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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

Text

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.”

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought.

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it.

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky.

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over.

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.”

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like.

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids?

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!”

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery.

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.”

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses.

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing.

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced.

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received.

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.”

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed.

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing?

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons.

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests.

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth.

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks.

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’.

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air.

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes.

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust.

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.”

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?”

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!”

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent.

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that.

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still.

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once.

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.”

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat.

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.” _____________________________

You thought about quitting.

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck.

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine.

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing.

“Hey, titty-shirt!”

The loveliness was ruined.

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words.

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!”

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring).

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.”

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.”

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you.

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house.

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.”

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.”

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?”

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers.

“Okay.”

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered.

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway.

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides.

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks.

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?”

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose.

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive.

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?”

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs.

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt.

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen.

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita.

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!”

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand.

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-”

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.”

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-”

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.”

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit.

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him.

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.”

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles.

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.”

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed.

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.”

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?”

“Yeah, evidence.”

“EVIDENCE?”

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet.

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed.

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines.

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something.

“TITTY-SHIRT!”

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic.

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely.

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at.

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?”

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled.

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.”

“Okay?”

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly.

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?”

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child.

“Alright, but-”

“Yes!”

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good.

“What happened to Belinda?”

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.”

“She has kids?!”

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins.

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean.

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork.

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight.

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way.

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?”

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours.

“I think you love being treated like a slut.”

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair.

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?”

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider.

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?”

“JEONGHAN!”

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing.

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious.

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath.

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster.

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips.

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you.

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back.

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again.

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back.

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt.

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them.

You went to work.

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing.

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic.

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.”

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little.

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate.

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans.

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows.

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached.

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm.

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.”

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head.

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips.

“I’m tired, you just go.”

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit.

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat.

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants.

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-”

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?”

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-”

“Well, then give us a ride?!”

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left.

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-”

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!”

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-”

You’re not even sure why you lied.

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!”

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face.

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-”

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child.

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted.

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?”

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-”

“Why are you crying?”

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern.

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual.

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..”

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up.

God, you were pathetic.

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face.

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar.

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-”

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him.

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes.

There was a significant pause.

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation.

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?”

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush.

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you.

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket.

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling.

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it.

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze.

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great.

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt.

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser.

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his.

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen.

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!”

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing.

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing.

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too.

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-”

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground.

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae.

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other.

His hand dropped from your lips.

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless.

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.”

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in.

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well.

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?”

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?”

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.”

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park.

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway.

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?”

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed.

“You’ll see.”

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful.

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis.

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly.

“What do you think?”

Jeonghan was looking at you.

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.”

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well.

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.”

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you.

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained.

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back.

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.”

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?”

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second.

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?”

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-”

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face.

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically.

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky.

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly.

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.”

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.”

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body.

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily.

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around.

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.”

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance.

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear.

“Jeonghan, please touch me-”

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble.

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing.

“Jeonghan, I can’t-”

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway.

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it.

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch.

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest.

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder.

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.”

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection.

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off.

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now.

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties.

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this.

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties.

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.”

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly.

“N-ngh, fuck..”

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.”

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine.

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it.

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-”

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face.

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole.

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-”

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming.

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face.

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.”

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.”

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs.

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit.

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin.

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying.

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs.

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it.

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly.

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply.

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling.

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.”

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating.

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.”

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows.

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock.

It was long and right by your fucking face.

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out.

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.”

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up.

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane.

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin.

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture.

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then.

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?”

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting.

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage.

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.”

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply.

Or almost perfect.

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you.

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.”

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue.

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly.

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth:

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

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prythianpages · 5 months

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Witch! Reader x Azriel | headcanons

Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays! Here are just some headcanons of witch reader and Az🥰 It's my first time making one of these.

this is based off of my dandelion series. you can find the masterlist for it [here]

warnings: fluff, implied smut

Azriel shows up to your apartment to take you out on your first date and he's extremely nervous because he never thought he would get this far and he doesn't want to mess up.

You find it entirely endearing because you can sense that he's not the type to be nervous, even more so when you notice his hand is slightly sweaty in yours. You don't mind at all.

Azriel spends every night at your place and realizes he no longer needs your sleep potion. He only needs you in his arms.

The only time he doesn't stay over is when he's out on a mission.

He slowly starts to leave things here and there until he's completely moved in.

Your cat, which is named Binx hocus pocus referencelol, is excited to have a another living being in your home besides the big spider that lives in the corner of your sitting room that you were too nice to rehome when you first spotted it.

Az is at first startled by it but then you're telling him the spider's name is Pearl and the way you speak of it with such affection makes him smile and he accepts it wholeheartedly, even though he finds it slightly creepy, because he loves you

Binx loves Azriel and his shadows. A little bit too much because he initially mistakes the dark tendrils as a toy and accidentally scratches your mate's back in the process of chasing them.

It's all okay because it's nothing a little calendula and chamomile can't help fix. It also gives for the perfect excuse to have the feel of his mate's hands brushing and rubbing against his back

Despite your deep attraction for one another, you decide to wait to be intimate with one another until you're ready to accept the bond.

Even though Azriel makes it really hard for you when he takes you training with him and all you can do is watch as his sweat makes his bare chest glisten deliciously while he duels with Cassian.

He tries to teach you some self defense moves but you're often too distracted to listen, which makes Nesta laugh.

As the two of you get to know one another more, you find yourself falling more and more in love with Azriel.

He's sitting on your couch, sharpening his knives and you're seated on the floor in front of your coffee table immersed into your spell book.

Your hand glows as you beckon your magic to find a particular spell and as your eyes take in the words on the book, you find yourself turning to Azriel with a smile.

"I'm ready," you tell him and let out a squeal as he drops what he's doing to pull you into his arms and kiss you. He's too engrossed in the way your lips feel against his to notice the way you use your magic to bookmark the page you were on before closing it shut.

Azriel doesn't care what you make for him but you do. You want it to be special and when you suggest a midnight picnic in that field of dandelions on the night of a full moon which is strangely specific but he's too happy to question it, he grants you your wish

"Wait," you tell him before he's about to take a bite of the food you made just for him. "I have something for you."

You're holding out a gemstone to him. It's a rich tapestry of green that dances with life, releasing a radiance of emerald enchantment. It reminds him of the green glow of your magic.

but it's not just an emerald. It's a talisman. It's your heart and when you tell him, you can't help but giggle at the mix of emotions expressed on his face.

you explain to him that it's not your literal heart but it may as well be because that emerald is tethered to your heart and if he accepts it, your heart will be bound to him forever and some of your magic may transfer over to him.

A witch's heart is a precious and powerful thing. Azriel knows this because he's heard Amren mention it once.

Some men have died seeking for it, some men have even gone to war for it and you've heard the horrors of your fellow sisters losing their magic and in the worst cases dying because they were tricked into giving their hearts to undeserving men.

But you trust Azriel.

The mating bond that will bind you together was more than enough for him but there you are, willing to give your heart wholeheartedly to him and he accepts it, promising to keep it safe.

He only takes a couple of bites before he's prancing on you and you're protesting--"Hey! I spent all morning make that--oh!"

your protest dies at your throat and a moan slips out as you feel his heated touch on your skin and lips against your neck.

"I promise I'll make up for it," he breathes against your neck and he does.

He makes love to you in that field of dandelions under the full moon, binding the spell that tethers your heart to him and claiming you as his and only his.

Accepting the mating bond send you two into a frenzy, where you are overcome with an insatiable thirst for one another. Let's just say your apothecary shops remains closed for the following week and the inner circle knows to keep their distance (:

Azriel keeps the emerald you gave him in the chest pocket of his leathers because he wants to have you with him at all times.

When he's away on a mission and has to spend the night away from you, he'll pull it out. It glows under his touch, humming with your magic that tells him that you're thinking of him just as much as he's thinking of you.

Your first outing as a mated couple with the inner circle is at Rita's. Azriel doesn't want to go but you're so excited to spend time with Feyre and the others and he can't say no to you. you can read about that here

On your first anniversary, he brings you a bouquet of dandelions from the meadow and makes it a point to gift you one every year.

He happily joins you on your walks with natures, smiling as he listens to you go on and on about the beauty of it all. But he thinks the true beauty is you.

Even when your eyes darken as you call upon your magic, leaving no trace of white or color. it scares the crap out of Cas and Elain but Az is just always mesmerized by you and he'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on sometimes.

When you're upset or frustrated, usually because you're stressed over a spell or a letter from one of the witch covens, Azriel is there to make your day better. "Oh, my sweet little wildflower." He kisses your worries away.

You do the same for him when he comes back from a hard mission and the exhaustion of being the Night Court's spymaster catches up to him, taking a toll on him.

His tense body always relaxes at your touch and when he asks if you could give him anything to help with his body aches, you mindlessly point to one of the vials on your kitchen counter.

You don't notice when he picks up the wrong one and when you finally do and realize that he accidentally took a drink from the aphrodisiac Nesta had requested from you, it's already too late.

Needless to say, it's probably the best mistake you've ever made (;

#azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x witch!reader #azriel imagines #azriel fluff #az!dandelions

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somewhere-south-of-neutral · 5 months

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So, I just saw episode 4 of the Percy Jackson show, and my initial thoughts are:

Suzanne Cryer absolutely stole the show as Echidna, her performance was believable and genuinely frightening, and it absolutely made the episode.

On that note, I really like the continuation of the trend from the previous episode of the monster being kind of right but then taking it in the wrong direction. All of the themes of the gods being not good guys but just slightly less bad guys are there in the books, but I like that they are making an effort to flesh that out earlier and fold it into Percy's character

When Annabeth was explaining that her mother had taken away her sanctuary as punishment for embarrassment, you could feel Percy's anger at the concept (or maybe I was projecting). Anyway, this was both great acting and great thematic layering. You can see Percy's dislike of the gods crystalizing, and alongside the way he refuses to expect anything of Poseidon I'm really looking forward to seeing how they lean into the themes of accountability moving forward. It's part of what makes the series so great and I'm glad that they are pushing towards it and not away from it.

Moving back a bit, I really liked that it was clear that Percy was the only one who didn't know how to talk to a cop, because it fits with their characters on multiple levels. In addition to the fact that Percy is the only one of the three who is a white boy, he is also the only one who hadn't spent any time as a homeless kid. The way that they each respond also characterizes them well. Percy immediately starts getting sarcastic and defensive, and might end up accidentally saying something incriminating-sounding, so Grover, the peacekeeper, cuts him off to defuse the situation, telling the officer that they weren't there and nothing else. When the officer keeps pushing, Annabeth, who, like Percy, is somewhat defensive but also knows not to talk to a strange adult, ESPECIALLY a cop, when something supernatural and/or legally incriminating just happened, immediately clarifies that they are not under arrest and are not obligated to answer these questions.

Sally Jackson

Chimera was genuinely very cute, which was nice

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv show

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roosterforme · 6 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was never one to shy away from a dangerous mission, and this one had a lot at stake for a lot of reasons. As you tried to pass the time without him at home, it was frustrating having no idea when he might return. Then a phone call when you're out shopping almost brings you to tears.

Warnings: Swearing, mission related angst, smut, fluff, mentions of hostages

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley sat in his unmarked F/A-18, ready to launch from catapult two, and the only lights he could see came from the deck of the USS Nimitz and the radar screen reflecting onto his canopy. As soon as he was launched and his teammates were in the air as well, the aircraft cruiser deck would go black. His radar screen would be dimmed. The moon and stars overhead would become more prominent. He would be flying in the darkest conditions of his career.

This seat felt foreign to him. The whole jet did. He really missed his own aircraft which was sitting on the tarmac in San Diego. You were in San Diego. He couldn't believe he just talked to you over facetime a handful of hours ago. It felt like he hadn't seen you or heard your voice in a year. Every minute felt like a hundred. Every breath he took felt like it made his harness straps just a little bit tighter.

The headset in his helmet crackled to life. "Rooster, prepare to launch in one minute."

"Standing by," he replied, running his thumb over his silicone ring one more time before pulling on his gloves. He waited and waited, ready for action. His adrenaline was waiting just under the surface. When he launched off the deck followed by Havoc, Dugout and Richmond, he gained a little altitude and led them in a slow loop around the carrier, watching for the lights on deck to go out.

Then they did, and it was just darkness all around. It was more disorienting than he anticipated, and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of you in the dark bedroom at home, alone. He needed to get back there.

Bluebird and Wilbur were already miles ahead, working with the slower comanche which was trying to get crystal clear real time imaging for the Seal team. "Approaching the coastline," Bluebird said, and Bradley heard her through his headset. "Comanche in position. Fly, Rooster."

And that was the code not only for Bradley's team to move toward the airstrip at maximum speed, but also the signal that the only conversation allowed now would be through a specific code. "Juniper whiskey," he spoke, realizing he would sound like an idiot to anyone who wasn't involved with Operation Loophole. But in his side mirrors, he could see the barest outlines of the other jets following him at his current speed of 600 knots.

When he gave the verbal command to steadily drop altitude, the lights of the cities and towns below grew brighter as they approached the coastline. "Idaho whiskey."

It felt strange to drop altitude so quickly once they neared the airstrip. Bradley's initial reaction was to ready missiles for deployment, but there would be no weapons used today. He wasn't even equipped with a single missile let alone the six he normally was. They were not to fire upon anyone; they were to avoid being hit at all costs. The only thing they had on their side was the surprise attack and the plan that they cobbled together.

"Lima Lima," Bradley said once he could see the airstrip, and he and Dugout dipped so low, Bradley could tell what color uniforms the officers walking around the well lit tarmac were wearing. So low in fact, he could hear the alarms blaring before he and Dugout hit six G's for a fast altitude gain. Bradley could see Havoc and Richmond outlined by the moon as he climbed. Without a single WSO on the mission, there was nobody to inform him whether or not the enemy jets were taking to the sky. He had to wait until Havor or Richmond saw something of use. And then he finally heard it.

"Hot sauce."

Bradley smiled at the word he'd chosen to signal that the plan was still on track. Richmond must have eyes on the enemy below, and when Bradley flew a loop, he was surprised to see the moon reflecting off of an enemy fighter a lot closer to him than anticipated. He throttled back up to 600 knots after saying the command word; and now it was time for the rodeo to begin.

He felt calm in spite of his adrenaline, and Bluebird was the only voice he heard now as he headed for the darkness of the open water with his team. "Bell Bottoms," Bluebird said clearly, and that meant the SEAL team was given the go ahead to breach the building where the hostages were housed.

Then Bradley saw the streaks of orange directly behind him, and it was a miracle he hadn't been hit by any of the barrage of bullets being fired at him as he saw nothing but the darkness of open water below. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He checked his radar and throttled up fast. "Whiskey gold," he called out, inverting to try to see who had shot at him.

He saw a flash of moonlight on a silver wing and knew that's who it must have been. His fingers flexed on the throttle, and he wanted nothing more than to dive back down and ruin their day. But he couldn't. So he kept to the plan. He could see his teammates in tight formation on his radar, but then he saw more orange streaks in the night. "Shit."

Bradley checked his fuel capacity and nudged the throttle up to 650 knots, letting his teammates know to do the same. They needed to loop back around south toward the USS Nimitz, but they needed to time it just right so the enemy aircrafts were running too low on fuel to go after the Navy SEAL team and the hostages. If the SEALs were even able to get them out.

Bradley was starting to sweat. He hadn't heard an update from Bluebird in nearly three minutes. That was way too long for the hostage recovery to have been successful. Now he was all too aware of his breathing and the sound of his heart in his ears. One of the hostages was a seventeen year old kid. Another one was pregnant.

He felt sick to his stomach as he waited, but he knew he only had another few seconds before he had to draw everyone further south. He counted to ten in his head, ready with the command word on his tongue as he checked his fuel gauge. And then he heard Bluebird say, "Bottoms up."

The SEALS were out with the five hostages in the heavily armed transport van. Bradley commanded his group to move south, and sure enough, one by one, the enemy aircrafts headed back toward land. Whether they were going to attempt to go after the hostages or not, Bradley wasn't concerned. They had to be nearly out of fuel just like his team was. The only benefit he had was the fact that the aircraft carrier was nearby, waiting in the quiet darkness below.

So let them try to go after the SEALs. It didn't matter. They had too much of a head start. As Bradley neared the exact coordinates where the carrier should be, he turned his regular longer distance radio on again and said, "Omega one."

The answer came in the form of the carrier deck being lit up in red lights, signalling that it was safe for them to land one by one. And when a second set of white lights came to life in the tower, Bradley pumped his fist in the air. That meant Bluebird and Wilbur were successfully on their way back with the comanche.

Bradley was the first one to touch down on deck, and he scrambled out of his jet in time to see Havoc's tailhook catch. Then the other two landed. The four of them ended up lining up alongside Warlock and Jackal who remained completely quiet until fifteen minutes later when the comanche touched down followed by the last two unmarked F/A-18s.

When Warlock started walking, Bradley followed him down the spiral of stairs and into the well lit classroom. Bradley realized he was soaked with sweat as he sat down in the back row alone and watched everyone else file in. He counted the beats of his heart, and as Cyclone walked inside, he closed the door but kept his hand on the knob.

"Operation Loophole was highly successful. The five hostages are in a secure location along with SEAL Team 7. Please keep in mind that the sensitive details of this mission are considered top secret. Now, go get some rest. Eat a good meal when you wake up. We'll meet back here at 1200 hours to debrief and discuss plans to get you back home."

Then Cyclone turned the knob, and he was gone. Bradley took his time walking back to his bunk, and he showered before collapsing into his bed. Selfishly, he let his mission overwrite some of the damage Slayer and Dean had done to his ego. The adrenaline hadn't quite worn off, and he doubted it would until he saw you again, but the sense of relief he felt let him drift off into a comfortable sleep.

---------------------------

You were at Costco trying to decide how much chicken to buy when you got the phone call. If Bradley was going to come home this weekend, you'd make a double batch of Marry Me Rooster. If he wouldn't be home this weekend, and would subsequently miss spending his birthday with you, then you would only need to make a smaller batch.

When your phone rang in your pocket, you assumed it was your mom and dad finalizing plans to fly to San Diego. If Bradley wasn't back for their visit, then you could cancel their hotel room and have them stay with you. But your phone screen said RESTRICTED CALLER, and you almost dropped the pack of chicken on the floor.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and the metallic taste of fear filled your mouth. Someone was calling you about Bradley. It had been a few days since you talked to him in the shower, and now someone else was calling you.

"Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and soft, but you didn't even want to clear your throat and cut off the person on the other end of the call. You had to grip the cart handle as a cheerful voice greeted you.

"I'm calling in regards to your husband, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw. Could you please confirm your full name and date of birth?"

You rattled off the information for her and went silent again as she took her time with whatever information she had for you. She didn't sound like she had bad news, but you just weren't sure. It hurt to take a deep breath, and your eyes were starting to burn when she finally said, "Okay.... it looks like he'll be flying back into San Diego International on Saturday night. That's June 27th at 10:45 pm."

"Oh my god," you gasped, leaning against the refrigerator case and forcing air in and out of your lungs.

"Can you pick him up?"

"Yes," you replied. "Of course. I'll be there."

"Have a great day!"

Bradley was coming home on his birthday. You started laughing as happy tears filled your eyes. You decided to get the big pack of chicken. Then you walked around the store and thought about the time you'd called him Daddy while you shopped together last year. Your heart twinged at the thought; you knew he actually wanted to be a daddy, and you wanted that for him, too. But you and he had really enjoyed yourselves that day.

You ended up buying way more than you probably needed, including everything to make him a lemon cake to go with his birthday dinner. When you brought him home around midnight on Saturday, the two of you could stay up and eat together if he wasn't too tired. Then on Sunday, you'd keep him in bed all day, alternating between snuggling with him and having birthday sex.

The countdown was on. Just a few days to go. Giddy and excited, you drove home to get the house cleaned up a bit. You gave Tramp a bath and then cleaned the bathroom. You vacuumed everything and got caught up on your laundry so Bradley's dirty clothes could go right into the machines. You had to force yourself to go to sleep around midnight even though you felt like you could run a marathon.

At lunch on Thursday, you finally ran into Bob. You had called him on Sunday, asking if he was still looking for a new place to rent. When he told you he was, you mentioned your old apartment and Maria. "Oh. Thank you. Let me think about it," was all he told you.

Now he was just ahead of you in line in the cafeteria, and you cornered him by the condiments. "Hey, did you give any more thought to moving in with Maria?"

Bob looked up at you as he continued to pump the ketchup, flooding his tray of French fries with it. "Yeah," he said, sounding very unsure about himself. "I thought about it. But I don't think it's a very good idea."

Your brow scrunched in confusion. The apartment was great, and Maria was one of your best friends. "Well, why not? Maria is amazing."

Bob's cheeks were pink as he set the saturated fries down on his lunch tray and avoided your eyes. "Yeah, she's great. I think it would actually be me who was the problem," he muttered.

You shook your head. "But Bob, you're great, too."

He smiled softly at you before he picked up his tray and looked around the room. "I think I would end up making it awkward. You've seen me around attractive women. You know how I am."

"Oh," you said as you looked at him. "But you're not awkward at all, Bob. Maybe you're a little quiet around women, but definitely not awkward."

You saw Maria across the cafeteria, and she waved to you. Bob immediately ducked in the other direction toward Phoenix, and you let him go. When you sat down across from Maria, she immediately asked, "Why didn't you bring Bob with you? I was going to mention my place. And besides, he always smells so good."

"I don't think it's going to work out," you said carefully. "Are you interested in him?"

She scoffed. "No. He's not my type. He's quiet and kind of shy and has those rosy cheeks. Nah. Not my thing."

"I didn't think so." But as you watched her watching him, you really weren't so sure.

On Friday, you stopped out in the tower in the afternoon when you had some free time in your schedule, and as soon as you poked your head into the rec room, everyone was calling your name.

Nat jumped up from the couch when you walked inside. "What are you doing out here?"

You gave Fanboy a high five and accepted a hug from Payback. "Just saying hi. Is Bob around?"

Just then, he walked in with his flight suit sleeves tied around his waist. He was all sweaty, his hair was attractively mussed, and he was drinking from a reusable water bottle while his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Speak of the fucking devil," Nat said collapsing back onto the couch.

Bob was already blushing as you walked over to him and quietly said, "Hey, I'm not trying to pressure you at all. But I can assure you that Maria doesn't think you're awkward in the least bit."

His eyes darted around the room where Fanboy and Payback were in the middle of an argument, and you knew he didn't want them to overhear. "She doesn't?"

"Not at all. She thinks you're kind and courteous and that you smell good."

"She does?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I promise. She's also almost never home, so if you moved in, you'd probably hardly ever see her. She does taekwondo and kickboxing and she volunteers all the time." His eyes lit up, probably at the prospect of having the place to himself most evenings. "And I don't think you're really her type, so any awkwardness at the beginning would probably vanish right away."

He was nodding at you with a very serious expression although now he looked a little sad. "Okay. I'll talk to her."

"Great," you said, giving him a quick hug before you turned to leave.

"Wait," Nat called out as she ate a twinkie and tried to kick Coyote off the couch where he was napping. "Bradley's coming back tomorrow? Hard Deck night?"

You were hoping for something a little more private with him, but you just smiled and said, "His flight doesn't even land until almost 11 o'clock. Next week? Wednesday night maybe?"

She nodded and gave you a thumbs up. When you left the rec room, you walked right past Jake and Cat making out next to the stairs. They turned to look at you but made no move to separate.

"Wait, I think I hear Hondo coming," you said loudly as you started to run away with a grin on your face. Jake just flipped you off, and that was fine with you. The only thing you really cared about was getting home and preparing for Bradley.

After you took Tramp for a long walk, you started on Bradley's lemon cake. You made a second confetti cake as a decoy, just to make him laugh. You could always drop it off for your elderly neighbors on Sunday after you clocked the thinly veiled annoyance on your husband's face. Then you got to work on a massive batch of Marry Me Rooster. He always came home hungry after being away, usually complaining about the food that was served on the carriers.

You paused while you were working and took a minute to just be thankful that Bradley was coming home to you after only two weeks away. You were in a much better headspace after this short time apart, and you were very thankful for that as well. Tomorrow was Bradley's birthday. Your period was over. You were picking up the calendar in the morning, and you were picking Bradley up tomorrow night.

"Get ready, Tramp. Daddy's almost home."

------------------------------

Bradley was so antsy on his thirteen hour flight from Seoul to San Diego, he could barely sit still. Even the business class seat did little to help him get comfortable. He felt too aware of every part of his entire body. His arms felt too big. His legs felt too long. His fingers were practically twitching with the anticipation of seeing you and touching you. He should have jerked off on the carrier when he had the chance.

Now he was counting down the hours while he wrote a little bit in his notebook, but even then, the pages read like a dirty movie starring you and him. He had actually written the sentence I like to take my wife hard when I return home from deployments.

"What the fuck," he whispered to himself, trying not to disturb the person who was sleeping next to him as he closed his notebook and tossed it into his backpack. When he tried to stretch his legs out, all he could think about was how it felt to be in his king sized bed with you where there was plenty of room. Plenty of room, sure, but you always ended up on top of him. You were always touching him, running your fingers along his tattoo and up into his hair.

Bradley jolted upright in his seat, practically panting as he took his phone out to check the time. Two more hours. Two more fucking hours. He wouldn't make it. Maybe he should jerk it in the lavatory? But no, he already knew his hand wouldn't satisfy him now. He needed your body. There was something about the successful completion of Operation Loophole that made his adrenaline run hot and stay that way. It was like he could feel his blood pumping through his veins and needed to do something about it.

When Cyclone and Warlock pulled him aside and called him 'a hell of a good pilot', it was like he could hear your voice right next to his ear. Praising him. He went back to his bunk to pack for home, but all he could think about was you with your hands all over him. Just you, whispering something soft and innocent that slowly turned into something filthy.

By the time the commercial jet started its descent into San Diego, Bradley had both fists clenched on the arm rests. He was back to practicing the steady breathing techniques Bob taught him, but his cock was a little hard in his jeans regardless. He was ready to go. When he turned off airplane mode and checked his text messages, yours was right at the top.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Happy birthday! I can't wait to see you! I'll be in baggage claim, ready to take you home!

Bradley grunted as he slowly deboarded the plane, and once he was free of the crowd of people around the gate, he started walking with longer strides. Home. When he got you back to the craftsman, he was going to fuck you until you couldn't talk. Until you couldn't move. He could practically taste your skin already. He could hear the way you were going to whine for him.

As he approached the baggage claim area, he squeezed the rubber handrail of the escalator like he wanted to kill it. There you were, looking up at the arrivals board with your back to him, wearing one of your little dresses. He could pick you out of a crowd of hundreds. Maybe thousands. He could find your pretty face or the perfect swell of your ass anywhere. He knew the way you shifted from one foot to the other by heart. He knew exactly what it looked like when you anxiously checked your outfit, running your palms down over your hips.

When Bradley released the handrail, there was nothing that could keep him from you. One, two, three, four, five steps in your direction, and he was calling out your name. His voice sounded tense and a little bit stern, and when you spun to face him, your pretty little dress swirled around your thighs. He'd have that thing up around your waist so fast, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

"Roo," you gasped as you rushed toward him. But you must have known. You always knew. Your lips were parted, and your eyes were wide. There was no doubt in his mind that you knew what he needed as he reached for your body. "Roo," you moaned softly as his lips met yours while he backed you up against a pillar.

He didn't say a word. He just tasted the inside of your mouth with his tongue as your arms went around his neck. Bradley's hands were on your ass, and through the flimsy material of your dress, he was certain you weren't wearing any underwear. He grunted into your mouth as he used his teeth, and you were already whining softly.

When he brought one hand up to your neck, he was less than gentle. The softness of your body against his had him growing harder and harder, and there was no doubt in his mind that you could feel him against your belly. You raked your fingers through his hair as he released your lips, and you whispered, "Happy birthday."

He brought his lips to your neck and dragged them up to your ear where he grunted, "I need to fuck you."

When you sighed and pressed your body tighter to his, Bradley could feel your nipples through your dress. His brain was screaming at him to unzip his pants and bend you over right here. Take what he needed. Your hand cupping his length as you smirked at him wasn't helping at all, and then you said, "I think that can be arranged, Daddy."

Fuck. As soon as the baggage carousel started up behind him, he snatched his duffle off of the belt, his other hand still firmly on your ass. You already looked a little dazed as you led him out to the quiet parking garage. There was nobody around as Bradley tucked his hand up inside the hem of your dress, finally feeling that supple skin against his rough palm.

"Roo," you gasped, trying your best to walk along with your keys in your hand while he let his middle finger drift down closer to your pussy. But you didn't tell him to stop, and he knew how you were. There was nobody around anyway, of that he was certain, but even if there had been, you probably wouldn't have minded.

"Where did you park, Sweetheart?" he asked, his head on a swivel as he looked around the dark corner of the garage for his Bronco.

"Over there," you gasped, gesturing toward a massive pickup truck. And sure enough, your shittly little car was tucked between it and the wall. Bradley stopped in his tracks with his hand on your ass and pulled you closer so your front was pressed against his.

You were clinging to his tee shirt as he asked, "How the hell am I supposed to fuck you in that thing? Why didn't you bring the Bronco?"

You whimpered and kissed his chin. "I took the Bronco out earlier, and I forgot to get gas for it."

Bradley kissed your lips hard and squeezed your ass before letting go of you in favor of your hand. He would have to work with what he had, because he was at the point of no return now that he was in your presence.

You ran along next to him as he walked to your car, and with shaky fingers, you unlocked the trunk for him. Once he dropped his duffle and backpack inside and slammed it closed, he picked you up in his arms. "I love you," he whispered, voice harsh as you whined his name. "But next time, bring the Bronco."

You nodded as you reached for the door handle, and Bradley eased himself down onto the back seat with you straddling his lap. It was such a tight fit, his head was grazing the ceiling, and his knees were digging into the back of the driver's seat. But your lips were on his, and your fingers were tugging at his hair. He was ready to completely lose control. He needed to.

Your wide eyes met his as you slammed the door closed. Without hesitating, he reached between his body and yours and worked at the fly of his jeans. His cock was throbbing painfully now that you were on top of him, your pussy rubbing against the back of his hand. "Jesus, Baby Girl. You're soaking wet."

"I know," you whined before sucking on his bottom lip. "I need you."

Bradley bunched the fabric of your dress up around your waist so he could watch as he thrust himself up to meet you. The relief he felt was immediate as you took all of him like a champ, sinking down around his cock until he bottomed out. You were gasping and moaning into his mouth, and he had known all along that you were the only thing that could satisfy him like this.

When he rolled his hips up, giving you more pressure, you tipped your head back. "Harder, Bradley."

Your voice begging him for more was music to his ears as he wrapped his arm around your back and grabbed your hip. He thrust up again, but you just moaned louder and begged him for more. "Harder," you whispered, your voice breaking beautifully on that single word.

"Sweetheart, I can only do so much here," he grunted, diggin his left knee into the back of the seat and bracing his right foot against the center console as he pistoned up into you. Your squeals of delight as your tits practically bounced free from your dress brought a smile to his face. How were you always even better than what his imagination and memory could provide?

"Harder, Roo," you gasped, your eyes bright and excited as you braced yourself on his shoulders. "Harder, Daddy."

He'd give you anything you wanted right now. Your pussy was tight and perfect and just for him. You were the only thing that could relieve this constant adrenaline rush. And he wanted to be just as good for you, too.

Lips locked with yours, inhaling every sound you made for him, Bradley braced his foot and fucked you has hard as he could. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The back windows started to steam up. You sounded like you were going to cry. But he didn't stop. He just went harder as you begged him for more and more.

"Oh! My god!" you cried out, your hands pulling his hair as you ran your lips along his sweaty face, not quite kissing him and not quite licking him as you came. He was close now, his balls rejoicing in the impending release he could feel building up in his spine.

"Fuck yes, fuck yes," he chanted softly as your voice rang out in the backseat of your piece of shit car. He thrust one more time, and he filled you with his cum as he heard a loud cracking noise.

It took him a few seconds to realize that the center console was no longer pushing back against his right foot, but he was too caught up in you to care much. Your soft giggles were right next to his ear, and the fabric of your dress had fallen back down over his hands which were now softly resting on your hips.

"I love you." Your breath was soft on his neck as you spoke, and the words were laced with a smile. "And I missed you."

Bradley caressed your soft skin in the dim backseat of your car, but he didn't dare move an inch. You felt too fucking good right now. He just held you and closed his eyes, and he could have fallen asleep still inside you when you started to shift. His eyes fluttered open to look at your pretty face as you sat up straighter on his cock and smiled.

"My wife is the prettiest thing I've ever seen," he whispered, and you stroked your fingers along his scarred cheek.

"Let's go home. You can have your birthday presents, and I'll run around and cater to you all day tomorrow."

He couldn't help but laugh as you kissed his forehead. When you eased yourself off of him, his cum dripped out of you and onto his jeans which just made him smile more. He was finally completely sated, and nothing was going to mess with that.

"What the fuck?" you gasped, turned around to face the front seat and nearly kneeing him in the balls in the process. "Bradley! What did you do?!"

-----------------------------

Mission accomplished, and now Roo is home! All of that adrenaline...oof. And what the fuck did he just do to her car? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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mrsjellymunson · 26 days

Text

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part One

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars , @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts event.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter summary: It’s all hands on deck to try and help your unexpected visitor. You come up with an effective, if unexpectedly intimate, solution.

WC: ~4.41k

C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, descriptions of minor injuries, allusions to hypothermia.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, just comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💗 Also, I proofed this as much as I could but my brain isn’t braining very well at the moment so if you spot any errors please let me know 💙

My masterlist

Prologue

PART ONE

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and the now-driving rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence.

You all stand at the door, mouths agape. Initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet with mud and rain and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaked clothes, the wet material seeming to drag his frame down even further.

You glance down and notice he’s barefoot, his feet the same mid-brown mud colour as most of his clothing, other than where thin rivulets of scarlet run down his skin.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they always were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems even lighter now, almost translucent.

His face is downcast, and he doesn’t make eye contact with any of you.

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure astonishment, as he yells over the sound of the rain, “Eddie? EDDIE!”

He starts to rush forwards, but Steve puts an arm out to stop him, protecting Eddie’s obviously frail and vulnerable state.

There’s murmuring and chattering and quiet squeals as everyone processes the sight before them.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate have brought him here, all of you only caring in this moment that he’s here. He's here! He’s here!

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle. They don’t seem to focus on anything in particular, and before any of you can work to bring him inside, he mumbles something that sounds a little like your name, sways a little and collapses, his knees connecting with the wood of the front stoop with a hollow thump.

Steve reacts first, stopping Eddie from falling sideways as he rushes forward, yelling, “Get him inside. Now!”

You hurry outside to help Steve whilst Robin opens the door fully and shoos the teens out of the way. Steve instructs you to grab under Eddie’s arm, and you both drag him inside.

You don’t have Steve’s lifeguarding or athletic skills and you’re not used to manhandling people, and you stumble over the threshold and flop backwards into the hallway. You end up sitting on your ass with Eddie half over your lap.

There’s a cacophony of confusion and the kids want to help, but they end up crowding you both. They want to touch Eddie, see if it’s really him, see what’s wrong.

The only ones who hang back are Will and Jane, you assume because although they’ve heard so much about him they don’t really know him. No one notices their somewhat tense demeanour, or the way they subtly keep glancing at one another.

Robin closes the door to keep out the weather, and out of the corner of your eye you see her covering her mouth with both hands.

You run a hand over Eddie’s form, checking for any obvious injuries. You spot his arms and hands are in a similar state to his feet, utterly filthy, with cracked and split nails and torn, bloody skin.

He’s bedraggled and shivering, has curled in on himself and is practically convulsing.

You speak above the clamour.

“Steve, he’s freezing! What do we do??”

Steve panics a little, pacing the hallway with one hand on his hip and raking the other through his hair. He makes a few incomprehensible noises before he remembers something, stopping suddenly and turning to face you. Clicking his fingers and pointing, he reminds you,

“Wait, didn’t you go on some outdoor survival course once, or something? At a summer camp? You told me about it when you got back. Something about how to help people who’ve fallen out of canoes into icy rivers? I remember because you were really sarcastic about it and said, ‘It was sooooo useful. I mean, I go kayaking all the time, right?’”

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck, fuck!”

Slowly, some of the information comes back to you.

“Okay, we have to warm him up, but it has to be gradual, though. There was something about too much heat too fast maybe causing shock?”

You start to panic, screwing up your face and trying to remember all the things they taught you. ”Oh fuck, think, think!”

Robin puts an arm around your shoulders as Steve says your name, softly, reassuring you that you’re doing great and that anything you can remember will be better than the absolutely nothing that any of the rest of them know. Give him a swimmer in difficulty or someone choking on a gumball at the video store and he’s in his element, but any of this outdoorsy stuff is way out of his comfort zone.

Suddenly and from nowhere your brain kicks into high gear. You remember some of the training, and start barking orders.

“Will, get blankets, lots of blankets. I remember something about hot, sweet drinks…” Eyes wide and flicking between the stunned people standing around you, you ask, “Which of you makes the best hot chocolate??”

Mike and Lucas state in unison, “Dustin!”

“Okay. Dustin, Jane, you go make hot chocolate. Make a lot of it, and make it really sweet”, figuring you could all use some, and that there’s likely to be more than one person suffering from shock this evening.

Turning to her, you say, “Robin, help me take his jacket off and hang it in the kitchen by the stove. Mike, help Will with the blankets. Steve, Lucas, help me get him into the living room, in front of the fire. And anybody and everybody, go get more wood!”

Robin crouches next to you, helping you to ease Eddie’s jacket from his trembling shoulders, glancing at you as she does so. You’re guessing your concerned expression is mirroring hers, but you don’t want the kids to see so you keep it between you.

She gets up and moves to the small kitchen, placing his sodden jacket over the back of a dining chair and setting it in front of the old but functional wood-fired oven (one place in the house that’s almost always warm).

Steve and Lucas help you move Eddie into the living room, where the open fire gets stacked high with fresh wood.

Robin brings a bowl of warm water and some washcloths, and you sit eddie between you, both cleaning mud from his face and gently bathing his damaged hands and feet.

Jane sits on the floor behind you. Initially reticent and hanging back, she’s now sitting nearer to Eddie, carefully removing some of the twigs from his hair with characteristic diligence and gentleness.

You make Eddie take sips of Dustin’s (frankly, excellent) hot chocolate, and make sure all the kids have got some before asking Dustin to bring mugs for you, Steve and Robin.

Once he’s a bit cleaner and has had almost a full cup of Dustin’s healing brew, you all gather cushions and lay Eddie down on his side, facing the fire. You try to get as much heat on his front as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s still trembling and his skin is blue and icy to the touch, and he seems to be getting drowsy. You can’t remember much more of your basic emergency training, but it’s enough to worry you. Something about sleeping or going unconscious being a Very Bad Thing…

He’s wrapped in the blankets Will and Mike brought, but you fear the wet clothes he’s still wearing may well be hampering your efforts.

You have another idea, not sure whether it’s the done thing or if you’ll be able to convince any of the others to help you but willing to try anything at this point. You say, to no one in particular, “This isn’t working. Can we get him into the bathtub?”

Your eyes look up and scan the room, flicking mainly between Robin and Steve, and to your immense relief you see everyone nodding, trying to figure out how to make this work.

Dustin’s the first to stand, and you hear his voice crack a little as he tries to say with confidence,

“Tell us what you need us to do.”

You nod at him, once, before beginning,

“Dustin, Will, can you run a bath? Make it warm, but definitely not hot. Mike, Lucas, get towels. Hurry!”

After a few minutes, Dustin and Will return, letting you know they’ve filled the tub with warm, but not hot, water. Steve and Lucas reprise their roles as patient transport, and start to move Eddie towards the small bathroom.

As you follow them and traverse the narrow hallway you glance at the weather hammering outside the window of the back door. Something seems off, and it’s only after a few moments of consideration that you realise the leaves and rain are travelling in the opposite direction to those at the front door. This doesn’t make sense - surely the storm should be pushing them all the same way? It’s almost like you’re currently somehow in the centre of a swirling storm…

You don’t have time to dwell on this as Steve calls to you, asking what they should do now. You hurry to the bathroom and see that Steve has balanced Eddie’s butt on the side of the tub.

You reply,

“We need to get him out of these wet things.”

Grunting as he shifts position, Steve nods once and barks to Lucas, “Hold him up.”

Lucas does his best to stabilise your almost-unconscious friend. Kneeling in front of him, Steve fusses with Eddie’s waistband, grunting, “Sorry, buddy, it’s for the best”, as he unceremoniously yanks off Eddie’s jeans. New-looking, unripped, black 501 jeans.

Relieved to see he’s wearing boxers, they both balance Eddie as they work to remove his shirt. His Hellfire shirt. He only had two. Okay, this is officially getting weird…

As Steve and Lucas work you start to strip off your clothes, ending up in just your underwear and bra. You don’t even care that they’re in the room, reasoning that not only have they all seen you in your bathing suit before, but also that this was definitely not the time for bashfulness or self-consciousness.

Steve asks you what you’re doing, and you explain that you’re getting in the bath with Eddie, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Steve, he’s practically unconscious. You want him to slip under the surface and drown? Come on, let’s get him in here.”

Without waiting for any replies, you step into the water, relieved that the younger boys heeded your instructions and it is indeed warm, but not too hot. You wave your hands in vertical circles, as if it would bring Eddie closer faster.

The old bath is short, but wide, and you’re pretty sure you’ll both fit.

As the boys manhandle him you’re momentarily stunned as you see the outlines of Eddie’s ribs and shoulder blades brought into stark relief by the harsh lights of the room. But you’re jolted back to reality as you hear Steve grunting a little as he starts to manoeuvre Eddie’s legs into the water.

You help Steve and Lucas to get Eddie in, slowly lowering him in case even this is too much of a shock. You slide down behind him and sit with him between your legs, supporting him with his back against your chest. You rub his arms gently, and murmur, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Please warm up, Eddie. Please.”

Gesturing to your now-muddy garb and Eddie’s discarded garments, you ask, to nobody in particular, “Can someone get these clothes in the washer?”

Lucas bundles them up in his arms and heads towards the door, calling for Robin’s assistance. Steve thanks him as he leaves and closes the door, staying in with you and Eddie.

The water comes up around your mid torso. You use your hand to slosh the warm water around Eddie’s upper chest, but eventually decide that’s not enough.

You use a small jug that you and Robin use for hair washing to run warm water over Eddie’s skin, gently trying to warm him, but also carefully working to remove what mud and detritus that you can. He still feels cold to the touch, but after quite a few nerve wracking minutes he appears to be shivering less.

You and Steve share concerned glances, and Steve comforts you as you comfort Eddie, crouching down and reaching over the side of the tub to stroke your shoulder, reassuring you, telling you that you’re doing good, that this is helping.

Eddie sighs a little as you run water through his hair and down his torso, picking out the leaves left from Jane’s efforts and throwing them onto the floor.

Though it’s still cool, and preternaturally pale, Eddie’s skin seems to have warmed a little.

Hearing chattering and commotions outside, Steve stands, and you can tell he wants to check on what chaos might be transpiring in the rest of the house.

“I’m gonna go check on the others. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Okay, good. Just make sure you do. I’ll be back soon.”

Steve gives you a small smile as he exits, leaving you two alone in the tub.

After the door closes you allow yourself a moment of pure self-indulgence and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s body pressed against your own. His back nestles against your chest, his spine between your breasts. His pelvis is slotted between your thighs, and you can feel the jut of his hips and his coolness on the delicate skin there. There’s a subtle pressure on your centre, but you try your best to ignore it.

You tilt your head forward a little, just enough to rest your nose amongst Eddie’s wet tresses, and run your hands gently down the outside of his arms. Not necessarily to clean or warm them this time, but just to feel them. To feel him.

The circumstances are so far from ideal, but part of you can’t help but revel in this proximity, this intimacy. You always wanted to be like this with Eddie, to have this closeness, but you didn’t think he’d ever want the same with you. You indulge yourself further and start to daydream, imagining it’s just you and him, that it’s a lazy weekend, and you’re enjoying a bath together just for the fun of it. Maybe you’re in your own shared apartment, the sun is bright outside and the scent of summer flowers is drifting in through your open window. No worries, no dramas, just you and Eddie, and the only thing on your minds is the promise of a romantic evening together.

A noise outside the room, possibly something clattering in the kitchen, breaks your trance. Taking a deep breath and looking up again, you shake yourself out of your reverie. Wanting to take full advantage of the warm water whilst you still can, you take a chance and lean back against the sloped end of the bathtub, taking Eddie with you, submerging you both a little more. You continue to use one hand to scoop warm water over Eddie’s shoulders and collarbones, occasionally running your fingers over his chest and throat.

You use your other hand to run your fingers through his wet hair, and as you stroke him he turns his head to one side and nuzzles ever so slightly under your chin. His breathing is regulating, and he’s even humming a little. The physical pressure of his body resting between your legs is increased, but you manage to keep your focus on the matter at hand.

After a few more minutes Eddie’s hands seem to warm and regain a little function. He stills the movements of your hand on his chest and clumsily interlaces his fingers with yours, gripping as tightly as he’s able as a couple of fat tears run down his cheeks. He’s still not able to talk, but just by his actions he’s telling you so much.

You hum into the top of his head,

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’m here. You’re with us now. You’re safe.”

You feel him relax a tiny bit more.

You sit in stillness for a few more long minutes, and, using the opportunity to observe him further, you notice more changes.

He was always wiry, but his muscles had a soft bulk beneath his ivory skin. Now, they’re solid and taut, and you can almost see striations running their length. The skin stretched over them is thinner, and the healthy layer of subcutaneous fat is completely gone.

As well as his altered skin tone and skinnier, but somehow also more muscled, physique, you notice the angry silver and red marks in his skin. Sharp, starburst patterns that look like chunks of his flesh have been ripped out of him.

Of course, they were.

You shudder at the memory of the altercation with the demobats, watching Eddie bleed out, dragging him through the gate but none of you able to do anything to save him.

You so want to know what happened to him after you were all whisked away in ambulances and trucks and black SUVs. You’re sure you saw him bundled into a black body bag, lifted into one of the Hawkins National Laboratory vans, but where he went after that you had no idea.

Wanting to be closer to him, and inveterately curious, carefully, so carefully, you run a fingertip over one of the scars on his neck.

He tenses, and flinches slightly.

Okay, we’re not doing that just yet.

You both sit in the stillness for another little while, and the bath water begins to cool. Before you could call him for help, Steve comes back in to check on you both.

When he’s satisfied that neither of you have drowned, you check in and ask how everyone else is doing. Usually, when they stay over, the kids sleep on the floor in the living room in their sleeping bags. Steve lets you know that for tonight, Robin’s decided to sleep on the sofa in there with them. She says it’s for company, or reassurance, or whatever, definitely not because she’s at all freaked out and not wanting to sleep alone. He tells you the kids have enthusiastically agreed, that Robin’s calming them, placating their rampant questions and desires to see Eddie, and is managing to get them to at least lie down, even if they don’t sleep. You and Steve are supremely grateful.

As confident as you both can be that the immediate emergency is tackled, and with the bath water continuing to cool around you, you’re aware that you and Steve need to think about practicalities, and discuss quite what you’re going to do next.

Steve’s the first to broach the subject, drumming his fingers lightly on the side of the bath as he checks Eddie over once more and says,

“So, uh, what’re we gonna do with him now?”

Remembering more of your rudimentary training, you decide to make another unusual request.

“Well, uh… This is probably gonna sound kinda weird, but…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I remember something from the training that said body heat is the best thing for warming someone up. Like, consistent, reliable body heat.”

You pause to assess Steve’s response. His brow is slightly furrowed and he’s looking a little pensive, but he nods for you to continue.

“And there was something about how skin to skin contact is even better. So, I mean I totally get it if you don’t wanna do this, but I thought I’d we could maybe get him into a bed and then sleep either side of him. Like maybe even spoon him or something… I dunno, I guess this sounds pretty crazy…”

You shake your head and look down into the tub, noticing that your fingers are still laced with Eddie’s, and he’s gripping your hand like he doesn’t want to let go.

“No, uh…” Steve clears his throat. “Y’know, I can totally see how that would work. Uh, okay, uh yeah, I guess we could do that.”

He gives you a half smile, his other hand running down his cheek, as he processes what he’s just agreed to.

The one-storey cabin has three bedrooms. A single, one with a double bed and one with a king. Steve, the tallest out of the three of you and, apparently, the most likely to starfish, got the king, whilst Robin opted for the coziness of the single (the one with the good view), leaving you with the double. The only sources of heating in the cabin, other than the open fire and the stove, are two clunky old electric heaters, which you try not to use too often, and if you're honest are a little scared of. Steve runs hot so he insisted you and Robin had one each in your rooms.

After a few more moments of deliberation Steve seems to have made a plan in his head. Nodding to himself, he stands, and says,

“Well, my bed’s the biggest, so I guess we’ll go in there. I’ll get the boys to move the electric heater from your room for extra warmth. And don’t even think about telling me no. I’m fine to overheat for one night if it helps Eddie, okay?”

He gives you a kind smile as he goes to leave the room, and you give him a relieved one in return. That was actually far less awkward than you thought it was going to be, and you’re thankful that you and Steve now have a plan.

You dislodge the plug with your foot and start to drain the bath, sluicing as much of the mud and detritus down the plug hole as you can, and Steve returns to help Eddie to stand and get out. You both dry him off, wet boxers notwithstanding, and do what you can to blot some of the dampness from his hair. While Steve holds Eddie up, you give a cursory wipe to your shoulders and feet and wrap a large towel around your middle, figuring the most pressing matter now is getting Eddie into bed.

Eddie shuffles from the bathroom to Steve’s room, supported between the two of you. He’s still not speaking, and can only manage a few moans and whimpers as you manoeuvre him. You see the kids peering intently at you all from the living room, and they seem comforted by the fact that Eddie’s at least upright and making noises.

You sit him on the edge of Steve’s bed, and as Steve bustles around the room getting the heater set up you examine Eddie’s injuries again. The scrapes and cuts on his hands and feet look raw and painful, but not deep, and they’ve stopped bleeding. And you’re relieved to see that he doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Not fresh ones, at least…

You ask Steve if he can loan Eddie some dry clothes for the morning, and he chooses a few things from the drawers across the room.

You help Eddie to lie down in the middle of the mattress, whilst Steve lifts his legs onto the bed and pulls a sheet over him. Brandishing the clean boxers he’s retrieved, Steve says, in his best Team Captain voice, “Okay, we need to change these. Sorry again, buddy, but it’s for the best.”

Steve manages to change Eddie’s underwear under the covers, explaining it’s for his modesty, as Eddie grumbles but doesn’t resist.

Steve turns around whilst you dry off and change into the fresh underwear Robin delivered for you, and you slide under the covers and sit at the headboard as Steve does the same on the other side.

Eddie’s breathing is more regular, and he’s no longer shivering, so you feel safer now letting him drift into sleep. You move some strands of drying hair from his cheeks, and gently stroke the side of his face. Steve gives you a moment before pulling the comforter up and placing extra blankets on top of you all.

In the quiet, you notice that the wind and rain have died down, leaving only the hum of the heater and the delicate, rhythmic patter of drizzle on the window as the soundtrack to your evening. It’s oddly comforting.

You move down under the covers, and as the two of you organise the blankets and start to settle around Eddie, you say in a low voice,

“Thanks, Steve. You’re a true friend.”

He responds, kindly,

“Hey, I’m not the one who just got into a muddy bath with him and pulled half a tree out of that jungle he calls his hair. I think that title most definitely belongs to you.”

You snort quietly at Steve’s observation as you snuggle into the bed. You both encourage Eddie to turn so his front is against your back, feeling his cool skin down the length of you, as Steve slots himself around his back, pulling up the covers and turning off the bedside lamp as he goes.

In the darkness you reach behind you and pull one of Eddie’s arms across your torso. You clutch his hand to your chest, wrapping both of yours around it, telling yourself it’s to warm him up, but knowing deep down it’s because you desperately want to feel him around you, and imagine he’s holding you.

You feel his breathing regulate, puffing rhythmic exhales against your neck. As exhausted as you are, a million questions still run through your mind. So many unknowns, whats, whys and hows.

What happened? Where’s he been? Why is he dressed in the clothes you guys picked out to bury him in? Does Owens know about this? What the fuck is going on?

All you know for sure is two things:

One, you’d do anything to keep Eddie safe.

And two, tomorrow is going to be a very, very interesting day…

ICYMI, the Prologue is here

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part.

Comments and reblogs keep writers writing, I’d love to hear from you.

My masterlist

I now have taglists for ‘everything’ and for each of my ongoing series, let me know if you’d like to be included!

Taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256

Extra tags: I’ve rather presumptuously tagged everyone who enjoyed or reblogged previous parts, just let me know if you’d rather I didn’t! @nicolothy @mmunsonsstuff @songforeddiemunson @kookygranger @lovingonthemoon @elegantkoalapaper @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn

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spoopdeedoop · 3 months

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hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

#doctor who #spoop speaks #if anyone has a name for this au i'm OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS #if anyone wants to write fic/draw art for this au YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ASK. IM ACTIVELY BEGGING. PLEASE #might delete this post if i get too self conscious it is. just. words. ew

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maleyanderecafe · 2 months

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When Jasy Whistles (Webcomic)

Created by: Cibeles

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

You probably have seen this one around, but I did find it very unique in terms of the worldbuilding. It can be admittedly fairly slow in some points in terms of pacing though actually the thing I enjoyed the most out of the series was seeing Jasy's siblings and learning more about them. Currently as of writing this, the story has finished its second season and the creator is working on it's third and final season.

The story starts out with Hela, a girl who lives in an traditional/ relatively isolated town outside of modern things who wants to take after her grandmother and become the chief of her town one day. Hela's best friend Rodri is one day taken away by one of the demigods, Jasy, and Hela goes to get him back. Jasy needs a human to help him get through the gate as a demigod like himself is not able to, and promises that if he makes a pact with Hela and gets through, she will be able to get Rodri back. Hela is very suspicious of Jasy as not only did he kidnap her best friend, but there are folk stories about how you should not follow Jasy's whistle, as it lures them somewhere bad. However, with no other way to get Rodri back, Hela accepts the pact and they go on their adventure. They are attacked by one of Jasy's half brothers, Ao Ao, a beast that eats everything and gives birth to children with only the desire to consume. As Jasy is not able to hurt his siblings, Hela must be the one to protect him using her skills in archery. They are able to escape and slowly walk through the land itself. There they meet other people there, trapped under strange circumstances. All of them are cursed to grow until they are adults and are never able to grow old, all while still having to sustain themselves on the few resources they have in the land. Hela wishes to open the gate and free the people there, as they are all fighting over the resources, while Jasy doesn't seem to care whatsoever, as he has a distrust of humans after the previous one betrayed him while trying to open the gate. Despite this, Jasy is able to mostly have amends with the people there, and even meets another sibling of Jasy's, willing to give her face to him so as long as they can go through to the gate safely. In the end, this brother instead wants to have Jasy's face, something that he willingly trades over Hela's, so as long as Hela can stay alive. Hela eventually reaches the gate where she sacrifices herself to open it and allow the people into the land. This greatly affects Jasy as he suddenly realizes how much he had cared for and loves her. To get her back, Jasy goes into the spirit realm to try to save her, and he's able to see her past with Rodri. Jasy is fully willing to stay with her in this forever loop of her childhood, but the two of them eventually come back into the world, and now having opened the world so the humans can go in, recover there afterwards. Jasy and Hela continue to love each other in their honeymoon phase, until Jasy is captured by humans. Hela finds out the humans that caught him are under the leadership of Rodrigo's mother, who had been missing for a while, chasing after treasures. We find out that she is the human that betrayed Jasy initially and attempts to get Hela to shoot him, only for her to free him. The last couple of chapters reveals that Mboi Tu'i, the sibling that has taken care of the realm is actually Rodrigo in some way and wants to take Hela away.

So I will say right now I don't really know that much about South American mythos, so there's a lot of things that go over my head in terms of references or how each type of god acted, but I do feel that I did have a good understanding on how each of Tau's children acted and the kind of possible personalities that they have. It's definitely a unique take on mythos that we don't normally see. The artwork as well is very gorgeous, the characters are very pretty and I'm a fan of the more monster designs of the siblings as well, seeing how each of them came to be and just how much they have to suffer. The world that Jasy and Hela go into is very cool, the idea of humans that basically can live forever is both a blessing and a curse, as they cannot reproduce and they still have to eat and fight for territory. I think my favorite of his brothers is probably Kurupi because I really do like sad monster boys that are shunned because of their appearance. Compared to his more real life depictions in myths he's a lot more sympathetic and tragic, so it's nice to see those incorporated in there. The entire plot seems to eventually go to deal with Tau, Jasy's father, in some point in the future.

Still, despite this, I feel like the plot at times can be really slow. There are good moments like when Hela helps out the people who are in stuck fighting each other and we see the dynamic of the world, as well as the aforementioned lore of all of Jasy's siblings, but the actual development of Hela and Jasy's relationship is slow, all things considered. Initially, Jasy and Hela are more like enemies, as Hela is extremely suspicious of Jasy and vice versa, only cooperating with each other because they need each other's help. Still as the story goes on the two of them fall for each other and slowly develop feelings for each other. This isn't necessarily done in a bad way, but it is incredibly slow and honestly lost my attention a lot of the times. I'm also a bit surprised that Hela wasn't more resistant considering Jasy actually did kidnap Rodri and only promised to give him back if she cooperated. While again, the romantic moments were fairly cute, they aren't all that interesting to me and to be honest, I'd rather see the actual worldbuilding that the two go through rather than their relationship. Hela as a main character focuses mostly on her desire to run her tribe, and while she initially is fairly competent and active in the story, shooting a lot of Ao Ao's children, she ends up having to rely a lot of Jasy to save her, especially since she ends up losing her bow and arrow after a while. I actually straight up forgot that she could do archery at the end when Hela was forced by her aunt to kill Jasy, which is probably not a great sign. I don't think she's the worst MC in these stories because she does have a lot of interesting points to her, but it does feel like she was hamstringed after a bit, with a bunch of chapters after Hela dies and is revived pretty much being carried around by Jasy as she recuperates. She does have a fairly strong conviction of not only bringing back Rodri but her connection to her grandmother, as well as the development to allow herself to finally decide things for herself without having it taken away from him, but I still feel like she could have used a bit more agency in the story itself.

Jasy as a yandere doesn't actually start out as one so we actually see the kind of decent he gets into. He is a rather light yandere all things considered, but it is always fun to see them descend into yandere behavior nevertheless. Like I said before, Jasy and Hela have a bit of a tumultuous relationship at first with the two of them begrudgingly forced to help each other, while slowly learning to understand each other a bit more. Jasy doesn't understand why Hela would go so far to save Rodri and later the humans that are trapped but has to go along with her anyways since she's the key to him getting through the gate. By the time he does reach the gate, and Hela sacrifices herself, he starts to realize the error of his ways- while initially he viewed her as a tool to open the gate, he now starts to realize that he actually did care about her, and more deeply love her, even to the point of going to the realm of the dead to find her. He even so much is willing to loop over and over Hela's favorite childhood memories forever so as long as they are together. When Jasy does finally retrieve her, the two of them basically have a honeymoon together, where Jasy is extremely doting on her. We do see some of bits of jealousy earlier with Jasy, such as when one of the guys of offhandedly suggests that Hela is actually pretty attractive, but it doesn't really come to full fruition until after she dies. It's a bit hard to say right now exactly how far he'll go considering it feels like it's just the beginning of the yandere arc for Jasy, but it at least is a start. Not sure how far they'll ramp it up in the third and last season, if at all. Like I said though, it's still pretty light and it's very possible that it might stay that way, though with Rodri's reveal, it could also very well go on a darker path.

Overall, I was pretty surprised at the story, but I do have split opinions on it. The worldbuilding and the mythos of the monsters are really interesting and a definite unique take that I haven't personally seen as much before, but I find that the story and pacing for the characters are pretty tedious and dragging at times. Still, it's extremely beautiful and the story itself is something unique to experience if you are interested in such things.

#When Jasy Whistles #ongoing #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere #recommendation

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mncxbe · 11 months

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Taking a bath with them♡ part 2

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐, 𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂, 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐, 𝑷𝒐𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Genre: fluff/ slight nsfw

I saw that y'all really liked the first one so here's part 2 of this little series♡

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐

I feel like Jōno prefers not to take baths because hot water is a sensory overload for him; like his skin feels weird

but he will do it for you if you ask nicely

he knows that it's something important to you so he'll make the experience as enjoyable as possible

he's kinda chill and doesn't move around too much

prefers to have you pressed against his chest so he can run his fingers through your hair

Jōno heard the splashing sound of water accumulating in the tub long before he stepped foot in your apartment. He had a vague idea of what your plans for tonight were, but he decided not to spoil your surprise.

"Hey there darling" you beamed "How was work?"

"Quite alright my dear. Nothing special."

You made your way to your boyfriend, arms snaking around his neck as you planted a kiss on his cheek. "How about we do something special tonight?" you asked.

Jono didn't miss the hint of mischief in your voice nor the sudden shift of your heartbeat. "Like what, taking a bath together?". He didn't need to see you (lol sorry) to know that your lips were now pushed forward in an adorable pout.

"You're so done I swear~ but yes, I was planning for us to take a bath"

Your boyfriend considered your proposal for a second before nodding. "Alright, but I can't stay for too long, you know that."

"Yes, yes don't worry" you said reassuringly, flashing him a smile. "Now go get ready I'll make us a cup of tea. Or would you prefer wine?"

"No, tea is fine"

"Ok, be right back". With that you tiptoed to the kitched. Jono took off his uniform and headed to the bathroom; the moment he entered the room a wave of heat made his skin prickle. He wasn't a big fan of bathing since the steam and hot water made his skin feel strange, but then again, what wouldn't he do for his lovely girlfriend.

He carefully sank in the tub, taking a few seconds to adjust to its temperature.

"Is the water hot enough?" you asked as you stepped in the bathroom carrying two cups of tea, its herbal, slightly woody scent filling his lungs.

"Yes, it's quite alright." He motioned you to join him and you quickly placed the cups on the tiled floor before sinking in the water.

You made yourself comfortable in his embrace, nestling your head on his chest as one of his arms wrapped around your frame. The first few minutes in the bath were spent in silence, the two of you simply enjoying each other's presence, but soon you became aware of his body pressed against yours, his hands caressing your plump skin. A light, rosy blush tinted your cheeks and your heart skipped a beat.

Of course, Jono noticed the slight change in your body temperature and heart rhythm. A low chuckle escaped his lips.

"Oh my, you alright darling?" he teased, his lips lightly touching the shell of your ear.

"Of course. It's just very hot in here" you shrugged playfully. His fingers ghosted over your thighs, causing you to squeeze them together.

"I can tell when you lie to me, dear. Your breath hitches. Plus, based on your reaction I~"

"Shh ok I got it" you laughed, covering his mouth with your hand. "You're right. You made me a bit nervous."

Jono gently removed your hand, a warm smile stretching his lips. He pulled you closer and kissed your temple, a sign of his unshakeable love for you.

"You make my heart beat faster too, my love" he whispered before letting his head fall back, the smell of honeyed tea easing his senses.

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

she's a big fan of flower petals in the tub

skincare queen

most of the times she's the one who initiates the baths

she always has a glass of some alcoholic beverage nearby

you know y'all gossip; she wants to know all the juicy details of your day

uses baths as a form of aftercare or simply to relax

"Girl I swear to god." you half screamed as you entered your flat, slamming the door shut. "You won't believe what happened today."

Yosano, who was sharpening the knives in the kitchen, abandoned the steel cutters and made her way to the hallway with a grin on her face.

"Was it that colleague of yours again?"

"You know it! He's so annoying I cannot even".

Your girlfriend smiled understandingly and opened her arms. Dragging your feet on the carpet, you closed the distance between you and pulled her into a tight hug.

"There, there" she said, caressing your head. "How about we take a bath together, hm? I'll go get it ready while you eat something. We have some gyoza and rice in the fridge."

You quickled pecked her cheek and tiptoed to the kitchen."Thanks dear. I'll be right there"

While your girfriend was getting the bath ready you niddbled the pork dumplings; when you finished eating you grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine from the storage room and made your way to the bathroom. Yosano was already there.

"You surely took your time, dear." she teased, her crimson eyes darting around your features.

"Oh shush. I got us wine" you said as you began pouring the merlot liquid in the two glasses. After that you discarded your clothes on the ground next to Yosano's butterfly clip and joined her in the tub. Drink in hand, you began rambling on.

"As I was saying, that guy is insufferable. He's mad that I was the one who got the promotion and now he's acting all petty. I mean, what even! Today he put salt in my coffee"

Yosano laughed at your words "No way he did that"

"I'm telling you he did" you whined, taking a sip of wine. "What I'm more mad about is that he took credit for one of my ideas and got all the praise."

You were visibly irritated, eyes glimmering with anger. "It's so unfair"

Yosano leaned in and cupped your cheek, her thumb gently tracing over your lower lip. "My pretty girl, don't worry about that asshole."

Her words were tender, but they carried a certain venom. "Plus, if he keeps bothering you I'll deal with him"

A small chuckle escaped your lips "Oh don't bother. He's not worth our time"

Yosano's gaze moved to your lips for a brief second and you took the hint. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on her lips when you kissed and you closed your eyes, allowing the stress to dissipate.

"Well now, dear." your girlfriend said in a honeyed voice as she pulled away "How about we go to bed now? I'll help you relax"

"That doesn't sound bad at all" you cooed, beaming with anticipation.

You both finished your routine for the night and hid beneath the silky sheets, in a world of your own. It's safe to say that you were in for a long night.

𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂

his face turns a pretty shade of pink when he hears your proposal

at first he tries to protest, claiming that it wouldn't align with his ideals but he can barely hide his excitement

this man has a fern next to his tub idc

Kunikida tries his best to make this experience most enjoyable for you: he asks you in advance if you prefer bubbles, bath bombs or just plain water, what temperature would be best for you, he massages your back and brings little snacks for the two of you

at first he won't let you wash his hair but after a few times he accepts

"Come on dear just this once" you desperately pleaded.

"I said no, Y/N."

"But it's for my birthday"

This little argument between you and your boyfriend started a few days ago when he asked you what you'd like for your anniversary.

"Well" you said coyly, twirling a strand of your coffee-coloured hair around your index finger "I'd like a romantic bath with you. With candles and all that."

The tips of Kunikida's ears turned red at your proposal "But darling, this is... it's against my ideals"

"I know but that's the only thing I want. If you accept I promise I won't try anything" you replied with a smirk.

You've been dating Kunikida for around two to three months now and although you were sleeping in the same bed you never actually saw eachother naked. Your boyfriend had a detailed plan of how the relationship was going to evolve and you didn't really minded it. Of course, you sometimes teased him or tried to push his limits a bit but nothing too extreme, so your proposal came as a surprise to him.

The evening before your birthday he finally agreed to take a bath with you and you spent the whole night answering his questions: what scented candles did you prefer? or did you like the regular ones better?, what snacks and drinks should he bring?

The next evening when you came home from work the whole apartment smelled like vanilla. You walked into the kitchen where you found your boyfriend pouring your favourite white wine in a glass.

"Ah there you are, my dear. Go get yourself ready for the bath, I'll join you in a minute" he said, motioning you to enter the bathroom.

You quickly took off your makeup and undressed, placing the folded clothes next to the sink and got in the tub. The water temperature was perfect, coils of vanilla scented steam hovering above its surface. You gazed around the bathroom, admiring your boyfriend's work; he had decorated the room to your liking: a few tall, beige candles were placed on the windowsill and the floor was adorned with red rose petals. The window had a view over the town and was slightly foggy so the lights of the city appeared elongated and haloed.

Just then, Kunukida entered the bathroom carrying a plate of nuts and cheese and your glass of wine. He gently placed them on the table next to the tub, where his pet fern resided, before joining you.

"Is everything to your liking, my dear?" he asked anxiously.

"Of course! It's perfect I love it so much. Thank you" you beamed, reaching for a piece of camembert. You placed it in your mouth and chewed slowly, savouring its tangy flavour.

Your boyfriend relaxed a little when he saw how thrilled you were and he took a sip of wine.

You talked about your day and the gifts you received from colleagues at work and when you eventually finished eating, you shifted, moving closer to him. The tub was large enough to comfortably fit both of you, but you wanted to be closer to him.

He let you lay your head on his chest, face turned to face the window and you wrapped your arms around him.

"I'm so happy Kunikida thank you" you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his jaw. This made your boyfriend tense a little; you were so close and your body so warm. He really tried his best to avoid looking at your curves but his gaze kept lingering on them. Naturally, you noticed the change in his demeanour and decided to take advantage of the situation.

Your hand slid up his thigh as you began leaving fleeting kisses along his neck. "Tell me, love. How could I possibly repay you?" you purred, your voice laced with honey. Your other hand was placed on his chest right abover his heart so you could feel the sudden change in rhythm.

Your lips curled in a smirk, ghosting over his. "Do I make you nervous, darling?"

Kunikida swiftly seized your wrists and pushed you away from him. For a good couple of seconds he refused to look at you, opting to gaze out of the window.

'Oh no, I fucked up' you said to yourself, trying to set your hands free. "I'm sorry honey I didn't mean to~"

You were suddenly silenced by your boyfriend's lips pressed against yours; his nails grazing the skin of your neck as his fingers entangled in your hair. The kiss was passionate and rough but didn't last long and when he pulled away you could see the desire burning in his eyes. You held his gaze for a while, trying to catch your breath. Neither of you said anything in this time and the tension was growing by the second.

"Do you want to move this to the bedroom?" you finally asked.

He eagerly nodded and got out of the tub, picking you up with ease; you shrieked, arms snaking around his neck to help find your balance. He placed you on top of the soft mattress and leaned in, lips hovering over yours.

"Happy birthday darling" was all he said before kissing your lips again.

𝑷𝒐𝒆

remember when I said that Kunikida would blush? he blushes ten times harder.

"Uh I mean, yes... I mean if you want to. I'd like that"

just don't tease him, he'll blush so much

loves to update you on his latest novels and he'll surely recite you poems if you ask him

this man adores candles; I feel like he'd have some black ones for the vibes

mentiones Ranpo at least one time

"Edgar my dear can you come here for a second?"

Your words sounded more like an order than a request, which made your boyfriend tense in anticipation. You had gone on a business trip for a few days and returned to Yokohama only about an hour ago, time that you spent unpacking your luggage. During this time Poe worked on his latest novel. He was so absorbed in his writing that he didn't even notice you propped against the doorframe. Your words however snapped him out of his trance.

"Yes my love. What is it?" he spoke shily.

Your eyes narrowed as you scanned his body "When was the last time you took a shower? Or had a proper meal?"

Your question took his by surprise and he fumbled for words. "Well uh I mean... maybe it was yesterday or?"

"Darling, you can't keep doing this to yourself. Every time I'm away you neglect yourself and it's really unhealthy". As you spoke your lips formed a tight line but your gaze was still soft. "Come on, let's take a bath together. I need a shower too."

Poe blushed. He'd never blushed so hard in his entire life; he felt like his whole body was on fire. But he knew he wasn't in any position to refuse you so he simply nodded.

"Good." you chimed "I'll go get the bath ready."

Twenty minutes later you were both submerged; the shifting flames of the tall black candles made the tiny bubbles of soap shimmer in technicolour. You were leaning against your boyfriend's chest and could feel his rapid heartbeat. He was silent and his muscles were so tense that not even your gentle touch was able to ease them.

"Would you like to tell me about your most recent work?" you eventually asked "I'd love to hear about it"

"Of course. Y/N I'm telling you this will sure be a challenge for Ranpo. It's about this man who [...]"

Poe started telling you all the details of his novel. His passion has always been something you admired so much so that you couldn't contain your smile when you heard him talk. Once again, your heart was swelling with love and care for the man in front of you.

"I love you, Edgar" you suddenly blurted out.

He immediately fell silent and you spun to face him. Cupping his cheeks with your soapy hands you pulled him into a tender kiss.

All this time Poe was a blushing mess. His hands sqeezed the plush of your hips as he tried to ground himself.

When you eventually pulled away with a loving smile on your face, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you too, my little raven" he hummed softly.

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deathsweetblossoms · 3 months

Text

The Prisoners Throne thoughts

Spoilers beneath cut! Heads up for a critical review but a positive Jurdan review 😂

Also did anyone catch the Roiben and Kaye mention? It was subtle but it was there..

I’m a little all over the place with my initial thoughts on the whole thing, but here are my main takeaways:

The pacing was weak, especially in the build up (or lack of build up) to Oak’s discovery of The Ghost being the main poisoner of his mother. In the span of two chapters, Oak goes from incandescent rage towards Ghost and his sisters/family, to then processing all of that because of the Ghost’s death?

My issue here is we never really saw Oak talking to his family despite his POV lamenting that they avoid uncomfortable topics. He’s right. They do. And so I would’ve liked for a genuine heart to heart.

On the topic of the Ghost’s death — what the fuck? Also incredibly weak. We didn’t spend enough time getting to know Garrett for that death to be impactful in any way (unless you are me and you’ve been crushing on the Ghost for years). The attitude around the entire thing was so blasé that I genuinely thought he was going to be brought back to life in a few pages.. I just don’t understand what Holly was trying to do here.

Overall this probably needed to be a trilogy so she could develop more of these ideas, because even the romance with Oak and Suren felt a little off kilter to me.

Otherwise, every Jurdan scene was incredible. Cardan, despite his few appearances, carried this whole book on his back for me. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE OAK. The tragedy of his upbringing, the way he was supposed to have a happy childhood but was turned into a monster by Madoc is so bittersweet.

I think the abdication of being heir was solved a little too easily? But it did leave the door open for some speculation about a Jurdan baby 👀

I was right about the political problem being about the Undersea and I’m really wondering if she’s going to write that from Jurdan POV or from Nicasia.. so that’s exciting!

I wish we had more *Elfhame* in this book. Where was the magic of TCP? I just felt something was lacking and I can’t put my finger on what.

Suren having a rebirth moment like Cardan only adds to my criticism that Oak/Suren has too many similarities to Jurdan that I wish had been avoided — BUT. I love the imagery of it and I’m happy our monster girl got the happy ending she deserves.

A lot of these Cardan moments had me going absolutely insane — him protecting Jude? Him playing with Leander? Oak pointing out that Cardan is brave and picked up a sword to fight in the end as well? Omg!!

How do I feel? Weird. I’m NGL, I feel kind of strange about this book. Perhaps I need to reread the duology or the entire series.

Some other odd things I noticed:

Lady Asha is still alive and kicking it at court? Lol.

Oak thought Taryn was the kind hearted sister who wanted a gentler world

The amount of dead deer imagery (the deer heart in the Citadel, the dead deer on Madoc’s clothes) that made Oak feel ill at ease was equal parts cute and sad LOL. My sweet hoof boy 🥹

The removal of Valerian’s curse and the confirmation that there was, in fact, a curse. What does this mean for Jude going forward?

#the prisoners throne #jurdan #the folk of the air #tfota #oak greenbriar #the prisoners throne spoilers

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immajustvibehere · 6 months

Text

Amidst a Crashing World (2/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur stops by at your cabin again and you serve him a home-cooked meal.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

! d/n stands for dog's name. So go ahead and pick a female dog name of your choice!

This is still a little bit of exposition, but I promise...way more fluff in the chapter to come ;)

Link to my masterlist

previous chapter

4700 words

Two weeks after Arthur had initially stopped by at your cabin for the first time, he decided to go again. But when he arrived in the early afternoon, he found the cabin empty. It wasn’t abandoned, he assessed, as he peeked through the window. There was a dirty cup on the table and a big pot on the stove looked as if its contents were cooking, as the lid sometimes wobbled a little. Arthur noticed an addition to your wall. In between your drawings that you had nailed to the wooden wall, you had pinned your own bounty poster. It was the same that Arthur had shown you the last time, though he was sure he used his to light a fire later that week.

He wondered why you had put it up there, since you had complained about the sketch not doing you any favour. Arthur agreed by the way, not that the sketch made you look ugly, it simply didn't look like you.

The horse tracks in front of your house were fresh and Arthur figured you had left only a few hours prior, probably for a grocery run. So, he waited.

He leaned on your fence and sketched your cabin. Then he sketched the nature surrounding it. When that was done, he explored the forest behind the house, mentally mapping the berry bushes and animal tracks he found. When he came back to your cabin, you were still nowhere in sight, so he plucked another tomato from your plant and then decided he'd head to the pond that's only a five minutes’ walk away. Apparently, he’d have enough time for a wash, and it was right to say that he needed one anyways.

It was an unusual hot and humid day, especially for so far in the North and close to the mountains. Arthur suspected he had taken the sticky air from the swamps with him. The sky was clear, though it smelt like rain. Arthur went into the pond stark naked, the water didn't even reach his chest, but he still started to scrub away with a little piece of soap that he kept on his travels. The path that led to your house wasn’t frequently used, he could tell by how far the grass had overtaken the earth that was occasionally trampled by horses or people. He didn’t particularly worry that people would sneak up on him or that anyone would walk past for that matter.

Arthur was busy with washing his hair, scrubbing days' worth of sweat and dirt out of it, so he didn't hear your horse approach. You had been quick to recognize the man in the pond and your grin grew with the shrinking distance between you. Arthur's head plunged under water about every other second to get the soap out of his hair. He didn't hear your first "Hey!", but when you whistled, loud and shrill, the man looked up surprised.

At first, Arthur’s attention was drawn to a Labrador Retriever standing at the pond’s edge, its tail wagging as though it anticipated this strange man to toss him a stick. Slowly, Arthur’s eyes went up and so he found you, leaning forward in your saddle with a cheerful grin on your face. You looked...different to when he last saw you. Your clothes were well cared for, even your jeans were cleaner than any he had seen in a while. A revolver was casually tucked into the waistband of your jeans. Arthur had probably been right about the grocery run, because your horse bore the burden of loaded bags.

It took only moments before Arthur’s face turned red. The poor man found himself taken aback, and before he could do as much as utter a word, you yelled: "Don't go killin’ all of my fish with that stink you’re carrying!" And then you rode on, the dog faithfully trailing behind. Arthur remained still in the water, feeling a mix of embarrassment, confusion and a hint of amusement…if only it hadn’t come at his expense.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dry and dressed and walked back to your cabin. The door stood wide open, and he saw you stirring the big pot. It smelt deliciously like stew.

Though the door was open, Arthur knocked gently, so he wouldn't startle you by entering. You gave him a quick smile before you turned to the pot again.

"I, uh...I hadn't expected-...", Arthur had thought it a good idea to apologize, but he wasn't sure why, so he halted. Then he noticed that you had prepared the table for two.

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting someone", he commented, slightly surprised.

"Oh yeah", you turned around with a playful expression. "Don't know if ya've seen him. Naked fella in my pond. I thought he might stay for dinner", you said cheekily. You really hoped he would stay. It was a far reach, but you were curious as to why he had returned.

Arthur took a moment to process your words. He stood still until he had pieced a meaning them together. A smile appeared in the corner of his mouth, mixed with some confusion about your hospitality. Last time you held him at gun point to make him leave...but now, it was like you had hoped he'd be back.

"Just...you might want to take the saddle off your horse. Half an hour, and it will be raining", you said, taking the bowls and filling them with stew.

"Rain?", Arthur walked to the door and looked into the sky. It was as cloudless as he remembered it to be. Though the air held a sticky humidity, and a decent wind swept through the trees behind your house, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight.

"Trust me. I've lived here for a year. The clouds are still behind the mountains, it's deceptive", you grinned, placing the bowls on the table. Arthur's eyes fell on the stew, and he felt his mouth water. This smelled and looked better than anything he has had recently, and he’d prefer to dig in right away. Unsaddling his horse would take a while and...as if you could read his thoughts, you interrupted them: "Can't eat it yet anyway unless you fancy getting your tongue burned off."

"If it ain't raining in an hour, I might take ya in for that 15 dollar bounty", Arthur threatened playfully. You only crossed your arms and mumbled a "Try me."

Arthur had all his stuff in the house in record time and the stew was still steaming when he sat down opposite of you. You had added two slices of bread next to his bowl and a bottle of beer. It was the bread that he took first, and he looked at you surprised.

"'s still warm", he commented.

"Yeah", you smiled, "Client of mine baked it fresh today. It was the last job before I headed back, so it's still warm."

"Client?", Arthur asked, but his full attention was now directed towards the stew. He dipped the bread to soak up some of the savoury juices and had to suppress the urge to sigh contentedly as he took a bite. It was undeniebaly delicious. Indeed, better than anything he had tasted recently.

"You think I make my money robbing and stealing people?", you asked with raised eyebrow.

"Mhm", Arthur nodded, not bothering to offer a verbal response as he was occupied with the food before him.

"I'm...a barber of sorts", you said, "You remember, don't you?"

Yes. He did, now that you mentioned it. You were quite talented with scissor and razor and frequently did the girls’ hair. At one point, even Dutch had trusted his hair to you for some minor trims. It was also useful to pickpocket people, he recalled Miss Grimshaw justifying your worth for a mission once.

"Only I stopped robbing people while doing their hair. It's mostly elders or women from Annesburg. Their husbands work in the mine, and they are in a bad state as it is. I'm cheap, but I do my work well and I have plenty of clients."

"Turned yer life around, then", Arthur mumbled, genuinely feeling a sense of happiness for you.

"Yes. So I hope you don't mind me asking why you've decided to march back into it", though you spoke kindly, there was a sharp edge to your voice.

"Wanted to tell ya that Dutch...I told him yer trail was cold and I couldn't find ya", Arthur explained. A hint of embarrassment crossed his features, prompting him to sit up straight as he noticed he had been slouching over his plate. He cleared his throat, "I think he believed me."

"Thank you, truly", you answered. A huge weight lifting from your heart. So, he did protect you, you wondered.

Arthur asked for a second serving of food, when a thunder rumbled so loud, that the dog jumped up in protest. "Told ya", you mumbled. A few seconds later, the rain began to pour down.

Neither of you said anything until Arthur had nearly finished his second serving. A little small talk followed about the dog, which was calmly lying close to the stove. You had an agreement with the farmer nearby, that you switch taking the dog. Sometimes he needed him for protecting the herd, at other times, you borrowed him for hunting. For the next week or so, he’d live with you.

After this had been discussed, silence ensued again. Then, out of nowhere, Arthur said: "I'm sorry for back then. When ya came to me and told me about yer feelings and I- ehrm."

"You don't have to be sorry for not feeling the same way."

"That ain't it. I was…having a rough day and I…my answer wasn't what yer deserved", Arthur said gloomily, his spoon scratching over the plate to gather the rest of the stew.

Then, he continued: "I really try being an honest man but that night…hell…ya can't even call me half a man the way I let ya down." Arthur chuckled sadly, as if he was remembering the moment.

"What're you saying?", you sighed.

"I'm sorry. 's all. I know I hurt ya a great deal and this wasn't what I wanted."

You nodded in acknowledgement.

"That night, I sat with Hosea and Reverend and we was talking ‘bout Mary…that's why I was a bitter…stupid boy when you approached me."

"Oh. How is she?", you asked drily.

"Mary? I saw her in Valentine a while ago. Needed my help for her brother or something. Not sure how that turned out because I walked away. I was just an errand boy for her."

Arthur was more often the errand boy than he realised. For example, getting you back to join the gang was an errand and had Arthur spent even a minute thinking about it, he probably wouldn't have done it. You exhaled: "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think you deserve to know."

You wanted to let your head drop into the stew. How grateful you were for the little piece of bread dough that you had been rolling and kneading with your fingers for distracting purpose. Otherwise you might have peeled chunks out of your table, because of how tumultuous you felt. Suddenly, the silence was deafening. All you heard was the rain pouring down on your little shack. It violently dripped through the roof in one corner and into the bucket that you had provided there.

Both of you had finished your meals. With a swift motion, Arthur took out a pack of cigarettes.

"D'ya mind?", he asked, already placing a cigarette between his lips.

"Only if you don't share", you said softly. Arthur offered you the pack and you picked out a cigarette. The man struck a match and held it over the table, patiently waiting until your cigarette was lit, not bothering at all that he nearly burnt his finger when he got to lightening his own.

Arthur stood up and walked to the window, a waft of smoke trailing behind him.

"Jesus...", he mumbled as he looked observed the torrential rain. Darkness settled in and visibility worsened with the downpour.

"It won't let up until later tonight", you said, shaking your head knowingly. Observing Arthur lost in thought, he pondered for a while longer in front of the window. Eventually, his gaze shifted to the wall and your heart fluttered as he seemed to thoroughly analyse your sketches.

"You've taken up drawing?", he inquired.

"Days can be long and lonely", you replied.

"Not with her around, they ain't", he added. You were confused at first, but smiled when Arthur knelt down to pet d/n. She happily acknowledged him, her tail wagging energetically.

“What is it with the bounty poster?”, Arthur asked. His hands were busy with navigating through the dog’s fur. You saw how much d/n enjoyed it, as she leaned into the pets. You had collected on of your bounty posters shortly after Arthur had visited you. Why? It was just a terribly corny way of remembering Arthur. The moment he had walked up to your door, you knew that months of trying to forget or get over him had gone down the drain. You might as well acknowledge that you love and want to remember him. But you couldn’t admit that, of course.

“Just to remind me what I’m worth”, you smiled bitterly, “15 dollars.”

“I’m sure you’ve done stuff that deserves a higher bounty”, Arthur cheered.

“Oh yea. I just don’t bother leaving clues behind”, you answered. Arthur didn’t say anything, again. His thoughts seemed to wander, until he pushed himself up on his knees and stated: "I suppose I should get going then..."

"What? You take baths twice a day now?", you teased. The idea that you would send anyone away in this weather was ridiculous. Arthur looked at you puzzled as if he hadn't understood that you were inviting him to stay.

"It's alright if you stay tonight. I won't have you ride to town in a storm", you explained. Sometimes, plain words are the way to go, you figured. Especially with Arthur. Even though the last time you spoke plainly, it hadn't worked out for you.

"And ya won't try'n kill me in my sleep?", Arthur chuckled and nervously scratched his neck. He was still unsure about staying, despite the premise of getting soaked to skin wasn't nearly as inviting as staying in your cabin, which was still filled with the smell of the stew. Arthur wouldn’t be able to take one more bite, but it smelled homely and comfortable, nevertheless.

Arthur continued: "Last time you threatened to shoot my kneecaps off so-"

"Well, last time, you were an intruder, not a guest. And the news you brought today pleased me way more than the one you gave me two weeks ago."

So, it was decided then. Both of you quickly assessed the sleeping situation. Arthur would spread his bedroll, which had stayed dry - thanks to your warning - at the opposite side of the room from your bed. It was a dry corner and close to the fireplace. You only had one extra blanket to offer, which Arthur accepted gratefully. As it grew darker outside as well as in the cabin, you lit a candle which remained on the table and two lanterns. One of them you put on your bedside table, the other one was taken by Arthur and he simply put in on the floor next to him.

It wasn't that late yet, but you had been on your feet all day. You were exhausted and the steady rhythm of the rain was lulling you right to sleep.

There was no "Good Night" or "Thank you for letting me stay". Neither of you said anything if it wasn't necessary to discuss for logistics reason.

"Want me to blow out the candle before I go to sleep?", Arthur had asked and you had said it would be fine, it was small anyways and would only last a few more hours. The table in the middle of the room pretty much hid the sight of one another, but you still saw that Arthur was scribbling away in his journal, before sleep took over.

You awoke at some point in the night. The rain was still as violent as before, but the candle on the table had gone out. Arthur was asleep, you figured, since he had turned off his lantern. Sometimes, you imagined you heard a snore, but it was really impossible to say with the noise of the weather.

For some reason, you were wide awake. You felt the desire to say something, you wanted to whisper Arthur's name and have him wake up to tell him something. What exactly, you weren't entirely sure. You wanted to thank him for the earlier apology. Strangely, you realised as you stared into the darkness, it had provided comfort you had desperately yearned for. But you knew it was ridiculous to wake him for such a thing, so you simply turned around, facing the wall rather than the direction in which Arthur was sleeping, and forced yourself back to sleep.

Arthur only stirred the next morning when a beam of sunlight pierced through the window. The lingering smell of coffee was something he noticed, even before he had decided it was time to open the eyes and face another day. Given his lifestyle of frequently changing his sleeping place, he sometimes woke up confused. Normally it'd take a few moments for him to remember where exactly it had been that he had fallen asleep. This time, however, his sight fell on your bounty poster on the wall, and he remembered where he was.

Standing up with a grunt, he noticed that you weren't in the house. He also noticed that the early morning had gone, and the sun was already on its way to its zenith. You had gone outside, leaving the door open. In contrast to yesterday, the air had cooled down significantly and Arthur even felt a slight chill as his body adjusted to waking up.

There was a can of coffee on the table and two mugs, one dirty and one clean. Arthur figured that you have had your share of the brown liquid and the rest was meant for him. He thought for a second but decided to put the coffee into the dirty cup, though you apparently had used it this morning, Arthur figured that it'd save time doing the dishes. There was also a pan of milk porridge on the stove and since it also looked like half was missing, he figured that the rest was for him. But he'd rather make sure.

Cup in hand, Arthur walked out of the door. The sun was blinding, the grass wet but green. He saw you immediately, as you were in front of the house, brushing the wetness out of his horse's coat. Your horse stood next to you, looking a offended that you chose to care for Arthur's first.

"G'd morning", Arthur said.

The raspy voice made you smile and look up. Good Lord, the man looked…heavenly. His hair tousled, his shirt all over the place and sleep still lingering in his expression. Yet, with every passing moment, the sun worked its magic, gradually rousing him from his slumber. You hated how much loved his appearance. You even despised yourself for hoping this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him like this.

"Morning to you, too. Saw the porridge?", you asked, barely spending time on checking the man out but rather focusing on his horse.

"Wasn't sure if it's meant for me", Arthur admitted and lead the cup to his lips. The coffee wasn't boiling hot anymore, but it had a fine temperature to enjoy and still gain some warmth from.

"Oh, I wanted to finish all of it but got sick of it pretty quickly. That's why I collected some berries, uhm", you pointed towards something, and Arthur followed your finger, finding another mug that was filled with some berries, "You can have the rest. I already ate some."

"Thank you", Arthur said, picking up the small mug and shaking it to have a proper look at the blueberries. His thank you sounded generous and kind, you thought.

Arthur walked back inside. He didn't remember the last time he had eaten breakfast. Like, proper breakfast. Not only coffee or a dry piece of bread. He loved the porridge you had made and enjoyed it even more with the berries. It didn't matter how much stew he had eaten the day before, shortly, coffee, blueberries and porridge had been devoured.

"Y/n", Arthur walked out. His hair had flattened a little and he seemingly had found time to arrange his shirt, "I'd fix that roof of yers, if ya let me."

You looked up surprised from your horse, which now enjoyed the same treatment Arthur’s had.

"You don't have to...I don't want to keep you...", you said, almost mumbling the second part. It wasn't true, because you did want to keep him around. Hell, for the first time in a year, you hadn't felt lonely tonight. Making breakfast felt like it had a meaning, if there was someone around to share it with. The last couple of months, you had barely bothered for trivialities like that.

"I want to", Arthur affirmed.

"Then I won't stop you", you smiled. Arthur turned away to walk to the little shed next to your house, but you added a question before his attention was fully on your roof, "Do you mind if I braid your horse’s mane?"

Arthur saw your big grin, and hell he couldn't deny you anything. If you had asked to keep his horse for good, he might have said yes.

"Won't stop ya", he replied.

The day was filled with chores. After you had tended to both horses, Arthur's now adorned with braids in its mane, you got around to cleaning the aftermath Arthur's roof fixing had inside the cabin. Then you said you were off to fish, taking d/n with you. It took you almost an hour to catch two decently sized fish and when you returned, you found Arthur working on your bedframe. It had been askew as long as you remember and you had gotten used to it, but God, your stomach fluttered when you saw him, expertly working the little saw that had rusted away in your shed.

"Not content with me furniture, are you?", you snorted as you laid the fish on the table.

"Sorry, I jus' thought...", Arthur stuttered and looked up.

"It's fine", you laughed, "Thank you for attempting to fix it."

"I'm not good at those things...or a little out of practice at least", Arthur admitted, stood up to have a look at his handiwork. The bedframe looked even, at least.

"Looks better than before", you smiled kindly. And if the bedframe was to break in two when you first sit on it, it wouldn't matter much. Arthur had cared enough to try and fix it.

His eyes now fell on the two big fish. He looked outside, to find the sun has wandered further than he would have expected, suggesting it was early afternoon.

"I should get going...", Arthur mentioned, more to himself than to you.

"You are telling me this after I caught TWO fish?!", you turned around, arms crossed. It had caught you a little bit off guard. Fishing had allowed some time to daydream and in that hour you had already prepared all the questions you wanted to ask him when you served him lunch. So that came like a punch in the stomach.

"Not because I don't want to stay", Arthur uttered, and you found his expression rather gloomy, "I told everyone I''d be back today...we're gonna hit a big score in two days’ time and I expect they want to go over the plan with me..."

"Oh..."

For a moment you thought about telling him that you'd help with the score, no matter what it was. Honestly, any excuse to be with him, be with other people. But you knew it probably meant running right back into Dutch's trap.

You watched sadly how Arthur gathered his belongings. His hat had found a place on the wardrobe and his jacket was neatly sprawled across the chair. In the span of one single night, everything had found its place like he had meant to stay for longer. But you knew that this was merely wishful thinking. Besides, even though you found your feelings for the man come back, you had to remind yourself that he hadn't reciprocated those feelings before and probably never was going to. Yet, he was a friend and a companion, and that, you reasoned, was enough.

You helped to saddle his horse, Arthur inspected the little braids you had worked into his horse's mane.

"Looks real fine", he mumbled.

"Thank you", you grinned, "I'll do your hair next time if ya ask kindly."

"What? With braids?", Arthur responded, looking at you with a comical expression.

"Sure", you grinned, watching as Arthur completed the final adjustments to secure the saddle and his belongings on his horse. He chuckled warmly at the proposition, as if the idea seemed somewhat absurd, yet there was a chance to convince him otherwise.

"Over my dead body, darl-", Arthur swallowed the last word as if he remembered it wasn't a good idea, "I'll stop by again."

"If you do, send word to Annesburg first and I'll have a meal ready", you said with a smile.

"Sure”, Arthur’s eyes fell on d/n as she excitedly circled him. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to say good-bye or if the saddling of a horse meant that she was to go hunting, but she was happy when pet her again.

“Good girl”, he scratched the dog behind the ears, “Take care of her, will ya? I don’t trust her being able to defend herself when a boar comes to steal some tomatoes off her precious plant.”

Despite it being your dog that he addressed so affectionately, you couldn’t help but blush. However, as you glanced to your tomato plants, you noticed a significant number of fruits missing. Yet, you forced a smile on your face and whispered a “son of a bitch” under your breath.

Arthur sighed happily and mounted his horse.

"Good luck...with the score", you said.

"Thank you. It's Hosea's plan so I don't think we'll need much luck. But I'll take it", Arthur tipped his head and steered his horse away from your little cabin, not without a feeling in his chest that he'd rather stay.

When he had left you far behind, he began to undo the little braids. It wasn't exactly his style, though he couldn’t deny that they were beautiful. Before unravelling each one, he'd take it between his fingers and let it run through them, as if this was an excuse or a way to satisfy the urge to do the same with the fingers that had woven them. When Arthur realised this, he felt like a fool.

"You’re a moron...", he mumbled under his breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay at your place because he envied the way you lived. That you had managed to escape from Dutch's crazy plans which became crazier every week. Or that your cabin was in a secluded and picturesque spot. He could see himself living there by himself. Or with you.

And yet, he had to open the braids because if anyone from the gang saw them, they might recognize your handiwork or realise that Arthur hadn't gone for stealing some pocket money out of idiots’ pocket. By lying to Dutch, he had prevented you to come back and take part in whatever insane score would be next. Arthur was proud of having you kept save, he knew it was the right thing to do. After robbing the bank in Saint Denis, the gang would have more than enough money to make an escape…maybe then he would be able to come back to you.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Next chapter: here

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan7

Thanks and kisses to @little-honeypie because we've been cooking this shit up together <3

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr fanfiction #rdr #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x fem!reader

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vhstown · 5 months

Text

ain't no love; pt. 3

"ain't no love and it's sure 'nuff a pity"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 →

chapter summary: [DUAL POV] The Prowler is someone you never thought you'd run into. Miles thought the exact same thing.

content/warnings: grotesque imagery, depictions of panic and fear, violence, arguments, etc.

word count: 5.8k (dear god)

a/n: thanks to @qiupachups for proofreading cause lord knows i wouldn't have... im not ok guys like actua

“And over here is our robotics department — my favourite, personally.”

All you could think about as the man in front of you talked your ears off — and walked your legs off — was how on Earth you ended up here, rooms and corridors deep into the Oscorp Industries. Trying not to get hit by speeding interns or bump into equipment that cost more than your school uniform, you’d been taking in the winding laboratories and offices that were well past the flashy displays at the reception for the past hour or so, led by the one and only… well, the man had yet to introduce himself since excitedly deciding to take you on a tour. Forming connections, as Ms. Weber had put it, was more exhausting than you’d thought.

“Take a look at this arm for a moment — trained completely on artificial intelligence, and moves just like the real thing!”

You just smiled and nodded, the muscles in your neck starting to hurt from the action. As you did, the metal prosthetic spurred into life, swaying and flexing its bulky fingers in what looked random enough; how realistic it seemed was debatable, though. You noticed small, engraved initials on the wrist, reading “O.G.O”, much like the prototypes in the flashy displays downstairs. You’d seen nothing of the sort up here until now, though. Maybe this one was was just special.

Regardless, you really needed to sit down at some point — preferably in some corner so people could stare at you less. There was always someone throwing furtive glances your way, and right now it seemed to be a gaunt-looking man you’d seen slinking around the department, now in the little laboratory full of strange-looking arms and mechanisms that weren’t nearly as functional as the “A.I” powered one.

“Thank you, Doctor…” You squinted, the faded remnants of the name “MENDEL STROMM” forming on his badge. “Stromm.”

“Professor. Professor Stromm,” he corrected, earnest yet almost with pride. “I always felt like a teacher at heart, anyway.”

You only managed to make it halfway through your umpteenth nod before something caught the corner of your eye. The catching of light from somewhere above you, just for a moment — insignificant, really. It seemed to catch your attention long enough for Professor Stromm to notice your attention had gone elsewhere, though.

“Oh, I must be tiring you. Do you like coffee?” You barely had a chance to open your mouth. “I'll get us both some coffee, God knows I need it— just give me a minute!”

Before you could answer, the man skittered away, his rounder frame creating a noticeable dispersion the sea of people moving through the hall until he was nowhere to be seen.

That left you, a random kid, in the robotics laboratory with probably more than one pair of eyes on you. Or maybe not; when you let yourself look around, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the lab at the present moment. Thank God.

A long-overdue sigh left your chest. As much as you'd been lucky to run into Stromm by the reception (before the less-than-polite receptionist could tell you to beat it), you never expected to be running around so much from place to place, trying to make mental notes of everything he'd been saying.

So far, you had “A.I. arm”, something about “gene editing”, some other thing about “99% efficient generators” and a whole other string of scientific jargon thrown in between half-finished explanations and sporadic spurs of Stromm’s recollection. Admittedly, it stressed you out a little; you constantly had the urge to take a piece of pen and paper and record everything he was saying but you only needed a few brief ideas to go off of on your college essay. That was, if you were even going to go into the science field. You still hadn’t decided, though, if you were going to keep performing like how you did right now in your AP classes, you’d probably have your decision made for you soon enough at the back of those lifeless vegan diners opening up everywhere.

Maybe you could get an internship here, if you were lucky enough. Had you been showing enough enthusiasm? It was hard to match. In fact, the man was so enthusiastic he drained the enthusiasm from you. His passion was admirable, but also somewhat pitiful — like he had nobody to truly share his passions with it. At least until a bumbling, bashful sophomore from Visions came along. You’d rather not think about it too hard — this room was starting to make you feel dizzy. It was like there was something wrong with the ventilation, but you didn’t dare go out, given you’d probably get lost in a minute or two.

It was a week into winter break already, and the realisation made you wince. Just a couple weeks into January and you'd be head-first into exams again, while all your friends who went to other schools lived their lives. Visions just had to be different, it looked like. A couple more of Mr Wellston’s unbearable classes before that, though — instead of learning any math, you’d mastered the art of having one eye on your handout and the other on Miles’.

Miles Morales — you’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. It wasn’t hard, given how every text you’d send him had been left on read. He could’ve been busy, (or given you the wrong number) but the dread of being in that careers fair full of freshmen alone was staring to creep up on you. At least a little confirmation that he wouldn’t disappear off of the face of the Earth this semester would be nice.

Hey?

There was a twang in your chest as you looked over your barren chat.

Read at 2:41AM

…What unethical sort of time is that? He could just be bad at texting — or he just decided to hate your guts now. Either seemed unfortunately probable. Were you enemies, or something? Were you supposed to be annoyed? You’d known this kid for a couple weeks at most. Maybe it was weird of you for wanting to get his number so soon. Miles had his own life, even though he walked you back to your apartment in the middle of nowhere that one time. Why did you even care so much?

Maybe there just wasn't enough time in the day for the both of you.

Beep!

To your surprise, Stromm had come back faster than usual. He had a hand over his face, adjusting his glasses, but… no coffee in sight. The door locked automatically behind him, his badge wrung awkwardly around his neck, like he’d just thrown it on.

“Is the coffee machine broken, or something…?”

“They're completely out of cups, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” You could’ve really use that coffee right now, you thought.

Still, you smiled at him, feeling the ache in your face smile with you. The man seemed to be pondering something, standing still with a slightly tense expression on his face. He looked like he could’ve used that coffee too.

“Are you okay, Professor?” You tried asking this as unassumingly as you could, but it got a twitch out of him anyway.

“Yes, yes, I've just lost my train of thought…”

You waited, the faint murmurs down the hallway and the strangled breath of the ventilation system above filling the void of silence.

“Are we going to the next floor…?” you suggested.

“No, no,” he said in that melodic way he did, putting a finger up. At least he was somewhat like himself — just thinking, is all.

You decided to be patient, turning your head to stretch your neck slightly, feigning interest in the light fixtures above.

Just what the hell was that gigantic, moving shadow on the ceiling?

“Um, well I think we should go, it’s kind of warm in here—”

“Actually, I think you could do something for me.”

“What is it…?” Your eye twitched as you noticed a figure starting to form from the shadow.

“You see that robotic arm?” The one on display or the one sticking out of the god damn ceiling? “I think you should try it on.”

“What? Really?” It felt like something you’d get in trouble for, but nobody else seemed to be around — except for, you know, the dark humanoid figure right above you. “I— I think I need to use the bathroom first.”

“It’ll be quick. I mean, it’s already hooked up!” Stromm was already reaching for the device.

“No, it’s okay—”

Krrrrr… Bzzzzt!

The room flooded with darkness. Every light had gone out at the same time, the whirr of machines and electricity dying out.

“What on Ear—”

All but for a blur of reddish-magenta light.

Before you could open your mouth, the sound of a ruthless, metallic thud emerged, immediately followed by the crunching of glass, and then a choked breath.

Your vision suddenly sharpening in the little light there was, you could make out the silhouette of Stromm, staggering into the display which held the arm. Where he’d just been was now a foot, faint purplish light glowing from the underside of a shoe.

And then, a grating mechanical sound followed — it sounded like something was snapping over and over, like the arm you’d seen in the display as it moved its joints. A rim of light flickered around what looked to be a sleeve, which was attached to a giant, metallic set of claws, the sharp edges of which caught the light.

“Who are you?! W—What are you doing here?!” the professor shouted out, his feet heavy and erratic on the floor as he tried to ease himself up. His voice came out strange and desperate, strained, almost unfamiliar. You’d think it was someone else if you didn’t know it was Stromm.

All you could do was watch, taking tiny, careful steps back as you tried not to breathe. The figure moved forward, at an unnatural angle, turning as its mechanical claw clenched and unclenched in a now almost seamless movement. You caught the edge of a strange emblem, scrawled messily across the front of what looked to be a suit. It was familiar, and it sickened you once you realised.

“—In this morning’s report we investigate a disturbing string of robberies and break-ins, suspected to be carried out by a criminal duo including—”

There was no mistake — that was…

“The Prowler,” a voice answered for you, crackling and modulated.

“—Norman Obsorn suspects that Oscorp supply chains have been intercepted—”

An ear-piercing buzzing emerged from the air as threads of energy sputtered from the glowing core of his arm device, climbing rapidly up to the centre of his palm. What formed was a concentrated mass of ebnergy, undulating between the claws and casting harsh shadows around the room. Your eyes darted to Stromm, heart in your throat as you expected to meet a horrified, helpless version of the expression he had mere moments ago — it was anything but.

His face was stuck, slack — near dead. And as you watched the energy inevitably grow, his face began to change. What was once the face of Professor Stromm amalgamated into a shapeless, fleshless form, his skin receding into itself and leaving pallid, bloodless sheets of muscle, twitching with thick shadows in the ever-expanding light. As he lifted his head, deep, glowing pits were in place of his eyes.

The same strange voice that came out of the face, you realised, had never been Stromm’s to begin with.

“You are making a mistake.”

Before you could react, your skin singed with heat, sparks rushing past like missiles as the room threatened to explode into white. That was what finally gave you the sense to run.

“—It seems the notorious criminal and his accomplice have increased their activity among a concerning rise of organised crime. Authorities think they could be affiliated with what is coming to be known as ‘The Sinister Six’—”

CRASH!

Beyond your covered ears, a dull boom reverberated through the lab, a million broken shards of glass and plastic flashing with the aftershock. If you were hurt, you didn’t know, adrenaline ushering through your body. Your heartbeat was sharp and loud, your hands were shaking, bile was coming up your throat.

Get me out of here get me out of here get me out of here leave leave leave leave—

Your eyes were painfully wide, stinging with tears, yet everything was overwhelming and sharp and bright — that was when you saw it.

Glass case. Fist. You gritted your teeth.

CRRAAACK!

Big. Red. Panic button.

SLAM!

Instantly, the room exploded with red, blaring light, sirens howling through the room and beyond the door, the lock disabled. You caught one last gaze from those white electric slits before scampering into the hallway, door slamming shut behind you. All you could hear was the clatter of your feet in tandem with your thundering heart, throat too dry to scream. You just needed to get out of here, they couldn’t catch up with you — they wouldn’t.

Shoving past alarmed faces, you advanced to the end of the hall. Stairs — safest bet.

You scrambled down the dingy stairwell, hip throbbing with pain as you turned sharply against the railing down to the next floor. Sweat prickled at your skin, and you tried to breathe. The stairs seemed endless, but you were soon on the bottom floor, dragging yourself to follow everyone else leaving the building. Until you got out, you wouldn’t slow down.

Staggering into the cold, thin wind bit at your skin, the faint cry of police sirens from somewhere you couldn’t see. You tore the visitor’s badge from around your neck, filling your lungs again in big, painful gulps and squeezing your stinging eyes shut.

Never have you been more grateful to breathe in the musty Brooklyn air that you so, so hated.

“Miles…”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ thinking straight!”

“Miles.”

“I swear I had him I just—”

“Miles!”

“What?!”

“Jesus Christ, man. Calm your shit!”

Miles tensed as Aaron gave him a firm slap on the shoulder, the sick feeling in his throat easing just a little.

“It ain’t your fault.” The cool, collected voice of Uncle Aaron, much to his dismay, managed to break through his racing mind. It was his fault — everything was his fault. He’d messed up everything!

“Yes the fuck it is!”

“Watch yo’ mouth.” Aaron had a sudden severity in his tone, kicking Miles back into normality.

“Sorry,” he mumbled back.

Miles elbowed the punching bag beside him, unable to meet his uncle’s eyes. He’d let the man they’d been chasing for the past month to get away, all because he’d been too hasty — too immature. And you had made a stupidly smart decision to press that damn alarm.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he mutters again, voice seeming to fight itself.

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron repeats.

“He’s gon’ kill more people regardless. He could’ve killed—” He bit his lip, hard; your name was right at the back of his throat.

Aaron met his gaze again, but he didn’t give him the courtesy of returning it, eyes stuck to the ground.

“…There sumn’ you’re not tellin’ me?” Aaron asked.

Miles just shrugged, bottom lip freeing itself with the lingering sting of his teeth. There was probably a lot more than there should be that he hadn’t told his uncle.

Walking over to the drawer, he pulled out the dusty old case file. It had tattered corners and the paper had a weird feel to it, like it was from a long time ago: 3 years, to be exact. It was an older case that had re-emerged some time ago — the last case his dad was involved in.

Flicking it open, he was met with all the reports and notes, ones he’d grown sick of seeing: “Unidentifiable suspect”, “vague circumstances” and “unverifiable” were some of the few reasons why. They weren’t going down the “typical” route of investigation, but it didn’t make it any easier that they could break down a few doors without a warrant.

For the past month, Miles had been searching for leads, clues, chasing down suspects of these missing person’s cases — all of them leading him right back to where he started. Every time he thought he was getting closer, he’d go back a hundred steps. Everything about this case lacked any sense of logic; people would disappear without any sort of reason, completely by random. There was no pattern to these cases, except for the fact that whatever circumstances that surrounded them were vague and undetailed.

No name, no face, no form. But he’d finally managed to catch the fish at the end of the hook, following someone who had yet to go missing: a certain scientist at Oscorp industries, who worked in robotics and hadn’t been seen for 24 hours, but showed up to work the next day somehow.

That man had followed another scientist — Mendel Stromm — only to come back in his body. Miles had let it happen, out of necessity, he thought — to finally see what was going on. And he did, he saw the man transform into Stromm. He saw the man walk back into the laboratory and act as it nothing had happened.

And then, he saw you.

You. He wasn’t blaming you for this, was he? No, it wasn’t your fault, you just happened to be… in severe danger.

Miles could’ve prevented this, had he not been so desperate — so conflicted. He could’ve texted you back, told you to stay away from Oscorp instead of typing and deleting the same awkward replies late at night.

And he was supposed to go back to school and see you, and do that job fair with you, right after he’d saved— Right after you saved yourself — from the Prowler. From him.

“You alright?” Miles whipped his head around to see Aaron looking at him, a slight hint of concern in his face.

“Yeah—” He stopped himself from saying sorry. “Gonna head home.”

Miles pushed the drawer shut, feeling the eyes of the people he’d left behind on him — more recently, Mendel Stromm. He wondered if they blamed him just as he blamed himself.

As he walked back to his apartment, he slipped on his jacket — Uncle Aaron’s jacket. He even felt guilty for wearing it, damn it.

Shutting the door and world outside behind him, he took a hesitant glance at the shoe rack. His mom’s shoes were missing.

“Took an extra shift. Dinner’s in the microwave. Tqm!" (Ily!)

“Y yo te quiero,” (And I love you) he mutters to himself, careful not to crease the note between his fingers.

At least she’d never find out. His mom would be off work soon, so he’d get to spend time with her, hopefully. He was just busy himself, with school starting again next week, the job fair, a million different quizzes, meetings with the guidance counsellor…

His dad’s anniversary was right in-between that.

Miles folded up the note, and then tossed it in the trash. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but he hadn’t done any of his work for the winter break.

So, with a deep breath, he headed to his room, sitting at his desk. Miles tried to ignore the numerous sketches of his own gear, and half-finished faces as he tried looking for a pen in his drawers.

One drawing caught his eye, a familiar face. Well, it wasn’t exactly a face. It wasn’t finished yet, but he could picture the way it’d look if it were finished. It was “a friend”, he’d practised telling himself in case his mom decided to clean his room without telling him — you, without an expression but the curve of your cheek and the start of your hair he’d been so focused on instead of your eyes whenever he’d talked to you.

“~Ain’t no love… and it’s sure ‘nuff a pity…”

As he opened his notebook, faint music played from his phone, in an attempt to get him to focus. Still, he wondered if you’d find it weird that he drew you, how you’d look at him if you ever knew about it.

Miles wondered how you’d look at him if you knew he was the one at Oscorp — The Prowler.

“Guys, I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No shit!” The sound of laughter burst out in the room. All you could do was sigh, head on your desk.

Winter break had gone faster than you’d expected, especially given the amount of time you spent in the police station. They asked you the same questions, over and over and over, until you started to doubt your own memory. It was probably necessary, to prove you weren’t lying, or something, but it was exhausting, and you were just glad it was over.

“Why were you in Oscorp to begin with?”

“Do you remember the exact time it was before he left?”

“Are you certain it was Dr. Stromm that walked in?”

“You’re sure?”

You didn’t want to think about it, and you didn’t need anyone else to know either. It was better to pretend nothing happened, and that you’d had a productive break like everyone else apparently did. Bunch of try-hards.

The problem now, though, was that Mr. Wellston thought it’d be a good idea to disappear on you right before your midterm. He was supposed to finish teaching integration by now, but your class was far from — and of course, it was coming up on the exam.

You didn’t have a supply teacher either, though that was a good thing. Maybe Wellston would get fired, you’d get a new calc teacher, and all would be right in the world. But for now, you had to deal with these overly-pretentious people you called your classmates, (and always seemed to be okay with Wellston’s incompetence for some reason) talk about how easy the exam was gonna be, and about the homework that Mr. Wellston never checked anyway, and about college — because all anyone ever cared about here was getting into an Ivy. Maybe you should’ve just gone to public school. You pushed that thought back before you could seriously started to consider it.

Instead, your thoughts went to the person slouched at the desk next to you: Miles, the kid that had suddenly lost all interest in talking to you entirely. It wasn’t just the boredom of having Calc BC last period, too. For one, he’d never try to start conversations anymore, and two, you couldn’t even hold a conversation with him if you wanted to. When you greeted him in the hallway today, he just walked past, not even bothering to look at you. Maybe he hadn’t been busy over winter break like you thought — he’d just been ignoring you.

“Bro, that’s Principal Evans! Shut up!”

You squinted your eyes, heart dropping as you saw the Principal advance down the hallway, right towards your class. Miles didn’t move at all. In fact, he looked like he was… asleep?

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Miles…!” you whisper-shouted, shaking his shoulder to no avail.

Sighing, you thought about slapping him for a moment before deciding against it, shaking his shoulder it a second time, The boy got up with a start.

“Huh…? Wha… what? What do you want?”

“Prin… ci… pal..!” you mouthed, furrowing your brows at him and pointing to the door.

“Oh, damn…” He stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes before straightening up on his chair. As much as Miles liked to annoy teachers, anyone would quickly come to learn that annoying Principal Evans was a death wish — from both her, and your parents.

As he fixed up, you caught a glimpse of his face for the first time today. So much for promising to not look at him. Exhausted wasn’t enough to describe it — he looked like he’d gone to war, or something. At least you’d managed to sleep well enough, without dreaming about Oscorp. Count your blessings, I guess.

You didn’t have much time to relish in your few blessings, though, as the tall, well-dressed woman stopped by the door. She peered in, before her brows knitted together, opening the door.

“Y’all don’t have a teacher?” she said, in that quick, strong voice that put you all on edge. Some of you had the confidence to mutter a “no.” or shake your head. “Who are you supposed to have?”

She shook her head as your class answered, pulling out her phone.

“Gimme one second. I don’t care if the period’s almost over. Fifteen minutes of class is fifteen minutes of class…”

You held back the urge to sigh again. If Wellston showed up, he’d probably force you all to stay back an hour and “catch up”. That, and you had the careers fair to help out with right after this period. The door closed again as Principal Evans took a call outside, and you let your eyes shut.

“Hey Martin, I’ve got a class here that…” Her voice fading into the background and your class starting to murmur again, you opened your eyes, only to catch Miles’ gaze just for a second.

“What?” you said, looking at him, though it came out a little too confrontational.

“What?” he mirrored back, though it came out a little too much like a statement. Miles — always good at making you feel stupid, you supposed.

“What’s up with you today?” you started, deciding it was better to bite the bullet.

“Nothing. Why?” Maybe not.

“Are you going to the careers fair…?”

“I kind of have to.” You probably should’ve slapped him when you had the chance.

“…Yeah, but—”

“Alright! Silence!” Principal Evans was at the door, holding it open with her foot. “Nobody’s comin', so y’all gotta do some work until the bell. I do apologise.”

There was a little commotion as people “got to work”, and you shot Miles one last glare before pretending to be interested in the notebook you’d had closed all period.

And so, fifteen minutes passed by with the sound of scribbling next to you, and when you stubbornly tried to peek, his arm just had to be in the way.

A lot was in the way between you two, it felt like. So much for being friends.

The bell finally rang, and you stretched a little as people left, preparing yourself for another hour or two before you could go back to your dorm. At least you wouldn’t have to talk to Miles, you had… freshman to talk to. Maybe this was a learning opportunity — I hated freshman, but from participating in a careers event at my school, I learnt that they’re not just people I have to shove past to get into the cafeteria. At least you didn’t have to put that abysmal sentence in your college essay until next year.

The chair next to you screeched, making you jump a little. You stopped yourself from cursing under your breath, noticing Principal Evans still lingering by the door. She was ushering the last people out, a crease between her brows.

“What class is this?” Her voice was directed at you, you realised.

“Calc BC,” you replied.

“Calc BC…” She seemed to emphasise every sound as she talked, as if she was thinking about something important. “Well aren’t you a bright bunch?” You managed a tiny smile, feeling like you weren’t a part of that “bunch” at the moment.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but… do you know what happened to Mr. Wellston?” you asked, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You couldn’t believe you were asking about him, but you really needed to figure out how you were gonna pass — and soon.

“I know as much as you do,” she shrugs, earrings swaying as she turns her head back to her phone. “If you wait, I might be able to find out for you. Is it urgent?”

“I mean…” you started, before you felt a slight nudge at your arm.

“We’re gonna be late.” Miles gave you an unreadable look, and for some reason you relented.

“It’s fine, Principal. Thank you.”

“Take care now.” She moved out of the way for you to leave, but before you did, she spoke up again. “Oh, and Miles — I’m already making arrangements, so expect me to call you up at some point.”

“Cool. I mean— okay, thanks,” he mumbled, starting to walk down the hall.

You followed, having to push to keep up among the many students that were moving past. Damn fast walkers…

Feeling the uncomfortable need to talk, you opened your mouth. “We’re going to the gymnasium, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When can we leave?”

“Like, 6pm, or something.” Great.

“That late? How long’s the fair?”

“Thought you’d know.” Oh, maybe.

“I would, if someone told me,” you huffed under your breath.

There was another stretch of silence between you, the school starting to empty as you walked towards the other side where the gymnasium was. Miles didn’t have his earphones in, so there wasn’t much of an excuse for you to be ignored. Somehow, that made you feel less confident to speak.

“How was your break…?” you tried. He was unresponsive for a moment before shrugging.

“Boring.”

“...Yeah, same.” You didn’t sound very certain. The look he gave you made it clear he could tell. There was an uncomfortable pause that made you regret talking in the first place.

“…You okay?” he asked, suddenly.

“What?”

He took in a deep breath, looking at you more seriously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… why?” You raised your brow at him, even if he couldn’t see.

“Don’t need a reason to ask.”

“I’m pretty sure you do.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“How the hell was that a rhetorical question?”

“That one’s rhetorical too.”

When you realised what he meant, you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the stupidity of your conversation. You thought you caught the corner of his mouth raise too.

“Good thing Ms. White doesn’t pick on you, then,” you joked.

“Watch it, I got an A in English.” The way he said it almost made you laugh. Almost. You wouldn’t give him that.

“Right. And what don’t you have an A in?”

“Calculus.”

“No way…” You gave him a dubious look. “Seriously?”

“A plus.” He was definitely holding back a smile.

“Shut up.” You held back your own smile, too.

The both of you made it to the halfway-point of the campus, where the greenery and outdoor seating was — the place where they’d take all the promotional pictures. If only they could maintain the rest of the school like that too. Though you had to admit, it was a nice day out for January.

Miles stayed silent as you walked. You decided to stay skeptical for now, but a part of you also really just wanted to get along with him. Better than being annoyed at his existence for the next 2 hours.

Maybe he’d just had a bad day — or a bad winter break. He’d been absent for a while, anyway. That wasn’t for no reason. Maybe he just had a lot on his plate. A lot to catch up with, especially.

“How are you getting As anyway? Haven’t you like… missed a lot of classes?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, and the setting sun made it clear that he looked more frazzled and tired than usual. His hair looked like it hadn’t been re-braided in a while, though you wouldn’t tell him that.

Still, when he squinted uncomfortably at the sunlight shining right in your direction, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes again. One was slightly more green, the other slightly brown, coppery flecks in each. They were barely distinguishable in the dim fluorescent light of the school, but you couldn’t help but stare.

He was damn pretty. He was everything, it seemed. Smart, interesting, unique, mysterious, good-looking… You cringed at the realisation that this probably wasn’t a normal thing to think about someone you were supposed to be mad at. Were you supposed to be mad at him…?

“Guess everyone that goes here is a genius huh?” you continued in a rhetorical fashion, a part of you hoping he’d made the same awful joke again,

“That include Rafael?” You pressed your lips together at the mention, stopping the laugh from forming.

“He’s…” you tried, and failed. “Definitely something.”

“You’re smart, though.” You almost stopped walking. He said it so quietly you almost thought you’d misheard.

“I am literally failing Calc.”

“You’re almost failing Calc,” he corrected.

“I will be failing Calc in a week’s time.” You might as well admit it. The thought of that exam next week was hopeless.

“You ain’t even that bad at it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just practice.”

“Right, right, yeah. I’ll do that.” You didn’t sound very reassured. Miles didn’t seem to be in the mood for reassuring, either, shoving his hands in his pockets.

As you approached the gymnasium, you recognised more of those colourful, weirdly-designed posters, the ones you’d posted around school. Who even made those…?

Someone else was in the distance, walking around the corner. You did a double-take as you elbowed Miles.

“Hey, is that…?” You trailed off, the two of you stopping abruptly.

“The hell is he doing here?”

“No clue. Why’s he coming this wa—”

Suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled behind one of the pillars, and then directly facing Miles.

“What are you doing?!” you whisper-shouted.

“Just shut up for a sec…!” he whisper-shouted back, widening his eyes at you before peering past your less-than suitable hiding place.

His face was just a breath away from yours, arm blocking you from moving, or really seeing what he was so desperately trying to look at. Your heart was starting to thump in your ears, and you couldn’t find it in you to breathe, eyes fixed on his hand curled around your wrist for a moment before he let go, focusing on what was in the distance.

“Nobody’s seen him all day,” he mutters to you.

“Yeah, I know, but why are we hiding?”

“He’s— Just keep still.” He giving you a warning look, much like the one he gave Rafael — this time, with a hint of worry.

Deciding to keep your mouth shut, you dared to look past the pillar, just as he did.

There, approaching the gymnasium back door, was Mr. Wellston. The man came to a stop, walking awkwardly beside the wall, glancing around as if he was trying to avoid something.

In a split second, he disappeared behind one of the pieces of foliage. Miles stared hard, grabbing your arm and advancing the two of you closer. You were confused, before Miles’ grip on your sleeve tightened. Only then did you see it.

Almost seamlessly, Wellston disappeared, taking on the form of a police officer, yellow visitor’s badge around his neck — P.C. Williams, officer for the careers fair.

“Jesus Christ…” Miles muttered, eyes fixed on him, right until he went through the gymnasium doors.

You thought the exact same thing.

thanks for reading and soz for the VERY late update im literally being teabagged by my real life lol! lmk how u found it yasss like and subscribe hit that bell

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mrwinterr · 5 months

Text

Die Happy (Eddie Munson Version)

Pairing: Ghost!Eddie Munson AU x Female Reader; hint of Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost. 👻

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral? [female receiving]) and language. 🚫 Minors DO NOT interact. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).

Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, but I would NEVER mess with an Ouija board. This is an AU. The upside down and the events that happen in the series Stranger Things (2016) aren’t entirely canon here.

Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers

A/N: This is a re-imagine of my Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU from years ago, but I wanted to convert it to fit with our dear boy Eddie. It’s only altered to fit a different narrative, but the smut is still closely the same. The inspiration came from an erotic audio on Reddit, so I owe it to that. There was a part two in the works, so if this goes well, I’ll continue writing it for this AU. Enjoy!

You sat there on your small couch of the trailer you had just moved into about six months ago, staring at the unopened brown rectangular box placed on your coffee table, contemplating on unboxing it. A part of you was scared to touch it again because of its contents and the other part was bullying you to just rip it open and get this over with. This was your idea after all. This was your last resort. This was the package that would, hopefully, help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for.

What exactly were you trying to solve?

Six months prior, you’d managed to save up enough money to move out of your parents’ home, away from a superficial city and into a small, quiet town. Albeit a trailer wasn’t your first option, it was something you could call your own. It was the most adult thing you’ve done in your life so far. Initially, you were excited because you would be able to decorate it the way you wanted for every holiday, host small gatherings with friends and maybe even bring someone home. However, you couldn’t exactly do most of that, not with all the strange things that have been happening and while you attempted to brush them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore any longer.

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting wonky. You kept the place at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies or wrapped up in blankets. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there, the technicians couldn’t find a single problem with the system and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine.

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

The most bizarre thing though, was things disappearing and reappearing. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from where you left it and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never had to search too far because there they were. Maybe it was all in your head?

The eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would trail behind when you felt that breeze pass over. You couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly smelled like, a composition of something woody with amber undertones that suggested a sense of strength and warmth from its presence. One thing was for sure, it wasn’t any like your fragrances nor was it from the only person that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost a calming one to you.

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. You came to the conclusion you were living with a ghost. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. If anything, it helped you out more than bothered you. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or move out, but you’d worked too hard to get here and you weren’t going to let whatever entity run you out of your new home. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

Pulling the Ouija board out from the box, you place it on the table and it seems to have a hold on you. How do you prepare yourself to summon a ghost? You don’t know how long you’d been staring but it was only when the sudden knock on your door does the spell break.

You get up and make the short distance to the front door and you’re briefly greeted by your close friend Steve. Your relationship with him was close to the point where you’re not even bothered that he just makes his way inside as if he lived here with you. He’s so busy rambling about something, probably about his latest shift at the video store he worked at, that he didn’t notice how uncharacteristically quiet you were being.

“Whoa!” He exclaims, stopping in his tracks once he sees the Ouija board laid out. Its presence was enough to effectively cut his story short. “What are you doing with that?” He asks, pointing at the object and taking a few steps away from it.

You roll your eyes, sitting back down and reaching into the box to pull out the remaining piece, the planchette.

“What does it look like I’m going to do with it?” You say, staring up at him blankly.

“Shit,” he starts, running his hands through his thick hair, “okay, uh, I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were this spooky,” he says, his eyes bugging out in disbelief.

He stands in place as if the items in front of you were cursed, but seeing that you hadn’t actually begun anything yet, there’s a bit of relief. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural. It was just wild that it was happening to you.

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Steve warns as he cautiously makes his way back closer.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking the now empty box aside.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!”

Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Steve!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his, if not, louder. Your once calm demeanor switching to an intense one, cutting the tension of what you were going to partake in had brought about. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own place.”

Oh yeah, he knew. Steve was the only friend you could confine in and the one person you could share your stories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove this theory. He could see the inner turmoil you were facing and the vulnerability that cracked through your exterior after your outburst.

“I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.” If the frustration wasn’t visible in your features, it definitely was in your voice.

“Look,” Steve says, voice now careful, ”why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” You knew this offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Hawkins and were looking for your own place, Steve had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent…and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.

Steve was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and even though you'd both crossed so many lines already, a part of you feared crossing anymore would jeopardize it. Worse, what if whatever it turned out to be would just fail miserably in the end. Then where would that leave you both? He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Steve knew you simply weren’t ready and he was willing to wait.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face, the kind that made you feel guilty, and went back to fidgeting with the planchette in your hands. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety. He’d always been protective of you and hated seeing you upset.

The nights he had spent in your trailer nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening to you. Steve wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out today like this. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The crack of thunder in the sky, slightly rattling the trailer, indicated a storm was coming and you took that as an excuse to convince Steve to leave for the night. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Steve, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up , walking over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Steve wasn’t mad. He knew you weren’t going to change your mind this time, but he could be patient. He was always very patient with you.

He reluctantly nods, defeated, before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but it mostly muffled against his biceps. You bask in the warmth of his embrace for a few lingering seconds, inhaling his fresh, clean scent, one that was a complete contrast to the one you were used to smelling inside your trailer, before pulling away and playfully shoving him out the door.

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jump, head snapping at a sudden crashing sound from the kitchen area. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you, on your last birthday from Steve, shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor. The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house just didn’t like Steve… You shook your head at that last silly thought and sighed preparing to clean up the mess.

The gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the once clear sky and with the sounds of the fast raindrops against the windows and pavement, the lag in thunder chasing the flashes of lightning, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with something so what could’ve been scarier than that. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would they be like Casper?

Would this even work? The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended. You’d seen The Exorcist and not to mention this kind of activity was very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now…

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? There wasn’t exactly a guide on etiquette for communicating with the dead. You did your fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath in and out then begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Eddie felt bad.

He felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t. He remembered when you were given that mug. He saw the way your face lit up after reading the stupid text on it that only you and the person who gifted it to you understood the meaning behind it.

He didn’t like Steve and he certainly didn’t like how Steve made you feel. Steve made you feel all sorts of things and Eddie knew that, which explained why Steve never experienced anything unusual in the house because Eddie didn’t like seeing you with him. He chose to not be present in Steve’s presence. Most of his kind would make it a point to make it known they hated them, but Eddie didn’t want to spook you.

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young, barely in his 20s before he left an ongoing cold case behind, providing no closure for his friends and his uncle.

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. He’d grown so attached it outraged him to see any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his home.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of years. He tried his best to communicate with his uncle before he finally managed to move into a better place. He was proud of Wayne for working hard to get a real house for himself. He took assurance that he was able to live more comfortably now. He should’ve known his own flesh and blood wasn’t bothered or spooked out by his attempts to get his attention, so when he left, Eddie was alone for nearly three years. No one was exactly in a rush to move into a trailer, his trailer, until you came into the picture. That day you walked in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well…ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to subtly help you with everyday things. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Steve. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Steve was already gone.

Eddie followed you back into the living room, watched as you lit the candles scattered around and dimming the lights. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. You deserved a nice night in. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently. He was already trying to guess what kind of movie you were going to turn on but when he saw what was laid out in front of you as you sat back on your couch, his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he stares at the Ouija board on the table. Eddie starts pacing in front of you, his hands bunching up his hair in a panic state. Anyone that had ever set foot in this trailer to scope it out knew this place gave off a spooky vibe. This was a tough trailer to sell because not only was it unsettling but so was the story behind it, which it was unbeknownst to you why it was so affordable. You weren’t stupid and you knew there was something or someone lurking, so this was almost bound to happen.

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette. You’d close your eyes to mask your fear so that should anything bad happen you wouldn’t have had to stare death right in the face.

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you were willingly reaching out to him. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone in years, so now given an opportunity to do so gave him a sense of elation.

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Eddie argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately and effortlessly move your hands to slide the planchette over the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you received an answer. Now that was not your imagination. This wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you either. You’re frozen, but look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, however you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. On the contrary, you’re staring right at Eddie or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock for two reasons.

First, he was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. Secondly, he was in awe. He knew he was attracted to you, but even though you couldn’t see him, he could see you clearly and you were so beautiful to him.

He’s scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time it excites him that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you thinking that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? If you were to get hurt or anything, you’d deal with Steve later. You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask next.

“What am I?” Eddie repeats the question, “I’m dead, sweetheart.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette still. The corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, had him comparing it to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff…either way he felt very blessed to pull such a thing as a small smile out of you.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Eddie said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a real conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a clamorous thunder startles you, breaking you away from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the night.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its steady rate, you got up to turn on the lights. You made sure you blew all the candles out and doors were locked before turning in. As you walked the path to his old bedroom, Eddie watched you look back to the living room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew who it was directed towards - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing more and more curious. In your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

You went from door to door of the trailer park doing your own investigation on who used to live in your trailer. You got mixed reviews from the neighbors, but you believed you got the gist of it down.

The trailer originally belonged to a man named Wayne Munson, who took in his nephew becoming his sole legal guardian. You dug deep at the local library, sifting through old Hawkins newspaper archives, to find out that his nephew had commonly gone by the nickname ‘Eddie’ and he wasn’t too far away in age from you. He went to the same high school as Steve, where he struggled in graduating, had a reputation of being a delinquent and someone who participated in satanic practices. The worst of his offense was being linked to the murder of a beloved teenage girl, Chrissy Cunningham.

The accompanying images of the girl and boy in the newspaper clippings, you assumed to be Chrissy and Eddie. She was undeniably pretty and he was…cute. The tips of your ears burned and turned red as you caught yourself staring a little too long at his picture.

Why’d that make you feel weird? You’re thinking things about someone you’d never met. You didn’t know anything else about him and what you had learned, it didn’t sound good either. That couldn’t have been the same Eddie in your trailer, right?

To your surprise, Chrissy had brutally died in your very own living room. Were you living with her? Something didn’t make sense though. What was her unfinished business? All the things you picked up on from the TV or movies, was that most spirits that wandered had some sort of “unfinished business” that prevented them from moving on. Right?

The news seemed adamant that it was Eddie who killed her, but it was her own boyfriend, some star athlete, Jason Carver, who had been found guilty of her murder. Eddie had been acquitted but the twists and turns never stopped as you read he himself had been found dead inside the trailer a few weeks later. The puzzling thing was the autopsy proved it wasn’t by suicide. He didn’t do this to himself. The saddest thing, aside from the loss of two young lives, was his uncle being the one to discover his nephew lifeless in their home. No one was ever charged for his murder and it didn’t look like there was a rush to locate the killer, which angered you as you continued reading. The real killer was possibly still out there free to live the rest of their life.

You’re so engrossed with your findings you barely paid any attention to Steve when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls, which seemed uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Steve was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Steve shouts, fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were hyped about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.

He looked around the small space seeing your notes scattered throughout the coffee table, some spilled on the carpet. There were so many he couldn’t see the Ouija board still laid out. It was just buried underneath.

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him. “Did you know? Did you know Eddie? Or what happened to him? Did you know that he and someone else died right where we’re standing?” This was the first time you asked him about the person Eddie was, not the ghost. You wondered why he didn't say anything? He’d lived in Hawkins his whole life. Surely he’d had to have heard about this. It’s a small town, people talked.

“I barely knew him,” Steve sighs, guilty but admits, “he wasn’t exactly popular or well liked by most because of how different he was.” You watch as he brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, “but even I didn’t think he was capable of doing that stuff to Chrissy.” He was trying to erase the crime scene the media had released to the public from his mind. “I swear I didn’t know this was his trailer though. Like I said, I barely knew the guy.” You can hear the sincerity in his response and nodded. Had Steve known, he’d most likely had pushed harder for you to move in with him.

“What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace…and so will he,” you start to persist.

“You’re not going to be able to convince Hawkins that Eddie Munson didn’t kill someone,” he says bluntly. “You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Steve reminds you. “I’m just worried about you,” he brings his hands to your arms in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Eddie.

You were relieved that the conversation with Steve didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to the dead?

Take two.

You sat perched, trying to hype yourself up to communicate once more. Eddie, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that they’re here.

“Chrissy?” You ask, your fingers firmly on the planchette. You hadn’t figured out which one was actually still here or if both were.

Your hands move over to the answer, ‘NO’.

Shit. Eddie thought to himself when you said Chrissy's name. How much did you know about Chrissy? If you read anything about that night in the papers then it surely wasn’t good. What did you think of him now? You probably thought he was the devil. He thought you were going to end this, cut ties with him, cleanse the house or even move out after discovering it’s been him this whole time. The realization that you were living with a monster.

“Who are you?” The last revelation had to be obvious, but you needed confirmation. Eddie had nothing to lose, physically, but if this was the last time he’d get to communicate with you, he’d take every second until you stop. Your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘E-D-D-I-E’.

“Eddie,” you whisper. Boy, did Eddie like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Is anyone else with you?” The answer points to ‘NO’. He was alone.

“How did you…die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘M-U-R-D-E-R-E-D’ give you your next answer. It was indeed him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Steve another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Eddie and you weren’t sure of what to ask next, but you didn't want to stop talking to him.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Eddie watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your worries and pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the board, you ask, “are you still here?” Eddie responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There is the ultimate question and Eddie can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown, defeated at his response.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. He was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to those nearby, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine. You flinch and your hand rises quickly to warm the spot. What was that? You didn't feel that when using the Ouija board. Was that Eddie?

Eddie almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. All he did was caress your face and it was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Eddie because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again to the open area, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Eddie still needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’ on its own. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence and a touch, but now it was confirmed. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you!” you let Eddie know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you requested.

Eddie is stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling the soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it’ll stop your wandering eyes.

You are still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke, his comforting scent invading your senses. It was him. It had been him this whole time and he’s definitely here in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper, not paying mind to the coldness.

Fuck. Eddie inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Eddie doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips back on yours, but with added pressure, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.

Eddie’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, disregarding the temperature, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Eddie or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Eddie, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts on the way to your bed, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you need them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Eddie got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit. Using your slick, you begin to rub slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, resurfacing now coated by your own wetness as you use it to an advantage in invigorating your bundle of nerves.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Eddie. How his skin would feel against yours. How you’d tangle your fingers in his wild hair. How his hands would feel on your sensitive parts. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Steve or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him to get you through the finish line.

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you…The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then you hiss at the abrupt familiar cold sensation that runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Eddie was here. You pick your head up, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Eddie's chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed a few significant things in his life already. He missed graduating high school. He missed a chance to get a better car. He missed a chance to sell out venues. He missed playing music. He missed his uncle. He missed his friends. He missed Hellfire. He missed out on someone like you. He missed a chance to develop a deep connection with someone. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Eddie. The feeling had you wishing he had lived to one day cross paths with you. Would he have still been in Hawkins when you moved here? Would you be neighbors, friends or more? Would it have been him and not Steve? All the could've and would’ve scenarios sprouting in your head. You got too attached learning about him. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Eddie’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt minor stings at how cold his touches were in the beginning, for the first time, Eddie felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature felt good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body.

Cool air brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Eddie never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Eddie,” his name slips past your lips breathlessly when he makes contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his mouth back to ran a long, flat strip over your folds, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Eddie, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Eddie uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Eddie, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack, pulling your shirt over your head to grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Eddie’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves, squirming from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn’t require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he finally dips his tongue inside your wet hole and back out, before capturing your clit between his lips, sucking on it. The sweet suction sensation on your clit as his lips enclose around it.

“I-I need...fuck,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Eddie’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down hard on your bottom lip, you could taste a hint of copper already, trying your hardest to not let out a crazed scream.

Eddie doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they and his tongue take turns in you. The addition of his thick fingers start taking you closer to your impending orgasm. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the filthy things he would say or do.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. He could feel your walls closing in tight around his digits, your wetness pooling around them and spilling, he almost loses control of your withering body. When you reach your peak, your mouth and eyes snap open, a choked gasp transitioning into a straggling loud moan, pupils blown, the sweat beads trickling down, and your back arching up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed when your orgasm rocks through you before you come back down releasing choppy breaths from its intensity.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Eddie one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. His fingers slowly slipping out and the puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Eddie is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d always hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth or wherever he was, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough.

Eddie would die happy.

A/N: Reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated. 🥹 Do we want a part 2? Let me know! Thank you for reading! 🫶🏻

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