat, fingers curled around her neck like he was dreaming of throttling the life out of her. He probably was. “No’ verrah sportin’ of ye, Morgan. Bringin’ guns to a knife fight.”

“You brought a friend, seems fair to me.”

“Ye would. Tricky little thing. Dinnae ken what Price sees in ye.”

“No?” Gaz pried the gun out of her hand and stowed it somewhere, his now freed hand coming around to cup her breast, lips trailing over her ear. “I can see a few things that he’d like.”

“Weel. There is tha’.”

Morgan kneed him hard, nailing him right above the knee. The angle wasn’t good for generating as much power as she would have liked, but it was effective enough.

He swore and yanked the other gun out of her hand, jamming it up under her chin. “Should jest kill ye now,” he growled. “Yer nothin’ but trouble.”

“You’re just upset because I lied about wanting to play with you,” she taunted. He’d let her out of the cage in the cellar, and wound up locked in there himself. “How long were you stuck in there, Soap? Did John let you out when he got home, or did he leave you in there a little longer to make sure puppy learned his lesson?”

“Mouthy for a brat with a gun to her head,” Gaz said, yanking on her hair again. “Should be beggin’ for forgiveness.”

“Pull the fucking trigger, you coward,” Morgan spat. “I’m not going to beg for my life. Just fucking kill me. Should be easy. You killed all those people at the diner.” She carefully reached for the knife on Soap’s belt, doing her best not to move too much. So long as they were paying more attention to her mouth, she could get it. “Fucking losers, picking off a bunch of seniors. You lose your nerve when you’ve got a fair fight on your hands? Can’t even take me without backup, huh Soap?”

His hold on her other wrist tightened, enough to make her bones creak. She tried not to grimace, but he saw the wince in her eyes, satisfaction flitting through his baby-blues. “Price said one piece, but he didna say I couldnae break a few fingers.”

“Soap,” Gaz said warningly. “Come on. Let’s just get her out of here.”

Soap lowered the gun. Morgan ripped the knife off his belt and stabbed it into Gaz’s leg, gripping tight so she wouldn’t lose it when he jerked back, letting go of her hair in surprise.

“Shit, get back here you little—” Gaz tried to grab her again, so she turned and slashed at him, cutting a thin slice through his shirt.

Soap grabbed her from behind, so she let him take her weight as she kicked Gaz hard in the gut, knocking all the air out of him. Morgan smashed her head back into Soap’s face as she lowered her legs, only stumbling a little when he let go to cradle his nose, blood pouring from between his fingers. She grabbed his shoulders and kneed him hard in the groin for good measure, shoving him to the ground.

She ran outside. The air reeked of gasoline, the signature cover for their sins. They'd burn the place down on the way out. She ran back to the room. The door was open, hanging off it's hinges, the darkness beyond yawning like an open mouth.

"Kitty?" she called out, stepping inside. She already knew she wouldn't be there. Or if she was…

Only silence. Kitty's bag was gone off the bed, but hers was still there. She grabbed it, nearly sobbing when she found it open, her rifle gone. No guns, no Kitty, just her and a couple of flimsy knives against John and his dogs.

"Lookin' for this, honey?" John melted out of the shadows by the door. It should have been impossible for a man as big as him to be so quiet, so invisible. He held her rifle loosely in his big hands, not even bothering to point it at her. He was entirely at ease, shoulders relaxed, head tipped slightly to the side as he looked at her, eyes glittering in the low light.

Morgan gripped her stolen knife tighter. "Where's Kitty?"

“Ghost has her. Put the knife down, sweetheart. Somethin’ happens to me, he’s gonna snap her pretty neck. Be easy too, little thing like her.” He took a step forward. “It’s time to come home. Nothing left for you out here.”

Morgan backed up a step. He was between her and the door. There were no other exits. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He had her cornered, defenceless, beaten again.

“Come on,” he said, holding out one hand, taking another slow step, like she was a wild animal he was trying to coax into domestication. That was probably how he saw her. “We don’t need to fight anymore, do we? I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” she asked, acid roiling in her belly. “You were there that whole time— Six months! You knew! Why didn’t you just— Why’d you let me think I’d gotten away?”

Another step. “I was going to come get you early on, but I overheard Kitty talkin’ to one of the other girls at the diner about you. How you’d helped her fix her car up, how sweet you were, how smart, how strong. Poor girl was half in love with you before you’d been there a month. And I thought to myself, maybe that’s what a wild thing like you needs. A good girl to show you how to behave.”

He’d let her get close to Kitty just so he could use the poor girl against her. She’d tried to keep Kitty away, but she just kept coming back. A nudge from a well meaning regular might have convinced Kitty to ignore Morgan’s prickles, and that string of car troubles… Easily engineered by someone who knew enough about engines to make it look like it wasn’t sabotage. She’d been so so stupid. Should have just collected what she needed and moved on when she first got to Montana.

John tossed the gun onto the bed to free up his other hand as he moved past it. Morgan wondered if she could get past him, grab the gun, kill him, but—

“You ready to go, boss?” Gaz asked, his shadow filling the doorway.

John turned, carelessly turning his back on Morgan for a moment. She could jam her knife into his neck, grab the gun before John hit the ground, shoot Gaz— But Soap and Ghost were still out there somewhere, and they could hurt Kitty. Without John holding Soap’s leash, the maniac would do a lot worse than just kill them too.

“We’ll be along in a moment. Take her things.” He nodded toward the bed, then chuckled as Gaz limped over. One of his pant legs was dark with blood, a strip of fabric tied around where she’d stabbed him to put some pressure on the wound. “She got you, huh?”

“Got Soap too. Broke his nose.”

John shook his head. “Told you not to underestimate her.”

Gaz shouldered the bag and picked up the rifle. “You’re the one with your back turned to her.”

“She knows better than to try it. Isn’t that right? You’re ready to be good, aren’t you?” He turned back toward Morgan, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “You can start by giving me the knife, princess.”

She stared at his open palm, extended trustingly toward her, like he knew she wouldn’t bite back now. She hated him. Wanted nothing more than sink the blade into his hand, into any soft bit of skin she could reach. She wanted to be free of him more than she wanted to continue breathing.

But they had Kitty.

It felt like driving the final nail into her own coffin, sealing her fate, but she she dropped the knife into his hand, shaking with rage. “I hate you,” she hissed, the scratchy whisper all she could force out from a locked up throat.

He tucked the knife into his belt and closed the remaining space between them, tipping her face up so she couldn’t avoid those piercing blue eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you know that’s not true. If you’ll just be good, we can be happy. You just have to stop fighting me, hm? For Kitty’s sake.”

“Just— Just let her go. Please. I’ll be good.”

“Of course you will.” He thumbed across her cheek, wiping away tears she was desperately trying not to shed. “But I’m keeping you both.” He kissed her forehead, moustache prickling against her skin, and released her.

Morgan stood where she was for a long moment, feet rooted to the faded, stained motel carpet, as John walked away. Usually, he’d cuff her and cart her off, growling admonishments all the way home.

He looked back from the doorway, realizing that she wasn’t following. And of course, he wanted her to come of her own accord, to bow her head and admit defeat and follow him like a dog. He wanted her to choose to be with him.

“Come on, pet. It’s time to go home.”

Haltingly, she willed her feet to move, and she followed him.

Image Credit - Dividers by @/CafeKitsune

If you liked this, check out these stories:

Slasher Handler by Dragonnarrative-writes

Siphon and Keeping House by Syoddeye

Gentle Chokeholds by CharlieMWrites

Nobody by 391780

Please mind the warnings on each of the fics above, the warnings and intensities do vary a lot!

Thanks for Reading!

#Cave Writing #Dogs Will Hunt #Honey It's Alright #Part 1 #Slasher AU #Kind of? Probably. They might have some other stuff going on #x OC #John Price x OC #Anyway uhhhh #Dark fic #non con #dark content #It's probably going to get a lot worse in part 2 but it was getting long and I thought it would be good to split it #Also I wanted to post before I lost my nerve #also sorry it's mostly just my little guys in the first half I feel silly about it now :/#but I like them

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corrodedcoughin · 1 year ago

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Eddie has a hard time making friends | 2.7k | very self-indulgent corroded coffin centric drabble | not beta-read so i can only apologise, also i'm off sick so if this is incoherent i apologise x2

Eddie Munson lived his life telling himself that no matter what, he didn’t need anyone. That he was better off without friendships and relationships, that in reality, he could do whatever he wanted and please himself. Fuck off at the drop of a hat if he so desired! He didn’t need to factor anyone into his life and that’s the way he liked it.

The truth is Eddie Munson wanted to be loved. That’s what it boiled down to. The problem was he wouldn’t and couldn’t let himself. That’s what he believed anyway. There was a pattern to Eddie’s relationships, be it romantic or otherwise. And that pattern was that Eddie fucked them up. He was too much. He knew it in himself, he could feel it deep in his bones. Every so often though, he’d forget and would open himself up to somebody new. Always guarded, he’d talk and play his part, getting to know this new person, entertaining them and making sure they had a good time. That’s what his role was and he was good at it. To a degree. Eventually he let a little too much of the real him out and that’s when the other person would see him. They’d see him and the uninterested look in their eyes would appear and the pain of the realisation would come crashing over Eddie like ice water. The person would have enough and be on their way again, leaving Eddie alone but ultimately for the best.

Sometimes though, sometimes Eddie let the person in. He’d take a few bricks out of his mile high wall and let the person peek inside. See the real Eddie, with his excitement and happiness but his sadness too, his neediness, the very weight of him and his pain. This never ended well. The problem is, Eddie got attached. He got attached too easily and then he’d make himself vulnerable. Then, the spark of a new friendship would fizzle out. Not for Eddie, never for Eddie, but for the other person, or that’s how it felt anyway. The conversations would get further apart, the excitement to share started to feel one sided. He’d get so nervous about starting a conversation, unsure what to say to how to say. Unclear if the other person even wanted to hear from him, instead sitting in silence and yearning to reach out. The fizzy feeling in his chest would still be there but it would be tinged with this heartache and Eddie would second guess himself, then the whole relationship, and he’d be pulling back so fast he could almost feel the g force of it. He’d push the new friend away after convincing himself that it was all out of pity. That they saw how much time and attention he took from them, that ultimately he wasn’t worth the effort and he’d be left to lick his own wounds as another friendship failed. The issue was that Eddie had maybe too much affection. And when he let that out? Even just a little bit? Reining it back in was impossible. A tidal force of emotion welled up for so long and desperate to be let out, it couldn’t be held back. And so after every time he mistakenly let himself show his true colours, he was left to mop up the deluge. Friendship swept away and another wreck left in his wake. A fresh ache to be added to the collection.

—------

He tells himself he is happy on his own, better off that way because the alternative is worse. He doesn’t need a reminder of just how unbearable he is, how unwanted his true self is. Eddie Munson, acquaintance to many, friend to none. Safe. He knows his part and he sticks to it.

Or that’s how he plans to be anyway. That is how he thinks his life will go. But then he gets tricked.

He gets tricked into caring about three lost losers that wander into his orbit.

It’s the lunch of the first day of his second senior year and he has no intentions of making friends. Knows he’ll be better off getting through the year on his own. But then it happens. He doesn’t mean for it to happen. But happen it does. There’s a new kid that clearly has no idea where hes going and is giving a valiant attempt at trying to be nonchalant as he cranes his head around looking for a free table. Eddie sits on his own at the table he has marked out for hismelf that nobody else comes near, likelihood that his reputation proceeds him. So he kicks a chair out and tells the guy to sit. And the guy? Looks at Eddie like he’s handed him the keys to heaven, or hell going by the boy’s judas priest shirt, nice.

Eddie is about to leave, gearing himself up for a friendly nod before running to solitude. The new guy isn’t so keen on that though.

‘Thanks man, somehow nobody ever mentions how shit the time between classes can be when you transfer. Only ever the shittiness of new teachers’ the guy says, offering a smile so warm that Eddie returns it without thinking. ‘I’m Jeff by the way’

Lunch passess without consequence, he gets Jeff’s backstory. Listens to how his day has been so far and what he’s got for the rest of his classes. They part amicably enough and Eddie thinks nothing more of it, glad to have helped with first day nerves but mentally starts planning on taking his lunch elsewhere tomorrow, let Jeff get acquainted with the rest of the school and not feel obligated to the first person that was nice to him.

Only that isn’t how it goes. Jeff finds him in the food line and Eddie, and his Wayne instilled mantra of ‘Munsons have manners’, smiles and engages in the best, albeit stilted, small talk he can muster while simultaneously seeking his escape route. Only he gets involved. He gets pulled into a conversation about guitars and the best bass riffs and honest to god symbolism in lyrics. He gets tricked! Jeff tricked him! And now he’s sitting at a table with this new guy and enjoying himself and he can’t help himself. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll pull away and slink out the back door like he knows best and everything will be okay.

Tomorrow turns into the next day, turns into next week and soon enough it’s two weeks and Eddie is looking forward to lunch so he can see Jeff, conversation gets easy, somehow enjoyable, and he hates himself for it but his heart is so happy he can’t help it. He’s heading to ‘their table’ (when did he start calling it that? Better quit while he’s even marginally ahead) and now there’s three people there, causing an internal panic.

Eddie must have got the wrong table? But no, sure enough Jeff is waving him down as a fluffy haired boy and his friend are flinging their hands around in a heated debate. Over what? Eddie guesses he’ll never find out because he is absolutely not sitting with them. Nope. No way. He is a loner and that’s how he’s going to stay. He’s about to turn on his heel, lunch tray in hand, when Jeff is by his side and pulling him over.

‘Get held up man? No worries, saved you a seat. I invited Gareth and Ian too, met them last week and thought it would be fun.’ Jeff doesn’t give him a chance to answer before he’s pushing him into a chair and getting back involved with the other two. Now Eddie is a loner but that doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping tabs on people. He knows the name of these two but other than that? Not much to tell.

‘And I’M saying you are an IDIOT if you think Gimli couldn’t bare knuckle brawl with a shithead like smeagol and win’ Ian is passionate with it but he’s fighting a losing battle by the looks of things.

‘Oh! I’M the idiot? ME? DUDE! Last week you tried telling me that Tom Bombadil could win against Gandalf. GANDALF! THE GREATEST WIZARD OF ALL TIME? Fuck off man, thought you were smarter than that.’ Shaking his head, Gareth throws Eddie a look of ‘can you believe this shit?’

And before he can stop himself Eddie is interjecting, ‘All the power to Gimli but Gandalf respects gollum for a reason’ which gets him a slap on the back form Jeff as Ian and Gareth go at it again. He knows he made a mistake in this but he couldn’t help himself, he’ll pull back soon. He will.

Only he doesn’t. He keeps coming back, he keeps talking and laughing and learning more and more about these guys and he cares. He cares so much he feels like his heart might burst with it. He actively looks forward to spending time with the three of them. They spend time together outside of school! Wayne has even made comments about it being nice to see him looking happy, brightening up like the sun when Eddie slips up and mentions plans with the three guys.

That doesn’t stop the pervasive and creeping feeling from reminding Eddie of who he really is, how things go for him. He tortures himself with it, in truth. He tells himself that he knows the pull back is coming so to stop the painful waiting game he starts planning the detachment. Tries to keep it scientific, emotionless. It isn’t easy. It’s the exact opposite of what he wants to do. He wants to spend as much time as possible with these people, talk shit with them, make them laugh, get to really know them, maybe even let them really know him. But still, there is the insipid little voice in the back of his head, telling him what he believes to be true, that soon enough they will have had enough of Eddie. Soon enough they’ll look at him and see the burden that he is.

It’s a small thing that sets him off, and entirely his own doing. He starts comparing the relationships within the group. Analysing down to the nth degree to try and prove the worst to himself. And he does, of course he does when he’s torturing himself with it. The way he’s now convinced himself to see the group as a strong three. Ian and Gareth already were friends, already have a long history together, nothing is shaking them up. Jeff and Gareth? They can riff off of so many shared experiences after finding out their families are from the same place. Ian and Jeff are like peas in a pod when it comes to senses of humour, can’t help but make each other laugh, truly there for each other. The three of them have such interwoven bonds that means Eddie is left out in the cold. He can offer them nothing so what’s the point of sticking around?

He doesn’t do it slow, knows that ‘all or nothing’ is the best approach so he stops showing up at lunch. Doesn’t turn up to Gareth’s grandma’s house to watch the copy of ‘The Night of the Living Dead’ Jeff snagged from his older brother. Tries not to think about how excited he was for that one. He stops answering the phone and makes sure Wayne tells anyone looking for Eddie that he isn’t in while also not telling Wayne what was going on. He wishes he could say he found the whole process easy but that would be a lie. He doesn’t let himself ruminate on it though. Distracts himself with his guitar, his books, music. The things that have kept him going. It’s lonely, he can acknowledge that but that feeling will fade, he’ll get used to it again. It’ll be fine, in time.

Eddie knows who he is, how he is and so he settles himself on the couch with the tv and a rerun of Magnum Pi, he’s sad but that doesn’t mean he can’t admire a beautiful man, okay? Sometimes ogling a hairy chest is the best medicine. That and it’s something he and Wayne like to watch together and point out the plot inconsistencies. Thankfully Wayne is home so Eddie doesn’t feel entirely isolated. Wayne’s tried bringing up the friend thing a few times this week but Eddie hasn’t been able to talk about it, just casts his eyes down and changes the subject. He doesn’t need Wayne hearing just how pathetic his nephew is. This is just always how these things go. Everyone else seems to navigate friendships so easily but that ability was clearly left out of Eddie’s skill set.

He really is trying his best not to think about it but it’s so hard when the physical sensations in chest wont leave him alone. Its a constant churning of ‘Not good enough. Too much. Nobody’s priority. Never right’ that feels like a persistent and solid pain where his heart should be. And this pain is exactly what distracts him from the noise of a knock on the door, from Wayne going to the door, from Wayne opening the door and letting somebody in. Letting three somebodys in that are now standing in front of Eddie who is presenting as a very pathetic curled up mass of hair and flannel.

‘People here to see you, son’ Wayne calls from the door. Completely un-needed because yes Eddie can see them thank you very much Wayne. And they can see him and Why did he let them in??

Eddie slowly brings himself to sitting up on the couch from his position of ‘sad-lounging’. He doesn’t look up, can’t meet anyone’s eyes. Opens his mouth to speak while pushing a hand through his hair to buy himself some time. TO figure out the easiest way out of this. Why are they here?

‘Get the fuck up man, we only have this movie for one night before Jeff has to give it back. Don’t be a dick’ Gareth says rather than waiting for Eddie to begin, even starts pulling him up to his feet before Eddie can stop him.

‘Guys, no. It’s fine. You’ll have a better time just the three of you. I promise’ Eddie starts his explanation, hoping to get it out so they can leave.

Jeff won’t hear it though, ‘Fuck off Eddie, you know these two will just end up arguing ad I’m going to need someone to give me running commentary on the actual movie so I don’t get caught up in their shit’ He starts head out the door, Gareth tugging Eddie along and Ian at his back.

‘Thanks for letting us in Mr Munson, is it okay if Eddie stays with us tonight?’ Ian, actual shithead but always a charmer asks as he walks backwards out the trailer, following the troupe.

‘Fine with me, just don’t feed him after midnight.’ Wayne replies and Eddie can hear the smile in his voice. Can’t help himself but shout ‘WAYNE!’ to the amusement of the guys.

He gets settled in Gareth’s Grandma’s car? Gareth got his Grandma to drive them here?? And doesn’t let himself think until they arrive at the house. They get settled in the basement, all of them sitting closer than necessary but seemingly comfortable, Ian on the floor, tilting into Jeff’s legs, Jeff next to Eddie on the couch and Gareth sitting on the armrest.

Eddie’s mind wont rest though, feels fundamentally wrong. Inexplicably bad and needing to fix thing. So he starts, quietly and in the dark as the movie starts ‘I’m really sorry guys, I know I’m hard work and not exactly eas-’ He doesn’t get to finish before Jeff is shushing him ‘Eddie shut the fuck up. Let us be your friends, yeah? But seriously, shut up. Movie time.’

Obviously he wants to keep going, apologise again, try to explain himself, opens his mouth to. But then he feels Gareth’s hand on his head, a gentle smack and a hushed ‘Dude, stop’ and Ian reaches over to pet his leg before stealing the popcorn out of Jeff’s lap to a shout of protest.

Eddie tries to settle down, tries to just let it slide. But the thing is his skin feels tight and like somebody replaced his blood with something fizzy. His tummy is squeezing painfully and his trying his best to contain a laugh that’s begging to be let out. Maybe, just maybe, he’s found his people.

#where are my 'can't make friends and can't maintain friendships because they don't know how and don't want to be a burden' guys at?#half thought about doing a steddie part 2 where steve reasurres eddie but idk nothing is jumping out at me #listen this is purely self-indulgent sadness because that is who i AM #i do however have a happier thing in the works #idk man just to say that if you are struggling out there you aren't alone #and i want to be a good friend please give me lessons on not being a little weirdo #idk idk this is silly love you all MWAH #eddie munson #corroded coffin #stranger things

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