#wolfboy n au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

devilfic · 2 years ago

Text

❝it will come back❞

plot: eddie “the freak” munson is a freak, but not for the reasons everyone thinks. you couldn’t care less if he liked his music loud or his dungeons with dragons. no, you were onto something bigger. if only you had any proof. pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader. cw: werewolf!au, one-sided enemies to lovers (if you squint), romance, flirting, smut, you have horror movie brainrot, eddie is pining for you and you’re just trying to catch a wolfboy, sexual content, non-penetrative sex, non-graphic smut (reader’s genitals aren’t mentioned), dry humping, mentions of mates and mating effects on the body, typical werewolf things. words: 9.7k.

a/n: I have no excuse for this being 21 pages long. just take it, please. also, here’s a playlist I made to go with it.

January 22nd, 1986.

“Anyone home?”

Eddie Munson wasn’t standing in front of you the last time you checked. He was standing there now, of course, if his annoyance and the movie he was waving in your face was any indication. You try to smile through your blunder as if you hadn’t just been writing about him in the journal now tucked between your thighs, “Yeah. Sorry, didn’t mean to space out.”

His annoyance softens into sympathy, “Long shift?”

“You could say that.” You lie, easily, because customers ask you that all the time and not because the truth is easy to lie about. When the truth is “Oh, no. I was just writing about how you might be a freakishly terrifying werewolf in disguise, normal stuff to accuse your classmates of”, sharing is not caring.

Eddie shrugs and hands you the money for the movie. At least you didn’t have to worry about mind-reading.

As outlandish as it was, this conclusion didn’t come to you out of the blue.

Eddie had already made a reputation for himself at Hawkins High by the time you’d transferred during what should have been your senior year. Had it been, you wouldn’t have been forced to redo your junior year, and had you been able to graduate when you were supposed to, you probably wouldn’t have been driving home late from band practice last November.

Had you been comfortable at home that stormy Tuesday night, you probably wouldn’t be checking for fangs every time Eddie opens his mouth.

Because it just so happened that on that stormy Tuesday night, you caught... something climbing out of Eddie’s van on the side of the road and running into the woods, on all fours, nearly putting a dent into someone’s dad’s sedan. You knew this only because that someone’s dad’s sedan was your dad’s sedan, and you had been the one driving it.

It was pure luck what you’d seen. With every day that passed, you became more and more obsessed having seen it. “Didn’t know you were a horror fan.”

Eddie gives you a long side-glance, as if horror movies would be a stretch for the metalhead who played fantasy tabletop games for fun, “Really? I know some people who think I eat, breathe, and shit this kind of stuff.”

“As long as you’re not picking fights with those people anymore.” You exchange a look with Eddie that he sheepishly returns. “How’ve you been, by the way? I see you’ve taken some baby freshmen under your wing.”

“You have?”

You quickly reevaluate whether that would be common knowledge to someone normal. Just because you were obsessed with him didn’t mean other people were. “I’ve just... seen you guys around school with those Hellfire shirts. Was curious.” Eddie continues to watch you, unbelieving, forcing you to recover, “Anyway, Elm Street’s all yours. Bring it back in a week.”

You slide the copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street to Eddie, taking note of his signature silver rings. They looked silver, at least. Could they have been fake? White gold, maybe?

You fully expect him to take his movie and go, but when he stalls, you worry he’s got a damning question on his mind. Was he aware of your constant, prying eyes after all? Maybe you were too quick to cross mind-reading off your list- “You should come over and watch it with me.”

Frantically replaying what you thought you’d heard over and over in your mind didn’t make anything clearer for you, “What?”

Eddie glances up with those round eyes of his, and if your first impression of him had been his eyes alone, you might’ve believed he could do no wrong. It was a shame that the softest thing about him was hidden behind a thorny exterior, “The uh... have you- have you seen A Nightmare on Elm Street?”

You nod. You get the feeling Eddie hadn’t thought this far.

“Right. ‘Course, you like the horror stuff. I just thought it might be more fun to watch with someone who... likes that stuff.”

“Are you asking me out, Eddie?”

Eddie reacts as if he had no idea what you were talking about. “No! Uh... no. Thanks.” Your heart thumps unsteadily as he snags the videotape and bolts before you can stop him.

You watch, dumbfounded, as he climbs into the driver’s side of his old van (the same van you’d seen that night, the same van you’d climbed out of your dad’s car to investigate, the same van that had claw marks on the door handle) and escapes out of the parking lot.

You don’t even realize you’ve spaced out again until Robin returns from her break, taking a seat on the counter, “Geez. What’d you do to Munson?”

You bristle, “Nothing!”

“You sure you didn’t scare him off with your werewolf delusions? I could write you up for that, you know.”

“I didn’t-” You stutter, then shut your mouth. She wouldn’t believe you even if you did have a solid argument. “I’m not having this argument again if you’re just going to make fun of me.”

“Whatever you say,” you feel her foot nudge your shin, and then she smiles over her shoulder to where Eddie’s van had once been, “just be sure he doesn’t come back and eat you before your next shift. I’m not covering for your ass again.”

Journal entry: January 22nd, 1986.

Eddie came to Family Video for the first time in... well, ever. He checked out a horror movie, too. The weirdest thing was that he asked me to come and watch it with him, but he chickened out at the last second. It was like something possessed him to ask. He was acting weirder than usual. Is it because of the full moon this weekend? Robin joked about him eating me. Could that be how he captures his prey? Invites them over under the guise of “watching a movie”? I don’t know. Gonna sleep on it.

Actually, I don’t think I ever told him how much I like horror movies.

September 3rd, 1985.

When you’d told Robin of your theory, she’d laughed and blamed it on too many horror movies. For someone who hadn’t been there, Robin was certain she knew more about what happened that night than you, but you held onto the memory with an ironclad grip. You didn’t need to prove it to Robin. All you had to do was prove it to yourself. Without a shadow of a doubt, you would find out if Eddie Munson was a werewolf.

But like I said before, you hadn’t come to this conclusion out of the blue. Two months before that night, you’d taken a punch for Eddie Munson.

It wasn’t on purpose, and had Eddie not pissed off Jason Carver, he probably wouldn’t have been curled up on the ground getting the shit kicked out of him by half the basketball team. Even his band mates barely stood a chance against the monster athletes, and out of stupid adrenaline (or concern; incendiary as he may be, the beating was overkill), you’d thrown yourself into the fray to put a stop to it. That had resulted in a strong right hook to the nose and a trip to the nurse’s office.

Eddie had it way worse than you. You were still annoyed.

“You’re lucky it isn’t broken,” the nurse had scolded, her vitriol directed more toward the boy sharing the examination table, “take this ice pack and wait out in the hall in case you’ve got a concussion. You can go home if you feel alright.”

Within the fifteen minutes it took to be certain you weren’t concussed, Eddie had joined you in the hallway. You examined the cuts and bruises that had been cleaned up on his face, expecting him to explain himself. Instead, he pointed to where his nose had been bandaged like yours and smiled, wincing, “Well, one of us is gonna have to change.”

You start to head for the parking lot.

Eddie catches up with you easily, “Don’t tell me you’re mad at me for this. You’ll break my heart, sweetheart.”

The punk is all smiles when you look over at him, hands tucked innocently behind his back. You’d only ever seen him from afar, a senior that should have been long gone by the time you reached your last year, but then he ended up in your classes and with him came the whispers.

Weirdo. Satan worshipper. Freak.

You didn’t quite see all of that.

Your hand brushes the tip of your nose, just as painful as it had been when you’d felt for blood lying in the school parking lot, “Of course not. Jason’s the one who punched me.”

“You sure I didn’t make him do that? Use some weird black magic to sew discord and strife into the heart of Hawkins High? Sully the name of our airhead darling jock?” Eddie sings in a silly voice, leaning in close for effect. You catch the scent that wafts off of him and find yourself surprised that a nerdy stoner could smell so pleasant. Good, even. You lean away before you can’t filter a comment about it. “Thanks for stepping in, by the way. Any longer and I might have lost the title of the only decent guitarist in Hawkins.” Eddie wiggles his long, ring-clad fingers in front of your face.

“Then you shouldn’t be starting fights.”

“Me? Start a fight with our precious little basketball star? You must believe everything you hear about me.”

“Unlike what I saw you do before Jason jumped you, all those rumors are fake.” You’d have laughed at Eddie’s surprise making him break stride with you if you weren’t so... annoyed probably wasn’t the right word, “So, again, the fight was your fault.”

He didn’t have any comeback to that. Instead, he followed you in relative silence through the abandoned hallways, bumping shoulders with you every few feet. He’d stopped apologizing for it after the third time.

You wondered what people would think seeing you sharing bruised noses with Eddie then. Not everyone had been there for the fight, but word had to have spread. Jason had clung to your side all the way to the nurse’s office, webbing together apologies, and if class hadn’t been in session, you were sure you’d be swamped with questions from everyone else. Hell, the nurse initially thought Eddie had thrown the punch.

You pass by one classroom and falter when you catch the eye of one of Jason’s friends glaring you down through the window. Eddie must notice because he instantly steps in between you two.

“Why did you jump in?” Eddie wonders, strolling side by side with you again. “There’s no honor in defending ‘the freak’,” Eddie leans in, whispering though his voice still carries through the empty hall, “and those guys won’t leave you alone if you hang around the likes of me.”

Even you weren’t keen on why. At the time, it was a desire to minimize the damage done, but as you thought about it more, yelling would’ve had the same effect. And your nose wouldn’t be almost-broken either.

You didn’t know yourself to be a self-sacrificing hero. It boggled your mind as much as you were sure it boggled his, “You may have started it but... Jason is kind of a dick.” You hadn’t heard what he’d said to Eddie, of course, but whatever warranted getting a blunt put out on your varsity jacket had to be pretty bad.

Eddie straightens his back at that, looking pleased with your answer. He walks a few feet in front of you and does a grand bow, one hand tucked behind his back and the other across his stomach. He throws his hair back to look up at you through his eyelashes, “Well, I am forever in your debt, my liege. Maybe I’ve got something to help take the edge off that bruise. A little...” He places his pointer and middle finger to his lips and whistles. “I know a place behind school where Jason and his goons won’t find us.”

“Given what got us in this situation, I’ll pass. But thanks, though.”

Eddie sighs, standing to his full height again. “Good call. If any of those boy scouts caught you buying off me, you’d be branded with the scarlet letter. But I meant what I said. You know where to find me if you need me.” Eddie flashes you a dashing smile and places one hand over his heart like a pledge, “On behalf of Corroded Coffin’s set tonight, I thank ye.”

The next day at lunch, Eddie’s face was without blemish. Your nose throbbed even on painkillers.

January 24th, 1986.

You knew where the Hellfire club sat. Everyone knew where the Hellfire club sat. Eddie’s voice carried far and wide, a siren call for the outcasted, beckoning forth all to be judged and the lucky to be taken under his wing. You’d passed by their table time and time again, spying from afar, never once giving into the urge to walk over and take a seat. Today should’ve been like all the others.

But you’d had nearly two days to think this over, and today would not be like all the others.

Eddie had been in the middle of telling a joke, but his eyes go wide when the table takes note of you hovering by the head. He’s momentarily seized with a panic that only one of his friends can slap out of him. Literally. “Hey stranger,” Eddie clears his throat, “to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The boys mutter incoherently about you, “Hey, Eddie. Are you free tonight?”

You’re sure you come off more than a little odd. Once your nose had healed, it was as if the fight had never happened, and as if Eddie had never sworn his eternal debt to you in the hallway that unfortunate Tuesday. Standing here, asking about his plans for the night, was already several steps to the left of what you would ever normally do. Really, you were only returning the favor, “Uh... why?”

One of the boys—a freshman snickering beneath the bill of his baseball cap— smacks Eddie on the shoulder as soon as the word leaves his mouth.

“I... just thought I might take you up on your offer. To watch Elm Street together. At your place.”

Some of the boys are speaking too low for you to discern what’s being said, but you swear you hear someone say “finally” with mocking cadence.

Eddie looks more embarrassed than you expected. You try not to react when he takes you by the upper arm, far away from the Hellfire club to ensure they couldn’t hear his next words. When you’re secluded by the windows, Eddie folds his arms over his chest and turns his back to the cafeteria, “I get that you’re trying to get back at me for freaking you out the other day, but at least I waited until your friend went on break before embarrassing you.”

“Embarrassing me?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, the context obvious only to him, “it was all over your face.”

"I’m pretty sure you were the one embarrassed.”

Eddie flushes baby pink, “Okay, what is this? Like is it a joke? Cause if it is: ha, ha, ha. You got me! Congratulations or whatever.”

The nervous twitch in Eddie’s posture intrigues you. Ever since you’d started... observing him, you’d never found a crack in his armor. Even when any other sane person might have backed down or given into the pressure, Eddie found a way to spit in its face. And you had him nervous, “It’s not a joke. I’m... cashing in your debt.”

Eddie just looks more confused, “Pardon?”

“Last year, when I stopped that fight between you and Jason. You said if I ever needed a favor, I should come to you. Well, this is the favor.”

You can see the gears grinding behind his eyes, desperately trying to connect just two of the many dots that you’d presented to him, and he looked uncertain of any connections he did make. You felt sort of bad for him, really. “Sorry, just so we’re on the same page: you want to hang out with me as a favor to you? You can see why I’m struggling with the concept, right?”

“You asked me to hang out first. How hard can it be?” You throw back at him.

“That... that wasn’t-”

“Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s your deal. I want to hang out with you,” to expose you for what you are, “so do you want to go on a date with me or not, Munson?”

Date might have been a loaded word, but it did the trick. You watch Eddie’s mouth open and close, whatever words he wants to say dissolving every time he finds the voice to vocalize them. You would’ve paid Jonathan Byers a million dollars to take a photo of him if he wasn’t 2,000 miles away right now. Eddie gives the most coherent response he can muster, “Well... it’s just that tonight isn’t great.”

You school your face into a neutral expression, vindicated, “Then Saturday.”

Eddie cringes again, “Can’t Saturday either. Or Sunday. Busy the whole weekend.” At your accusatory expression, Eddie scrambles to paint a better picture for you, “My uncle needs my help fixing up his boat and I already promised I’d help. But I’m free next Friday. We could rent a better movie than Elm Street.”

Next Friday. It’d be the last quarter before the new moon. He’d be perfectly unaffected because this weekend was the full moon, and there was no way he’d risk exposing himself when he was most vulnerable. The fact he’d even come to school today must’ve been a feat of its own.

It took you a while, but you’d eventually gotten the exact answer you were looking for. You’d get no satisfaction from going to see Eddie next Friday. None... unless...

You lean in and Eddie seems to battle with himself over leaning away, looking down his nose at you to figure out your next move, “Sounds perfect, Munson.”

Eddie tightly smiles, still twitching.

While the thought of giving him a whole week’s worth of time to hide any damning evidence wasn’t ideal, the meetup at his place could still be fruitful. If you were able to keep him this wired, he was sure to slip up eventually.

Eddie, still suspicious, takes a wide step away from you, “Pick you up Friday?”

This really wasn’t a chance for you to pass up. “It’s a date.”

January 27th, 1986.

Steve Harrington looks on from beside Robin in both fascination and horror, “You’ve gotta have better options than Mick Jagger.”

Robin rolls her eyes, “I told you. It’s the werewolf thing again.”

Steve shoots you a look of pity, “Is your little fairytale really worth a date with Munson?”

“It’s not a date, Steve. It’s reconnaissance.” Even you’re aware of how pathetic you sound.

“Okay, but he doesn’t know that. You really wanna be alone with a werewolf virgin?”

At that exact moment, the bell above Family Video’s entrance rings out, shrill and loud, catching your attention.

You glance over your shoulder and nearly break your neck turning away when you meet Eddie’s eyes, his one hand raised to wave at you. Could he hear you? Was his supernatural hearing giving away your entire plan as you spoke? You lean in further and drop your voice to a useless whisper, “I’m telling you, this is the best opportunity I have. I’m just gathering evidence. Besides, I have witnesses. If I go missing, it won’t be quietly.”

“And you want to be alone in his house if you’re right?” Steve gives you a flat, unimpressed look. “What if you find what you’re looking for?”

I won’t tell Eddie, that’s what you think. You’d pretend you saw nothing and end the night as unsatisfactory as possible so that he’d never talk to you again, and then you’d call up Robin and present your case in full, hard evidence included. “Then you two had better hope I make it home in one piece.”

Steve rolls his eyes and takes his position at the register when the bell dings again. Robin passes off a box of tapes to you for stocking and you reluctantly take the hint to get back on the floor, eyes following Eddie’s mop of hair over the shelves. Every time you glance up, he’s zig-zagged further away from you.

It’s really your fault that you lose track of him so quickly.

When you can no longer make out his curls amongst the meager customers perusing the store, you wonder if maybe he’d slipped past you and checked out with Steve before you could catch him. Oddly, it makes your chest twist in disappointment.

Maybe Steve and Robin were right. If you couldn’t even keep an eye on Eddie on your own turf, you’d be even more disadvantaged Friday.

“Anyone home?”

Eddie hovers beside you as you stock the new arrivals, pointedly out of talking distance with Steve. Even though Eddie’s hands are tucked behind his back, you make out that he’s still holding his copy of Elm Street, proving that he’d yet to approach the front counter at all. “You know, Steve’s working the counter today. Not me.”

Eddie glances over at the counter to see Steve glaring at him with disapproval. He moves that much closer to you. “Yeah, but Steve’s scary.”

You can’t help but snort at the thought. The skin around Eddie’s mouth wrinkles when he smiles, lips pulling back to reveal his teeth. Fangless teeth. You try not to look for too long, “Oh yeah, cause Steve is scarier than Freddy Krueger.”

“He is! You see the crowd he used to run with? And they call me a degenerate.”

“He’s reformed. Steve’s a good boy.”

“Is that your type?” Eddie avoids eye contact with you to turn over a copy of Rocky IV, unenthusiastically reading the back while you gape at him.

Sure, Steve had been... an idea, once upon a time. As the most popular guy at Hawkins (at least up until Billy Hargrove had arrived), he’d been nearly everyone’s idea of a heartthrob. He’d never been an option, just an idea. A concept, really. And then you’d gotten to know him and the idea was firmly locked up in a shoebox and shoved under your bed for the foreseeable future.

But why did Eddie want to know? “Is that why you’re here, Munson?”

“No. I was just coming to... you know. Pick out a movie. For Friday.”

You don’t miss the way Eddie tacks on the reminder, and you wonder if he thought you’d forget. There’s a hopeful little look in his eyes that catches you completely off guard, rendering you unable to be conniving or sneaky in the slightest. In fact, it was kind of hard to be conniving or sneaky at all when Eddie had been smiling at you all day. It was especially frustrating given that you kept smiling back.

It felt different being seen by Eddie for once. You’d spent so much time watching him that being watched back left you feeling exposed, shy even. It was like you asking him out had given him permission to notice you.

And when you really thought about Eddie—outside of his brawls with Jason (and that November night)—you weren’t certain he was capable of the things you accused him of. Even if you were concerned he’d meant to lure you back to his trailer and tear into you like a Sunday dinner, he’d been hesitant, hadn’t he? He’d changed his mind. Until you’d put your arm between his teeth and dared him to feast. “Speaking of which: your parents won’t mind me coming over, will they?”

A small look—imperceptible if you weren’t always paying him so much close attention—crosses his face just then, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. “No parents to mind. It’s just me and my uncle, and he works most nights.”

You keep your pointless apology to yourself, something you were sure he’d heard enough of in his lifetime, “So it’ll just be the two of us.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker to the stack of DVDs, hands behind his back again, “’s not weird, is it? We can do something else if... if you’re not ready.”

As if he needed to baffle you more, the sight of a bashful Eddie Munson makes you knock your hand into one of the videotapes, sending it flying to the ground.

Except it never does hit the ground.

It happens in a flash. One minute, Eddie’s hands were clasped behind his back, and the next he was holding the tape you’d flung between his fingers... crushed.

Eddie seems to notice the mistake at the same time you do because he drops the remains to the ground, shocked at his own strength. His mouth gapes, but all you can do is stare at his still outstretched hand. It all had happened so fast, far too quickly for your human mind to catch up to let alone comprehend, but you swore you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to.

He’d crushed that tape with his strength, but it was his claws that left holes in the plastic cover. Said claws had disappeared almost immediately, leaving you blinking, dumb with shock, until Steve made his way over.

“Jesus, dude. You gotta pay for that.” Steve reprimands, bending down to sweep up the broken pieces into his palm.

Eddie looks between Steve and you, and the look on your face must be unsettling because when Steve stands back up to his full height, Eddie is about to run, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It was an accident, Steve.” Your voice comes out even, strangely so after what you’d just seen, and all eyes turn to you. What possesses you to defend Eddie is beyond you (maybe it was those eyes again, it must’ve been another power of his), but you step in fully confident, “An honest accident. Right, Eddie?”

All Eddie can do is nod.

Steve doesn’t look nearly as convinced. Still, you plead silently that he’ll reconsider.

A small, annoyed sigh leaves Steve right before he gives in, “Fine. But you’re telling the boss, not me. And dude,” Steve turns to look at Eddie sternly, “break something else in here and you’re banned for life.” Steve, of course, had no say in that, but it was said with enough authority that Eddie accepted it unquestionably. “And give your hand less of a workout at home, would ya? Could crush someone’s skull with that grip.”

Once Steve has slipped away, you’re left with a guilty-looking Eddie. You were almost worried he’d melt into the carpet beneath your feet if you looked at him wrong. “I think I’ll just come back later. Some other day.”

You frown. To your own surprise, you almost want him to... stay. “Are you sure? I could... I could help you look for a movie. Our movie.”

“No, I should’ve known better,” Eddie says, and then winces as if he hadn’t meant to say it, “sorry. I’m sorry.”

You watch, helpless, as Eddie runs away from you once more. Only this time, you feel much worse.

Journal entry: January 27th, 1986.

I think I saw claws this time. Steve had already tossed out the broken tape before I could examine it again, but I’m certain of what I saw. What’s even more conclusive is that Eddie seemed scared when it happened. As if it was out of his control. He said something strange before he left, too. Something about how he should have known better. If he really is a werewolf, he doesn’t have as much control as he thinks he does. Should I call off Friday? I want more evidence, but not if it puts me in danger.

I don’t know. Something tells me to hold out.

January 30th, 1986.

Steve filled in Robin after Eddie left, but even as the two of them poked and prodded, you couldn’t help feeling off about the whole thing. The look on Eddie’s face haunted your every thought; was Eddie as much of a threat as you thought he was? Were you just feeding into the same paranoia that guys like Jason used to justify their hatred? It didn’t sit right with you.

Eddie’s warmth froze over after the incident, and you were left wondering if he’d finally call off your date. You’d noticed that his table was even quieter than usual, and while you didn’t catch him looking at you anymore, you felt it took more effort than he let on. So you could imagine your shock when Eddie returned during your shift that Thursday, quietly perusing the shelves before bringing you three horror movies.

“Quite the variety,” you comment, testing the waters, ”which one’s ours?”

Eddie looks up from underneath his unruly bangs and then back down at the selection on the counter, “Thought I’d leave that part to you.” You point out your favorite amongst the rest. Eddie pushes it toward you with a thoughtful expression. “Really?”

“It’s a classic.”

“You know every line?”

“Every line. I’d apologize in advance because it’s gonna annoy the shit out of you, but I won’t be sorry.”

“You could never,” Eddie’s eyes waver on you, still shy, but a bit of his usual disposition bleeding through, “I’d sooner annoy you. I know I already have.”

You shrug, checking out your choice, “No, you just... confuse me.”

Eddie blinks, “Can I ask why?”

It could be that you’ve missed him. You were fascinated and cautious of him just a week ago, but all that was left now was fascination. It wasn’t until you’d seen him vulnerable, not putting up a front like usual, that you noticed how much your feelings had shifted.

After your encounter in September, he never approached you again, but he was always there, always on the edge of your mind, never quite gone but never close enough. It made it easy to make a monster out of him back then. Now, with him so close, the truth was clearer.

A lot of things were clearer, actually.

Eddie was a “freak” by all social standards. His only friends consisted of his DND club and his band. He was oftentimes needlessly aggressive, and anyone who came in contact with him either loved him or hated him. You were the anomaly. Why he kept you at such a controlled distance never made much sense to you, but he’d slipped up. He’d cracked open a door, and you were eager to get inside. “I’ve never seen you apologetic until Monday. It was a new side to you.”

Eddie avoids your gaze, “I’m still sorry about that.”

“We agreed it was an accident, didn’t we? So don’t worry about it.”

His eyes flicker to your hands then, “I don’t know. Harrington seems eager to rain down the hammer of justice on me.”

You snort, “He’s just power hungry. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You and him are close, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“He won’t be... jealous about tomorrow. Will he?”

Your eyebrows nearly shoot up into your hairline. First, he’d asked if Steve was your type, and now... Eddie’s unashamedly curious, waiting for your answer. “Wha- No! He wouldn’t have anything to be jealous about, we’re not even... no, no.”

Eddie looks relieved, “He looked like he wanted to hang me in the town square for talking to you the other day.”

“That’s just Steve. He’s protective. A good friend. That’s all we are.”

“Good to know.”

“I wouldn’t have... asked you out if I had someone else, anyway.”

Eddie leans both his elbows on the counter now, fingers reaching your side and nearly brushing against your waist. You’re not as concerned about it as you once would have been. “I just wanna be sure that this is what I think it is.”

You swallow hard, “And what do you think it is?”

Eddie doesn’t answer as quickly this time. You’re thankful it’s a slow night and that no one is forcing this moment to end too soon, but you fear the moment all the same. You were hurtling toward the edge of a cliff, and you didn’t know if you had a way of stopping.

“A movie. At my place.” A neutral answer. You’re almost disappointed. “One of your favorites,” he whispers as if speaking over a candle flame, careful not to disturb the sudden tension. You surprise yourself with how much the timbre of his voice moves you. You press yourself closer to the counter, forgetting that his fingers are just a hair away until they brush over your stomach. Eddie is slow to pull them back, “Alone.”

“Alone.” To expose your werewolfy underbelly.

You’re reminded that it’s only the two of you in here tonight when Eddie leans forward, catching you off guard with the boldness and suddenness of the action. He’s so close. You swear that when you peek at his mouth, past the plush of his lips, you’re just looking for fangs.

Eddie’s still not looking you in the eyes, though. His own are fixated somewhere below your chin, and when you follow his line of sight, you’re just able to make out that he’s staring at your throat. Your hand instinctively shoots up to the skin there, covering it only because you felt your head beginning to tilt... exposing it, in a trance. That snaps Eddie out of his reverie. “Something wrong?” Your voice pulses around your strong heartbeat, warbling and nervous.

Eddie finally meets your gaze and swallows, his hands turning into fists against the surface between you. Like he was holding himself back. A week ago, you might’ve jumped away from him in horror. Now, you wait... docile. Expecting. Curious.

“Where do you live?” Eddie asks instead. Oh, right. You never told him.

You grab the nearest thing to write on, scribbling down your address on a spare piece of paper. The ripping of the page does nothing to disturb the moment, and you hold it out between you, eyes never leaving each other. Eddie takes it from your hand, careful not to touch your skin. He looks down to read what you’ve written, “What time should I-”

“Eight. I’ll be outside.” You couldn’t have Eddie coming to your front door asking for you. It wasn’t because you’d be too excited to wait inside, of course not.

That seems to be all Eddie needs from you. Your skin cools when he finally steps away and starts out to his van. You stand there, paralyzed, until his van’s brake lights are no longer visible through the glass.

It takes you a few moments to realize the paper you’d given him came straight from your journal.

Journal entry: January 30th, 1986.

He smells really good.

January 31st, 1986.

You can hear Eddie Munson’s van puttering down the street before it even pulls up your driveway, can smell the gasoline burning before you even see it. Eddie is a gentleman when he helps you into the passenger seat, asking you to mind the mess. It looks just like how you imagined a metalhead guitarist’s van to look. It smelled like it too, that weirdly appealing scent that Eddie had, but he rolls down the window on your side before pulling off.

You can’t focus much on all of that anyway. Your attention is elsewhere.

When Eddie realizes this, he drops his arm down to block your sight until you’re forced to look at him instead. He can’t come up with an excuse before you can ask about it, “Are those claw marks?”

There are four distinct marks on his door handle, the plastic broken and jagged. Blocking it did nothing. They were too big to ignore.

Eddie tries his damndest, though, “Uh, yeah. Angry cat.”

“You have a cat?”

“No, rescued one,” he starts, and while you’re certain this story isn’t a lie, you’re even more certain it’s not the reason for those marks, “there was this little thing on the highway. Couldn’t believe she hadn’t been hit yet. Tried to get her in my van and she clawed the shit outta me.”

You narrow your eyes. “Big claws for a little thing, don’t you think?”

Eddie laughs, clearly nervous, “Yeah, well, you try getting kidnapped by a weirdo in a van and see how feisty you get.”

You force yourself to laugh, and want to argue that on that stormy night in November, you’d run up to Eddie’s van thinking you’d find his body bloody and torn asunder by the creature that had run off into the brush, only to find the van completely empty. There were only the claw marks, clear as day, fresh tears in the material that the creature had no doubt left behind. You also remembered hearing the most earth-shattering growl come from where the creature had run off to, and the ferocity with which you’d scrambled back into your car and drove off.

And then the next day at school, as perplexing as September 4th, Eddie was there. In that same, stupid van. Unharmed. You’d overheard him talking to the Hellfire club about how piss-poor Corroded Coffin’s set was the night before, but nothing about the van.

You’re recounting the memory for so long that you only snap back to reality when Eddie opens your door, welcoming you onto the Munson property with open arms, “I’m flattered you like my baby so much, but I promise you’ll like it in the house too.”

You cast one last glance at the claw marks and jump out.

Eddie is an excellent host: he opens the door for you, guides you to the couch, and insists you can help yourself to anything. “Mi casa es su casa,” he expresses with a bow, “in English that means: how much butter do you want on the popcorn?”

His couch is one of those ones that immediately sinks to the floor when you sit down, and while you should be concerned about what that meant in terms of escaping, something about the atmosphere calms you. It was the same sensation you’d felt back at Family Video, only now you were swimming through it. It felt like a warm heat, the buzz from stolen beer, or walking into morning summer air. No matter which way you turned, you were surrounded in Eddie.

The most prevalent thing was his scent.

You’d only gotten whiffs of it up until this point, pleasing in small doses, but it was in everything here. It was in the couch cushions, it was in the air as Eddie passed you by, it was in every atom that made up this godforsaken trailer. You wonder if maybe Eddie had left something burning in the other room. Could it have been residuals from a smoke session he’d had earlier in the day? You didn’t smell anything in the air other than him.

Eddie is more than comfortable sitting beside you though. He laughs at your favorite parts and yells at the TV when the killer gains the upper hand, mouth full of popcorn at every turn until the two of you have devoured everything but the bowl itself. Even as you grow short of breath, Eddie rambles on as if you were rambling on along with him.

“You might just turn me into a horror buff yet, sweetheart,” Eddie comments during the end credits, arms folded across his chest, “you were awfully quiet, though. You okay?”

You’re not sure what you must look like. You’d tried your hardest to focus on the movie, tried to enjoy it as much as you always did, but as fifteen minutes in the trailer turned into an hour, and an hour turned into two hours, you’d found yourself struggling to think straight.

“Yeah, just full from the popcorn,” you lie, “can I use your bathroom real quick?”

Eddie looks you over, the very picture of unconvinced. There was a strange look in his eyes. You’d seen it before, back at work, when he’d broken that tape and ran away. If your heart wasn’t already beating out of your control, it was now. Eventually, he relents.

The trailer isn’t big enough to escape from the cloudy feeling in your mind, but when Eddie shows you to the bathroom, you all but throw yourself onto the sink once the door shuts behind you. One look in the mirror and you’re stunned.

You look... drunk. You’d been nothing but alert the entire drive here.

Your skin has a sheen of sweat, hot to the touch. Splashing your face with cold water doesn’t help you much either. Almost every part of your body is tingling and alive, the faintest touch of your own skin leaving you shivering. You’re positive you’ve caught a sudden cold with the way your body reacts, though you don’t feel... unwell. Not even in the slightest. You feel electrified.

It isn’t long before Eddie’s knocking on the door, concerned, “Hey, you doing alright in there?”

God, you don’t know what you’re feeling right now, but it’s overwhelming when you sense Eddie mere feet away. You press your forehead to the cool countertop and try to draw in even breaths before answering, “I’m just... a little dizzy.”

You can hear Eddie’s weighty pause on the other side of the door, “Ah. Shit. Do you need me to take you home?”

Your mind is slogging through everything, but your answer is immediate, “No.”

A few moments pass in silence as Eddie says nothing, no doubt trying to work out what to do with your rapidly worsening condition. Meanwhile, you pant and groan and cling to the countertop for stability, growing warmer by the second.

You’d never felt a sensation like this before. If you had to imagine dying or euphoria, it would be this.

Your condition doesn’t get any better by the time Eddie comes up with a verdict, your struggling to breathe hard to ignore, “Okay, come on. Open up. I’m taking you home.”

“I just told you. I don’t... need to go home.”

“I’m not joking, sweetheart. Open up.”

You’re stricken by the sharp turn in Eddie’s voice, feeling yourself lose inhibition the longer you stall. You press your ear to the door, “You know what’s happening to me. Don’t you?”

Eddie’s hesitance to answer should be enough of a red flag. If you were sober-minded, you might have been digging through your knowledge of lycanthropy to figure out what was wrong with you. Instead, you wait for his voice to reach you again, “Please. Just- just let me take you outside, at least. Get some fresh air.”

The idea of leaving upset you, but you didn’t want to stay locked in here forever. The fog in your mind leaves you with only the most crucial desire: to stay. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay,” Eddie sounds relieved, stepping away from the door, and you whine when you realize he’s moving further away, “good. Great. Come on out.”

The door is thrown open and with it comes a gust of Eddie’s scent again; you’re able to put a name to it now that you’re here—the trees that surrounded the trailer park layered under his cologne. The concoction on its own would be nothing special to anyone else, but every single time it hits you, it just feels good. Like it was meant to. Like you were the only one who’d like it this much. Like you were the only one who’d ever want to.

As soon as Eddie sees the state you’re in, his back presses against the wall as if you were the monster he needed to be cautious of. The thought of him rejecting you upsets you even further. “Hey... hey, there you are. Let’s go outside, hm?” His hand reluctantly reaches for you.

Taking his hand is worse. The feeling of finally touching his skin thrills you. It’s clear it has an effect on Eddie too because when you bring it up to your face, leaning into it, Eddie’s fingers twitch to cup your cheek, “I feel so warm.”

“I know, I know. We should get outta here.”

Eddie means well, you can tell. He’s pulling away from your face to take your hand again, intending to lead you away. You think, through the haze, that he’s reluctant even still. That if this was his plan, he could’ve done away with you by now. You should be happy. Some other feeling is controlling you.

Eddie is easy to get on top of. He fights you half-heartedly, letting you capture his wrists when he tries to keep you at a distance, and all the while he starts to struggle for air like you. You, on the other hand, were suffocated with it. “I need to take you home,” his voice is strained when he insists, more to himself than to you with the haze over your mind so thick, “please, just lemme take you home.”

You press his wrists beside his head and he submits so easily, even with his expression twisted and grim, “What did you do to me, Eddie?” It shocks you both when he shudders at the sultry lilt of your voice, “I only feel like this with you.”

“I wish I could stop it, I- I really do. I don’t know what... I don’t know how to stop it.” Eddie stutters with the way you brush the tip of your nose against his, choking on each other’s air now.

“Is this what you do? Drive me crazy, lure me here, get me alone and then... Is that it?”

Eddie shakes his head, honest, “I wouldn’t hurt you. I stayed away so I wouldn’t.”

That catches your attention, “What do you mean?”

“I need to take you home.”

“Eddie, what do you mean you stayed away?”

Just like last night, Eddie clenches his fists, but that’s not what draws your attention. Where his nails—human nails—had been were now a set of dark claws digging bloody half-moons into his palms. Your eyes then travel to his hand and the expanse of his arm, the parts that aren’t hidden by his sleeves, and make out how much... hairier they’ve gotten. Still, you feel the strain in his body. Your silly, human hands aren’t holding him back. He is.

And sure enough, when you look back at Eddie’s face, he’s panting around a set of sharp canines that weren’t there before.

It should scare you. That night on the side of the road should’ve scared you. But, like every time before, you can’t seem to look away.

He turns his head away from you with eyes forced closed. “Please,” he pleads, and you have a hard time figuring out if he’s asking you to leave or stay with that plea, “make this easy.”

“Do you want me to go?” You ask.

“You need to go.”

“Do you want me to go?” You repeat, harder. “I’ll go if that’s what you want.” Even if it’s agonizing to think about.

To prove your point, you release his wrists.

Before you can back away, Eddie grabs at your hips and pulls you flush against him again, a low rumble sounding in his throat. The warm chocolate of his eyes are now rimmed the most unnatural yellow, holding you transfixed. This is what should scare you. You’re still fascinated.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Eddie’s hands wrap around your wrists now, lucid enough that his claws come nowhere near your delicate skin. Your stomach flips when he pulls you in by them, “Let me just... let me just have a taste. Just one. Please. And then I’ll leave you alone.”

When you go to kiss him, he meets you halfway.

There’s a feverish desperation to his kissing, something you’d never quite had before, and with the dizziness of his scent clouding your brain, you were putty in Eddie’s hands.

And his hands were everywhere.

Once they’d released your wrists, they found your waist, tugging you against him again and again as if every minute movement was too far away from him. Eventually he’d gotten fed up enough to shift you around until he was crowding you against the wall, and his hands only wandered more from there.

He was careful not to nick you with his claws as his fingers rubbed up and down your thigh, his other hand splayed by your head as he continued his attack on your mouth. “Can’t,” he whispers in between kisses, “can’t go...”

If you thought he smelled divine, he tasted even better.

You’re rutting against Eddie before you even realize it. Hips slotted against each other, the two of you rock back and forth until Eddie hikes up one of your legs to get closer. Eddie is far too consumed in you, his mouth working at the skin of your neck, sucking and biting with the blunt of his teeth, all the while his fangs threaten to break skin. As you’d almost done the night before, you crane your neck instinctively to the side, wondering what magic could make you this reckless.

But it feels so fucking good.

Eddie must pick up on your desire because even while he ruts against you, his mouth draws back from your neck with a low whine. It doesn’t hit you until you see the fangs again that what you were desiring was his teeth in your neck. You imagine his teeth sinking in and want to get closer.

Dribbles of spit cling to Eddie’s bottom lip, mouth hovering over the spot on your neck that he’d been devouring, but he doesn’t dare lean in again. Instead, he drops his forehead to meet yours, whining, “Can’t…”

“Can’t what? What is it?”

“I should’ve left you alone.” Still, Eddie holds you firmly in place, unflinchingly. “I can’t… can’t see you with someone else.”

Your stomach flips again, burning low at his words. You think back to his questions about Steve and it all clicks together. Your next words are certain, “You won’t.”

Eddie whines again. “You’re it for me, you know? You leave and it’ll always be you. That’s... that’s how it works. You could find someone else but it’ll always be you. I wanted you to find someone else—at first. But now I can’t let you go.”

You couldn’t imagine finding someone else. The very thought of feeling this way for another person felt impossible. Was this what he was trying to avoid?

Your hand finds purchase in his hair, grasping lightly, but it’s enough to make Eddie jerk eagerly against you. The hardness straining in his jeans gives you delicious, mind-numbing friction over and over, building in your gut something blissful. You use the leg around his waist to pull him in deeper.

You think—and it’s incredibly difficult to do so with Eddie making such lewd noises into your mouth—about what you might say if you were sober. You think about last night, in your bedroom, miles away from Eddie Munson but the memory of his closeness tingling all over. You think about the months gone by where he was always a thought away, even though you hadn’t spoken for more than a few moments in time. You think about your journal, full of every thought you’d had of him since that November night, and how you’d watched this boy for so long that you’d come to know him better than you even realized.

You think, now, that maybe Robin was right. Maybe you were obsessed. And maybe it was for reasons you were finally ready to comprehend. “I don’t want anyone else.” You think if you were sober, you’d say the same.

Eddie’s mouth falls to your neck again, mouthing at the same spot he’d been staring at last night. The pressure of his kisses there makes your toes curl. “Say it again.” He grunts.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Again.”

Eddie’s hot tongue laves up and down your neck, his hips thrusting harder against yours until he’s grinding against you in heat, chasing a high you feel within reach. “I’m yours, Eddie,” and your words feel right, they feel true, “and you’re mine.”

Your heart hitches in your throat when Eddie’s fangs brush your skin, aching to tear into you, and you face the first moment of clarity you’ve had since you’d come here. Everything, from September till now, is clear. There’s an undeniable calm that washes over you.

“Please. Let me.” Eddie begs. He doesn’t have to spell it out for you to know.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pressing him closer, and you tilt your head to the side until you’re fully vulnerable. “I’m yours.” Is all it takes for him to bite down.

It hurts just as you expected, prolonging your lucidity, but the sting of his fangs breaking your skin dulls as your heart throbs loudly in your ears. Your other hand grips his hip that continues to grind into you and you focus your attention on that frantic pace, the promise of release so close.

You know he feels it too when he moans around your skin, rocking you through your high as you climax. The feeling is so elevated that you feel tears flooding over in your eyes throughout it all. All you want is Eddie. All you can think about is how good it feels.

The moments after leave you delirious.

Eddie releases your throat, peeling back slowly to look you over. His eyes are blown wider than the moon, “Hey, sweetheart. You with me still?”

Your eyes lazily find his in the afterglow. It takes a little more effort than you expected to answer him, mumbling an affirmative.

Eddie is careful when he scoops you up into his arms and carries you further into the trailer where his scent is the strongest. You let your head loll to the side and see the mess of clothes on the floor, posters pinched into the wall, and a guitar across the room with one of the strings snipped in half. You can’t help but giggle, “What’d you do to your guitar?”

Eddie follows your line of sight as he lets you down onto his mattress, making room for you in the unmade bed. You instantly curl into his pillow. He laughs, nervously, “Shouldn’t play before the full moon, I guess.”

“So you are a werewolf.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums, climbing into bed behind you, and you immediately flip over to look at him, “only for the last few years. Got more growing pains than puberty, baby.” You giggle sleepily, Eddie mirroring you, “Thought I had a handle on it by now, but... being around you changed all that.”

Eddie raises one of his hands between the two of you and you examine where his claws had once been, now returned back to normal. You reach for it and he shivers, “You said... I’m it for you.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, it’s like... you know how in fairytales, they’re just meant to be together? Prince Charming sees Cinderella and knows she’s the one? It’s like that with you. When a werewolf finds their mate, they just... know.”

“Is that why I reacted the way I did with you?”

Eddie blushes. You’d thought before that only his eyes could make him look innocent, but you were pleasantly wrong, “Yeah. Mates, they uh... they’ve got a thing for smell. I must’ve smelled really good to you.” Eddie brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the inside of your wrist, never breaking eye contact with you. “I know your scent anywhere.”

You shudder, “And my neck. When you bit me... does that make me a werewolf too?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, no. It’s different, when you bite someone here,” Eddie releases your hand to press two fingers to the sore spot on your neck, making goosebumps arise under his fingertips, “it’s special. When your mate bites you there, it seals the deal. Like vows.”

“It’s permanent?”

You watch Eddie swallow, suddenly nervous again, “Yeah, mated for life.” When your eyes go wide, Eddie shrinks in on himself, “But it’s not so bad for humans. You could always walk away.”

He still believed you wanted that? You scoot closer into his space, following his face that hardens at your assumed rejection. “You said it’s like the fairytales. Cinderella chose Prince Charming too.”

Eddie softens again, “...you got me there. You know, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

You frown, glancing up at him, “What? How?”

“I told you I’m a werewolf. And I bit you. And now we’re mates for life. And you’re taking it really well.”

“Oh, yeah. About that. I’ve kind of suspected you were a werewolf since last year.”

“What?”

“You sort of almost hit my car one night in your... wolfy form. And I saw your van on the side of the road when it happened. I’ve been gathering evidence about you ever since.”

“And you never said anything?”

“I didn’t want you to eat me before I had evidence!”

“Eat you?”

“This was before I realized how nice you were!”

“You thought I was going to eat you. Oh my God.”

“Why else would you ask me out out of nowhere? During the week of the full moon, no less.”

“I didn’t- it was a moment of weakness-”

“Because you wanted to eat me.”

“-during the full moon, it’s hard to control your urges.”

Now you’re just teasing him, “Urges to eat me.”

“I wanted to mate with you- fuck, this is embarrassing.” Eddie rolls over until his face is shoved into the pillow, his low groaning vibrating against the bed.

Apologetically, you rub between his shoulder blades and snuggle close behind his warm body, noticing how his breathing slows under your touch. “If it makes you feel better, I’m gonna have to tell Steve and Robin that I was wrong about you during my next shift. Since you didn’t eat me.”

Eddie shifts on his side, peeking over his shoulder at you, “What if they ask about us?”

You shrug, drawing circles into his muscles, “Guess I’ll just... have to say you’re only a beast in bed.”

Eddie drops his face back into the pillow, grumbling while you laugh, but before you can enjoy yourself too much, his arm reaches back and drags you down underneath him. “C’mere. You’ll need proof.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson scenarios #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things scenarios #stranger things imagines #stranger things smut #stranger things 4 #stranger things #mjwrites

246 notes · View notes

moonyslove78 · 2 years ago

Text

Ahhh!! This is getting to be sooooo juicy Katie! 😬😱 And it was already amazing!

Okay, so like I mentioned to you, I suck and can't keep up! I read chapter 2 twice, so I figured it would be a travesty if I didn't show equal attention to chapter 3. So now that I've read them both more than once, I am just gonna combine my reviews for each chapter into one!

If you haven't read the chapters yet, first of all... Why are you still here reading what I've got to say?! GO! Read it now because you're missing out on an outstanding AU, if you don't! 😁 And second...

✨SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT✨

So, I'm gonna try to not go on and on and on about everything like I always do, since this is a combined chapter review. 😂 But lord knows, I'll still probably be rambling away in most of this! 😅

First off, thank goodness she had something for him to cover up with. I'd have hated for poor, weak, defenseless, malnourished and dehydrated Peter to have to stride through the woods naked, trying to escape a pack of wolves who had been torturing and abusing him.

Then again, it's naked Peter... so if it would've had to have happened, I would've been more than willing to overlook the fact that he deserved to have the option to cover up with something. 👀

Sometimes, ya just need to take one for the team. In Aylin's case, I think this is a pretty nice outcome to her situation. I mean, if I had to choose between leaving him to fend for himself with a pack of werewolves who had been torturing him and abusing him physically and mentally or help get the naked vulnerable and very adorable Wolfboy to safety... I think I'd be choosing naked vulnerable Wolfboy. 😅

I can't wait to see the character growth in this one! Her lack of reasoning in her sympathy for him is so deliberate and it's so sad because she was raised to think this way about them and she knows nothing else but that they're "murderous monsters". I'm so looking forward to that first glimpse at her realizing that there's most definitely more to them then just being a monster or beast.

This one single sentence brought so much pain and misery... because we know it's what he's waiting for.... what he wants to happen. He'd rather die than be forced to live the life he's been living for so long now and that's after she's saved him and promised he's not going to be tortured and abused any longer, now that he's with her. It's utterly heartbreaking. 💔😭

When I say I gasped! 😲 I was sitting there trying to figure out what in the hell was happening and why he suddenly thought doing this was appropriate... And also, like damn! Aylin wasn't playing when she said consent is key. She went straight for the physical offense and got tf out of that situation quick!

But then the wave of realization hit, and I wanted to cry for this poor boy. 😭💔 I just wanna beat Kateri within an inch of her life and leave her for dead. Then I want to resurrect Lorina and kill her again, too. Just for shits n' giggles because she was abusive bitch. I seriously just want to avenge poor Peter and get him the justice he deserves. 😮‍💨😣

FUCK! Katie, you went right for my jugular on this one! My ultimate weakness... hair brushing! And even more so when it's soft vulnerable wolf boy Peter in need of the hair brushing. 🥰 Just gimme alllllll of that! I'll take it with contentment.

I love how she's already unintentionally protecting him (when she believes she's just intentionally using him for information) and using it to justify why she killed her, instead of just going for the obvious reasoning of "self-defense" since they were actively trying to hunt and kill her. This made my heart warm a little more. ❤️

YESSSSS!!! I had a feeling this was coming eventually but I didn't think it would be so soon and I am living for it! CUT IT OFF! CUT IT OFF! (But only for the sake of getting to imagine her cutting his hair as precise as her concentration will allow... cause I'd keep him either way 😂)

Yes, he is. Yes, he absolutely is. 😍😍

Why is this such a cute and heartwarming moment?! I loved this little scene so much. Something about her "taking care of him" and it just being in the sense of doing something that would help him feel normal. More like a human being and not a tortured soul who had been through the ringer as far as mental and physical abuse for longer than he can clearly remember correctly. And I'm assuming in her mind at this point, she was just trying to get a handle on his hygiene, as well as get a head up on the "more inconspicuous" look but it's obvious when she comes to the realization that she thinks he's handsome once he's a bit more "cleaned up" that she definitely has her eyes on him. And there's just something slightly intimate, about these little gestures. 😍

They're definitely something else. They're a pair that you would never expect to see "eye to eye", let alone her saving his life and putting him in a safer location by getting him away from the cruel alpha bitch and her pack. But I think that's what makes this story, so alluring is they are two polar opposites. And with her lifestyle and how her childhood traumas, her radical and prejudice upbringing in the guild, with the main cause of all of that in her eyes (obviously again, a result of being brainwashed by the dick Sergei and his minions) being werewolves. Yet, here she was, showing that she wasn't just going to be that follower that does things because she's trying to get ahead or trying to keep in her "leaders" good graces. She's going to make her own decisions and she's going to stick by them, no matter how much of a stress or hassle it may be.

And the danger she could (and probably definitely will) be facing in result of her decision to free Peter and take him in, to protect him and shelter him, even if it's "just in return for information", just make the fact that she's still going through with this even more satisfying. I already love their dynamic together and it's not even fully into the beginning of the story yet. I can't wait to see where this leads once they're a bit more comfortable together.

And just another side note, once again, Katie! Your descriptions of everything are so purely artistic it's crazy insane how good they are! I can literally see the scenery and backdrops for a scene as if I'm staring at a painting or a picture of it because of how detailed and well thought out your writing descriptors are!

(This was the end of the chapter 2 "notes", now on to chapter 3!)

I knew there'd be some pre-existing prejudices we would run into that she'd have that she'll have to work through in order to carry on any kind of "friendship"/"relationship"/"whatever-they-may-be-down-the-lineship" 😂, with Peter. So, I tried not to react to this harshly. But damn it Aylin, that one hurt me! Now I just wanna hug Peter and tell him he's a good Wolf boy. 😫

Why was this me and my mom's conversations a few times when I was in high school? 😂 When I would blast MCR and Linkin Park with my two best friends and make bracelets out of the forks that my one friend had pocketed from the little diner down the street. Somehow that little conversation between Aylin and Nesrin reminded me of those specific things, and I just had to put it into context.

This moment of realization was something I was so happy happened fairly "easily". The seed was planted in her mind that Sergei was up to no good before this, but this little speech he gave to the guild and community finally showed her he was willing to lie to everyone to have "the upper hand" in the role of their leader. He will push the limits to get them riled up and then sit back and watch the carnage take place without having to be concerned about losing the hunt for whatever it is he wants in that old campground. And if I had to guess, the reason he lied so easily, with no hesitation or pause to process, was because he absolutely is used to it. And probably has been doing it his entire life. I really don't like this asshole and I kind of want him and Kateri to fight to the death, but like they both don't survive? 😂😅

This part broke me. Shattered me in two. The part where it looks like she's finally starting to realize they're not all monsters. That they're not all bad or uncivilized murderous beasts. They're not all manipulative and coy with their words or actions to get what they want. They're not all what she's been pre-conditioned and brainwashed into thinking they are. Creatures who don't deserve to live.

In fact, some of them, like this girl and Peter are just fearing for their lives and traumatized for their conditions. Abused and treated unfairly and unjustly, just because they are different from her and the others.

And the way you explained how it was as if the girl's eyes were transforming into Peter's the more she stared into them and studied them, gave me chilis!

And the part about her mom standing idly by as she tried to work through what was happening and why this so-called leader would make her daughter do such a thing to this innocent girl who he literally admits has done nothing but exist as a werewolf. This scene speaks volumes as to the fear others feel before him.

I was so glad when Aylin did the right thing and got the hell outta there. I also teared up when she could hear the cries and screams of the girl when someone else mercilessly took the girl's life for no reason but to "prove a point". Anxious, cause now she's gonna have to run but glad she took that stand!

I can't tell you how many times I screamed at my screen to Aylin "NO! DON'T PANIC! HE WOULDN'T LEAVE!" Then, for a split second I thought, "well, maybe he did leave...or maybe he got captured!?"

So, to say I was relieved when she spotted him on the hammock sleeping, would be an understatement. And the relief she felt was so out of character for her, so far. Especially her reasons behind it. She wanted him there. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to use him for information. She didn't want to kill him after she got what she needed. She just wanted him. Her new friend, Peter. And that right there was pure character growth already. And I'm loving every second of it.

Did I crack up laughing right along with her and then "awwed" to myself when Peter fell out of the hammock and got slightly embarrassed? Of course, I did. 😂😅

Did I find it absolutely adorable that she got so proud when he basically inhaled the Dolmas her mother had made? Yes. Who wouldn't? 😍🥰

Did I squeal loudly and clap like a kindergartener getting picked for "line leader" when she questioned mentally whether or not her "mom would like him as much as she was beginning to"? Yup! And I will never deny it! 🥰👏🏼😱

The ending of this chapter was perfection, Katie! I cried! It's like she's finally letting go of that toxic lifestyle she was raised under and the prejudices that go along with it. She cares for Peter in one way or another and she's no longer afraid to admit that to herself.

This is such a step in the right direction in the form of healing. For both of them, I believe.

Just the fact that he finally got to have good meal and clean clothes to wear, while safe away from the traumatic experiences he was being put through in the cabin, was enough to give him a little more enjoyment out of his life and the situation at hand.

And I will firmly stand by my beliefs that he was very much enjoying her company there with him, as well. So much so that he was actually relieved that she was there. I think he does know something's up, that something else besides "her not being able to sleep" was the reason she showed up when she did, bearing gifts for him basically. But the fact that he did not push the matter any further, just shows he respects there's probably going to be things she's not going to tell him.

Especially, when in his mind, she's still just going to be using him for information and then she'll get rid of him. I just hope that at some point, he realizes that's not what she wants anymore and neither does he, because he's found a safety and home with her that he lacked before.

Ugh! My feels are allllll over the place with these two chapters and they're ending on such a good note! I can't wait to see what the next chapter holds!

This story is absolutely stunning from one word to the next and I envy your ability for storytelling and your knack of writing, so much. You're just insanely talented and I can't get enough of it! 😍❤️👏🏼

Creature Like Me || Chapter Three: All Kinds of Gray

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

Chapter Three Warnings: disturbing depiction of young captured woman, forced female nudity, mention of torture, mention of a deceased father and older brother

[link to chapter index]

“Welcome to your new sanctuary.”

Peter carefully walked around the abandoned 70’s camper. It had sat parked in the depths of the forest about 5 miles from Aylin’s home off a dirt service road. The road hadn’t been used in years thanks to a few fallen trees. Her car was parked at the top of the road and the two of them had made the slow walk down the overgrown path in silence.

A creek trickled behind the forgotten vehicle and emptied out into a quiet pond. It was hot and stuffy inside, the air feeling muggy in her throat, and sweat beading up on her forehead. A gnat buzzed in her ear which she lazily swatted at.

“You can open the windows if you want,” she offered. “They don’t open up very wide but any air flow will be better than nothing.”

Keep reading

#yes. this is it.#my long ass rambling review #on two chapters because I procrastinated #and obsess over things so much #but some of these fics are worth it #so i regret nothing!#i love peter “wolfboy” parker #i love aylin #i love this story #what have you done to me now katie?#tasm!peter parker #creature like me #blooming violets #blooming violets fic #werewolf au #spiderman

52 notes · View notes