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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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bloody knuckles - joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you come home injured, and Joel has something to say about it.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, swearing, mentions of injuries/canon-typical violence, spoilers for the show, heavily inspired by joel’s reaction to tess (iykyk), oral (f receiving), brief spanking, a bit of manhandling, unprotected p-in-v (WRAP UR SHIT IN THE APOCALYPSE FAM), I have joel miller brain rot and I regret nothing

(could be read as part of the fire + whiskey universe, but can still be enjoyed regardless)

✨I no longer have a taglist - please follow @friskito-library and turn on notifs to be notified of new fics!✨

He’s asleep, when your key hits the lock.

It depends on the day, lately, what you get when you manage to find your way back to the apartment. Every day is different, a roulette wheel that doesn’t seem to let up. Some days, he’s still awake, poring over his maps at the scratched kitchen table, the bottle of hooch not far from his grip. Other times he’s pacing by the window, the radio a quiet whine, his hair yanked in a million different directions. Sometimes he’s not even home, and you’re the one left to wait up, or pass out on the couch trying to.

But today, he’s asleep.

Silently, you’re grateful. If he saw the state of you, he’d barrel right through the fucking door the moment you let slip who had hurt you. That’s how it is, these days, and that’s how you have to be, you know. But you can’t risk it. You can’t risk him.

The pipes rattle when you flick on the faucet, try and rinse some of the blood from your hands, wincing at your sore knuckles. It’s just past curfew, and light from the too-bright street lamps filters through the living room window, and you scour for a painkiller, tossing half of something back with a sip from the hooch bottle still on the table.

He doesn’t move until you’re perched on the edge of the bed, wrapping your hand with some gauze you pilfered from the pharmacy on your way back. There’s no words, at first, just the rough drag of his hand across the small of your back, a low grunt as he rolls toward you. You pull the shirt off, feeling his fingers rove up your spine, tapping over your bones.

You’re reaching for a new shirt — one of his stashed in the pile of semi-clean clothes — when he curls his finger under your bra, pulls you back a little. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and you let yourself fall back. He lets out a low oomph when you hit his chest. He’s fully clothed, even his boots still on. “Where y’been?”

“Nowhere important,” you reply, keeping your face pointedly away from him. You pull your legs up onto the mattress, sinking down beside him, your back brushing against his chest as you sprawl on the mattress. Instantly, he slips a knee between yours, slings his arm around your waist, hauls you closer. “You been sleeping all day?”

“Don’t change the subject, girlie,” he murmurs, low in your ear, and you just shake your head, silencing your wince, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “Couple hours. Long day.”

“Talk in the morning,” you reply, covering his hand with your undamaged one. “I’m tired too.”

He grunts in response, and that’s that.

Joel doesn’t wait until morning.

The sky is still dark when he’s shaking your shoulder, rousing you just on the edge of roughly, heavy eyelids blinking open to see him gripping your bandaged hand, the camping lantern on the makeshift beside table the only bit of light.

“Who.” Not a question.

“It’s nothing,” you start to say, rolling towards him out of instinct, reaching up to rub the sleep from your eye but then biting back a quiet cry when your face flares with pain. “I fell and it just—”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he snaps, and drops your hand, fingers either side of your jaw a moment later, turning your face towards him, towards the light, gently. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Joel, don’t—”

“No,” he spits, springing up off the mattress, crossing to the kitchen, finding a rag, putting a bit of the hooch on it. The closest you’ll get to antiseptic. “You’ve got a black fuckin’ eye. Tell me who. Now.”

“Why?” you ask, sitting up as he returns to the bed, kneeling on the edge, taking your jaw in his hand again. “So you can break curfew and get charged for disturbing the peace? They’re hanging people for less these days, Joel. I won’t…” You wince as he touches the rag to your split skin, swiping at the dried blood you’d half-heartedly wiped at. “I won’t let you.”

He goes quiet, jaw working, his brow furrowed so hard you can’t resist reaching out and smoothing your thumb along the line it makes in his forehead. “I want to know.”

“If I tell you, you need to stay,” you say, moving your thumb back and forth along his skin. “I need you to remember that you taught me how to protect myself, too.” The corner of your mouth quirks. “And the assholes that did this to me look much worse.”

His face softens slightly, and his brow slowly raises. You let your hand move lower, dragging your knuckles down to his scruffy jaw. “How much worse?”

“Pretty sure I broke the one guy’s nose,” you say, unable to stifle your smug grin when his eyes widen slightly. “And the other, well, he definitely won’t be using his hand anytime soon.”

He lowers the rag, tossing it to the side as you move a little closer, pushing back the blanket he’d draped over you. He just watches, lips softly parted, nostrils flaring as you get closer still, lifting your leg and sliding into his lap.

“You’re not the only attack dog in Boston,” you say quietly, and Joel huffs, hands finding homes on your hips as you run yours along his shoulders, up the back of his head, tangling in his hair. “I’m well-trained.”

“Girlie,” he grumbles out, almost a warning in his tone.

“What?” you murmur, feigning innocence. “You taught me. Saved my life. Kept me going. Keep me going.” You lean in, press your lips softly to one of the bare patches in his beard, the perfect shape for your mouth. “You remember the day we found each other again?”

He tilts his head back slightly, peering at you down his nose, his eyes darkening as he slips his hands up the hem of your shirt, seeking out bare skin. “O’course I do.”

“And that night, when you fucked me so good in that—”

The rest of the sentence dies on your tongue. He surges upward, claims your mouth for his own. You let him, tugging at his hair as he devours you. He tastes like hooch — he must have stolen a sip — and you drink it down like it’s the finest whiskey you’ve ever had, your tongue tangling with his, hips rolling down, the friction between you two making you both gasp.

In one fluid movement, he’s lifting the shirt over your head, letting his mouth map a trail down your chest, while you’re pawing at his shirt, nails dragging against buttons, scratching lightly at the exposed patch of skin at his collar. You moan when he pulls your bra out of the way, mouths at your nipple, scruffy jaw scraping sensitive skin.

Your back hits the mattress a minute later, and you automatically reach for his belt, letting your fingers glance across the bulge in his jeans, but he pushes your hands away. “Nuh-uh,” he grunts, and pulls both your legs over one shoulder, reaching for the waist of your leggings. “Lift.”

You do as you’re told, and the bundle of fabric goes flying a moment later. He doesn’t waste any time, grabbing your ankles in his hands, peeling your legs apart. You gasp, the air cold as it hits your skin, but before you have a chance to shiver, your knees are hooked over both his shoulders, thighs around his ears. He’s got one strong arm banded around your waist, keeping you off the mattress, and his other hand roves beneath, grabbing handfuls of your ass, squeezing, smoothing along your spine.

His tongue feels like fire, flicking at every single one of your nerves. It turns your blood to flame, white-hot pleasure that sinks through your limbs as he buries his mouth between your legs. His hand moves back to cup your ass again, giving you a quick spank before he’s grabbing your cheek, flesh pinched between his knuckles.

You bury one hand at the crown of his head, those grey-streaked curls wrapping around your fingers. When you tug, he hums against you, the vibrations making sparks shoot across your vision, and you lock your ankles together between his shoulder blades, keeping him hostage to your pleasure. He’s more than willing, dropping his jaw slightly, dipping his tongue straight into your very core.

“Joel,” you groan out, back arching when he spanks you again, fingers soothing the hot spot instantly. “Fucking christ. Fuck me, please?”

“Cum,” he commands, his voice gruff as he speaks the word into your cunt, lips shiny with your slick. Your spine prickles with anticipation, the coil in your gut growing tight as he moves his mouth up, draws your throbbing clit between his lips and sucks hard. “Cum, and I’ll give you my cock.”

You nearly whine, but then his hand dips, following the curve of your ass, thumb pressing between your folds, stroking at your entrance. Everything goes tight, the edges of your vision tinged black with the intensity, and you do as you’re told, cumming with a shout muffled on the back of your hand. He licks you through it, dropping your hips back to the mattress when you push at him, legs going wide as they slide off his shoulders.

Joel shuffles back slightly, giving you room to stretch out. His belt is undone in one swift move, jeans pushed around his hips and his cock springing free, hard and heavy. You watch, chest heaving as he takes himself in hand, leans over you just enough to drag his tip through your wetness. Your hands curl into fists in the blankets, thighs twitching around his hips, and he plants one hand beside your head, leaning over you completely.

You lift your hips off the bed, catching his cock at your entrance, and he groans, his forehead pressed against your temple, carefully avoiding your black eye. You both exhale deeply as he pushes all the way in, filling you to the hilt, lips pressing a sloppy kiss to you cheek as his hips roll down. Your knees bend up around his ribs, both hands back in his hair.

He goes slow, slow enough that you can feel every inch, every twitch in his muscles, hear every word that falls from his lips, every soft grunt and quiet groan. “Always feels so fuckin’ good,” he rasps, and you cheat your hand down his back, pushing his jeans lower so you can grab a handful of his ass. “Jesus fuckin’ christ.”

You’re chasing his every move, hips lifting in tandem with his. You squeeze your thighs, palms flattening against his ribs, bearing down on him best you can. His pace falters, a grunted girlie meeting your ears, and you take it as an opening, pushing at his shoulder until he topples onto the mattress, using the momentum to land you in his lap.

It changes the angle, forcing his cock against something devastating inside you, your head tipping back on your shoulders. He puts both hands on your hips, guiding you as you drag yourself along him, knees planted either side of him. You wanted to take control, but it’s faltering in an instant, the feeling of him just too fucking good.

Joel bands his arm around your shoulders when you chest meets his, burying his face in your neck. You feel him shift, knees coming until his thighs are pressed to the backs of yours, and your attempt at control is completely out the window. He hammers into you, knotting his fingers in your hair, and you howl as your second orgasm hits, flooding his cock, all but clawing at his shoulders as the pleasure rocks you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grits, legs shaking as he drives up into you. There’s a quick pause, your body jolted slightly upwards as he pulls out, curling his fingers around the base of his cock, fucking his hand until he cums hot against your ass. You force your lips against his, kissing him through his own orgasm, taking his bottom lip between your teeth when he groans, returning your kiss as soon as the sound finishes.

The entire apartment seems quiet, in the after. There’s silent groans from each of you, Joel shuffling to find a rag, wiping at your skin, you going to steal a sip of the hooch while he buckles his belt. You both redress, sliding your boots back on before sprawling on the mattress beside him. It’s habit, now, sleeping in your clothes, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

He opens his arms to you when you slide close, and you fit yourself against him, your head fitting under his chin, hooking a knee over his hip. He drops his jaw, presses a kiss to your forehead, grumbling quietly as you settle into his grip.

“Girlie,” he mumbles, dragging his scruffy chin over your head.

“Yeah?”

“I still wanna beat the shit out of those guys.”

You let out a little chuckle, burrowing deeper into his embrace, rubbing your hand up his side. “I know you do, baby.”

#my fics #bloody knuckles #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x girlie #the last of us spoilers #the last of us fic

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soursturniolo · 1 month

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Hurtful Words • Nick Sturniolo

Synopsis: Nick and his boyfriend get into a fight the night before leaving for Boston. After some of the harsh words from Nick, his boyfriend is left hurt and uncertain of his place in his boyfriends life.

Pairing: Nick x male reader/character (no y/n but also no other name used, he/him pronouns)

Tags: angst, hurt, a bit of sunshine!reader x grumpy!nick, nick has a panic attack, comfort (happy ending because I guess I'm not 100% evil yet)

Nick had been extremely stressed all day. Nothing was going right, first he woke up late and missed his meeting. Then, he went to edit a video they had prefilmed to post while him, his brothers, and his boyfriend would be in Boston, just to discover the SD card was corrupted and nothing could be salvaged from it. Next, he developed a horrible headache as he was rushing to finish up packing for the flight tomorrow morning. Now, he was getting ready to film a replacement video with his brothers right as his cheerful boyfriend strode into his bedroom. Fuck , Nick thought to himself. He had forgotten his boyfriend was coming this early.

“Hey!” his boyfriend smiled as he made his way over to him, arms open for the usual hug they’d share. Most always, his boyfriends sunny disposition made him smile, but today it just made him irrationally angry.

“Hi,” Nick responds flatly, not meeting his partners eyes as he dodged the hug and affection being offered. If Nick had been looking up he would have seen the look of confusion and concern flash across the other man’s face as his arms lowered to the side upon seeing that Nick clearly didn’t want a hug.

The other man frowns as he takes in Nick’s disheveled appearance, hair sticking up from most likely stressful tugging, a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. Knowing Nick for almost a year now, he knows his boyfriend isn’t one to immediately talk out his feelings, so he doesn’t ask but quickly concludes it must have been quite a rough day for the brunette. Usually in these situations, they’ll cuddle and relax and watch some stupid TV show, so that’s what the man suggests. To which, Nick scoffs.

“I don’t have time to just lay around with you, I need to go do my job, I have so much shit I need to do before tomorrow,” Nick gripes, moving around to grab the camera and SD cards off his desk, stuffing them into a bag to take to the car where he’s sure his brothers are already waiting for him. In packing he’d lost track of time, looking at his phone to see its already 17 minutes past the time they said they’d meet in the garage.

His boyfriend nods in understanding, seeing the obvious stress practically pouring out of every pore of his boyfriend. He reaches out a hand, gently touching Nick’s arm, trying his best to sooth him.

“is there anything I can do to help?” he asks softly.

“Jesus Christ!” Nick exclaims, feeling overwhelmed by everything all at once, like his skin is on fire and every little thing makes his head pound even harder, yaking his arm away from the other man’s touch “yknow what actually, there is. Just leave me the fuck alone for two seconds!”

The man frowns slightly, taking a step back at Nick’s sudden outburst, wrapping his own arms around him, head cooking to the side minutely.

“we’ve been apart all day? I’m just trying to help, I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says softly, trying to give him a soft smile, which just makes Nick scoff and roll his eyes again. A deep frown paints his boyfriends face at the reaction, the man tightening his arms around himself, shoulders hunching in slightly.

“And you come in here all fucking smiles and hugs. you’re just happy all the fucking time. Just this fucking ray of sunshine. Some of us fucking aren’t. Maybe this just wasn’t a good idea.” Nick spits out, his words venom. Part of his brain is yelling at him to shut up seeing the hurt look spreading over his boyfriends face, but the angry voice overshadows that one, just wanting everyone to feel has horrible as he feels.

“What? What isn’t a good idea?” the man asks him, voice small, fearing the answer. Did Nick mean him coming to Boston along with his brothers to finally meet his parents? While he had been nervous about meeting his boyfriends parents at first, in the past few days he had become quite excited. Thinking of meeting his family, his family dog too. He had bought gifts for them all, even a chew toy for Trevor. Even today, the young man had found himself daydreaming at work, thinking of how well it all might go, imagining them all sitting around a table looking at photo albums and smiling as he learns more about the past of the man he so desperately wants a future with.

Nicks quick response has those hopes shattering, along with his heart.

“This. Us. I don’t know. I just need to fucking breathe. I’m leaving to film with Chris and Matt. Bye.” Nick half yells, voice strained as he stalks his way to the door, yanking it open and slamming it shut as he leaves, leaving a tearful man standing in the middle of the room wondering where it all went so wrong.

Nick was distracted the whole entire time they were filming, overcome with guilt and regret. He had been so harsh to his boyfriend, his number one supporter, next to his family of course. Flashes of the other man’s hurt face flicker in his mind, the timid and soft nature he had taken on as Nick raged at him, a shadow of the mans usually bright and bubbly demeanor. Even when he was short with him at first, instead of just leaving, his sweet boyfriend had still apologized and compassionately offered help. And what did Nick do to show his appreciation? Told him callously that maybe them dating had been a bad idea.

That wasn’t true in the slightest. They’d been together 7 months at this point, and it had been some of the happiest months of Nick’s life. He’d experienced a happiness that he never thought he’d get even remotely close to again, and this was how he repaid the man? Throwing his cheerful and sweet nature in his face as if it was something to be ashamed of? It made him sick to his stomach to recall how he’d behaved.

Noticing their brothers distraction, Matt and Chris suggested cutting the video short, under the guise of wanting to get on good nights sleep before their early flight home. The drive home was quick and quiet as Nick thought of all the ways he’d apologize to his sweet boyfriend who had a heart almost too good to be true.

The brothers quickly said goodnight and parted ways, Nick taking the stairs two at a time to get to his room so he could ask for the man’s forgiveness. Upon opening the door, he’s met with disappointment. He had left. Nick knew he shouldn’t be surprised though. As he pulls out his phone to call the man he knew he had hurt, a bag on his bed catches his eye, along with a note. He peaks in the bag, confused upon seeing four boxes wrapped in a plain purple wrapping paper, as he picks up the letter, recognizing the handwriting and feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest as he begins to read.

Nick,

I’m sorry, I never meant to upset you. I know I can be a lot, and I understand if it’s gotten too much to deal with. I was really looking forward to seeing Boston and meeting your family. But it’d be silly for me to tag along now, at this point. I had gotten some things for your parents, Justin, and Trevor. I was hoping you’d maybe give them to them for me?

Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for my plane ticket if it’s too late to cancel it.

Thank you for the last 7 months, they meant the world to me. You did, too.

Nick feels tears gather in his eyes, beginning to stream down his face as he sits the letter down and quickly scrolls to his contact on his phone.

"please, pick up, pick up, pick up" he mutters, sniffling as he waits and hopes he'll answer. A shred of hope blooms upon hearing his call answered answer, the soft noise of a car engine in the back. Good, maybe his boyfriend hadn't made it home yet.

"baby?" Nick sniffles slightly, voice cracking. He hears the man on the other end of the line sniffle too, and he feels his heart crack a little more. he'd made his sweetheart cry.

"what do you need, nick?" the other man asks softly and tearfully.

"I need you. please turn around, I know you’re still in the car. I'm so sorry," Nick pleads.

"it's okay Nick," he sniffles, "just give those gifts to them, please?" he asks.

"no, I'm not," Nick cries, tears streaming down his face, one hand clutching his hair as the other clutches his phone against his ear, sagging against the wall and sliding down it into a heap on the floor, his chest feeling tighter and tighter.

"okay, I'll get them back from you when you guys get back home," he offers, which just makes Nick cry harder. He really fucked up this time.

"no, no you're supposed to give them to them, I want you to, I want you to turn around and come back here so I can tell you how fucking sorry I am and kiss you and watch a stupid movie with you and then we get up and we go to Boston tomorrow morning and you get to meet my family and see where I'm from and everything and they'll love you and your little gifts and your smile that can light up a room and they'll love you because I love you," he pleads over the phone, desolving into sobs on the phone.

the other man on the line tears up again at the sweet words and obvious remorse, and he wants to respond to them but Nick is spiraling in regret and sadness and he can hear that it's getting harder for him to breathe through his cries.

he turns the car around, beginning to take a shortcut back to the triplets house.

"Nick, I need you to breathe," the man says softly, hearing the loud cries through the speakers of his car.

"No, I'm not Nick, you never call me nick when we're alone, its always Nicky or sweetheart or babe," the brunette sobs, still feeling like his relationship is slipping through his fingers, and it's his own fault.

The man grips his steering wheel a little tighter, driving a little faster.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just need you to breathe for me, in your nose and out your mouth real slow for me okay? you know that box breathing technique I showed matt a few months ago?" he softly asks Nick.

"Yeah," Nick sniffles, breathing still shaking and disordered.

"Good baby, I'm going to count and I want you to breathe with me okay? I'm almost there but I need you to breathe for me until I get there, okay?" He asks softly.

As he continues to drive, he counts off and listens as Nick breathes with him, slight sniffles still present as he tries to focus on getting his breathing regulated with the knowledge that his boyfriend is coming back.

Nick doesn't even register the sound of his boyfriends car turning off or the sound of him using his house key to get in. his head jerks up to look up from his spot on the floor to see his boyfriend standing in his doorway. He quickly moves from his position on the floor, getting up and launching himself into his boyfriends arms.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean a fucking word I said," he sobs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly and burrowing his head into his neck, his tears wetting the skin. His boyfriend holds him just as snuggly in his arms, rubbing a soothing hand over his back as the other hand cups the back of his head softly.

"I know, its alright," the man sooths, but the words have an opposite affect on Nick, as the brunette pulls back quickly as he shakes his head.

"It's not alright! I was mean because I had a bad day and my head fucking hurts, and I hurt you. You didn't deserve that. I love you, and I love your personality and how loving and happy you are. It isnt something I or anyone should throw in your face. I should have talked to you, I should have thanked you for wanting to help me. I'm so sorry, ill be better, I'll get better at talking to you and communicating and not just blowing up at you for no reason," Nick sniffles, roughly wiping away his own tears.

"Okay, I forgive you," the other man offers softly, as he gently pulls Nick's hands away from the rough rubbing of his face.

"No! You shouldn't just forgive me, why are you being so nice right now?" Nick objects, confused by his boyfriends behavior as more tears make their way down his face.

The other man smiles softly and sadly, guiding his boyfriend over to the bed and sitting, pulling Nick down to sit right next to him. He gently guides Nicks head to rest on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around the man in a comforting embrace that Nick easily allows himself to be pulled into, the closeness easing the pain and regret in his heart.

"Let me ask you a couple things, okay? Maybe that'll help you understand why I'm forgiving you?" he offers, carding his fingers though Nick's hair softly, as he feels Nick nod and whisper is consent into his shoulder.

"Do you genuinely regret how you treated me?" A quick and firm nod from Nick.

"Do you see how hurtful your misplaced irritation can be?" Another firm nod and squeeze from Nick's arms around him is felt.

"Do you genuinely plan on working on communicating with me and being better in the future so this doesn't happen again?" Another nod and squeeze.

"Do you still love me and want to be with me, and want me to come to Boston with you?" This receives the fastest nod and squeeze of all the questions, making the man smile and turn to press a soft kiss to Nick's head.

"See. You acknowledged and took ownership of what you did wrong, you plan to work on being better, and I know you're genuinely sorry and regret hurting me the way you did. I trust you, so I trust what you say and the fact that this will not happen again. We will deal better the next time," he explains softly to the man in his arms.

"Okay. I promise I'll do better, I love you," Nick hoarsely whispers against his shoulder, cuddling more into the other man's side.

"I know, I love you too," Nick smiles wobbly as he hears those words and feels another kiss pressed against his head. He leans up, softly pressing his lips against the man's jaw, then his cheek, then thr corner of his mouth, smiling when we feels the skin move under his lips into a matching smile. Then, Nick presses their lips together in a soft and gentle kiss, trying to convey all the love and warmth he feels for the man in his embrace. His own ray of sunshine.

author's note: hey! i hope yall enjoyed! if you have any nick requests feel free to send em my way! im slowly but surely getting back into writing and i really want to write more for nick :)

no tag list on this post because I'm getting ready to redo my old tag list since most either aren't active anymore or have new usernames

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fanfiction #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo angst

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houseofripley · 2 months

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Hotel Hell - Part Two

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

Part One Pinterest

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, Fighting, Shoving, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, MAKEUP SEX

WORD COUNT: 3,812

A/N: omg i am sorry this took me years to finish, life has been busy but it should calm down soon. i got such a good request the other day and i haven't gotten it off my mind so i will start that tmrw if i have time. also i proofread this at 2am so please ignore any mistakes lol

“The Brutalization Chamber? You want to know what The Brutalization Chamber is?” The Irish man laughed out, his eyebrows raising once you turned your gaze towards him.

An expression of curiosity displayed on your face as you repeated the name of the supposed ‘chamber’. It was obvious to the man that you wanted to know more.

The man began making his way down the stairs, “No offense sweetheart…but I don’t really think this is the place for a girl li-” He tried to speak before being cut off.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“I don’t really care what you think sir, I want you to show me what's down there.” You chirped out, following the male down the flight of stairs, your hand hovering over your aching ribs.

“Well shit, if you insist,” The guy chuckled out, “Feisty, she’ll like you.” He muttered under his breath as he opened the door.

She’ll like you…was he talking about the same ‘she’ you had spent your night with? The same woman who just got done unleashing pure cruelty onto you? The same woman who disappeared into this exact building moments ago?

“Name’s Finn by the way,” He mentioned, “It’s just us, the big boss is probably around here somewhere as well.” Finn spoke as you scanned the room looking for ‘the big boss’.

Grimy was the only way to portray the room. Rope lights scattered across the ceiling, some were dim while others flickered. There were freezing concrete walls with cracks littered all over. A red neon sign displaying the letters ‘TBC’. A blood stained ring sat taking up a quarter of the room. Various pieces of gym equipment and punching bags were compressed into a room off to the side.

“So…just a gym?” You questioned the man, there was no sign of Rhea.

“Nah, it’s a little more than just a gym love…think of it as a fight club. A fight club with a fuck ton of money involved.” Finn stated leading into a room the size of a walk-in closet, the room seemingly being a pathetic excuse of a nurses office.

You leaned against the door frame while Finn babbled on as he started unpacking his bag, “People come to us in desperate need for money. They’re entered into our roster, put in the ring and bet on. If they win their match they get fifty percent of all bets placed. Bunch of sick wealthy men love wasting their fortune on this shit.”

“Don’t you think this is just a tad bit illegal?” You chuckled, sending a small wave of pain to your ribs.

“Eh I don’t worry about that too often,” Finn shrugged, digging around his duffle. “Rhea’s not too worried about the legalities when there's this much money involved, she can pay her way out of damn near anything.”

Rhea.

Despite your pain you perked up at the mention of Rhea’s name although you stayed silent.

“Rhea would like you, you’re quiet but there's just something about you, like there’s a fire inside you.” Finn mentioned, pointing at you. “I would introduce you to her but earlier this afternoon one of her top guys lost her like seven thousand. She stormed off to god knows where. Another one of her main guys has a big match in about half an hour. Going up against some new kid we’ve never seen so I’m sure she’s busy worrying her ass off.”

You heard a scoff echo from the main room as footsteps approached. “Jesus fucking christ Finn! Do you ever shut your goddamn mouth?” You heard Rhea sarcastically laugh trying to cover her anger.

You slowly turned to face Rhea, examining her tensed jaw and narrowed eyes. Reality had finally washed over you. The weight of Rhea’s actions flooded into your brain. You couldn’t figure out if you felt more betrayal or anger in the moment.

“Ah! Rhea mate!” Finn exclaimed, trying to divert from Rhea’s critiques. “I was just telling this young lady how much you’d like her…I never caught her name though.”

Your face turned to the ground as you tried to mutter out your name. “We’ve met.” Rhea butted in, her voice was fully flat-devoid of any sign of emotion. That’s when the regret hit you.

You shouldn't have come here.

“I should leave…it seems you guys have a busy night.” You muttered quietly. Rhea took a firm grasp on your forearm, “That can wait, let’s go have a chat.” Rhea said as her head motioned towards what you assumed to be her office.

“No, I-I can come back another time, I really don’t want to be a bother.” You barely managed to stutter out while Rhea’s middle and pointer finger of her opposite hand guided your chin up, forcing you to look at her. “I said let’s go have a chat.” Rhea commanded, her grip on your arm tightening.

You reluctantly followed the woman as she dragged you in the direction of her office. You knew you were in for it big time.

“You are a fucking insane bitch! What could have possibly made you think it was okay to fucking show up to this place?!” Rhea lashed out at you the moment the latches of her door clicked together. She dropped your arm before shoving you towards the other side of the room. You had been lucky enough to catch your balance as you were just inches away from barreling into the concrete walls.

“I just wanted to learn more! I wanted to figure you out Rhea! Can you blame me for wanting to figure out why you’re so angry and cruel every time I see you?” You said loudly, your voice filled with hurt.

“That doesn't give you the goddamn right to follow me to where I work! You don’t fucking get it, these people I work with are dangerous and I don’t want you getting caught up in this bullshit!” Rhea retorted out as her breaths began picking up speed.

“What makes you think I’m so incompetent that I’m incapable of being around danger?! You put me in danger nearly every fucking time I see you! ” Your hands flew around as you yelled at the woman, tears accumulating in your eyes.

Rhea began inching towards you, a look of irritation covering her face. “I don’t fucking put you in danger!”

“Yes you fucking do! You have no idea how many bruises you’ve left me with. The other month you choked me till I passed out, yet you didn’t stop fucking me to check if I was okay! For fucks sake Rhea, an hour ago you left me bleeding and collapsed to the floor!!” All hell had broken loose between the two of you as your tears started escaping from you.

“You told me you could take it! I don’t get why you’re bitching and moaning all of the sudden.” Rhea continued arguing.

Your fist crashed down onto Rhea’s nearby desk, “I can take it rough, but you can’t keep disappearing after being borderline torturous! You’re so damn immature!!” Your screaming matched showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“I’m immature? You’re the one that followed me to my job and is throwing a tantrum right now!” Rhea’s voice thundered around the room.

“You don’t get it Rhea! I’m a fucking person and you dont give a shit about me! Why don’t you fucking care?!” You yelled through broken sobs as you started unleashing your sadness and anger onto Rhea, pushing and beating on her chest.

Rhea made no attempt to stop you. She made no moves, just allowing you to inflict your pain onto her.

Once your hands had dropped to your sides in exhaustion and your breaths became heavier as you tried calming yourself down Rhea quietly mumbled, “I do care…”

“But you don’t…” You looked up at her with wide eyes, lifting your shirt. You exposed your aching torso displaying your cut up skin, dried blood pooled around your laceration and the letters of Rhea’s name carved into your skin. “Someone who cares doesn't do this and run away.” You quietly said, your voice strained from the screaming match.

The regret in her eyes was apparent as she darted her eyes away from you. The realization she had gone too far had hit her hard, feeling as if she was being crashed into by an eighteen-wheeler.

Her vulnerability was short lived, Rhea quickly repressed her display of emotion, replacing it with her regular cold and emotionless stare. She had to put on her tough guy attitude. It was her only safety blanket. Emotions are for the weak, Rhea could never be weak.

“You get worse every time I see you, something has to change Rhea…” You breathed out, trying to articulate your speech as you lowered your shirt back down. “If you can’t fix this behavior I’m done.”

“You know you don’t mean that.” Rhea sighed as she ran her hand through her black hair. She didn’t want to lose you but she could never admit that. “I need to think about…everything. Just give me a some t-”

Rhea was cut off by a deep voice from outside the door. “Ten minutes till the bell Rhea.” Rhea rolled her eyes and made her way to the door, “Just give me some fucking time Damian! And go get a roll of gauze from Finn. Quickly.” Rhea demanded after opening the door just a sliver.

You clenched your jaw as you sensed Rhea’s levels of anger were once again rising. The last thing you wanted was to end up back at square one with her. You couldn’t handle another argument with her. Not tonight at least.

The pair of you stood in silence as you waited for the man to return. Once he had arrived he opened the door, handing Rhea the roll of fabric. His eyes curiously examining you through the crack in the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute…” Rhea aggressively muttered before closing the door. She mumbled your name under her breath before walking to her desk.

“You’re lucky Finn showed up early, only God knows what could have happened to you if one of the other guys showed up before him.” Rhea grunted as she unlocked a drawer and began rummaging through the mess inside.

What is it about her?

“Why such a dark line of work? What made you choose this of all things?” You questioned, you were terrified to set her off but on the other hand you wanted to push for answers from her. It was the only way to get your foot into the door of her life.

Rhea stumbled her way towards you avoiding eye contact, a tube of antibacterial gel in her hand as she shrugged. “Not something you choose. You’re born into it and can’t escape it, you just have to accept it and make the best out of it.” She mumbled while she lifted your shirt up.

Rhea applied a small glob of the antibacterial gel to her finger while she lowered herself to her knees, becoming face to face with your shredded skin. The woman began dabbing the gel onto your skin causing you to let out a small hiss from the pain.

Once she finished applying all of the gel she wiped the residue from her fingers onto her pant leg and grabbed the roll of gauze. Rhea cleared her throat before speaking up, “Just stay in here for a while, I can take you home after this match.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking home by myself, Rhea.” You stated, watching Rhea carefully wrap the gauze around your waist.

“I’m walking you home and that’s final.” Rhea stood her ground, “Seriously though, just stay in here. I’ll be back.”

You weren’t planning on fighting about this with her, deciding to keep your mouth shut you let her take the win. “Fine, whatever.” You gave in as Rhea tied a knot in the gauze to hold it in place.

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.” Was all Rhea had said as she stood up. Nothing else left her lips as she exited the room.

No apology?

You groaned as you sat down in Rhea’s large chair. You blankly stared at the wall for several minutes before your mind started to wander. Exploring anything that popped into your head. Places, things, people, Rhea.

If you were being honest with yourself you were doubting the woman's ability to change her ways. You assumed she would most likely be this way her whole life, although you prayed she had it in herself to change. She had the potential to be great if she would put her pride aside.

It wasn't long until the cheers of the crowd on the opposite side of the door had started drowning out your thoughts.

You wanted to catch a glimpse of the madness. You stood up from the large chair, your feet scuffing the ground as you strolled to the door

You cracked the door open, taking a peek of the ring surrounded by a flock of rowdy men that were yelling. The large man you made eye contact with earlier was in the ring brutalizing a much smaller guy who couldn’t even be older than twenty-five. He was putting on one hell of a fight but it was clear he stood no chance.

Rhea was the only woman there, she was stood right against the ring watching intensely. She had caught your image in the corner of her eyes. Her face turned in your direction, she tilted her head as if she was asking you what the hell you were doing.

You mouthed the word sorry to her before quickly closing the door.

Fifteen excruciatingly boring minutes had passed, the cheers had dispersed into muffled conversations. Rhea had finally arrived back in her office. She seemed content which you enjoyed.

“You ready to go?” Rhea asked, you answered with a simple nod.

As the two of you made your way out of the building Rhea exchanged goodbyes with some of the strange men.

The entire walk was silent, the both of you reflecting on the weird night you had been through together. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was almost peaceful. Having Rhea in your presence when she was somewhat calm was pleasant. You wanted to hold onto this peacefulness for the rest of your life.

It took you by surprise when Rhea insisted on taking you directly to your door instead of just dropping you off in the front of the large building and ditching.

“You didn’t need to take me all the way up here.” You quietly mumbled as you unlocked the door to your apartment. “Lot’s of bad people around this time of night.” Rhea muttered as your door swung open.

You turned around to face the woman, her eyes peering over your head, scanning the entry of your apartment. “There’s bad people around all times of the day. I’m used to it.” You said quietly, her eyes returning to you.

An awkward silence filled the air as the both of you gazed upon each other. Rhea began rubbing her neck, “Uh…I should go. I’m gonna go.” She feebly stated before turning away from you, quickly walking down the hall. She had stormed off before you could even speak up.

Still no apology?

—

Multiple days had passed. Rhea had made no contact yet. You spent a concerning amount of time just staring at Rhea’s contact in your phone, debating if you should press the call button. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

She’d call if she cared enough.

It felt as if life had paused, your days seemed empty. The busy streets of New York City felt devoid of any livelihood. The live music that took place at work sounded muffled. The flavor of your favorite foods had been stripped away. Once colorful flowers sold down at the street market now sat dull.

Days just painfully repeated.

Tonight you had the night off, your only plans were to stare out the window of your bedroom and pray for a text from Rhea.

You sat criss-cross at the edge of your bed twiddling your thumbs, your mind seemingly empty as you stared into the windows of the skyscraper across the street when the sound of a knock echoed down your short hall.

Groaning in annoyance as you got up you began making your way to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as your feet shuffled below you.

You weren't sure who you were expecting to be in the hall but it completely caught you by surprise when you swung the door open to see the dark haired woman waiting for you.

Without a word Rhea launched herself onto your lips, the force causing you to be pushed back a few inches.

Jesus Christ.

This felt like more than just a kiss, it had an intense amount of passion intertwined into it. Rhea’s hands gripped onto your waist as you backed into the apartment, her foot kicking the door behind her closed.

She had never kissed you in this way before. Before tonight you had only received measly pecks while the two of you had sex. It was never emotional.

Rhea slowly pulled away from your lips, both of your breaths were heavy as she finally spoke, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Finally.

“God, I’ve treated you like shit and I have been such a dick. It’s been the only thing on my mind. You don’t deserve that, It’s not okay.” Rhea began rambling as you stared into each other's eyes. “I get it if you never want to see me again but please just give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll get my temperament under control, I’ll go to therapy, whatever you say I will do it.”

“Rhea-” You whispered, trying to calm her down but she continued her rant.

“I want to know you, more than just your body. I wanna know everything, The good, the bad, the boring…I wanna know what pisses you off and what makes you cry. I don’t know why I kept you a stranger for so long and I’m sorry for that.”

You led Rhea into your small living room as you listened to her rambling. You took a seat in your chaiser lounge and ushered her to sit in front of you as her speech continued on. “I don’t know why I ran away…I think it's cause I didn't want to hurt you. But I did hurt you, so badly. I don’t want to run away anymore, I had no right to ever hurt you the way I did, just for me to leave you alone right after. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done and I’ll never forgive myself for it. It’s just that I-”

“Rhea!” You slightly raised your voice causing Rhea to finally close her mouth. You leaned closer to her, placing a quick and gentle kiss on her lips. “You’re okay, don’t worry.” You comforted the woman, softly chuckling.

“I didn’t interrupt your night did I?” Rhea asked, slightly nervous as she scootched up closer to you. You shook your head no as a smile creeped on your face.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to end up in a heated makeout session, your hands roaming over one another's clothing. Rhea groaned your name against your lips before pulling back just a few centimeters.

“Please let me show you how sorry I am.” She practically pleaded, her eyes full of desperation, “Yes please” you quietly giggled, your eyes adoring the woman's face. The second Rhea heard the word yes echo from your mouth her lips went straight for your neck, causing a whimper to escape from you.

Rhea took her time as she kissed upon your neck, carefully leaving soft love bites every so often, marking the skin a flushed pink shade. Her lips only leaving your skin as she pulled off your sweater before she began peckering kisses against your collarbones.

Her hands crept behind your back, unclasping your bra and pulling it from your chest. Your fingers grazed upon Rhea’s tense shoulders as she left a path of kisses down your torso.

As Rhea’s face reached the base of your stomach, her eyes fixated on your face as if she was asking for your blessing. You gave her a nod before lifting your hips into the air, allowing her to slide your sweatpants off your legs.

“Rhea, please,” You whined out while Rhea’s fingers toyed with the seam of your panties. Rhea grinned to herself as she slowly shed the final layer of clothing off your body.

The woman wasted no time connecting her mouth to your heat, causing you to let out a breathy moan. “So fucking beautiful…” Rhea praised against your skin.

Truthfully, her tongue felt like heaven as it worked its way around your wetness. Rhea didn't want to rush you. This wasn't for her, she just wanted to make sure you knew she had the ability in her to change for the better.

Your breaths picked up their pace as Rhea’s hand inched its way closer to your core. Her ring and middle finger traced a circle around the perimeter of your entrance before slowly being pushed into you.

“Shit,” You whined out, your back arching as both Rhea’s tongue and digits worked their magic on you. Although you enjoyed roughhousing with the woman, you undoubtedly appreciated the amount of care Rhea was putting into you.

You were a whimpering mess under Rhea’s touch, and she loved every small sound that escaped from your mouth.

“More! Please, I can take it!” You begged for more of her. Rhea obliged, sliding her pointer finger into your tightness causing you to roll your eyes back as her fingers filled your insides.

“That’s it baby,” Rhea preached quietly when your hips began to rock against her fingers, your moans filling the room. “Such a good girl for me.” She added on before her tongue got back to sailing over your clit, her fingers picking up their pace.

Your legs tightened around Rhea’s head as your orgasm quickly approached. “C’mon sweet girl, let go.” Rhea’s encouraging words were muffled, your walls clenched around her curling fingers.

“Fuck Rhea!” You squealed out as the knot that filled your stomach released onto Rhea’s fingers. Your hips twitched into the air as the fingers inside of you helped you ride out your climax.

Rhea was grinning ear-to-ear as she slowly pulled her fingers out of your hole. She groaned in pleasure, licking her fingers clean.

She soon brought her face to meet yours, her plumped lips giving your jaw a kiss before whispering in your ear.

“How’s that for an apology, hm?”

Chapter Taglist: @babybatlover @whiteleoqueen @luvvleah @lovingperson1

#rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #wwe smut #rhea ripley fanfiction

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succubusmunson · 11 months

Text

warnings: teasing, fingering (f receiving), begging, pet names, squirting

eddie has your legs thrown over his shoulders, his nose brushing against your throbbing clit. he loves to do this, just look at your cunt as it aches to be filled.

“god,” he inhales deeply, taking you in. “you’re fucking perfect.”

you buck your hips up, looking for any kind of friction. instead, eddie uses one of his hands to pin you down, making it hard for you to wiggle out of his grip.

“eddie,” you leaned up on your elbows to get a good look at him. his hair is messy, eyes darker with lust. “i can’t take much more teasing.”

you were soaked and tired of all the teasing. all you wanted was for eddie, anything, to fill you up and put the ache of needing to be full at bay.

“oh, sweetheart,” eddie took his other hand and used his fingers to pull your pretty cunt lips apart. your slick stringing between them and making his mouth water. “you just gotta ask nicely.”

god, he was the biggest tease. he always worked you up, never letting you cum until he was satisfied that had enough of his teasing. it was frustrating and hot all at once.

you grabbed the back of his head, not pushing but holding it there, and locked eyes with him. “eddie, will you please do something? i need it.”

a smirk grew across eddie’s face as he placed a chaste kiss on your clit, making you gasp. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

his tongue made quick work against your clit, swirling around the swollen bud, and pressing flat against it. your chest was heaving with each breath you took, and your body felt like it was on fire.

“fuck- yes,” you threw your head back against the pillows, spreading your legs wider for him. “i-i needed this.”

“yeah?” eddie slid two of his skilled fingers in your cunt, immediately curling them. “always so fucking tight. gotta get you nice and open for my cock, baby.”

his fingers dug into your supple skin, leaving behind crescent moon shapes.

the squelching sounds of eddie’s fingers pumping inside you echoed off the walls, flowing right into your ears. the sound mixed perfectly with your whines and whimpers.

“o-oh my,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, the pleasure making your brain shut off.

“you look so pretty like this,” eddie kissed and nibbled across your thighs as his fingers continued to fuck you, scissoring you open. “all fucked out and close to cumming.”

you were so close to cumming, the teasing made you overly sensitive. you could feel it in the way your stomach muscles tightened, and how your toes started to curl.

“let me cum,” you arched your back off the bed. “please! i need to cum.”

“do it,” eddie added pressure to your clit with his thumb, watching as your eyes rolled back. “fucking cum for me.

and you did.

your thighs shook, and your vision went white as you came around eddie’s fingers, soaking them and his hand on the process.

silent screams escaped your opened mouth with each shake of your body. the only word you could think of to describe this feeling was blissful.

eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out, helping you ride at your orgasm until you were pushing him away, needing a break.

“jesus christ, baby.” eddie brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean. “that was fucking hot.”

“thank you,” you weakly sat up from the bed, a satisfied smile on your face. “thank you for letting me cum.”

“we’re far from done yet,” eddie slid off his boxers. his cock was painfully hard, leaking with precum. “i’m just getting started.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months

Text

Pin-up boy (steddie microfic)

For @steddiemicrofic March prompt, ‘pin.’ Thank you <3

WC: 388. Rating: T. CW: None. Tags: Steve and Eddie return to High School (because I say so!) post S4 healing, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers.

…

In the library, Eddie found Steve slumped at a table, face pillowed in his arms. Robin sat beside Steve, rubbing his back.

“He okay?” asked Eddie.

“Bad headache,” mumbled Steve. “M’not deaf, Munson. Yet.”

“Came on sudden.” Robin’s obvious worry mirrored Eddie’s. They’d persuaded Steve to re-take senior year, and these ‘study meets’ rocked Eddie’s days. Though Robin tried, no ‘studying’ happened; they’d be idiots till the librarian booted them. It was really an excuse to check each other was okay, post-Upside Down everything. Plus, Eddie dug hanging with Robin… Aaaand with his secret crush.

“Got your meds?” asked Eddie.

“In my locker.” Steve threw his keys at Eddie.

“You trust me with your car-key too?”

“Like you need those to boost my wheels.” Steve blinked blearily. “The pink pills, ’kay?”

Steve’s locker contained a ton of meds. Some—for PTSD, anxiety—Eddie took also. The ‘pink pills,’ however, were hardcore painkillers that Eddie had been able to ditch. He’d snatched them up, when a grainy pic—pinned discreetly at the back—caught his eye.

IT’S ME! Ax-wielding at a Corroded Coffin gig.

The love-hearts pencilled in the margins set Eddie’s world on fire.

…

When Eddie returned, Steve wouldn’t raise his burning face. He couldn’t handle Eddie knowing, even after the painkillers kicked in. The old Steve Harrington would’ve powered through, but… Ouch! Not today.

Eddie cornered him near the lockers. Steve glared.

“Feeling better?” asked Eddie.

Steve shrugged.

Eddie slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Wanna show you something.”

Steve tensed, nearly bolted, but… Christ, it was better said: “Yeeeah, my locker. I got all brain-foggy and forgot that pic was there. It’s a dumb joke—”

“Sure hope it’s not.” Eddie flung his locker open. A shirtless picture of Steve by the pool was pinned, very visibly, to the door. My Little Pony stickers formed a love-heart around it.

“For once, skulls and crossbones didn’t nail it,” said Eddie. “I owe Lady Applejack a billion dollars for those babies.”

“Is this some twisted joke?”

“My Little Ponies aside, I’m deadly serious, Stevie.”

Steve fixated on Eddie’s gorgeous eyes. Jesus, this was real! The guy who’d shared his healing, who got who he was now, felt the same.

“Screw it, me too.” They couldn’t be alone quick enough. Steve let Eddie pin him to the wall, and they made out forever.

...

All my Steddie fic can also be found here on AO3 :)

#steddiemicroficmarch #steddiemicrofic #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff

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withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

Happy birthday @stevecarrington !!!! You mentioned this idea only a little bit ago, but I had to take it and do a little skip and a hop to a ficlet. I'm so glad I have you in my life, and I hope you like this!

Steve had accepted he would probably die young.

Between three concussions, the Upside Down, and his tendency for getting into unfathomable situations, an early death was almost an inevitability at this point. He had made his peace with it. He was okay.

But he had never expected that yarn would be the thing that finally killed him off.

“Easy,” Steve muttered to himself, pulling fruitlessly at the fibers entangling his fingers, arms, neck, and chest, “Easy she says! If I ever make it out of this I’m going up to Robin and I’m telling her exactly how easy it would be to-“

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice said from behind him, stopping both his furious growling and his attempts to escape his stringy prison.

Eddie wasn’t supposed to be home till seven. Dustin and the rest had promised to stall him while Steve tried to work on his gift for Eddie without prying eyes. A cursory glance at the clock by his bed told Steve that it was in fact already 7:08, and he had simply been trapped for far longer than he realized.

“Sunshine?”

With a sigh of defeat, Steve awkwardly scooted around, facing Eddie with feigned nonchalance. Like it was perfectly normal to come home and find his boyfriend wrapped in soft black yarn and cursing at himself.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sport?” Eddie asked, making a valiant effort at trying to hold back the gleeful smile attempting to overtake his face. He was obviously about two seconds away from laughing his ass off, but Steve appreciated the attempt at protecting his dignity.

“Oh, you know, just a little self bondage,” Steve said casually, subtly tugging at the yarn pinning his wrist to his bicep, “Thought I would practice wrapping up your birthday present- which is going to be me, by the way.”

Sex was the only thing Steve had left to offer as a gift at this point. Clearly his other idea was not going to work out.

Eddie hummed, looking Steve up and down once before walking all the way into the bedroom and closing the door. He rounded the foot of the bed, kneeling in front of Steve and carefully looping his long fingers around the few strands of yarn that had tangled around Steve’s neck. The anxiety that had been humming at the back of his mind vanished as the pressure eased, and Steve breathed out a slow sigh of relief, letting his eyes shut as Eddie put his finger under Steve’s chin and raised his head up.

“Want to try again?” Eddie murmured, holding his lips inches away from Steve’s, letting him drown in those deep dark eyes that always made all thoughts fly immediately away from his brain.

“I was trying to knit you a scarf,” Steve admitted, trying to avert his eyes. It was impossible with the way Eddie was holding him, and with the yarn still holding him hostage, Steve was at the mercy of his boyfriend’s curiosity.

“You were what?!”

“Well, you’ve made us all things,” Steve explained, pulling away from Eddie’s grip and gesturing with his chin towards the closet where Eddie’s latest creation- a cable knit dark green jumper- sat innocently on a hanger, “I wanted to surprise you by making you something. Unfortunately, the yarn fought back, and the yarn won,”

A flurry of different emotions raced across Eddie’s features. First shock, then wonder, a strange mixture of sadness and melancholy, and then a fondness so warm Steve felt a shiver go through his entire body, right down to his toes.

“Jesus H Christ, I love you,” Eddie whispered, dragging Steve in. Fire burned in his belly as Eddie’s tongue immediately swiped across his bottom lip, the kiss turning deliciously dirty within seconds.

“I love you too,” Steve gasped as they broke apart, “Now help me out of this,”

A wicked little smile curled on Eddie’s lip, and he shook his head, wrapping his arms around Steve and slowly lowering him to the floor.

“Not yet,” Eddie said in a teasing voice, leaning down to kiss the scar on Steve’s neck as his fingers began to play with the button on his partner’s jeans, “I want to open my present early.”

And, well, who was Steve to deny the birthday boy his request?

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie #st drabble #st4 #steddie ficlet #Eddie knits #Steve doesnt #but he wants to

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saintship · 7 months

Note

Can I request #20 with Soap please🥺 Hope you have a great day!!

Prompt #20 - “You’re safe with me.”

Medic reader time ;)

Soap Mactavish x Reader - Flight risk

Your training did not cover this. The first steps after relocating a patient with a fatal gunshot wound are clinical. Stop the bleeding. Clean the area. Remove fragments. Administer lost fluids. Not this.

He paced the safehouse wildly, leaving sickening trails of crimson everywhere that he stumbled. He checked the door, checked the windows, opened fire at the shadow of the truck outside, when was the last time he blinked?

“Soap, hold still!”

“Need to.. s’not safe here.. need to go.. keep moving.. exfil..”

“Sit down before I sedate you.” Your tone was harsh, but you were frantic on the inside; the pooling of his blood not helping your growing panic. He exhausted himself eventually, groaning as you removed his vest and cut open his shirt.

Pack the wound.

Finger over finger.

Keep steady pressure.

Keep calm.

“Doc..”

His voice was hoarse from overuse, his eyes low with weariness.

“Don’t talk, Sergeant..” You finally pack the gauze down so you could use your hands again and dig for your cleaning supplies.

“Tell Price it’s not his fault.”

Your movements stilled; his eyes were closing. You held his face in your hand, uttering a quiet apology before slapping him, jolting him awake.

“You are not dying here, Johnny. Do you understand me? Bite your tongue, keep fuckin’ breathing; I am not losing you.”

You cleaned his wound, his only reply to your sternness being grunts of pain. By the time you’d done everything you could, he’d returned to a hazy, but conscious state. You held his canteen to his lips.

“Drink.”

His eyes flickered to the container. “It’s Scotch..”

“Jesus Christ, Soap..” you confirmed his comment by smelling the contents, rolling your eyes. You held your own canteen to his lips, making sure he didn’t spill much. He drank eagerly; making your job easier for once in his life.

“Nearly slapped the brains outta me ‘ead..”

You don’t know how you’d dragged him to sit against the wall, but he was still struggling, broken phrases tumbling from his lips.

“I wasn’t going to let you die in this shithole.”

“So if we were in a castle?” He grinned crookedly.

“You’ve had a good run.”

You knew laughing hurt him slightly, but you were so selfish for the sight of it.

“You scared me.” You murmur.

“Gettin’ sweet on me?”

You grind your teeth absentmindedly, toying with the idea of just spilling your guts once and for all.

“Yeah, maybe a little.”

You held the canteen to his lips again to prevent any other incriminating questions before checking his pulse.

“You’re gonna be alright.”

“Obviously—I’ve got the best doctor around.”

“What is it with you flirting when you’re on the verge of dying?” You began gathering your tools.

“Thought you said I wasn’t?”

“You’re dodging my question.”

He huffed, adjusting his weight.

“I guess I lose my filter.”

“You don’t have a filter.”

“Oh, I do..” His tone became softer, his reply near immediate. His eyes trailed to the side as if to recall every time he’d held his tongue. Your head tilted, intrigued.

“Are you unfiltered right now?”

He smiled. “Maybe a little.”

His throwing your own words in your face made you laugh quietly, shaking your head.

“Okay, uh.. if I ask something, will you tell the truth?”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to ya.”

“Really, that’s funny, because-"

“Alright, once or twice..” He shook his head, smiling. “What’s your question?”

You smiled at his resignation; it wasn’t often you saw him so laid back. Even in pain and delirious, he was good company. You took a breath before spitting out what had been troubling you.

“Do you trust me?”

He leaned forward, his brow upturning for just a moment.

“What? Of course I do, you’re my squad mate.”

“But.. me. As a person. As your medic. I brought you to this safehouse and you were still so erratic, I thought.. I thought you didn’t think that me being here was proof enough that you were safe. But you are. You’re safe with me.”

Soap was stunned into silence, which, quite frankly, deserved an award on your part. He wasn’t laughing, teasing, joking, deflecting. He was lost for words.

“You’re one of the best.” He began firmly. “I trust you with my life; if I didn’t I wouldn’t be living.”

He carefully took your hand, but held it tight when you allowed him to. “I am safe with you. But out there is a gamble. I can’t let my guard down.” He muttered. “I trust you.” He repeated.

You look at your joined hands; the scar running from his thumb to his middle finger. You’d stitched that gash before the base surgeon took over; with every puncture, trying to weave your desires into his skin. But that was years ago, and you know he can’t read your mind.

“You.. You’re important to me.”

“You’re important to me too, you’re my friend.”

Your teeth scraped again.

“Yeah. Yeah..” you squeezed his hand assuringly, but didn’t miss how he tilted his head.

“Doc?” He murmured.

“Mhm?”

Likely for the first time in his life, Soap looked thoughtful. You could’ve sworn he glanced down just a centimeter before his words distracted you.

“Slap me again if you need to, okay?”

You blinked. “What?”

His thumb slid past the hem of your vest, just enough to tug you forward slowly. You let him.

“Soap..”

“Tell me to stop..”

His hand shifted to hold your hand again, the moonlight slanted through the window reflecting off those bedroom eyes.

When you shook your head, his huff almost sounded like disbelief. “This is alright?”

“Yeah.. I’m glad you’re as bold as you are.”

He grinned, and the moonlight now shined on his smile along with his iris’.

“Are ya?”

“Makes it easier to do this.”

You knew it was unprofessional and irrational and idiotic, and twenty other bad things.

But his lips were soft, and he was alive because he trusted you to keep him that way. And as you moved closer to sit beside him, you were able to deepen that kiss into something less chaste.

He pulled back gently to speak, his gaze soft.

“I didn’t know..”

“You do now..” You reply gently, briefly touching his uninjured shoulder. “You know I’ll always be here, right?”

“S’why I’m always gettin’ hurt.” He grinned, glancing at his bandages. “I know you’ll patch me up.”

#call of duty modern warfare #cod requests #cod mwii #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #call of duty mwii #prompt list

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tiredmetalenthusiast · 1 month

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Running into the Captain (Price x reader)

For @glitterypirateduck Price writing challenge. Scenario used was 41. ‘Price and reader run into each other (literally)’:

Warnings: thoughts of wanting to do harm to someone that annoys you, cursing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were absolutely cursing the doctor on site at base right now. Having decided she didn’t want to do the paperwork or deliver it and leaving that for you to do while she ‘took care of’ the soldiers coming in for treatment. ‘More like she’s just flirting and enjoying the attention’ You frowned and closed your eyes, folios of medical documents pressed tightly to your chest.

”If I could fuckin strangle the woman I would. I don’t get paid to do her fucking job just so she can shove her cleavage in the faces of the soldiers.”

So caught up in ranting to yourself, you sped up your steps, attempting to make it to Captain Price’s office to drop off the paperwork that needs his signature and to let him know of the officers that will be put on temporary leave or desk duty. You hadn’t heard the boots heading towards you, let alone the sound of an opening door.

”I’m gonna cut her hair while she’s asle- Ah! Fuck!” You swear as you collide with what you think is a wall, “Woah! Jesus Christ!”, a talking wall at that. Falling on your ass and dropping the paperwork you hear the person speak again, “Are you alright, lieutenant?” You open your eyes finally as you rub your nose from the contact, staring at Price as he gets back up on his feet, before looking at the scattered papers. Sighing, you proceed to pick them up.

”Apologies sir. Was on my way to see you about paperwork that needs signing.” He chuckles, “Well I was just on my way to find you. Didn’t plan on running into you literally though.” He helps you pick up the paperwork, handing it to you. “You were looking for me?” He nods and clears his throat, “Was wondering if you wanted to get drinks later? If you’re up for it of course.” You blinked owlishly at him.

Your brain was firing a mile a minute, nerves briefly shocked by his offer. “Uh yeah. Drinks would be nice Captain. The guys coming along?” He chuckles and reaches for your hand, kissing your knuckles, “It’s John luv. None of that captain stuff now, and no. Was thinkin it could just be us.” You flush and nod. He smirks, “Now about that paperwork?” He opens the door, the two of you entering his office.

#~Harley finally writes something🫣#call of duty #ocaptainchallenge #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #cod mw2

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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Series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

ch 1: FLICKER

ch 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

ch 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THR REDLIGHTS

chapter summary: flashbacks provide some insight on our favorite metalhead.

chapter trigger warnings: 18+ only, character death, references to child neglect, upside down references, poor parenting practices, etc, blood, character death, killer reveal.

CH. 4: FAMILY VALUES

1974

The tires on Evil Kneivel’s Stunt Bike trudged through the familiar path of the bare thread carpet in the back bedroom of trailer 8 in Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie was on his stomach, ignoring the rumbling noise from the hollow emptiness in his belly, he pressed his lips together to vibrate a motorcycle sound through his mouth, casually blowing dark curls from his vision.

An annoyed huff echoed across the thin walls, “This is boring,” Billy snarled, he was laying flat on Eddie’s bed, feet on the wall, throwing up his stretch Armstrong to himself before tossing it across the room, landing with a splat on the broken closet door.

Eddie pushed himself up from the carpet, the fibers itching through the holes in his jeans and scratching his knees.

He shrugs, running his tongue through the gap of his latest pulled tooth, “wanna see my guitar?”

“No,” Billy huffed, his thumb nail catching along the ridges of the zippo lighter he had stolen from Melvalds, lighting a small flame that he quickly extinguished with the flip of the lid. “I wanna do something fun.”

“Alright then, genius,” Eddie scowls, sitting next to Billy on the brown and burgundy ripped threads of an afghan blanket, “what do you have in mind?”

Billy swings his feet around, landing with ease and standing before his friend, the smirk on Billy’s face was one Eddie knew all too well.

—

Neil and Al didn’t hear the boys sneak out from the back room, too drunk and elbow deep in “work” to notice their sons had pushed the screen outward and hopped down to the ground.

“The instructions are clear, Al,” Neil said, his mouth around a can of Pabst, scrubbing a dirty thumbnail through his eyebrow, “here let me see that.”

Al blows a cloud of smoke into the air, handing over the poorly written note on the back of the Hideout napkin, clad with ketchup stains and spilled coffee. “Don’t know how you can even read this shit.”

“I can read that’s how I can read it dumb fuck,” Neil snapped, grabbing the napkin from him, he looks over the scratchy pen marks, pointing at the instructions again, “see right there, Creel laid it all out for us.”

“Okay wise ass, but it doesn’t make sense. How the hell are we supposed to break int- into that place without anyone seeing us?” Al puts the butt of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke around the side of his mouth. “It’s under surveillance and the guards are armed.”

“The guards are armed.” Neil mocks, “Jesus Christ you sound just like a woman, how many cars have we boosted?”

“That’s different, easy. Breaking into a secret government lab? This is above our pay grade, and your skill level.”

“Yeah and your big brains are why you got fired from the mill right?”

“Shit,” Al downplays, “they didn’t pay worth a damn, boosting and dealin’ keep my pockets lined just fine.”

“If only it was enough to keep Liz around right?”

“Don’t say that bitch’s name in this house, I’ll slit your throat and use it for an ashtray, Hargrove.”

“Ahh shit,” Neil quips, “don’t get your panties wadded up, but back to this,” he says waving the napkin around, “the tunnels, that’s our way in.”

—-

Eddie’s van is barreling down the highway like a bat out of hell. Nancy hasn’t stopped crying, slowly wiping her tears, with the front of her shirt, sniffling every so often.

You’re grief stricken, numb to whatever the hell just happened, and what those things even were— and to top it all off, Eddie somehow knows?

Steve is leaning on the center console between you and Eddie, back seat driving and giving him directions on how to get to his house.

At first Eddie had thought about going to his trailer, he knew his dad and Wayne kept their rifles in the back shed, but decided against it at the last minute, hollering over his shoulder for anyone having an idea of where to go.

How safe could he keep everyone if his house was bordering on enemy lines?

—-

1983

The Hargrove’s house was nestled on Cherry. Older but comfortable, a damn sight better than the paper thin walls of the trailer, and the soggy couch that reeked of spilt beer.

Billy was going on and on about his girlfriends, yes plural. The blonde haired Gina or was it Jenny? And Tanya, the rich one who lived by Steve Harrington.

Junior year was different for the boys, where Billy excelled in popularity with the jocks being a basketball star, Eddie fell into a different crowd, the Hellfire Club.

They were still friends, still causing trouble on nights you couldn’t hang out, Billy now refusing entirely to hang out with Eddie when you were around, which you weren’t complaining about.

Eddie takes another swig of Mt. Dew and continues drawing a rogue for one of the older guys, Nico, in Hellfire. He was only half listening to the way Billy was describing the differences between the girls, body type mostly.

“If you want in on the action big boy just let me know, Gina loves hearing Metallica play when we steam up the windows in my car if ya know what I mean,” the cigarette hanging limply from his lips wiggled as he spoke, sending ashes down to his black converse.

Eddie immediately thought of you. He wasn’t sure of his feelings when it came to you but he wondered if you’d be weirded out that Billy was planning to get him a date. How would you feel if he went out with some chick?

The idea of you kissing someone made his stomach turn, and not in a butterfly way.

Instead of listening to Billy bitch about how much he can’t stand you and how you’re holding Eddie back he just went along with it, “yeah man, sounds good.”

“Sounds good?” Billy questions, racking the weights he was lifting with a thud, checking his traps in his reflection, shooting a look over his shoulder, “I’m trying to get you laid, dude.”

Eddie looks up from his seated position in the corner of Billy’s room, his fingers were silvery from shading the lines of his drawing, pinked eraser rubberings littered the front of his new Metallica shirt. “Yeah man, I’m down, what’s her number.”

Eddie wrote the number on the corner of his paper, barely registering what else Billy was saying, his mind wandering to what kind of shit his dad was up to this time.

Al was home for a longer stretch than normal this time, but he seemed to spend every waking minute at the Hargrove’s.

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to think that his dad actually wanted to hangout with him.

Oh no, Al Munson had his priorities whenever he came back to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, and seeing his only son wasn't the top of the list.

He went to the bar first, picking out the waitress with zero confidence, saying all the right things and tipping her just enough to make her think she was really something. When her shift was over, he’d bring her to a sleazy by-the-hour motel, giving her the ol’ Munson magic and then, when she was in the shower or cleaning up in the bathroom, he’d bolt. Driving to the nearest gas station casino and spending whatever money the waitress had in her purse.

He’d finally crawl back to Wayne’s when he was bone dry, claiming he was home “for good this time!” And how he, “just wanted to hangout with my boy!”

Turns out the “hanging out” was going over to Neil’s and getting shitfaced drunk, bringing Eddie to tag along, to prove to his brother that he was a good dad. He failed to mention that Eddie would end up locked in Billy’s room until dawn.

So no, getting laid wasn’t on Eddie’s mind right now.

“I told Tommy H to leave you alone, told him I’d fuck his girlfriend again if I caught wind of him messing with you.” Billy said, shoving his chest out proudly. Maybe if he helped Eddie spread his wings, he’d stop getting picked on, but in Billy’s eyes, Eddie brought alot of it on himself sticking up for those fucking nerds he always hung out with.

The Hargrove kitchen table was covered in the same paperwork they always were when Al came over. Weird haikus, and riddles that were partly solved, a timeline of when and where everything needed to take place, and lastly, a complete blueprint of Lonnie Byers’ house.

Everything was just about set in stone, the only thing the men couldn’t figure out is why Creel had decided that it had to be Lonnie’s son as the baited sacrifice. And whenever they asked, Creel would say the same thing, “an eye for an eye.”

—

1986

“Right here,” Steve said, pointing his hand in Eddie’s face and out the window to his big behemoth of a house.

The kind of house that belonged to a homeowners society, telling you when, where, and how to water and mow your grass. Not the type of neighborhood that housed the brown piece of shit on wheels that was arriving into the Harrington driveway at record speeds.

Steve fumbled with the door and had to pry Nancy away from the van, she was petrified, her body shaking and tense, beneath his arm.

Eddie turns to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder and when you don’t move he guides your chin towards him, his heart breaking at the sight of your tear filled eyes.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” His eyes were large and the worry on his face only made you more scared, but he tried to put on a brave face for you, “c’mon, we gotta get inside.”

Steve’s home was decorated with expensive paintings and gold fixtures. The kind of decor that wasn't available at a mall but ordered from some lavish designer in New York. The living room had vacuum lines in the carpet, as if it were never used. The wood floors in the foyer sparkled from the overhead chandelier, it was a catalog home, looking as if it were staged for a photo

shoot rather than people actually living in it.

Nancy’s cries echoed loudly around the empty Harrington home, Steve scooped her up like an infant and carried her down the carpeted steps to the open basement.

Eddie still wasn’t acting like himself, his eyes were clouded over with something you couldn’t pinpoint, plagued with grief? But you felt reassured when his fingers curled into the spaces between yours as you followed Steve and Nancy to the basement.

—

NOVEMBER 9, 1983

“You working tonight?” Eddie asks at your locker, ringed fingers working over the corners of a Polaroid of you and him last summer when he tried to teach you how to skateboard. One of his favorite memories.

“Nope,” you answer from deep inside your locker, looking for the crumbled history notes you swore you still had for todays test, emerging from the locker and hitting your head on the way out, “ow fuck! Nah I’m off tonight, Don closed since Joyce’s son has been gone, why what’s up?”

Eddie shuts your locker and shifts his worn notebook to his other hand, “it’s Wednesday, the Hawk has free popcorn, thought maybe we could see a movie?”

It wasn’t weird for two friends to go to a movie together, you and Eddie had done it multiple times. Completely casual. Even if the heat from his fingers bumping against yours sent flutters to your stomach and he quickly moved his hand like you were a snake that had bit him, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“What time?”

“I dunno, seven? Pick ya up at 6:30, that way we can stop and get snacks to sneak some snacks in to go with our free popcorn.”

His boyish grin was the same from when you were kids, dimple dipped cheeks, and the darkest eyes twinkling with mischievous glee.

The door to Mr. Stanley’s Chem 210 was open and you stopped before going in the classroom to give Eddie your answer, “fine, but I want twizzlers.”

—

“What the hell do you mean it’s not enough? We did exactly what you said, solved each fucking riddle!”

The weathered boards of the Creel House groan as a screaming gust of wind slaps loud against the old home, the late winter storm rattled the wooden foundation and pelted the window panes with ice, pinging loudly with each large gale that forced its way through the cracks of the poorly maintained home.

A small fire crackled in the sunken fireplace, wafting dark plumes of smoke into the living room and ashing soot onto the cobweb covered furniture.

“He makes the rules, I do not, I am simply a messenger, a ves—,” a tattered mitten hand cups around his mouth, acting as a poor excuse for a shield against a barking, wet cough. Lungs burning with each wheeze of oxygen leaving. He clears his throat when the fit is over, wiping his mouth with a moth bitten scarf around his sagging neck, leaving blood behind, “..vessel, I don’t make the rules, Neil.”

“A what?” Al quizzes, shifting uncomfortably from his left leg to his right, “we delivered that kid exactly where you told us to! The whole town thinks he’s dead! Hawkins PD put out the report last night that a body was found by the quarry.”

Creel pokes the fire with the blunt end of his cane, crumbling a reddened log into pieces, adding a wadded mass of newspaper, the face of Will Byers’ missing poster front and center, his cherub smile warping with the heated flame.

“The boy is hiding somewhere. The creatures can not find him, he is convinced that there is help from our side.”

“Impossible,” Al scoffed, rubbing the cold of his nose on his sleeve, “I just talked to Chief Hopper at the Hideaway last night, and according to him it’s a closed case, Lonnie and his former ol lady were making funeral arrangements.”

“What you hear, and what you see, seem different ways to hold the key.”

“Enough with the psychological bullshit!” Neil yelled throwing his beer across the living room, “tell us what he needs from us.”

The blackened tooth smile creeps onto Creel’s face his red chapped lips split and bleed, and he holds back his cough just long enough to whispers the same fallacy he was given only hours before, in another dimension identical to this one.

“A son.”

—

The wind was ripping snow across the streets of Hawkins. The windshield wipers on Eddie’s van had frozen in place, stopping half way in the middle of the windshield, the shitty wipers no match against the freezing, winter rain.

You were certain that the seat belt in the passenger seat had never been used before tonight, but Eddie was insistent that you wore it, foregoing his own with a you’re kidding right? look. The whites of your knuckles shine bright with each overhead street lamp that dances lazily on the windshield, and Eddie looks over with a laugh.

“Almost there Pebs,” he mumbles, his mouth snug around the filter of a cigarette, a half smirk on his lips, “don’t worry.”

The storm foiled more plans than just good driving conditions, apparently The Hawk had closed earlier that day when the windchill dipped down to the negatives, Sal ensuring that his employees had plenty of time to get home before the weather took a turn for the worst. Thankfully Family Video was still open, and Eddie’s trailer was empty for the night, save for a couple of beers in the fridge and the heat from an electric blanket. Apparently the manager of Family Video didn’t give a fuck about the roads, neither did the factory.

You and Eddie were met with the rolling eyes of Steve Harrington as you two shoved each other out of the way to get into the door first, bringing with you a cold gust of wind and chattering teeth. After securing The Poltergeist and two boxes of peanut M&M’s, you and Eddie were tucked into the tin can death trap on wheels, trekking slowly to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

The bumpy driveway was nearly covered by the falling ice and snow, causing Eddie to slide into his parking spot, well the front yard, of trailer 8. Before he jiggles the key out of the ignition, a man’s shadow illuminated the front door, the burning end of a cigarette glowing on a presumed inhale, and Eddie mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“Stay here, okay?” He says with a shallow voice, his eyes never leaving the front door of the trailer, “I’ll be right back.”

What the hell was his dad doing at home this time? Maybe he was confused, thinking it was Thanksgiving already— probably wondering where the turkey and green bean casserole were.

The door of the van groans as Eddie pushes it open with his shoe, slamming it shut and hearing the crinkle of built up ice breaking away from the frame. Ice was gathering in his hair as he scurried up the steps, the shadow moving away from the door so Eddie could come inside, and once the threshold was breached, he wasn’t surprised to see his dad standing in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, long fingers wrapped around a can of Wayne’s breakfast PBR.

“There’s my boy,” Al greeted with a false tone of cheer laced in his voice, “only been waiting here for an hour, I need your help with somethin’.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters, shutting the door tight and shaking his hair free of the elements, “must have lost my schedule on your flight arrival.”

“Watch it,” Al snaps, his eyes are bloodshot and dark rimmed, voice gravelly, “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight, alright?”

Eddie tuts through his teeth and shoulder checks his old man before walking to the living room, pulling the cord from the wall jack, unplugging the tv. Holding it against his hip to bring it to his room.

“What the hell man, I was gonna watch that!” Al yells as Eddie trudges into his room, shoving shit off his dresser with a sweep of his arm, putting the small tv down he turns to find his dad right behind him, glaring menacingly at him, nose to nose.

“The rabbit ears haven’t worked in months, guess you’ll have to go to Neil’s..”

His insult is cut short as Al grabs him by the lapels of his denim vest, shoving him into the closet door, busting it off the sliding track.

“Listen to me you little fuck…” Al spits, literally into Eddie’s face, “I said I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight, ya got me? I need your fucking help for once in your life, can you manage that?”

“Get off me,” Eddie sneers back, trying to hide the trembling in his jaw as he grits his teeth, “I’m serious.”

I'm serious, Dad! Al mocks, shoving Eddie harder into the closet, the splintering wood busting beneath his shoulder blades. “I ain’t ever asked you for nothin’ in your whole damn life, let you live here with Wayne, no rules no nothin’ and now it’s time to pay up. I need a favor.”

His eyes were shocking in a desperate way, anger riddling his irises.

Eddie thinks fast to his underwear drawer, the wad of cash shoved into an old sock underneath a sticky playboy, “I don’t sell whatever you’re on, and I don’t have any cash.”

“Ain’t about money, or horse, Eddie boy, you remember my friend, the one that lives in the old house on Morehead?”

Eddie thinks back to all the “friends” Al had ever introduced him to. There was Bud the one who owned the bowling alley in Bridgeport that had a fake eye and an gnarly looking scar on his face from a dog bite, Willy Jack who helped take the plates off of the van and scratch up the VIN number when they stole it from that scrap yard north of town, he even painted it any color Eddie wanted, but somehow the friend he was talking about wasn’t registering.

Raising an eyebrow, Eddie shakes his head no. “Doesn’t matter,” Al said all too quick, “his son has been missin’ see, for years, and we need your boys’ help finding him.”

“Who’s we?” Eddie asks, finally wiggling free from his dads hands, straightening his jacket, “and why the fuck do I need to find him?”

A closed fist breaks through the paneled wall next to his chin, “enough with the questions Eddie goddamnit! I need you on this, and you’re not gonna tell me ‘no’ you understand me?”

Eddie had never hated his dad more than he did at this moment. If he were older he’d swing a fist into his gut, knock his lights out once and for all, but he didn’t dare, shoulders slumped and the weight of the world and all its guilt piled onto him. He had no idea what kind of shit his dad was getting him into, only the gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the only thing he could do was nod his head, agreeing to lend his trembling hand.

Across town on Cherry lane, Neil Hargrove was having the same friendly little “discussion” with Billy, but the conversation was different, lighter, happier, and the two Hargrove men seemed to be on the same page for once in their lives.

—

OCT. 1986

The Harrington’s basement was set up much like the Wheeler’s but on a grander scale. Large tv tucked behind an oak cabinet,, a beige leather couch that seemed to stretch across the entire living room area, a surround sound system in each corner, two bedrooms and a full bathroom. Setting Nancy down on the plus couch and covering her small form with a wool blanket, Steve opens a closet door and wrangles out a new set of golf clubs, leaning them against the wall, and running his hair through his fingers, as if he’s trying to make a mental list of household objects that could be used as a weapon.

The phone rings noisily in one of the bedrooms and Steve leaves to answer it.

Eddie still has your fingers between his, his rings leaving small indents but you don’t mind, it’s a comfort. He’s muttering to himself, in a tone only he can hear, biting the nails on his right hand with grinding clicks of his teeth. Looking at you his expression falters for a split second, trying to put on a calming mask, nonchalant-like even though inside he was screaming.

It wouldn’t be long before the Demodogs came, especially if the Demogorgons were out, would he be looking for him? Wondering where he has been? Why he’s been gone?

He guides you to the couch, a grand gesture with his nail bitten hand, grabbing a blanket and putting it around you.

Steve emerges from the back bedroom, a tiny bit of relief in his eyes, “that was Robin, they’re on their way here, I guess they barely made it out.”

You wince at the thought of everyone dead at the carnival, the way Argyle’s body was ripped to shreds, the howling cackle from Creel, the way he stood with his arms in a welcoming hug, just an hour ago you were convinced you were going to kiss your best friend, now the majority of Hawkins was dead.

Steve turns to Eddie, with wide searching eyes, fumbling for the right words but failing, “I need answers man, right now.”

—

Robin hangs up the phone, blood drying on her fingers from when she tripped over the gaping carcass of Tammy Thompson, her face covered with streaks of dirt and god knows what else, “ Let’s go! Everyone’s at St—”

A stinging in her spine brings heat, warm and dripping, then fiery hot, a hand on her shoulder she turns to see his maniacal eyes, the blood from the gash on his head now trickling into his mouth, white pearls stained in ruby.

“I did you a solid Rob, killed that bitch for you—didn’t even think twice about it, because we’re friends,” blood now trickling down her back into the waist of her scoops ahoy uniform shorts, she garbles a breath cusping on the breath of a question.

“shh,” he reassures, wiping tears from her freckles lined cheeks, extracting the knife from the well in her back, he helps her lie down gently, “this isn’t going to kill you, it’s just temporary you see? I can’t have any distractions, I can’t let you get in my way, but don’t worry!”

He moves to rip the phone cord from its hook, “I’ve done so much research on this meticulously studying over books on ways to cut the human body, what would hurt the worst, the least, the angle of the knife was just right, I guess I could be wrong,” he scratches his head, the whites of his eyes rolling as the smell of blood starts to work him up, an ache he can’t scratch, “hmm… take care, yeah? I’ll be back.”

A pool of blood blossoms from Robin’s back, flowing into the blue carpet fibers of her room— in tandem with the slow blink of her eyelashes meeting.

The ignition of his car engine backfires with a gunshot noise, the bloody knife he used to kill the others laid gently on the leather of his passenger seat.

Driving down the desolate streets of Hawkins, he looks in the rearview mirror, and for the first time, Jonathan Byers likes what he sees.

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