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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x Fem! Reader [vol ii]

Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

W.C 3.8k

Trigger warning: enemies to lovers trope, eventual smut, language, crude behavior, Eddie is a fucking menace 🖤 this will be a series 💋

{a/n} I probably should have added this when I originally posted it. But I’m a little dumb— anyway, this is my submission for @newlips ’s milestone of love hope you all enjoy it 💋 I truly enjoy writing and I wouldn’t be here without the support you all as readers/ fellow writers bring to me every single day! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ♥️

He wasn’t your first option for a roommate, in fact he was so far off your radar for a potential housemate, you damn near shrieked when you saw him. But when nobody had showed up besides him to view the small two bedroom house that you were forced to sublease after your roommate got married— you didn’t have a fucking choice. It was too expensive to run another ad in the Hawkins Post and summer was coming to a close. You were fucked.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you snarl as you throw open the door to see his stupid grin. Always too toothy, too goddamn endearing. Made your stomach bind up. “No, no way.”

Standing in all his sadistic leather glory was Eddie fucking Munson. He’s taller than he used to be, still a long haired asshole, reeking of weed and cheap deodorant. What kind of sick twisted joke is this? Did you really piss off mother karma that bad that you have to live in a separate, more fucked up layer of hell? Fuck you Dante, and your inferno. There’s not a single other person in this town who needs somewhere to stay?!

He pushes his way into your home, leaning forward with a shit eating grin, eyes hooded and winking as your lips curl in disgust. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.” He taunted. Licking his lips as he stalked past you, his filthy work boots tracking dirt onto the carpet.

“Yuck — do not— call me that,” you hissed, you stand with your hand still on the knob, not fully committing to wanting to shut the door— praying that he was some sort of a hallucination.

“You gonna show me around, or should I raid your panty drawer while you sulk?” A dimple dips into his cheeks as his stupid grin grows wider on his face.

You slam the door with a thud, “kitchen, living room, my bedroom, the other bedroom, bathroom, garage, laundry in the basement.” You’re practically shouting, as you stomp around the small space, pointing to the direction of each room, taking a grand total of twenty seconds to point everything out, not giving a fat rats ass if he was following you or not. His laugh echoes off the walls, taunting you, making your skin crawl and your ears itch. You turn around to find him quick on your heels, your face almost smashing into his grease covered work shirt.

He doesn’t move, or make any attempt to step away from you, forcing you to put the space between you both, stepping back and smoothing down your hair. His eyes kill to yours, dark swirls of muddy browns searching your own, he asks, “Why do you get the bigger room?”

The fucking audacity of this man. You could wring his neck right now and nobody would even know.

“Excuse me?” You question, peering into his chocolate eyes, waving a finger in his face, “maybe because It’s my fucking house, you’re lucky if you’ll get a room at all.”

He leans his head back with a laugh, letting it slam forward as he deadpans, creeping forward and stepping around you, waiting til he’s behind you to whisper in your ear, “I’m lucky? That ad was in the paper for over a week,” he seethes, “I bet I’m the only one who showed up to view the place, so nice try, Tooty— but you’re desperate for the cash.” He wasn’t wrong, you were desperate, the salon paid okay but Josie just upped the price on your rental chair, making your mortgage almost impossible for you to pay on your own.

“…I’m doing you a favor. So, if you want me to pay rent and utilities, then I’ll, so graciously, be taking the bigger room.” His breath fans across the back of your neck, making the hairs stand up, and goosebumps riddle your skin. You turn to face him, hands on your hips trying to show how serious you are.

“I know it took you like four times longer to graduate than anyone in United States history, but you can’t possibly be this damn dumb.” It was a cheap shot and you know it, but who does he think he is? Barging in here with demands like a fucking A list celebrity. Not today, mother fucker.

A comment that would have normally made anyone else burst into tears, or at least leave hollering ‘bitch!’ as they stomped out to their car, only fuels Eddie’s perverted fire, “Ooo, an insult and a scolding, what’s next a spankin’?”

Your hard-ass facade drops, your face faltering to one of disgust instead of stern, don’t-fuck-with-me, boss lady, “Get out, Munson.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He saunters towards the kitchen table and pulls out his wallet, of course its a chain wallet, you roll your eyes as he starts forking over an impressive amount of bills and sets them down, one by one.

“Here’s my first month, last month and deposit.”

The total is way more than what you’d even told him but you're still tongue tied from his comments, he lives for this shit and you had fallen for it—rookie mistake.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to start moving stuff in.” He smiles widely, moving towards the door, “See you then, roomie.”

His figure haunts you for the next few hours you have left of peace. His smell lingers around the house, you shove open every window you can, including the one that was painted shut by the previous owners. He was so fucking annoying. Is that supposed to be charm he was throwing at you? Fucking barf. The only thing you were feeling was rage, and that you needed to shower after feeling his breath on your skin. Lighting every scented candle you can find, Sugar cookie and beach sands will do— the smell slowly wafts out of the windows. You shower quickly, figuring better do it now than after he arrives, the dreaded walk in a towel from the bathroom to your room was something you hadn’t thought of until this second. Hot water sprays against your skin, assaultingly hot, almost blistering the skin on your back.

You are seething, raging mad. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be funneling out of your ears. Mocking him, you think of better comebacks than you had thought up earlier. Scrubbing your skin until you resembled a lobster, and angrily scratching your scalp. “What’s next a spankin?” GOD he’s so nasty, the sheer nerve of him makes you want to throw a toaster into the shower with you. Nothing a few volts can’t fix. You towel off, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you wipe away the condensation. The stress of the day slowly melted off as it was rinsed down the drain.

You’re applying your eye cream when a—loud as fuck— knock on the door shakes the walls.

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers as you peek through the glass. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a 30 pack of Busch Light. 3 smiling idiots are behind him, two passing a joint back and forth while balancing a very worn mattress, the other swaying on the sidewalk holding a guitar, most likely already drunk.

Tucking the tail end of the towel wrapped around your head into itself, you fling open the door, “Jesus Christ Eddie, will you shut up! I have neighbors you know!”

“Oooo— first fight!” One of the idiots with shaggy blonde hair preens.

Your glare could compete with lasers against his skin, prying through his epidermis and burning the vessels.

Eddie lets out a laugh, “aww sweetheart, I didn’t know you were planning a slumber party!” he says gesturing to your towel and pink robe. “Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll be braiding your hair and you can paint my nails, give me all the hot gossip!”

You turn with a huff half closing the door behind you. The gaggle of idiots roaring with laughter at Eddie’s joke.

He pushes through the door into the house, tossing his bag onto the table, knocking over the napkin holder and the stack of mail, letting out a loud sigh. He rips the thirty pack open on the side, making the beers crash to the floor. You still your eyes and cross your arms, unamused by his stupid antics. He cracks one open, slurping up the spray of suds as it puddles around his hand and down onto the carpet. He kicks a beer towards you and raises his up in triumph. “Here’s to you roomie, Home Sweet Home!”

You’re so fucked.

“Robin, I’m seriously going to kill him. I don’t care if I have to go to jail—anything would be better than this!” you whisper-yell into the phone, you watched Eddie and his band of misfits bring in box after box, most of his stuff was in black plastic garbage bags. They formed a line throwing the bags to one another and the last one haphazardly tossing them into his room.

“Oh relax! A hunk like him moving in and you don’t even have to pay him? You just hit the jackpot!” She giggles on the other end of the phone, smacking through her licorice.

“More like jackass with all the shit he’s moving in.”

You’re hunkered in your room, between the wall and your bed, twirling your bedroom phone cord through your fingers, “Seriously the place smells like weed so bad I’m probably getting a contact high as we speak.”

Robin lets out a throaty laugh, “Might do you some good, you’re so fucking tense all the time.”

“Sorry—” you say, twiddling the blue carpet fibers through your fingers, “I’m just stressed after Nancy moved out is all.” It wasn’t a lie, Nancy moving in was a huge relief to you, she took care of almost everything. Organizing bills, scheduling pest control when needed, she even wrote the garbage pick up days and hung it on the garage door. With her gone, this all falls on you. “What if he steals my stuff in the middle of the night and bails?”

She curses your full name, “He may be a lot of things, but a thief is not one of them—seriously you have nothing to worry about, calm your boobies!”

“Boobies!” Steve yells, joining the room Robin was in, “it’s Eddie, he’s a total nerd, you’ll be fine.”

“If he’s so great Then you can live with him Steve!”

“Nope, no can do,” he says around a mouthful of food,

“I gotta keep this clumsy oaf on a short chain”

“Oh, you’re dead Harrington.” The phone drops and all you hear is squealing and thudding of feet running around.

“Robin! Not my shampoo! ”

“Steve? Robin?” You wait in silence as the line goes dead, “Uhh!” Slamming the phone into the receiver you hear Eddie and his leather clad Barbarians holler goodbye to one another. One too many “see ya later man” ’s and you’re practically puking. You open the door to your room and poke your head out. Watching closely as Eddie tears through garbage bags, unloading heaps and heaps of clothing, an entire bag dedicated to just band shirts, another revealed bedding that was quite literally rolled up and thrown into the bag. A quick sniff test has him turning up his nose.

The kitchen is taken over by Eddie’s stuff, more bags, more boxes, a cookbook titled: The Dungeonmeister Cookbook is sitting on the stove. A stack of Burger King collectible Disney cups is cluttered around the microwave. Along with an impressive amount of neon twisty straws and a bowl with a straw connected to drink the milk.

It’s like a small child moved into your home instead of a grown ass man.

Opening the fridge to get an apple, you can’t help but notice Eddie also moved some refrigerator items with him as well. Two big bottles of hot sauce, more beer than the local bar probably holds, a half drank carton of orange juice, and a giant jar of pickles, without a lid. Huffing with annoyance you step over Eddie’s bags of shit and get a knife from the drawer to slice the apple. The loud shrill screeching of 80’s metal almost makes you cut your finger. Stomping into Eddie’s room with your fuzzy slippers you don’t bother on knocking before you look for the plug to his cassette player, unhooking it from the outlet and pointing the knife in his direction, you all but scream in his face, “I almost cut my fucking finger off! Turn it down or I’ll cut the goddamn cord!”

He’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, cassettes littering his lap, his eyes almost bored, “aww Tooty I’ll play with you in a little bit, daddy just has to get some things done first, ‘kay?”

You roll your eyes in disgust, did he seriously just refer to himself as ‘daddy’?

“God you are foul,” you retort, throwing the cord down onto the carpet and placing the knife on a nearby box, “wouldn’t surprise me if you were a dad.”

Eddie throws his head back with a chuckle, “why? You into dad bods? Listen sweetheart, my metabolism will slow down eventually, gimme three—four years max and I’ll be all gut.” He flashes his pearly whites towards you and winks.

Ignoring him completely, your nose scrunches. “Stop calling me that!” your heart is pounding in your chest fury on high, “what the hell is that?”

“That,” Eddie says batting his eyelashes, “would be my masculinity wafting from my aura to yours, why does it turn you on?”

You fold your arms over your chest, and shift your slippered feet beneath you, “Do you have a certain amount of disgusting phrases you have to get out throughout the day or are you just naturally this nauseating to be around?”

“No idea, anyway,” Eddie continues, standing to his full height and shucking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground, “I’m gonna order a pizza you want in?”

“Maybe you should finish unpacking,” you say taking a quick glance around the clothes strewn everywhere around the room, “it’s a fucking mess in here.”

Eddie leans in close eyes ghosting over your features as they gawk over your lips, “well, sweetheart, maybe if you had given me the bigger room— like I had asked for— I would have enough space to put my stuff, besides,” he says, standing up and leaning backwards to crack his back, a small trail of hair peeking out from his waistband makes your breath hitch in your throat, “I bought dressers and they’ll be delivered on Monday, so my clothes don’t have a place to go right now, unless you wanna split your closet?”

“I’d rather drop dead.”

“Aww don’t do that, far too pretty to be dead, and what would the neighbors think?” He strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner of his room, your eyes dart away but not before catching a glimpse of his pale skin.

The small tattoos he had in high school are slightly faded with time, new ones are inked down his arms, across his chest and down his side. You can’t help but notice the silver hoops pierced through his nipples as they reflect light and draw you in towards his chest. He’s lean but built, no defining abs but the muscles in his arms could be carved from a sculptor, replicating a greek statue. Surely minutes have gone by but in reality it has only been seconds, you don’t even realize he’s still talking.

“…don’t need to give the cops more of a reason to watch me more than they already do.” He drops his eyes to your face, seeing you peek at his body. A grin is plastered to his lips as they curve upwards, he stretches his arms out wide, the veins in his arms protruding further out, oh what you’d give to just touch it with your hands, your tongue— wait what?—“Shit,” he says, drifting forward, your body pulling away from him, “looks like you aren’t into dad bods after all.”

Your cheeks flare red as you stomp out of his room, his joker laugh vibrates the walls as you slam your door. Throwing yourself on the smooth purple cotton of your comforter, and screaming into your pillow.

Nobody ever got under your skin the way he is. Why are you allowing him to frustrate you this much? He’s a boob. A pimple on your ass. That annoying twitch that your eye sometimes does when you don't have enough sleep. Yes, the festering wound, the bad rash that kept coming back, the burn in your belly, the thorn in your side— is now your roommate. Fuck.

A knock on your bedroom door, brings you back to your current state of throwing a hissy fit. You launch your cup of pens that adorns your nightstand at the door.

“Does that mean you don’t like pineapple on your pizza?”

Thank God you showered before Eddie started unloading his stuff, because he has been in the bathroom for at least a half hour. You’re sitting on the couch, the same rough, itchy upholstery that used to take up way too much space in the Wheeler’s basement. But a $20 bill and Nancy promising her dad that she would mow the lawn for the entire summer of ‘91, and it was now yours. Karen would sigh with relief that the ugly furniture was leaving, meaning her living room would get an upgrade as their now living room furniture would find solace in the basement. No longer stinking of cheesy pizza farts and bad B.O., or screaming threats from middle school boys about the inner demons of DnD, Mrs. Wheeler would come to miss the yelling, and the rotten stench of boys running amuck in her house. Nancy parted with the under stuffed, well loved, hideous piece of furniture when she moved in with Jonathan. So now, the outdated, wagon wheel patterned couch, was all yours.

The smell of finger nail polish fills the living room as you attempt at painting your toenails a shimmery blue that you had gotten at the mall with Robin. A fuzzy navel wine cooler tucked between your legs, you’re trying hard to get it finished before a new episode of “The Nanny” comes on. Eddie is singing in the shower, loudly. You recognize the tune as “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. Not that you were admiring the way his voice sounded. You were just surprised that a twenty six year old weirdo actually knew good music. The doorbell rings, snapping you out of, yet again, another strange spiral of thinking about Eddie Munson.

“Eddie!” You holler from the living room, “door.”

“Money’s in my wallet, just pay the dude quick and I’ll be out in a minute.” He yells back from the shower.

“Eddie, I’m busy— get the fuck out here and do it yourself.” There is no way you are walking around with wet toenails, what the hell was he thinking?

“I’m in the middle of washing my ba— “

“Alright! Fine!” You walk on your heels to the door, opening it quick to find a Hawkins High student in a red hat with the pizza logo on it.

“That’ll be $19.50,” he says with a less than enthused remark.

“Hang on,” walking back to the bathroom on heeled feet you knock on the door, “where’s your wallet?” you ask in a hurry through the door.

“Uh, my jeans I think,” Eddie yells back. You cross into Eddie’s room, looking around the mess he made, realizing the only thing he managed to make an attempt at organizing was his never ending cassettes, a few records, and an old record player. Posters decorated every wall. Metallica, Nirvana, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and White Zombie. The clothes were piled high in a mountain of leather, flannel and white cotton socks. Not a single pair of jeans that you could see. His bed sat on the ground, cluttered with notebook papers, dice, and tightly rolled joints.

“Eddie!” You yell from his room, “where the hell are your jeans?”

A chuckle echoes in the bathroom, muffled slightly by the spray of the shower head, “they’re in here, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with smugness and sweet notes of laughter.

Fuck it, we don’t need pizza. I can eat cereal. I’ll just tell the pizza kid to leave and Eddie can fend for himself. Fuck this.

“Tooty?” He calls from the shower, enunciating every syllable. “Come on,” he sings, laughing to himself, “I promise I’ll stay behind the curtain. You won’t see a thing— unless of course— you want to.”

You barge through the door, fumbling through Eddie’s jeans pockets, finding the black leather of his chain wallet and yanking out $25. An idea crosses your mind and you can’t help but go through with it. A flick of the lights had Eddie cursing every word imaginable as he was cast into darkness.

Thrusting cash into pimple head’s hand and shutting the door, you walk into the kitchen to get some plates. Eddie emerges from the bathroom. His hair is dripping in long strands, and your robe is wrapped right around his body, barely covering his southern region. The pink terry cloth material lined with lace looking absolutely ridiculous on his tattoo covered body.

Oh— this mother fucker.

“Are you seriously wearing my robe?” You ask, hands on your hips, nails digging into the cotton pajama shorts you’re wearing.

Eddie does a spin and swings his hips in a circular motion, his dick swinging like a helicopter.

“Well sweetheart, when you so rudely turned the lights off on me, I was forced to find the first thing I could to dry off with, and besides— you can’t deny how good I look,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling the widest smile you had ever seen from him.

A lump of anger and sheer rage catches in your throat, “you’re repulsive,” you say, turning away from him and tossing pizza onto plates.

“And you,” Eddie says sliding beside you, his breath fanning your cheek, the cold drops of water from his curls pressing into your shoulder as he grabs a greasy slice of pizza straight from the box, “are extremely uptight.” The whites of his teeth bite into the cheesy triangle and chew loudly as he smacks his lips, licking the orange grease from his lips.

Anger boils in your belly, filling your veins with agitation so thick they’re bound to clog up. “I. Am. Not. Uptight,” you seethe through clenched teeth, and closed eyes.

“Yeah, sure sure,” Eddie says, mouth full of pizza, and his eyebrows raised, “whatever you say.”

You weren’t always this high strung. But having everything ripped away from you, would make anyone pretty goddamn bitter to the lemonade life had to offer.

vol ii

volume ii

A/N: thank you to everyone for reading this and continuing to support my crazy ideas. Thank you to everyone I had beta this story—@agentmarvel @pinkrelish + @sweetsweetjellybean you all push me to be a better writer and I am forever grateful for that ♥️♥️🖤💋

Taglist: @luna-munson83 @tlclick73 @idkidknemore @joejoequinnquinn @newlips (omg, they were roommates)

#newlipsmilestoneoflove #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #enemies to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie fanfiction

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mysticmunson · 1 year

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press play: alpha!steddie x omega!reader

(my blog is 18+)

authors note: hi i've been working on this for a bit and i hope u enjoy. special thanks to my loves, @lilacletter and @andvys for their constant support and feedback. feedback and requests are always welcomed.

warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of pain during sex

summary: while hosting the weekly movie night, eddie has a shocking revelation that leaves him and steve scrambling, but for more reasons than one.

The humid rain covered the patches of grass and dirt at Forest Hills Trailer Park, clouds of grey hiding the light blue sky. It was movie night, the one evening when Steve did something mildly rebellious by sneaking a VHS from Family Video after his Friday shift, which he will talk about until Eddie does something more nefarious.

Stormy days made Eddie feel peaceful, enjoying the soft background noise it provided and the coolness it brought to Hawkins. After long hours at the garage, he enjoyed smoking a bowl and listening to it as he strummed on his guitar.

Grabbing the blankets from his cupboard, Eddie placed them on the couch in a blue and black pile, throwing the decorative pillows to one side. A gentle knock hit the front door, blending in with the patter on the roof. His heavy footsteps hit the thin flooring, the friends outside noting his approach.

Swinging open the door, you and Steve greeted him with smiles, yours more genuine than the boy beside you. Walking in, he got a whiff of your light perfume, the one you had worn since high school that smelled of hydrangeas. In a flowing lilac sundress, a pale yellow cardigan covered your exposed shoulders, leaving your neck open.

Along with securing the entertainment, Steve picked you up from your job on the way over, showing up around an hour after Eddie got off of work. He made sure to get rid of the smell of oil and grease, throwing his coveralls in the washer and jumping in the shower.

He’d spray some cologne on, but dress casually in sweats and a band tee. Mainly because he didn’t have the energy to redress when the night was done and that his hands would be shoved in them as soon as the door locked.

“What’s on the schedule for tonight, Harrington?” Eddie asked, shutting the door behind you both removed your shoes. Bending down to your Mary Janes, Steve and Eddie shared an accidental glance, both trying to see if the other was indulging in the not-so-friendly glance.

“The Lost Boys,” He announced with a smirk, “Just came in, not even in our system yet, I have the morning shift Sunday, so no one will know a thing.”

You gasped, excitedly rising on your white sock-covered toes, grabbing the VHS from Steve’s hands. Eddie had been excited to see the film, even loved it, but he also knew about your bias for the Corey’s; Haim and Feldman.

“I’m giving you two opportunities to say something about Thing 1 and Thing 2, that’s it!” Eddie protested, smirking as you gasped, smacking his chest. But Eddie’s playful comments couldn’t detour your mood, not when the sexy vampires looked back at you.

Walking over to the couch, you sat and looked over the cover, looking over the red poster on the front. Eddie smiled at your joy, looking until the startling realization hit him. Steve could see him tense beside him, shooting a strange look in his direction.

“Hey, Steve I found this old VHS in my closet, let’s see if you guys have it at work!” Eddie spoke, cutting Steve off from his impending interjection, “Would you mind getting the popcorn started, sweetheart?”

You nodded, walking to the kitchen as the two boys departed to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them. Turning around, Steve threw his hands up in astonishment, accustomed to his friend's antics, but slightly annoyed.

“This is bad, we gotta get her out of here.” Eddie paced, “Or at least distracted.”

Furrowing his brows, Steve cocked his hip to the side, “Why the hell do we need to do that, she’s so excited-”

“I left porn in the VHS, man! I didn’t even properly stop it, so it’s going to come on full volume!” Eddie grits in a hushed tone, face blooming a fiery shade of red.

Both young men had presented as alphas a few weeks ago, confiding in each other about the inevitable awkwardness that followed. Many of their friends had yet to present, leaving them to navigate things on their own accord.

“Ah, dude.” Steve sighed, rubbing his palms down his flustered face, “Where did you even get that from, I see your rent history at work.”

Fumbling with his words, Eddie shot his gaze to the ground, scratching behind his head.

“I bought it from some dude, it’s an alpha and omega porn.” Eddie blushed, his fingernail slotting between his teeth as his foot tapped impatiently.

Due to the intensity being an alpha brought, it was hard to sedate one during the rut. He decided to track down a copy of some, watching it while out of his heightened sensitivity to ensure its authenticity. Most of the erotic films produced were by betas as they could keep their sexuality in check, abiding by a script or more than one partner.

He had experimented with those a few times, especially prior to becoming an alpha, but he needed more. It wasn’t enough to sedate him, typically becoming angry at the unsatisfying sex before him, furthering his resistance.

Staring back at him with intensity, Steve awaits some more of an explanation, secretly craving more details. Neither of them had mated with an omega, only going off of textbooks and their imagination.

“I’m taking that, repayment for all the movies I’ve taken.” Steve griped, thumb and index finger toying with the loose thread on his blue jeans on his thigh.

“What? Fuck no, I paid a lot of money for that shit, it’s perfect too. Looks just like-” Eddie snarled, cutting himself off before his secret fell through the cracks. While it happened by accident, the omega in the film was perfect for him.

Throwing his head back in annoyance, blinking slowly at the ceiling, Steve began to pace. No longer focusing on the idea you may see Eddie’s pervy secret, but the fact he needed to slip that in his bag somehow.

“Looks like who, Munson?” Steve sassed, watching Eddie’s eyes flicker to his door and back, “Holy shit, it looks like her, doesn’t it?”

Unbeknownst to them, you had made the snack, putting it in a large bowl on the coffee table in the living room. Not wanting to disrupt them, you popped open the plastic covering to the movie, hoping to prepare it for them.

Pressing the red button at the left corner of the remote, the static TV showed a bedroom, making your eyebrows furrow. It was far too low of quality to be a film, the audio slightly muffled while you adjusted it to the lowest volume. The grey hue on the screen made it almost eerie, a king-sized mattress with tan sheets in an indistinguishable location.

Sitting against the couch, you watched as a man and woman ferociously made out, making your cheeks sting. The woman had hair identical to yours, a body built similarly, and synonymous facial features. That aspect alone had kept you honed in on the blurry interaction, anticipating the next movements they would conduct as their clothes were removed.

The scene quickly intensified, heat flooding every area of your body, particularly between your legs. You had yourself or seen anyone present, but watching this, you knew it wasn’t betas. Catching a few glimpses at typical dirty flicks, they were not like this, usually with loud music playing in the background and extravagant moaning.

There were no backing vocals as the man freed himself from his boxers, his erection larger than anything you had ever seen and intruding between the woman’s legs as she cried out. The scene should’ve traumatized you as she cried, digging her fingernails into his clear skin in, presumably, pleasure.

But you couldn’t look away. Too infatuated by the way it created a stir in your body, pulling your knees to your chest, feeling your heart race within your chest. The erotic language used by them made your core melt, his unadulterated need to be inside of her as her unalloyed passion seeped into his ears.

Just a wall over, Steve and Eddie’s intense conversation had taken a turn for the worse at the knowledge of the resemblance between you and the woman. Instead of planning on how to navigate the situation, Eddie sat on his bed in shame, staring at the ground as he awaited Steve’s disgust. The question of how could he have seen their precious best friend this way, who wouldn’t harm the smallest of creatures and cared for them so deeply.

“I’ve thought about it too.” Steve stated, looking at the Metallica tour poster hung on the door, “Thought about how when her legs would brush past mine and that they weren’t always shaven, thinking that her bush must be similar.”

“Steve,” Eddie began, though no rebuttal was followed as he had also conceptualized this imagery even further.

Gulping his intensity down, Steve turned his body to face his friend, but didn’t look into his eyes. The clothes on his body felt freshly constricting than when he got dressed this morning, the room sweltering as he tossed off his jacket to the bed.

“She’s a neat girl, it’d be clean, but, fuck.” He chuckled, blushing at his own crass language, “Felt like such an asshole, wondering how she sounded, felt, and tasted.”

Mouth hung open in shock, Eddie’s breath added weight as he thought harder, sweat building beneath his pores. He wasn’t sure if this was for the better that both of them had thought these things as it didn’t validate the urges, but it felt better knowing he wasn’t alone.

“Thought about her begging for me, throwing her down on my bed and driving into her.” Eddie revealed, both boys now shooting daggers at Kirk Hammet’s tee on the poster that separates them from you.

“Having her over and trying to ignore how good she smelled, how pretty she’d look stuffed and pregnant.” Steve affirmed, Eddie’s cock lurching at the idea, his fists forming.

The boys knew it was vile to be discussing you like this, knowing if someone else had been saying these things about you, they would’ve killed them. However, the inner craving that had been clawing its way through their layers of restraint was growing thin, diminishing into small pieces in Eddie’s bedroom.

Time was lost on the three of you as you continued to examine the spectacle before you until it became unbearable. An unprecedented inundation wave of fear settled within you, your body trembling as tears filled your eyes, confused as you weren’t glum.

Standing on shaky limbs, you hit the pause button, racing to the nearby fridge to drink from the plastic water bottle inside. While refreshing, it did little to quell the requisite sprouting, stuck between the feeling of fleeing and crawling into a ball. Your amativeness was deliberately resonating between your legs, it only increased as you tried to recollect yourself.

Noises from beyond the wall shook the men from their illusion, their heads darting upwards as Eddie rose from his position on the bed. The air was thick, quickly pondered if you’d be able to notice the change in demeanor.

“I’m going home, sorry.” You squeaked in an absurdly raised tone, the quaint crack in your voice catching their attention immediately, their nerves dropping to their lower stomach. The worry that you had overheard them was evident as they looked at each other, almost tripping over their own feet to get out the door.

In a blur of yellow and lilac, you raced toward the door, legs still unsteady from the influx of hormones you felt.

Eddie noticed the paused screen before him, his fear becoming a reality as he noticed your unsettled state, blocking the door with his body before you could scurry away with your black shoes in hand. It was raining and you had been dropped off here, there was no way in hell you were walking home, nonetheless alone.

“Shit, let me explain, I swear I completely forgot it was in there,” Eddie began to divulge, looking at Steve for assistance, but caught his fierce glare on your cowering structure.

Looking mystified, he wondered what warranted this response from one of her closest friends, especially when it was mainly at the fault of himself and neither of them. You turned around, facing the boy behind you, dropping your shoes to the ground.

“Steve, what the fuck-” Eddie began, ready to berate him to no end for startling you, but neither of you flinched, only his eyes boring into yours.

“You need to tell us right now whether you want to go home or stay.” Steve rumbled, his voice merely leaving his chest unscathed, sharpening its potential dredges. He was trying not to express his fierceness, but the months of repression were crawling up his chill-adorned skin.

The realization hit Eddie with the equivalence of a head-on collision, nearly knocking him to his knees as he detected the change in energy not just within themselves, but with you.

Eddie was falling right behind him within his head, taking a step further to stand beside his friend. Your eyes flickered to his, hugging your own middle as they looked with preying eyes.

It wasn’t the boys making you unnerved, but rather the sensation itself, how each symptom became increasingly more evident with their presence. You were still unsure what was occurring, dampness coating your under eyes.

“I don’t want to leave.” You peeped, watching as their jaws tightened, a slight hint of urge within their glimmering iris’.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I think you’re presenting.” Eddie consoled, pulling at your heartstrings at their worry. You could only imagine what they were resisting, the primal urges with a fresh omega available to them. Still, you nodded, tentatively inching closer and tucking a stray strand of hair from Steve’s stern face to behind his ear.

He impetuously pulled you to his body, lifting you with ease as your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting you with a kiss. His mouth tasted pleasant, a hint of mint on him along with the iced tea he had been drinking earlier in the car.

As if preordained, he took you to the bedroom, kicking the door open and closed with his foot. Only Eddie stopped it from hitting his face, a scowl on his features as he heard you whimper into his touch. He set your body on the unmade bed, about to climb up onto it.

“Alright, asshole, this is my house.” He proclaimed, wrenching Steve up from over your body, assuming his position.

Eddie’s mouth was different than Steve’s, but equally alluring. The mint was more prominent on his tongue, due to his adamant scrubbing before you arrived, but with the faintest hint of tobacco from his lunchtime cigarette. His caress was much more gentle, but equally feverish.

Steve caressed your sides, fingers trailing against the seams of your dress, his mouth meeting your neck and jawline. The wet pecks littered your skin, overwhelming your once coherent senses into pure urgency. The pain settled in your pelvic opening, fire spreading against your bones as sweat came from your skin.

The heaving didn’t go unnoticed by the boys, pulling away and stroking you, Eddie removing the hairs from your forehead as Steve sat you up. With the other boy now on his haunches, Steve maneuvered the sweater to the floor, tossing it to the side and letting his shirt join.

Eddie soon removed his, smirking as he watched your awestruck expression at his frame. You sat up, scooting to sit against his headboard as they glanced at you. The layers of taut clothes began to irritate them further, grumbling to stand and forcing their pants off. Steve sighed at the alleviation sans the denim, while Eddie appreciated the lack of contact on his throbbing member.

They planted their knees on the bed, Eddie to your right and Steve to your left. Subtly under gawking, their brown eyes fixated on you, the longer-haired of the two outstretching his inked arm to raise your dress.

“M’sorry.” You murmured, their eyes softening at your quivering voice, looking down to see what you were referencing. Groaning in strange harmony, they saw your slick had basined the sheets beneath you.

Mistaking that for disdain, panic grew in your brain, “I can go, I can walk home.” The comment was made in a haze, both boys knowing that even stepping outside would be dangerous like this.

“Shh, it’s okay, that’s what we want. Means we get to help you.” Steve cooed, his hand sliding to your thighs, fingertips skimming your sopping core.

“I liked the video.” You whispered, a wicked grin on Eddie’s face as he pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your floral-printed panties and skin-colored bra. The garments kept you fully covered, but it only spurred their enthusiasm, feeling like opening a Christmas gift.

“Did you?” Eddie teased, fingers dipping beneath the thin fabric and against your dripping heat, “Oh fuck.” He shivered at the brush of skin, hips jutting in the air as his nose nuzzled against your cheek.

“Are you guys that big?” You gasped, Steve’s hands cupping your breasts as Eddie continued feeling your folds.

The attempted stifle of their laughs didn’t work due to the close proximity of your bodies, feeling the change in lips and hand placement. Eddie snaked his hand to your back, letting the brasserie fall down your shoulders until he pulled it off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, honey, we’ll take care of you.” Steve purred, the words alone making you mewl, back arching into his touch. He went to your hipbone, ripping each side of your underwear to veer them off easily.

With Eddie perched on his arm and laid on his side, your body slotted beside his as Steve went to pull off his boxers. Only catching the faintest glance, you gulped as he settled between your legs. Jitters boiled within you at the unknown, a flash of doubt in your head over if this would be detrimental to the years of friendship, but the egregious pain took control.

There was truly no one you felt safer with than them, but the brisk shift from even half an hour ago to now was shocking. It felt unreal as they touched you, being mollified into a world where they were the rulers.

While you had contemplated being with either of them, the thoughts rolling like a rolodex in your head were pathetic. The pitiful thoughts convinced you that you would do anything to make them happy, crying at their feet and kissing the ground they walked on for even a juncture of their recognition.

His thick mushroom tip prodded your entrance, yelping at the stretch as he inched in, the other man slinging an arm around your waist to pull you closer. He pressed kisses on the sides of your face, his brief-clad cock pressed against your thigh, feeling his subdue jut forward.

Choking on air, the burn intensified in your body, the new propensity to weakness you had been experiencing crashing in. A sob wracked through, much to their concern mentally as their bodies betrayed them, only becoming harder.

“It’s okay, omega, it’s okay. We’ve got you.” Eddie cooed sweetly, tilting your face towards his and kissing you gingerly.

While alphas did dominate, they too faced vulnerability in their desire, wanting nothing more than to assist their omega through their turmoil. None of them had even heard of two alphas and an omega, or vice versa, making this no-mans land. Still, their typical kind selves percolated through the intense exterior, making your comfort at the forefront of their concerns.

Your hands were clutching air as you tried to find some way to hold onto them, the magnitude of your disarray becoming evident. Senses that belonged to an omega enacted, you coveted their approval, now brutally cognizant of their own needs.

To be an omega is to satisfy your alpha, just as an alpha is meant to tend to its omega. The delicate balance of the feeling of vulnerability mended into fulfillment. So with two alphas at your side, it felt near impossible, worrying you would leave one distraught. Thankfully, the boys weren’t in their ruts, so their stream of consciousness was far clearer.

“Hey, hey.” Steve gently called, watching your eyes focus on him, “There she is, you have to stay with us, pretty girl.” The term of endearment made your walls flutter, reminding you how deep he truly was.

The incomprehensible babbling leaving your puffy lips leaves them concerned, Eddie possessing the aptitude to slip his thumb against them, drawing it into your mouth in an assuring manner.

“Want your… in my mouth, please.” You sweetly puled to them both, not bringing yourself to the vulgarity that they could fill in on their own.

Exchanging a glance, Eddie was pulling his briefs off, shuddering in relief as he met the air. The man currently between your legs benignly slipped from you, a surge of torment knocking the wind from you, gasping. Much to your relief, Eddie soon took his spot, beginning to insert himself as you met Steve’s eyes.

Taking his large hand around his own throbbing manhood, he collected your abundant desire with locked eyes, licking it from his palm. The sight stifled you, back arching as Eddie tried his best to make it as comfortable as possible. Sending a glare at his friend, he mumbled for him to stop, leaning down to hover over you.

Just as the tip had fit snugly, Steve shot you a sly wink, making you wail and curl into Eddie’s chest. When he got halfway in, he sat up and smacked Steve’s chest who held his hands in surrender.

“M’sorry he’s mean, angel.” He murmured, kissing your hairline and then your lips, feeling your tension dissolve with each slot of your lips. Pulling away with a strand of spit, it spills down your chin and chest, dripping between your sensitive breasts.

“I’m sorry about the teasing, honey. Just the tip, pull away if it’s too much, okay?” Steve smiled, leaning down to kiss your head as you got up on your elbows. Tsking, he put some pillows behind your back, propping you up with ease.

Tongue falling out, he slid the most sensitive part of himself against you, shuddering as you enclosed it with a suck.

The pleasure consumed you, your leg kicking out subconsciously, which Eddie caught quickly as you whined. They both chuckled, Eddie’s ringed hand going to clutch your hip to hold you still, his thumb inching towards your clit. Ghosting the bundle of nerves, you gasped, choking with your head bobbing.

Hand springing down to smack it away, he retreated, apologizing as Steve wiped the tears that sprang from your eyes. Fighting the urge to let your eyes close and have them use you, you focused on their torsos. Skin you had seen in glimpses before, but in more neutral settings, but now you could feel the tuft of hair brushing against your body.

Eddie’s was pale, black ink on his arms and chest, plans to add more soon. Steve was golden, somehow maintaining a tan through the brisk Indiana weather. Both with brown hair, Eddie’s remained unruly as Steve kept it in top shape, making you want to pull it. Looking up at the boy’s hazel eyes made you choke again, whimpering as he pulled out.

The boys exchanged a look, trying to decipher what their next move was as you succumbed to the bliss of Eddie fucking you. Steve went to sit behind you, thigh on each side as he wrapped his arms around you, feeling his throbbing cock against your warm skin.

The tickle of Steve’s stubble hit your cheek, making you squirm as one of his arms kept you pressed to him, the other playing with himself. Eddie continued his pace, speeding up slightly as he felt his end growing near.

As an alpha, you not only need sexual satisfaction, but an emotional one too. So while Eddie may be fucking you, he’s not able to coddle you like Steve is doing as he watches you kiss. Steve is thriving with the affection, but his cock is feeling quite neglected after feeling you and resorting back to his hand.

“Almost there, shit. Let go, baby.” Eddie mumbled, glancing up at his friend who nodded, his own pace increasing. It was clear you were a bit far gone, looking at them in a trance as they maneuvered you.

Steve gripped both of your thighs, spreading them wider for Eddie to speed up and restricting your arm movement while he touched your clit. The wail that came filled the room, fat tears rolling down your hot cheeks as your body began to shake.

“I can’t, just give me your knot!” You shivered, the foreign feeling startling you, control slipping through your fingertips as they played you like a fiddle.

“You won’t get my knot if you don’t come.” Eddie growled, his chest vibrating in the unusually low register he had taken on.

The choice of dominance was shown to be a mistake as your lip wobbled, mustering out a “What?”

Eddie looked up in fear as you began to panic, Steve trying his best to restrain and calm you after smacking his friend upside the head.

“It’s okay, omega, he didn’t mean it.” Steve cooed, “He’s going to give you every last drop.” Your body seemed to relax more, but it was still on edge, your mind responding quicker to the words of assurance.

The man inside of you’s lip’s reached yours feverishly, catching you midbreath as the one behind you scattering kisses on your neck. The heat radiating off of their bodies increased your excruciation, but lured you to your impending fate.

The jubilant conclusion hit you hard, neither of their paces faltering as you gushed, Eddie’s hips bearing down as he released inside of you and Steve following soon after on his hand, teeth prodding into your shoulder.

Radio static filled your senses as you lay between them, forgetting where you were or any worldly concepts. The room’s heavy weight had been lifted, a tranquil aura in its place as the boys regulated their breathing. Steve’s eyes fluttered open, vision focusing on you slouched against his chest, panting.

“You did so good, omega.” He cooed, earning a squeak in return as you opened your eyes, looking at him before he kissed your head. Eddie kissed the same place, stroking your hip lovingly.

As his swelling diminished, Eddie slipped from your hold, making you whimper. Both hushed you reassuringly, Steve laying back after cleaning himself and bringing you with him, letting you curl against his chest.

Eddie vanished into the trailer and returned with water and snacks, the popcorn and candy from earlier mixed in the bowl. Steve would scold him for not bringing a more nutritious choice, but also knew he likely had nothing in his pantry.

With the exhaustion covering your eyes, you rubbed them with your fists, Eddie joining you on the bed as you sat up.

“Can we watch the movie now?” You yawned, grabbing a piece of the tepid popcorn, popping it in your mouth, and wincing at the kernel. Eddie moved to sit at your side now, leaning back against the propped-up pillows.

Steve scoffed, finger aimlessly running against your bareback, feeling the small divots he had only witnessed in stolen glances. He was feeling exhausted and couldn’t imagine you would feel far more energized, seeing your sluggish movements.

“I want to see my boyfriends, The Corey’s, on screen.” You protested with a lazy smile, settling beside them as they dramatically gasped and grimaced.

However, this playful banter now felt more authentic, giving each other a look above your head. They both felt the instant fire igniting at the mention of another man, someone else having you in this way, and it made them sick. Neither considered themselves possessive, a bit protective, but nothing egregious until now.

“I’m burning that tape.” Eddie grumbled as you whined, making him smile at his subtle victory.

“Don’t you dare, it’ll come out of my paycheck.” Steve grumbled, his fingers working through a knot in your hair as you looked at both of them in rapture, Eddie fixing the blanket over your body.

Twisting to find a place of solace, you attempted to be weighed down by their frames, squishing beneath Eddie’s arm and shoulder before attempting to move Steve’s on the other side of you.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie remarked with a grin, lifting his arm so you became confined between his bicep and ribcage.

“Want you both on top of me.” You grumbled as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, it made sense in your mind that had been scrambled like puzzle pieces for the past hour, finally making a semblance of a picture.

Yanking his arm up, you nuzzled beneath, humming contently at his warm skin, spotting the small freckles spread across the expanse of his back. Steve cuddled behind you while the other man twisted to face you, sandwiching you between them.

The occasional peck to your skin from both of them occurred every few minutes, like they had forgotten you were there before having an epiphany, mending their own succor as their adrenaline settled again.

As your own epinephrine began to appease, it was exchanged for a solid slumber, safe between the bodies of the two people you trusted the most.

The next morning came like a gentle breeze, the younger of the two boys rousing from his sleep, flummoxed by his surroundings till the events of the night before came to a head. Grabbing his boxers from the floor, he pulled on the grey clothes and realized parts of your clothes were missing.

Uneasiness fluttered in his chest as he shook Eddie who rose much quicker than anticipated, putting on his own underwear before they looked out into the rest of the trailer. The idea of you alone right now was enough to make them go mad, eyes scanning over every inch of the small abode.

“You don’t think she left, do you?” Steve whispered, pondering the question that loomed between the two of them as they went back into the bedroom. Just as they did, a scuffle sounded from behind his closet door, signaling them closer.

The apprehension in their shoulders loosened as they realized you were likely nesting, a common practice for omegas during their heats, explaining why both of their shirts were now missing. The wooden door creaked as it slid, uncovering you in a pile of clothes, sporting Steve’s top and surrounded by Eddie’s garments.

“Hi, pretty girl.” Steve smiled, watching as you reflected it with more timidity, burrowing your face into the mountain beneath you. The mix of their natural scents and colognes blended into a perfect dose to sedate your wavering sensibilities.

As content as you were, they were antsy to dote on you, giving the other a quick look that secretly confirmed the paired thought. Eddie put his hand in the pile, feeling around cautiously before skimming down your nose, feeling a playful nip once he reached your lips.

A warning tap hit your nose without an ounce of malice, making you scrunch your features, pressing a kiss to the afflicted area on him. You rose from your cave, patting down your hair that had been mangled in your sleep and this morning.

Waking up in a fog, a wanton urge surged through you, foraging any piece of them left discarded on the floor. The room felt too big, a massive counterargument to the typical stuffy feeling you experienced previously, and you tried to find a suitable spot to relocate.

The daunting thought of deviating from the bedroom was too much for you as you scanned over the messy boys' bedroom, settling with the closet. Moving some of his forgotten trinkets to the side, there was a perfect place for you and your findings, surrounding the open space with their aroma.

Shuffling forward to them, they engulfed you in a shared hug, selfishly inhaling your new prominent scent that was not as noticeable yesterday upon first presenting. Your change in body language caught them before your mind processed it, stiffening and too aware of the skin on yours.

“Eds, Stevie.” You mewled, eyes closed with lips against Eddie’s pulse point, breath quickening as your brain caught up.

“It’s okay, we got you.” He mumbled, rising up as Steve helped you stand, guiding you to the bed that hadn’t recovered from the hours before.

Neither were quite sure what you were at the moment, if this meant the beginning of a genuine relationship or the start of a complicated friendship as their lips met your warm skin again. All they knew was you had laid between their arms with a satisfied smile on your face, embracing the warmth and comfort of them both. And that was their personal sublime for now.

hi hi :)

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thepascalofus · 7 months

Text

First Date

AO3

Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x Home Depot Worker!f!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Working at Home Depot was lack-luster. The paint department brought in a variety of customers, the majority of them just buying their paint and leaving. Then Joel Miller comes in--looking to repaint his daughters bedroom.

Content Warnings/Tags: Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak, reader works at Home Depot, fluff, meet-cute, rude customer, Joel defends you, eventual smut (next part), eventual first date, no descriptions for reader, no y/n.

A/N: Got this as a request! There will be another part with smut.

“More saving. More doing. That’s the power of the Home Depot.”

The wannabe gruff voice of the Home Depot narrator echoed throughout the large cement warehouse. It was Sunday, only two hours until close, and the store was virtually dead.

A large rectangular box of a warehouse was your place of employment for the time being. Orange decorated aisle after aisle, and employee after employee. Some employees decorated their aprons in paint and pins, showing their years of employment and dedication to their jobs. Others simply had their name written on their apron, just like how they simply showed up to work and left.

After moving out of the house you shared with your ex and into your own place, you needed the extra income to supplement your new rent and the remaining rent you owed on your shared lease.

Home Depot was hiring—and was desperate—because you got employed in the paint department.

Making paint wasn’t hard at all. It was the shitty customers that ruined it. Customers would demand to see a manager after you told them their paint wasn’t ready—even though they asked for three five-gallon buckets, and ten single gallons, fifteen minutes ago. People would order the same amount in a color they swore they would love, and then attempted to return it the next day, even though NO REFUNDS was printed in bold on the Home Depot paint sticker.

But, working behind the paint counter had its perks. You could stay in one place in the store, telling customers who needed help with complicated items that you, “had to stay and watch the desk.” Plus the desk had a phone, which allowed you to call any department, so your more knowledgeable coworkers could take over tough questions.

The only types of customers left at this hour were those that had emergencies, and those that liked to put things off until the last minute.

Getting tired of sitting behind the desk’s computer on your phone, you got up and walked the three aisles that made up the department. Your footsteps lightly tapped against the gray concrete of the floor. With each step, you scanned the shelves and the floor for anything out of place. Returning misplaced items was an easy task that helped you eat away at the remaining time of your shift.

A tube of caulk was placed right in the middle of the gallons of wood stain—classic. You reached downwards to retrieve the tube and stood back up, pacing down the shelves of orange towards the caulking aisle. The music over the loudspeakers was just quiet enough to hear the surrounding conversations in the other aisles.

One voice echoed to you louder than the rest. Randy’s voice.

Randy was a retired mechanic. Most of his skills were applicable to the questions customers often had. The man had wiry, white hair that peaked out from this Home Depot baseball cap he wore everyday. His apron was covered in various stains of grease and dirt, his name scrawled in Sharpie on the upper right corner of the orange fabric.

From a couple aisles over, his gruff voice made its way towards you, “Ah! Paint for a bedroom…Well let’s see, is this a kids bedroom?”

A deep, Texan drawl replied to Randy, “It is, ‘s fer my daughter. She wan’ed her room repainted for her birthday. She’s turnin’ thirteen. Says she needs to get rid’a the ‘baby colors’ from when she was lil’.”

Randy let out a hearty laugh, followed by a muted smack, likely from giving the man a pat on the back, “I know how that feels,” Randy paused to let out another laugh, “My daughter is in her twenties now, but she was the same way as yours. Thirteen hit and she insisted she was allll grown up.”

You retreated to the paint desk with a small smile on your face, it was nice that the man wanted to repaint for his daughter. Your watch told you it was an hour and thirty until close. This customer just had to wait until the last minute, though.

The unknown man let out a chuckle at Randy’s anecdote. Slow, muted steps from both men made their way towards the paint department’s aisles. One of the men let out a deep sigh.

“Thing is, I dunno a single thing ‘bout what colors’ll look nice together.”

The footsteps came closer and the two men appeared in your vision. One central aisle lined up with the paint desk, making somewhat of a runway for customers to walk on to come and request paint. Randy looked down the aisle and his gaze met yours, “Oh! There she is,” Randy said your name to the man, “she knows a ton about colors, I’m sure she could help ya more than I can.”

Randy truly was a nice man. He helped you deal with rude customers. Showed you basic tips and tricks. Ate with you in the break room on occasion.

But, c’mon Randy.

The old man continued walking towards the break room and left the man standing at the end of the aisle. You looked down, pretending you didn’t hear the majority of their conversation. Organizing the paint samples became a very consuming task. Heavy steps made their way closer and closer until your peripheries were consumed with the navy blue color of the Texan’s shirt.

His large hands rested on the desk’s countertop. Thick digits were covered in calluses. Before you could observe his fingers more, he cleared his throat.

“‘Scuse me, miss. S’wondering if you could help me w’ somethin’,” the man drawled out.

Your eyes looked up from the desk, and they widened in surprise. The front of his shirt had orange letters displayed on the front: MILLER CONTRACTING LLC.

Most contractors that ventured into the paint department weren’t as…put together as this man was. The usual paint covered pants and shirt weren’t present on this contractor. The navy blue of his work shirt spanned across his wide chest and even wider shoulders. Sleeves hugged his biceps deliciously. If he moved his arms any more you were worried the sleeves would rip. Not that you’d complain.

Then you looked up to meet his eyes.

His eyes.

Brown irises held eye contact with you. They were deep, warm. Inviting. The color made you think of a teddy bear. Soft and comforting. Brown hair on his head and face matched his eyes. The hair on his head consisted of messy waves combed to one general side, probably from a sweep of his fingers. Short, dark brown hairs made up his beard and mustache. Each facial hair component framed handsome features. A strong jaw was framed by his beard, and plush lips were framed by the ‘stache.

The same lips were forming a smile spanning across his face. His eyes crinkled and displayed slight lines near the corners. Lines developed from years of laughter and smiles.

Realizing you looked at him blankly for a second too long, you snapped out of your trance, “O-of course! What do you need help with?”

His hands came up off of the counter and rested on his hips. “Well, y’see, it’s my daughters thirteenth birthday comin’ up. She’s had this yellow color in ‘er room since she was a baby,” he let out a small sigh, as if he was reminiscing, “an’ she wants ‘er room repainted.”

You heard the conversation he had with Randy before, but you didn’t want to come off as a creep for eavesdropping. “Ah, ok! That’s nice of you, and seems easy enough! Do you know what color she wants?”

He let out another sigh. His eyes met yours. The man looked like a sad, lost puppy. “I know her favorite colors, pink and purple, but there’s just so many options,” he turned and gestured with a broad hand towards the rainbow wall of paint swatches. “An’ darlin’, I tried to do m’own research, watchin’ some Martha Stewart shows, but then Martha started talkin’ about warm colors and cool colors,” he let out a chuckle accompanied by a broad smile, raising his hands in front of his chest, “and then she lost me.”

Darlin’.

Other customers called you that condescendingly. When you didn’t know the difference between one screw and another. But the man’s endearing use of the word made your heart melt.

You smile back at him and lean forward on the counter. “Well, I think the first step is just the color. After that, we can worry about warm tones and cool tones,” you gave him a playful smirk.

He chuckled once more. “Sounds like a plan t’me,” he started walking towards the paint swatches. You snuck out from behind the counter and followed him to the pinks and purples.

“So I was thinkin’ of doin’ both pink and purple, but I dunno what looks good together.” The man started reaching for a card of pink. You took the moment to admire his forearms. Thin, dark hairs covered the surface of his tan skin. Muscles flexed on the front of his arm, displaying the years of manual labor the man has endured.

A pink swatch, Valentine, appeared in front of your face, accompanied by a lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell.

Valentine was bright, Barbie pink. Kiss and Tell was a light purple, the color the wax of a lavender candle would be. You admired his dedication to doing both of his daughter’s favorite colors, but the pair didn’t look too great together. The corner of your mouth perked up, displaying the thought you were putting into the pairing.

“No?” The man asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. His brows slanted downwards and his eyes resembled those of a lost puppy.

“Hmmm. Does she usually wear lighter colors,” you pointed towards the lavender swatch, “or brighter colors?” You gestured to the pink swatch.

He looked down at the swatches and his brow furrowed. The man was standing so close, you could smell cedar and musk from his cologne. His large biceps slightly brushed your upper arms as he turned to face you, “I reckon she likes the lighter colors.”

You took the lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell, from the man. Your fingers brushed against his thick, calloused ones as the card came into your possession. “Ok, so we’ll stick with the light purple! Let’s find a pink to match this one,” you smiled at him and he returned the expression.

Turning your body slightly towards the pinks, you started picking swatch after swatch off of the wall. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man watching you in awe. Once several pink cards were in your hands, you went back to the paint desk.

You laid the cards out on a blank, white piece of paper. Five pink swatches were in a row on the paper with the lavender swatch below them. The man stood next to you and leaned over your shoulder to get a better look. A husky voice drawled in your ear, “So which one d’ya think, darlin’?”

You bit your lip at the warmth in his tone. A small shiver traveled up and down your spine, leaving a tingling in its wake. His tone was warm, and so was his upper arm. It grazed against your arm and left it warm and fuzzy. Brown eyes scanned over the options and then locked with yours.

His gaze was incredibly soft. He looked desperate. The image of a lost puppy crossed your mind yet again. A small smile was spread on his face, roping you further into your tiny crush on the customer.

You give him a small smile, which his eyes crinkled further at, and you inform him, “Unfortunately, I can only give you my opinion. I can’t make the decision for you.” One of the man’s eyebrows raised and he gave you a slight frown. “Why’s that?” His voice lilted in question.

Giving him a slight shrug, you explain, “Well, I’ve made decisions for people before, and sometimes they come back and blame me for ‘ruining their walls’. I can tell you what I think looks good! Buuut I’m not going to decide for you,” you gave him a sweet smile.

Cedar and musk filled your nose again as he leaned closer. Your gaze dipped downard and followed one of his large hands. The calloused fingertips on his thick digits gripped the paper, and dragged in between the two of you.

His opposite hand was set next to yours. A strong arm brushed against you. The hand holding onto the paper spanned across the page, “Well, tell me what’cha think, hon’?”

Hon’.

The feeling was quick, but intense. It washed over you like a soothing, warm bath. Ease seeped into your bones and then crept up into your cheeks. Your face felt hot at the term of endearment. Turning back towards the swatches, your lip found its way behind your front teeth once more.

You went through the details of each potential pairing. Telling him which ones you thought were too warm, too muted, or too cool. The best pairing was with a light, baby pink. The swatch read:

First Date

Reading the color name, of course Behr had a weird color name for a damn light pink, your face got even hotter. Your hands collected the other pinks and set the light pink and light purple next to each other.

The man picked the two cards and held them up to each other in front of his face. His gaze scanned the names of the two cards. “Kiss and Tell,” he softly muttered, his eyes gliding across the other name, “First Date,” he gave a slight smirk. It was as if he read your mind, he bit his lip, then released it. His tongue darted out to soothe the pinch on his bottom lip.

“Ok darlin’,” he started, “how much paint do I need for a ten by ten room?”

“Well, a gallon covers three hundred to four hundred square feet,” you trailed off, “depending on how many coats you want to do, you’ll need one to two gallons.”

His mouth scrunched up to one side and he hummed, “How much is a gallon?”

Your mouth slanted in thought, “Well, it depends on what type of paint you’re looking to get.”

He smiled and tilted his head at your words, “Typa paint? Darlin’, I thought there was just paint,” he softly chuckled out, “an’ I usually make my brother do the paint shoppin’.” His confession brought a smile to your face. It wasn’t uncommon. Whenever people bought paint, they were slightly taken aback at how many questions you needed to ask them.

You started to walk to the left, towards a mat laid out on the paint desk counter. The brown mat displayed different qualities and brands of paint, which increased in price as you looked towards the right end of the lineup. You took a breath to start your usual line of questions, “Okay, so how many coats of paint are you looking to do? These paints,” you slid your finger to the more expensive end of the lineup, “have more primer in them, so they’re thicker. The thicker the paint, the fewer coats you have to do. Some paints have a one coat guarantee,” you finished and looked to his eyes to read his expression.

His mouth repeated its action from earlier, scrunching to the side, “Hmmm, I s’pose one coat would be less work…” He went silent for a moment as he thought. You could almost see him running the numbers in his head. “Alrigh’, I think I’ll go with two gallons of the one coat,” he finished by placing one of his hands down next to yours on the mat. The man’s eyes twinkled as he looked into yours and gave you a soft smile.

The smile he gave you was returned with your own, “Okay! So what sheen do you want the paint to be?” His smile shifted into confusion once more. Lines on his forehead deepened due to his perplexed look. “Sheen?” He asked.

You gave him a soft giggle. Reaching across him and towards a board of wooden paint swatches, you gave him a small, “‘Scuse me,” and his cologne filled your nose once more. Your shoulder brushed against his arm on your way back to your original positioning.

Facing the swatches towards him, you explained, “So sheens are how shiny the paint is once it dries. You can have no shine, which is a flat sheen, and you can go all the way up to very shiny, which is a high gloss. Usually bedrooms are eggshell or satin,” you pointed to the corresponding wood pieces. Tapping one of the shinier samples, you added, “And the shinier the finish, the more durable it is, and the easier it is to wipe, if you wanted to clean the wall.”

You leaned towards him, pointing at one specific wood sample block, “If your daughter likes to draw on the walls, I’d get satin, or even a semi-gloss.”

He huffed in amusement at your suggestion. “Guess I forgot kids draw on walls,” he chuckled, “Sarah’s ‘n angel, she prefers paper instead of drywall.” His wholesome anecdote made you giggle and look into his eyes.

The man gave you a small wink in response to your laughter. Taking a breath in, he pointed to a wooden sample a few spaces above the one you pointed at, “Lets go w’ eggshell.” His finger dwarfed the block of wood as he gave the material two light taps with his fingertip. Gazing at his hands, they were calloused, but also well kept. Fingernails at the ends of his thick digits were trimmed short, utilitarian.

You smiled at his decision, “Okay! Well, I’m going to go make labels for these two gallons and then I’ll mix ‘em up for you!” He beamed at your words and leaned against the counter, “Sounds good t’me, sweetheart.”

Your face flushed with heat at his response, and you hurriedly went to the other side of the counter to enter the two gallons into the computer. A white screen filled your vision as you tapped the different buttons to narrow down which type of paint the computer needed to calculate formulas for.

As you tapped one button, the computer froze for a couple seconds. You frowned, “It always does this,” you thought. Not having to focus on the options on the screen, your vision instead focused on the reflection displaying what was behind you. Your eyes landed on the Texan man.

And his eyes were on you.

You watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, his mind lost in his thoughts. His gaze remained on you until he nodded to himself and looked down. Though he wasn’t observing the different paints on the mat, he was reaching into his pocket.

One of his hands sprawled out on the counter as he held down one of the paint samples and began to write on the paper in black sharpie, the item he retrieved from his jeans. The computer wasn’t too far from the counter, and you were semi-able to see what he was writing.

It was a phone number.

Your eyes widened and you returned your focus to the computer's screen. It definitely loaded a while ago and you hadn’t noticed. You pressed the, “PRINT LABELS” button and tore the stickers from the printer. Not making eye contact with him—still panicking over what you witnessed—you made your way down the center aisle and found the cans needed for the paint colors.

But your lazy coworkers haven’t been downstocking the cans, so they were just out of reach when you were on your tip-toes. You sprawled your fingers up towards the top of the can, hoping to find the handle with your finger tips.

Then heavy steps made their way over to you. The Texan’s signature cologne wafted towards you, “Lemme help ya’ with that, darlin’.” Before you could answer him, he reached and grabbed two gallons down from the just-out-of-reach shelf. He lifted them up so you could see the faces of the can, his face framed by two paint cans, “Are these the right ones?” You nodded, and he made his way back to the paint counter with them. Internally swooning at his help, you followed behind him, but returned to the opposite side of the counter as him.

He set the cans down with a, thunk, thunk, and smiled at you. You gave him a smile as you took the cans, “Thank you,” you said to him. His smile broadened, “‘Course.”

You brought the open gallons underneath the tint dispensers, each gallon getting a small amount of tint. Hammering echoed throughout the store as you closed each gallon, then put them in the paint shakers to mix.

Looking up from the floor, where the paint shakers were, back to the counter, you saw the man’s thick fingers tapping on the surface of it. Your eyes traveled from his fingers to his face. His gaze met yours and his lips parted, “What’cha got goin’ on for the rest of the night?”

You had to force your mouth to not smile too wide as you answered him with a sigh, “Just finishing up my shift, then going home,” you paused to think about what else to say, “I’m just glad I don’t have to work for the next two days,” you chuckled out.

His face and shoulders fell playfully, “Oh, I’m jealous,” he shook his head, “I’ve gotta work the next four days, n’ then I’m off for two.” He shook his head even more. Your lips slanted in sympathy and you were about to offer it, but the man continued, “Never become a contractor hon’,” he let out a breath, “I’s shitty hours ‘n shitty clients.”

Brown eyes widened and then looked at you, he placed a wide palm over his chest, “Sorry sweetheart,” he chuckled, “Jus’ had a long day.”

You laughed at his apologetic behavior, it was endearing, “You don’t have to be sorry!” You continued to laugh, but then lowered your voice. Leaning towards him, you murmured, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too,” you winked at him.

His teeth shined in the broad smile he displayed for you. A series of laughs left his chest. Two large hands both rested on the surface of the counter as he looked down and, more quietly, continued his chuckling. After a couple seconds, brown eyes peered back up into yours. The twinkles in his irises matched his smile.

“Hope I’m not a shitty client,” he joked, but his eyebrows faltered in sincerity.

Your head tilted at him with soft eyes. Scrunching your lips to one side, you decided to be somewhat bold, “I think you’re one of the best I’ve had in a while.”

His face relaxed and his soft smile returned. The lines between his eyebrows became more prominent as he gave you those brown, puppy-dog eyes. “Well thank ya’, darlin’,” he drawled. You held his eye contact until you caught movement in your peripheral—his thumb brushed against the light pink paint sample. The dark mustache above his lip twitched as he bit the inside of his cheek again.

Click. Click.

The sounds indicated the timers on the paint shakers were up. And the gallons were done mixing. Breaking eye contact, you bent down to retrieve the gallons from the machines. Opening them up, you put your finger into each can and dotted the color on the top of the can. They were closed once more and you slid them over to the man across the counter.

He looked down at them, and then his face lit up. “Oh! D’ya mind puttin’ these colors on my account?” You were equally lit up at his request, as customers usually didn’t care about the paint accounts they could make to save their paint colors.

Using the computer closest to him, you tapped a few buttons and a series of fields popped up. You pressed on the field for a phone number, “What’s your phone number?” You asked him. Your face heated up at the meaning of the words in a different context.

He told you and you typed them in, pressing enter on your keyboard. One account popped up: JOEL MILLER. “He definitely looked like a Joel,” you thought to yourself. “Joel?” You asked out loud to confirm it was his account. His name tumbling from your lips made his face light up. A charming smile was framed by a dark beard and ‘stache. “That’s me,” he replied.

You clicked on the account and entered the colors under, “Sarah’s Room,” Joel told you. The information was saved after a press of the “SAVE” button. His hands came up to grip the thin, metal handles of the paint gallons. Sliding them off the counter, his mouth opened and then closed again. He bit his lip, then looked at you, “Thank you darlin’, have a good night.”

Your brow dropped a bit, expecting for him to give you his number—for different reasons this time. Before he got too far, you replied, “Of course! Have a good night, Joel!” He threw you a wide, toothed smile over his shoulder. Joel’s smile was wide, but his eyes lacked the same enthusiasm.

—

No one else approached the counter after a couple minutes, so you retreated to the computer to “do your training”. You sat on your phone, letting the training video play in the background—this video was literally anti-union propaganda. Mindlessly scrolling on social media, your thoughts wandered.

You felt dumb for expecting him to give you his number. He could’ve just written something else down on the card. Sighing, you turned and meandered the paint aisles to keep yourself busy. With slow steps you wandered past can after can. You made it to the third aisle, and a man stood at the end of it.

He had dark brown hair, wore a navy t shirt, and was built like Joel. Your footsteps became faster to greet him, but then the man turned and looked at you—it was not Joel.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes, “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for five minutes looking for one of you.”

Your eyes widened, the tone of this customer sharply contrasted the one of your last. Joel’s kind eyes and comforting drawl made this man’s voice compare to nails on a chalkboard. Staring at him, you realized he didn’t look like Joel at all. The rude man’s facial hair was unkempt and scraggly. His teeth must have had the same maintenance as this beard, as they were begging for a trip to the dentist. His hair had no style, not even a brushing of it in a general direction.

The awful whiny, rasp of his voice only heightened your disgust, “I’ve been looking for this thing,” he held his phone out and pointed at his screen, “it says you have it in stock in this aisle but I can’t find it.”

You hummed in response. After asking him to scroll down to view the products information, you typed the SKU for the item into your phone. The Home Depot app on your phone was the only way you could help people, otherwise you'd be lost. You typed the SKU into the app and made sure the app filtered for items in your store, not just the available items online.

OUT OF STOCK displayed under a picture of the item, next to your store name. You sighed, “I’m sorry sir, but it looks like we did have this item, but it's out of stock right now.”

The man’s eyebrows knitted together and he looked at you in shock, “What?” The word shot into your chest. Shit. You thought back to what you said to Joel earlier, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too.”

You sighed, “Do you have the right store listed on your phone?” The man snapped his eyes to his screen confusedly. After a moment he held it back out for you to see, “I don’t know, you tell me,” he sneered.

Reading the “130 IN STOCK” on his screen, your vision trailed to the store next to it. That store was in a completely different area. Clearing your throat, you informed him, “Sir, that’s a store one hundred miles from here.” You braced for his reaction.

His screen faced him and he grumbled. “Well why doesn’t your damn app update the location when I search?” He rudely asked. Your breath caught in your throat at his harshness. “Can’t you look in the back if you have it?” He stated, like he worked here.

Another deep breath, “We don’t have a back sir, we do overhead stocking,” you looked up, “and I don’t see the item you’re looking for up there,” you swallowed. Heat flushed into your face in anxiety at the customer’s attitude.

“Fuckin’ useless,” the man spat under his breath at his phone, peering up at you. “Can’t even find a damn item,” he trailed off. Your throat clenched at his words. A shaky breath left your nose.

Heavy footsteps came from behind you and a wave of distaste washed through your bones. You swore if it was another entitled customer, you were going to go insane. Probably cry. Maybe scream. Definitely asking to go home early.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, “You’re bein’ quite harsh to ‘er for somethin’ that ain’t ‘er fault,” a Texan drawl announced. Recognizing the voice, you turned to see Joel’s built figure make its way over to you and the shitty client. A huff from the rude, scraggly man came from your left, “This ain’t any of your business, buddy.”

Your head snapped towards Joel to see his response, “The hell it ain’t,” his voice got slightly louder, “You’re the dumbass that can’t jus’ say you were lookin’ at the wrong goddamn store.” Eyes wide, your gaze shifted from one man to the other. Joel stood tall, brows furrowed, and muscles bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt.

Scraggly man must have decided the argument wasn’t worth it, as he just grumbled and took his cart down the aisle and away from both of you. Joel sighed beside you, “‘M sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I knew ya coulda handled that, but he shouldn’t have been so rude to ya. Especially over his own damn mistake.”

Relief flooded your body in the absence of the shitty client. Warmth from Joel’s presence began to fill the rest of the space that the relief couldn’t. Then you started thinking, “How’d you know he put the wrong store in the app?” You asked Joel.

The contractor froze. Eyes wide. Brows towards the ceiling. Lips pinched together. He looked down at the cement floor and then back up to you, “I may have been eavesdropping from the aisle over.” He cocked his head towards the aisle he came from.

Joel took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. The same brown, puppy-dog eyes from earlier met your irises. He dug his hand into his front jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, a light pink—First Date—sample card had a number in black sharpie scrawled across the color. “I came back to give ya this,” he held the paper out for you to take, and you took it from his large digits.

You stared at the card in shock. Okay. So he did plan on giving it to you.

He sighed and rubbed a broad palm over the back of his neck, “I was gonna give it to ya’ earlier but I got nervous,” he chuckled, “I, uh, I jus’ thought, uh, I think, that you’re very pretty, and funny.” He cleared his throat once more and continued, and you tore your gaze away from the paper to meet his eyes, “An’ I’d like to take ya’ out on a date sometime.” A heavy breath left his lungs.

A moment passed before you grinned at him and gave him a little chuckle, “I’d go on a date with you, Joel.” Broad shoulders covered in navy fabric slumped in relief. He grinned at you and his face flushed—he was blushing.

He checked his watch and muttered, “Shit.” Looking at you, his brows furrowed, “Sorry, darlin’, I’ve gotta run. Havin’ family dinner tonight.” Your heart throbbed at the care he had towards his family.

You waved a hand at him, heat rising towards your face at the loose plans you two had, “Well, don’t let me make you late!” He nodded at you, “Have a good night, sweetheart,” he said before slowly walking backwards down the aisle and away from you. “You too, Joel!” You replied before he turned the corner.

About to turn the corner, he shot you a grin with a wink.

Okay. Maybe working at Home Depot did have its perks.

#the last of us #joel miller #thepascalofus #tlou #thepascalofus fic #first date fic #thepascalofus first date #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller at home depot #home depot!joel #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #thepascalofus requests #joel miller fluff

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bluecollarmcandtf · 3 days

Text

Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

#mind control #gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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bettyfrommars · 21 days

Text

Death Becomes Us

Part 10: The Man Who Made a Monster

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!Fem!Reader

masterlist playlist

WC: 7.6k

18+ONLY, MDNI, mention of wounds, car accidents, a bit of body horror, angst, guns, gunshot wounds, reader gets physically hurt (but bounces right back), blood, drinking blood, allusions to smut, evil men, supernatural powers, a demobat fren, fear of the unknown, a fire, werewolf!Steve, Dr. Brenner. References to one of my favorite 80's shows, the Incredible Hulk with Lou Ferrigno, and mid-90's MTV. Tiny references to FOI that you won't even notice if you haven't read the book.

Summary: Eddie, Jareth, and Steve come to your rescue, but do you even need to be rescued? Bad men surface and reader finds strength she never knew she had. Eddie confesses more than one secret to us, and the tension is thick. Reader is called Dove as a nickname.

Author's Note: I covered quite a few bases in this chapter, but there is still a lot to explore in the next and final part. We get to see reader in action and get some much-deserved satisfaction. I 've been staring at it for so long, I really hope you have fun reading this, love you. As always, Jareth's face claim is Jamie Campbell Bower.

-----

this starts right where Part 9 left off

Eddie snatched his keys and shoved Steve out the door before he quickly put some food down for Dio and locked the dead bolt.

Steve called shotgun in the air, vaulting over the hood like an extra from the movie Grease, making Jareth roll his eyes. “Is he part werewolf or labrador?” Whispering under his breath to Eddie, but Eddie just nudged him out of the way.

Jareth paused on the opposite side of the Pontiac GTO. “We should go on foot, it would be faster,” hinting to the lightning-speed with which vampires moved.

Eddie inclined his head to Steve. “Not when we’ve got the pup with us.”

“Fuck you,” Steve sneered, brushing back a flop of hair from his forehead. “I can keep up with you two geezers, trust me.”

“What if I just kill him and rid us of the dead weight,” Jareth grumbled.

“You can try,” Steve bit, growling deep in his chest.

“Enough!” Eddie snapped, swatting the top of the car with his hand. “Everyone get in and hold the fuck on. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

—----

Heat scorched through your veins like lava, and as your eyes fluttered open, you passively wondered if the car was on fire, and you were about to be cooked alive.

But

You were no longer in the vehicle. Squeezing your eyelids tight to find the memory, recollection came flooding back as your fingers curled into dirt, cheek pressed into the forest foliage. There might have even been a pinecone acting as a pillow at your ear.

The muscles in your arms and shoulders throbbed, not to mention the feeling of your skull being cracked open by a catastrophic neurological event. A migraine to rival all migraines.

You remembered being taken…the conversation about Brenner…and Bela…

Bela!

You called her name, but it came out as nothing but a puff of air, a whine deep in your chest.

What if she got hurt in the crash? What if she —

The crash!

Adrenaline flushed through you like a swarm of bees and you sat up, cracking your stiff neck as you went, and your head swam.

Where the fuck were you?

A car passed a few yards away on the highway and you realized you’d been tossed into a ravine. In the distance, the SUV you’d been kidnapped in was on its back and smoking as if something inside had caught fire. Where was that awful witch and the man who was driving?

A memory of ripping the door off by its hinges and climbing out of the vehicle flashed behind your eyes, but that was impossible. You must’ve been able to jump out and then hit your head or something. You weren’t turning green and ripping out of your clothes; you were no Lou Ferrigno.

You moved your legs to make sure they worked, and soon you were on your feet, using tufts of grass to crawl along as if you were about to fall off the earth.

In the distance, thunder rolled.

—----

“Turn here, take the shortcut!” Steve shot his hairy arm between the two seats, pointing to right after the stop sign.

“I know what I’m doing!” Eddie roared. “Just sit the fuck back and stay cool.”

Eddie could feel you, and his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

He floored the gas, tires squealing as they ghosted the road, peeling down the old highway through the woods that barely anyone used anymore. The velocity shot Steve back against his seat, and Jareth’s fingers dug into the console while music from Sisters of Mercy blared from the stereo.

“We’re close,” Eddie lowered his chin, laser focused on the scene ahead of him. He could feel that familiar static fill his body whenever he was in your vicinity.

You were not the first human whose blood he’d tasted, not by a long shot. In fact, for the first few years after he’d been made vampire, he didn’t care about himself or anyone else, and it seemed there wasn’t a willing human in a 100 mile radius that he hadn’t tasted.

But with you, it wasn’t even about your blood.

You made him feel a certain type of way that he’d been missing for over a decade, perhaps even his whole life.

The clouds trembled, and a crackle of lightning shot a silent burst of light through the midnight sky. All three of them could smell the wreck before it was ever in view, and Eddie released his foot on the gas to slow down a bit.

—---

You stumbled onto the main highway, and the headlights came at you too fast to understand what was happening.

Everything was so bright, it hurt your eyes. It made you swipe your hands in the air and groan, fighting the illumination as if it were a tangible enemy.

The car coming at you screeched on its brakes, twisting to the side so that it wouldn’t hit you, skidding sideways.

In a blink, you recognized the stunned faces on the other side of the windshield.

—---

The other two men in the car didn’t see that it was you at first—but Eddie knew. He’d witnessed those shock white eyes before, void of color or pupil.

Electricity snapped off you, as if you were a live wire. It crackled and skipped off of your skin like the lightning that appeared above them in the sky.

One of your arms was twisted unnaturally backwards at the elbow, but you somehow flexed the joint back into place as you stood there, correcting your posture. You stood on one side of your foot as if your ankle was broken, but then that righted itself with a sickening twist. Your limbs jerked like the walking dead trying to move for the first time after reanimation. All of this, and yet your face appeared unphased, as if you were impervious to the pain.

Your face was set in surprise and fear and confusion, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest to be able to hold you.

With a curse, he slammed the GTO to a halt, tires burning rubber as they locked and skidded on the asphalt.

Something told him you were fairly invincible, just like him, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Steve slid across the backseat, knocking his head on impact, and Jareth’s fingers dug so deep into the console that they left puncture marks.

Eddie didn’t have time to think about what the other two were doing or the danger of leaving his car in the middle of the highway, he threw the gear into park and jumped out to check on you.

From above, there came a loud squawking, and Bela soared down from where she’d been circling in the sky to land on your shoulder with a weight that almost made you lose your balance.

—-----

Bela bared her teeth and screeched at whoever was approaching from the vehicle. The headlights were too bright, and your ear canals were on fire with hot noise. A loud, shrill ringing filled your skull cavity like sharp a million tiny pinpricks.

But then you recognized his silhouette

You’d know it anywhere

“Eddie?”

“It’s me,” he assured you. “Are you hurt?”

Bela settled once she knew it was him, lowering her wings, and his body came to block the light so that you could see the distress in his face. He reached a hand out to touch your arm, but then he yanked it back with a hiss. It was like you’d given him an electrical shock, with volts like those from a cattle prod or taser.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you hesitated, hoping he’d dare to touch you again.

And he did, rushing closer without pause, not caring about how bad the last one stung. He cupped one hand at your jaw while the other went to your hip, searching your mouth for temptation's sake. “Let’s get you home.”

He got zapped a few more times from seemingly stray sparks, in the chest and the side, making him wince, but he did not relent. It was a good thing the violent stabbing did not force him back, because just then your knees gave out and you slumped into his arms. Bela took to the sky again before landing on the hood of the GTO with another high pitched wail, wings spanning out as if she were about to conduct an orchestra.

Eddie dropped to his knees on the ground next to you, careful to protect your head from the pavement with his hand. In wolf form, Steve trotted over to nudge your face with his snout and lick your cheek with a whimper.

“She’ll be okay,” Eddie took his jacket off and made it into a pillow for you, before angling to sink his fangs into his own wrist. “She needs blood.”

“Use mine,” Jareth hovered nearby, and you could vaguely hear them arguing as your adrenaline crashed. “I’m older, my blood is stronger.”

“No,” Eddie growled, and then the two bared their teeth at each other.

Eddie knew that, more than anything, Jareth wanted to be in your head, to be linked to you in the same way he was. To know where you were at all times and for you to have…those special dreams about him. No way in hell would Eddie let that happen.

He’d already punctured a vein and had his tattooed wrist over your mouth, leaking his life force into your trembling lips until you were able to latch on and suck.

Jareth’s stare bore into Eddie. “Maybe I should tell her you’re the reason Brenner knew about her in the first place.”

Eddie glared at him. “You don’t know fuck about it.”

Jareth smirked. “I know more than you think about the little ‘job’ you were hired to do for him.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he shushed him. “This isn’t the place for this, Jareth.”

A car had to navigate around the GTO to continue down the old highway, and the person shouted their disapproval, but then the driver slowed once he spotted you on the ground and the SUV that was rolled over on its side in the distance.

Jareth and Eddie turned to him and hissed with their fangs out, glaring at him with obsidian eyes, until he slammed on the gas and sped off in the direction he was headed. Steve growled and chased after the car, keeping up with it for a while before hanging back to sniff around the wreckage that you’d managed to somehow survive.

You mumbled, gurgling on a spurt of blood, and Eddie took his wrist away. Your eyes were closed, but your tongue flicked out to lick more of his essence from your stained lips. Were you conscious enough to know what they were talking about? He’d planned on telling you everything, but the time was never right. He never expected things to get so…messy. Never expected you’d become so…special to him.

Some rich dude offers you to keep an eye on someone for a couple weeks for an abnormally huge chunk of cash, you do it. He’d had no skin in the game when he initially accepted the offer.

Caring about you as much as he did was the last fucking thing he’d expected to happen, but he didn’t know how to make it stop.

Jareth leaned over you to get closer to Eddie. “If you don’t tell her soon, I will, and your little fairytale will be over.”

All Eddie could do was grind his teeth: Jareth was right, he should’ve explained the whole thing to you that night when he’d waited for you to get back from your date with Steve. But by then, he was afraid he’d lose you.

Yet, how could you lose someone you never had?

“We need to get out of here,” Eddie eased you into a sitting position, your head flopped, and then held your chin in his hand. Your eyelids were fluttering and your skin was beginning to cool as the healing properties of his blood took effect.

God, how badly he wanted to press his lips to yours.

“What about the witch?” Jareth stood to full height to look over and see Steve sniffing around the crash. “What if they survived?”

Eddie had you off your feet and lifted in his arms by then, but Jareth was right. As much as he wanted to get you far away from there, he’d watched enough horror movies to know that you never turned your back on a killer until you knew they were dead. Knocking them unconscious with the back of a shovel wasn’t enough; you had to chop their whole head off and throw them in a cement mixer.

Steve morphed back into human form halfway back to the group, butt naked again, to report back on what he’d found.

Eddie waited for him to announce that there was no one in the vehicle and the bodies were gone…

But instead, Steve shook his head. “Looks like they didn’t survive. His neck is broken and she’s—-”

“Are you sure?” Jareth blurted with an air of irritation. “Maybe I should check for myself.”

“I think I know what a dead body smells like, asshole,” Steve grunted, pushing back on Jareth’s chest.

The headlights of another car was approaching, and Eddie reiterated that they needed to get as far away as possible from the scene of the crime. He threw the keys to Jareth, and made Steve sit in front so that he could crawl into the back with you while you healed. Bela billowed into the sky and hovered there, waiting to see where they were taking you so she could follow.

It wasn’t his blood that healed your broken foot or your fractured arm though—you’d done that all by yourself. Maybe you didn’t need him after all, maybe you’d be better off without him.

“Put your pants back on,” Eddie tossed the clothing from the back seat over to Steve. “I don’t need you teabagging the upholstery.”

Next to him, you had your head on Eddie’s shoulder and your hand on his thigh when Jareth sped off just in time to miss being clipped by the oncoming semi truck. It blared its horn just as you lifted your head to look up at Eddie with groggy eyes.

He licked his lips, feeling his throat close up at how near your face was to his.

“Did you save me?” Your voice was strained, sounding like your esophagus was constricted.

Eddie put his hand over yours and you interlaced fingers. “I think you saved yourself,” he mumbled. “You don’t need me.”

“I do,” you said it so fast, and he leaned over even more, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard you correctly. “I do need you.”

Your hand in his, he brought it up to his chest, searching your eyes as an avalanche of words trembled at the tip of his tongue, right there wanting to roll out like a carpet of devotion to you.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves because he was shaking so fucking bad.

Jareth caught his eye in the rearview mirror and the two glared at each other before Eddie broke contact and wrapped another arm around your shoulders to bring you closer. “We’re almost home,” he hushed, planting his lips to your forehead, blushing at the way you refused to let go of his hand. “I won’t leave you.”

—----

By the time you got back to the trailer park, your energy and strength had been fortified and you urged everyone to go home to let you get some rest, except for Eddie, who’s hand you were still holding as you got out of the car.

The witch and her companion being dead felt too good to be true, and a measure of palpable dread hung in the air. It was unspoken knowledge that Brenner was still after you, and he knew exactly where you lived.

Jareth stepped forward, tipping your chin up with the crook of his finger. “Are you sure you don’t need anything, love?”

“She has me,” Eddie growled.

Jareth fluttered his eyelids in that bored way he’d mastered. “If you’re so concerned, we’d be better off at Sacrament. I can keep her safe there more sufficiently than she’d be in this…” he fanned his hand around a few times, “...this place.”

Bela landed on the railing with a swoosh and squawked.

“I hate to say it, after everything,” you angled toward the steps, exhausted. “But I don’t think this Brenner person is going to stop until he gets what he wants.” You glanced sideways at Eddie. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“I’d like to meet this guy myself,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

Jareth flipped the collar of his coat up and ran a hand through his golden hair. “Well, my offer stands. Sacrament is at your service if you should require shelter or protection.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie said dismissively, reaching for the railing to cage you away from the two men. “We’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Jareth,” you told him, and he winked at you, returning the genuine curve of your smile.

And Eddie hated it so much, he wouldn't have been surprised if steam were coming out of his ears like a cartoon villain.

But he let it slide because Jareth could make things fucking awkward in that moment if he wanted to.

You turned to Steve. “Would you like to come in? I don’t have much by way of food, but—”

“He’s fine,” Eddie answered for him.

The two glared at each other for a beat, but then Steve relented. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Still, I think I’ll stick around for a while, check the perimeter,” he ignored the tick in Eddie’s jaw and waved at you as he backed up to disappear around the backside of the trailer.

“Hey Harrington, my vest!” Eddie shouted, and it wasn’t long before the denim came sailing through the air to land on the dead lawn near the porch. Eddie bent to pick it up with a huff, and by then Jareth had disappeared into the night.

Now you were finally alone, and as much as it was what he wanted, it made his stomach drop.

Eddie paced the living room a bit before taking a seat, perching precariously at the end of the sofa to bounce his knee and gnaw at his bottom lip.

“Listen,” you took a beer and a half-full bottle of NuBlood out of the fridge to put it in the microwave for him. “I figure there’s no use asking you to leave with people obviously hunting me down, but I really need to take a shower. So just…make yourself at home I suppose?”

The microwave dinged and you walked the warm glass bottle over, and then waited for him to wrap his hand around it, fingers grazing yours, before you spoke. “I feel like there are some things we should talk about.”

Eddie was already nodding. “I’d like that,” he gulped.

Eddie waited until he heard the shower running before he sank down into the cushion and used the remote to turn the TV on. He needed to distract himself from letting his mind wander to how you were absolutely undressing in there, about to be naked and wet and…

He squirmed in his seat and turned the volume up. It was an MTV music video for Metallica’s Until it Sleeps, but he only vaguely cared as he puffed his cheeks for a forceful exhale. In his head, he practiced what he would say, how he would beg your forgiveness, and how he never really understood what this guy Brenner was all about until it was too late…

In the shower, you made the water as hot as you could handle it, leaning into the burn, and stood there for the longest time without moving. Eyes closed, you could feel Eddie step into the shower behind you, sneaking his hands around to pluck at your nipples. “Room for one more?” He rumbled in your ear, just before he nibbled it.

He wasn’t really there, but you couldn’t help but touch yourself with a soapy hand as if he were, biting your lip around a moan.

The water ran cold by the time you were ready to step out, swooshing the curtain aside with a swift swipe of your arm.

The thump of something heavy falling to the ground out in the living room had you straining to hear what it might’ve been as you pulled a clean t-shirt and jeans on. Music videos were on, playing In the Blood by Better Than Ezra, and you called Eddie’s name.

The only response you got was from Bela, and she let out one long screech that felt like it had the power to break glass.

“Eddie?” You shouted this time, flinging the door open to let the steam roll out and fill the hallway. “Bela??”

The door to your trailer was wide open, but Bela was there, scrambling from the back of the couch to perch on your shoulder the second you came into view.

“What happened?” You asked your demobat companion. “He just left us here? Without a word?”

The potted terracotta plant that had once been above the TV right by the door was on the carpet, shattered.

You crossed your arms over your chest, and shivered as you stepped one foot out on the porch to look around, a chill breeze nipping at your flesh. “Eddie? Are you out here? Steve?”

The whole court was eerily silent, even the crickets and frogs were holding their breath.

You backed up into the house, pulling the door shut.

The TV screen went from MTV to static, and you stepped back to stare at it while Bela swished her tentacles around nervously, leaving red, raised scratches on your arm and neck. She was heavy, but you’d gotten used to her weight and hitched our shoulder up to accommodate.

The static changed to the image of a man standing before a black backdrop. He was tall and thin, wearing a business suit with a full head of silver hair.

“Hello Dove,” the man on your TV said.

He was looking right at you.

You glanced around for a weapon, but as if he could read your mind he said. “No need for that, I don’t want to hurt you.” He was handsome in a “trust me”, evil doctor kind of way, but the last thing you felt like giving him was your trust.

“What did you do to Eddie?” It felt stupid, talking to an electronic device as if it were a person, but that was the situation you’d found yourself in.

Brenner said nothing, but you got a bad feeling and swallowed to wet your dry mouth before taking cautions steps over to the window facing his trailer to peel back the blinds.

But you could already see the flames inside, and just then, you smelled the smoke.

His trailer

It was on fire.

“Nononono no,” You chanted, charging for the door.

“Come with me quietly,” the man on the TV said, calmly. “Or your vampire boyfriend will meet the final death.”

You halted in your tracks, glaring down at the older man, nostrils flaring with anger. “Come with you? Where are you hiding?” You chided; hands balled into fist as you cocked your head. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Brenner looked down before meeting your eyes again. “Your father underestimated the capacity for your powers. I don’t plan to make the same mistake.”

“How did you know my father?” You barked.

Outside, one of Eddie’s windows blew out, glass shattering everywhere, and his curtains went up in flames.

You ran outside and flew down the steps before the man's voice could stop you. Dio, Eddie’s cat, ran by to hide under your trailer.

Maybe Eddie had gone in like a crazy person to save some photos or something, and somehow, he’d gotten trapped in there. Bela took to the sky while you rushed to his door.

But then there he was, staggering out on a dark cloud of smoke, holding an electric guitar in his hand.

“My sweetheart,” he held it up. “I couldn’t let her burn.”

He was smiling at you from the top of his steps, dimples popping, and you could help but mirror it, flooded with relief. He really didn’t care that his whole place was burning, as long as he had Dio, his guitar, and you.

He’d lost much more in his life to a fire once when he was younger, so this one wouldn't sting half as bad.

And it suddenly didn’t matter that some creepy old dude could somehow talk to you through your TV: Eddie was okay.

But then something else happened.

He took the first step, never taking his eyes off of you, but something knocked his shoulder back, like an invisible punch.

And then another and another

The smile on his face quivered and his forehead creased, trying to understand what was happening.

He tucked his chin to look at his torso, and your eyes followed.

Dark blooms were appearing on his shirt like liquid spilled from an inkwell. On his chest, over his heart, from his stomach.

He stumbled down the last two steps and then fell to his knees, dropping the guitar so that he could brace himself with his hand.

Had Eddie been shot?

You didn’t have time to figure that out. Some strange voice in your head told you there was a chance the trailer could explode—or maybe you’d watched too many movies—but you had to get him away from there. He was a vampire, and even if he had been shot, he could heal, but you weren't sure how he would survive his body being blown to bits.

The next thing you knew, you were carrying him, much like he’d carried you in his arms earlier. You didn't need to summon the insane strength; it was just there. There was that buzzing in your skull, and you could feel violent sparks crackling through your muscles.

Everyone was coming out of their trailers at that point, and Dolores was screaming frantically into her phone wearing a nightshirt and curlers in her hair. You didn’t know how long it would take for the fire department to get there, or if there was a possibility that the wreckage would spread to the other trailers.

You put Eddie down on the other side of your hearse and leaned him back against the tire to find there was blood trickling from his mouth, but he still tried to grin at you.

“See,” he sputtered. “You’re like a superhero. You don’t need me.”

“But I do,” tears clouded your eyes while another window blew out from the trailer. You put your forehead to his and your lips brushed together. “Please, don’t leave me. Eddie I—”

“The bullets,” he winced. “They’re silver. My body can’t reject them.”

There were three or four different holes in him there that were steaming as the silver burned him from the inside. You cupped your hand on his jaw, and he grabbed your wrist, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“Here, take my blood—”

You yanked your shirt down to give him your pulsing jugular, but all of a sudden you were forced back by some unseen force, flying through the air until you landed ass first in the gravel and skidded to a stop, rolling over to find yourself face first at the feet of someone wearing a pair of black, shiny shoes and slacks.

“Dove,” a familiar, deep voice said. “We meet again.”

You pushed back, scuttling away to find that it was the man from your TV; he was standing in your trailer park. Flanked by two menacing looking men with bald, tattooed heads, wearing sunglasses. Each of them in suits and ties as if they were the actual Men in Black.

“I don’t know you,” you grumbled, getting to your feet that were bare and bleeding, but healing rapidly. You checked around each shoulder cautiously to see that there was a handful of other men in suits, all of them holding guns, and then a tall guy with a scalp of strawberry stubble, no more than 20, in a red jumpsuit. The guy had his chin down, eyes pinned on you as if he might shoot lasers from them.

His expression was deceivingly kind. “My name is Martin Brenner. I met you before you died the first time,” he said casually.

“You see, your father and I used to be friends,” he walked a circle around you, before coming front and center again. “He stole valuable information from my laboratory in order to bring you back. You're my property as well, but he decided to keep you from me.”

“My father never mentioned you,” was all you could say. In your peripheral vision, you could tell the others were inching close.

“We could’ve been so great together, Dove. Imagine your contribution to science. And you would not be so uncertain about your powers,” he stepped back to gesture at the boy in the red jumpsuit. “I want to introduce you to Kane. He was reanimated the same way you were, but under my expertise and supervision.”

Kane had a railroad scar on his forehead, and a hand that was a different skin color than the rest of his body. It wasn’t just a different skin tone; it was a body part from an entirely different person.

You thought about all of the love you were raised with, and though your dad fumbled the ball on attentiveness quite a bit, you never doubted how much he cared for you. You were beginning to understand that maybe he didn’t explain what abilities you might have because it would lead you back to Brenner somehow.

The surge of power was growing inside of you, and instead of pushing it down, you let it grow and churn and spill out, creating a type of electrical force field around your body, a vibrating aura of protection.

“Show her what you can do, Kane,” Brenner said.

Not sure what to expect, you watched Kane rubbed his hands together, creating a bright bolt of lightning from the friction, his eyes went milk white, and then he shot an arm out towards the nearest hulking security guard, palm open, and it sent the man in black off his feet, sailing back as if he were hugging an invisible beach ball. He smacked into the side of the opposite neighbor’s trailer with a bone to metal thwack.

Your eyes were fixed for too long on the man slumped in the gravel, and when you turned to face Kane again, he was a few steps closer, peering through his lashes at you with an evil twitch of his lips.

Apparently, you were the next example in his bag of tricks.

Your feet were off the ground before you could process another thought, catching air like a rag doll only to drop down and skid face first into the cold, dry earth.

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, eh? Lifting into a push up position, you spat dirt and blood from your mouth with a curse.

Gathering yourself up and into a crouch, you vaguely heard Eddie call your name, but he was still rendered temporarily helpless by the silver, and your head was spinning. Not so much from confusion and fear this time, but more…anger.

You nailed Kane with a heated look, and then your hand lashed out in his direction, though he was yards away, and actual sparks flew from your palm, spitting like fireworks.

Kane was pummeled in the gut with a force he obviously wasn’t expecting, and you kept going before he could find his footing again, knocking him down before he could raise a hand at you again..

“How does that feel?” You bit, towering over him.

In a heartbeat, you lifted Kane’s limp body above your head with a roar that you could not believe came from your own mouth. Arching back, you aimed to drop him over the nearby trailer hitch, which would surely break his back, if not kill him, but then you remembered who you were and faltered.

Blinking, trying to quiet the buzzing in your skull, you knew you did not want to kill this boy.

You understood, even under such duress, that he was only doing what he was told.

But Brenner was actually applauding you, pupils blown from the intensity, urging you to keep going, to murder this stranger at his bidding.

You could’ve very easily ended up just like Kane, if not for the love and protection of your father.

Heaving, trying to calm yourself, you threw Kane’s body in the opposite direction, so that he landed on flat ground that would absolutely hurt, but he’d be able to walk away.

Brenner beamed at you like a parent watching their child take their first steps. “You’re stronger than I’d imagined. Your powers have somehow increased since your inception, and I’d love to know why.”

You squared up with him, making him step back to avoid the sparks actively snapping off of you. “What do you want from me?”

You didn’t have to look to know that all of the guns were trained on you.

“I want you to work for me, Dove. We could change the world together, you and I.”

It felt like he was trying to sell you a car, not asking to hook you up to electrodes and make you his own personal soldier.

“Never,” you were calm now, and you wanted nothing to do with this man or whatever he thought he could do for you.

The flames went higher on the trailer, and in the distance, wails of a fire engine could be heard.

You caught sight of Eddie, but he was flat on the ground now and no longer sitting up.

You rushed by Brenner, slamming into his shoulder as you went, but two of the guards caught you by the arms. It felt like they were stronger than normal men, and when they bared their fangs, you realized they were vampires.

Growling, you flung them off of you, and they went stumbling back as if they weighed nothing, as if you were suddenly impervious to their supernatural strength.

“Kill the boyfriend,” you heard Brenner bark at the men. “Use the wooden bullets this time.”

A gun cocked, and you ran a few steps, but then vaulted over Eddie’s body, arms wide, using yours as a shield.

You felt the bullet impact like a dagger in your back, but it was as if it bounced off somehow instead of penetrating. Eddie barked in pain as you covered him, but then he clung to you as you rolled him under the hearse, away from the gunfire.

Caging yourself on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, and stomachs touching, you could feel how weak he was; the silver enabled his body from healing, and you had to find a way to get them out.

You watched the feet of the one with the wooden bullets approach the vehicle, thinking of your next move when Eddie whispered into the side of your neck: “You’re so fucking beautiful—”

If this was the end for him, this was how he wanted to spend it: with you, being able to see your face one last time.

Before you could respond, there came a shrill, tortured scream, and the booted feet you had your eye on stumbled back.

More agonizing screams, until the body in question dropped to the ground, limbs writhing, and you could see that Bela had attached herself to his head like an Alien facehugger.

Only because he was a vampire, he was able to pull her off, but she took most of his flesh and his nose off with her.

Bela took to the sky again, out of view, and they aimed their guns up at her.

“Not so fast, boys,” a new voice rumbled from the shadows. “I want to play, too.”

Eddie’s shallow breaths moving under you, it was all you could do not to cheer out loud when you realized the voice belonged to Jareth.

And apparently, Jareth brought friends; enough to fill the entire courtyard.

They were crouching on the roofs, on cars, everywhere.

Brenner and his crew were surrounded; Bela had gone to get help.

In the woods, a pack of wolves howled their attendance as well.

Jareth pierced the closest vampire in the heart with a wooden stake and he exploded, guts flying everywhere.

As far as the human bodyguards went, the rest was a bloodbath.

From what you were told later, Kane ran, and Brenner tried to get behind the wheel of the SUV, but instead he was dragged into the war zone and drained dry before being ripped limb from limb.

Jareth wanted to keep the doctor in his dungeon to torture him, but a few of the vampires knew of Brenner and the experiments he’d done on their kind over the years. It was all nothing short of sadistic torture, keeping them barely alive so that he could run experiments on them over time and sell their blood for a profit.

They’d been wanting to get their hands on him for a long time.

—-----

By the time the rescue team and fire truck showed up, all of the vampires had evaporated into the shadows, and you’d snuck Eddie up into your bedroom, carrying most of his weight as he was only able to hobble. You collected his guitar as well, and brought Dio inside, since those were the only two things from the burning wreckage, he voiced a care about. With the lights out and the curtains closed, you used a modest bedside reading lamp to assess the damage. While you were concentrating on him, his eyes never left your face, his heart bursting.

“You might have to suck them out,” he cleared his throat. “The bullets I mean. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

“You mean, weirder than all of the other shit that happened tonight?” You mumbled, coming back from washing your hands. There was still dirt caked under your nails, possibly some blood, but whatever.

“Good point.”

Until you got the bullets out, any blood you gave him would be useless, so without another moment of hesitation, you crawled up on the bed, springs bouncing, and knelt next to his torso, bracing a hand at either side of him. He was burning up around the sight of each wound, and the skin sizzled as the alloy continued to roast him alive.

The first one was at the surface and came out fast, hot metal on your tongue. The next one, under his right nipple, was deeper and you had to suck harder, making Eddie’s toes curl. You spit each out onto the floor, and strings of his blood mingled in your saliva.

One hand behind his head, the other rested at his hip with a thumb in his belt loop. “So, you’re like…the incredible Hulk, but with powers. That’s pretty badass.”

“I don’t know what I am,” you scoffed, sucking out another, and then pausing to watch the openings seal up and heal. “I’m a waitress, that’s all. That’s all I want to be.”

He nodded, musing on how many times he’d wished he could go back and not be a vampire. He wanted to tell you the story of when he was reborn, but that could wait for another time. Now it was time to put some very messy cards on the table.

The last bullet was deep, and you had to swirl your tongue around in the hole to loosen it.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he blurted while your lips were near his belly button.

“Mmmhmm?”

Fuck, here it goes…

“First, I just want to say that I had no idea who this Brenner guy was before, like, a few months ago,” his next swallow felt like he was chugging a grapefruit. “If I’d have known what a creep, he was I never would’ve…”

You stopped what you were doing to raise your head, waiting for him to finish, the final bit of silver still lodged in his abdomen. “You knew of Brenner? Before all this?”

He couldn’t look at you, he had to stare at the ceiling.

“Uh, yeah, that first week you were here, he tracked me down at the chop shop and said he’d pay me a shit ton of money to keep an eye on you. I didn’t ask a lot of questions. As far as I knew, you were his long-lost daughter, or some shit and he wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You sat back on your knees, trying to let that sink in.

He lifted up to brace himself on an elbow, wincing at the sting of the remaining bullet. “I didn’t know you then, that was before we were…” he fumbled with what he wanted to call you and what you actually were, “...a friend.”

“So,” you frowned down at your hands. “You’re the reason I was kidnapped tonight? The reason all of this happened?” Your wide eyes snapped to him. “Did you set me up?”

He sliced his hand in the air a few times, shaking his head vigorously. “No..nope…I had nothing to do with any of this,” he pleaded. “I only reported back to him for a couple of weeks, and then I stopped, really. After that night I first took you to Sacrament, I told him I was too busy to—”

All of the horrific memories were rushing back to you. “What about the Klemp’s? Did you pay them to hurt me or something? So that I’d have to drink your blood and let you into my head?”

Eddie spoke so fast; he stuttered over his words. “No, absolutely not, never! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I would never let anyone hurt you like that.”

“But they did hurt me,” you muttered.

Now it was you who couldn’t look at him, working your jaw muscles as you tried to decide which emotion you should be feeling.

“Why should I even believe you?” Your voice was small.

“Please believe me I—”

“If you knew this guy was stalking me, why didn’t you tell me sooner? If you’re as concerned for my welfare as you claim to be?”

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to cry or scream; maybe both.

Eddie didn’t have a chance to answer. You were on your feet at the end of the bed with your arms crossed.

Suddenly, you were shaking, and you couldn’t control it. “After Sacrament, I didn’t see you for a long time, it felt like you were avoiding me. Was that because you no longer had to fake interest in me for your scam?”

Eddie pushed himself up into a seated position, blinking back the memory of how painfully hard it had been to stay away from you for all that time. “No, you have to trust me, that had nothing to do with—”

“Trust you?” You barked a sarcastic laugh. “Tell me why then? Why avoid me for so long, huh? Because you weren’t getting paid to—”

Eddie’s voice wavered and he spoke in a rush. “Because I started to have feelings for you, that’s why. Happy? Because ever since that first day I saw you, you’re all I can fucking think about. Because I can’t even look at another woman without seeing your face, and believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve gotten real good at disappointing people and leaving people behind, and all I know is, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Your lips parted to say something, but he figured what the hell, he might as well scare you all the way off while he was at it.

He relaxed his shoulders and wet his lips. “I never told you that I was made vampire against my will. I died and was brought back, but my heart went cold, and I never thought I’d feel anything for anyone ever again. I didn’t want to feel anything. I should’ve stayed dead, I wanted to be with all of the people I’d lost…”

His suede brown eyes sought your face. “When I’m with you, I don’t feel dead anymore. When I think about you, I feel fragile and human again. Like maybe I’ve got something worth giving away.”

Silence filled the room like helium in a balloon about to burst.

He’d gone for broke, and there was nowhere left to hide. He was officially at your feet, where he’d always been.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered when you didn’t respond right away. “I get it.”

You tilted your head all the way back to stare at the ceiling.

“I dream about you every night,” you admitted on an exhale. “Logically I know it has to do with ingesting your blood, but it’s…it’s more than that.”

He bit at the inside of his cheek, picking at a thread on the comforter. “Every night, huh?”

You gave a few slow nods, and you could almost hear the smile pull across his teeth.

“Yeah, so, blood induced dreaming should only happen a handful of times after it’s ingested,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You kept nodding, since that was something you’d already suspected. “The dreams are always so vivid, I wake up…”

He dared to finish for you after a long pause. “Wanting more?”

“No,” you corrected, turning to face him. “I wake up wishing they were real.”

----

I la la la love you all who have reached out to me about this story and continue to cheer it on. Comments, reblogs, and asks about this world mean everything to me.

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patchworkgargoyle · 10 months

Text

Booty 🌿

Steve has a plan, and Eddie falls for it. || read on ao3

Here it finally is, folks! My first smut for the ST fandom. I hope you like it!! Inspired by this post.

WC: ~4.8k || E || CW: Unsafe sex

“Please, Eddie?”

“Are you insane, Steve? It’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there, you cannot expect me to peel myself off this couch.”

Eddie heard a frustrated sigh and a small thud, imagining that Steve had let his head drop on the wall by his phone. “Yeah, I’m aware, I’m sweating buckets right now. But I gotta have the car fixed before tomorrow, I promised Claudia I’d pick up Dustin from the bus station and I can’t do that if it won’t start.”

Thing was, Eddie did kinda want to go and help him, heatwave be damned. They’d grown close in the months since spring break and despite his previous misgivings Eddie had gotten to like Steve. More than he should, really. He can’t help it if his queer little heart does a jig every time he manages to make Steve laugh in that eye-crinkling, head-tipped-back kind of way. Got good at it too, which made Eddie feel a great deal of selfish pride. And if he can’t take his eyes off the long lines of Steve’s mole-dotted neck, that’s his own business.

But this was something else. As soon as Steve called to ask if Eddie would help fix the Bimmer he couldn’t get the thought of him–sweaty and greasy and bent over the open hood of the car, his hair falling just so and lip bitten between his teeth in concentration–out of his dirty little mind. The things he’d want to do. It did as much to convince Eddie to go as it did to make him want to keep his distance.

He was a weak man, however.

“Fine. Alright. But you’d better make it worth my time, I’m risking my pale, un-sunburnt ass for this.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t worry, I will,” he said blandly.

They hung up after Eddie promised to be there in a few minutes, and he rolled off of the couch with a melodramatic groan. Moving in the muggy heat trapped inside the trailer sucked, but he wasn’t going to back out. Steve had sounded so relieved when he’d said goodbye that it gave Eddie enough pep to lurch his way to the kitchen to grab a few cold beers before scrambling into his van. He appreciated his own forethought when he burned his hand on the door handle and could hold a cold bottle against the spot. Fucking summer.

Parking in the Harringtons’ driveway, he spotted the Bimmer pulled halfway into the garage, the front shaded by the overhang in what must be an attempt to avoid the worst of the sunlight. The hood was popped open, but Eddie couldn’t see Steve.

“Ohh Stevie!” he sang, “your knight in shining armour has arrived!” He heard something thunk from the garage but got no response, so he wandered inside, trying to peer around the hood. “I come bearing gifts but they’re gonna get–”

Wheels squeaked from below and Eddie looked down, only to be treated to the sight of Steve’s legs, long and hairy and sprawled open, flexing as he dragged himself out from under the car on the creeper and revealing more inches of mouth-watering thighs. He was–oh fuck, Steve was wearing the tiniest cut-off jean shorts Eddie had ever seen, the fabric of the pockets poking out from under the frayed hems. They were tight, too, hugging his hips and, god, his bulge. The white tank top Steve wore had ridden up, too, exposing the trail of hair that dipped below the fucking shorts, but Eddie followed it up, along the grease stains and the swell of his pecs to Steve’s grinning face.

“...Hot.” Eddie’s voice cracked around the word.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie said, “The beer, it’s uh, gonna get hot.” Somehow he managed to not sound like he was choking on his own drool while Steve still stared up at him from the ground, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slight smear of dirt across his cheek and Eddie wanted to lick it off.

“You know where the fridge is, Eddie, if you’re that worried.”

“Nah, you look like you need a break. Get up here,” he said, waggling the bottle over Steve’s face. Steve chuckled but finally stood and relieved Eddie of the misery of seeing Steve on his back and not having been the one to put him there.

He popped the caps off with the bottle opener on his keychain, and Steve took his with a ‘thank you,’ downing half in a few gulps. Eddie distracted himself from the sight of Steve’s throat bobbing by peering over at the engine.

“So what’s the issue, doc?”

Steve pulled away from the bottle with a soft popping sound from his pink lips and a gasp. “Dunno yet. That’s why I called you,” he said, leaning on the car beside Eddie. “Oil and battery are fine, spark plugs look good too.”

“She been making a sputtering kind of sound recently? Could be the throttle.”

“Nah, no weird noises.”

Eddie hummed, then set his bottle aside. “Alright, let’s get underneath her then.” Lowering himself onto the creeper and sliding under the car, he said, “Could be a belt has finally busted. Got a flashlight?”

“Really need to ask that?” Steve’s voice got fainter as he walked a little ways away. “The kids insisted on a disaster preparedness kit after round two with the Upside Down.”

There was a tap on the wood under Eddie’s hip, and blindly he reached down to grab the flashlight Steve found. He tinkered around under the Bimmer, unable to wipe away the sweat that started to drip and stick his bangs to his forehead. But eventually he began to roll back out into open, but no less stupidly hot, air.

“Looks like everything’s shipshape, captain–” Eddie choked on his own words when he looked up and was met with a sight straight out of his wet dreams.

Steve stood over Eddie, his legs spread wide enough that Eddie had rolled right between them. If he sat down, Steve would be straddling Eddie’s hips, but that would deprive him of this new angle at which to admire all of Steve’s assets wrapped so tightly in frayed, lightwash denim. Mouth falling open, Eddie let out an eloquent, “Uhhh,” and Steve laughed, holding out his hand.

“Thought you’d like a hand,” Steve explained, smirking.

He took it without thinking and let Steve haul him off the creeper board and up to his feet. A kick, and Steve sent the board skittering away underneath the car, but Eddie barely winced at the noise. He was too busy standing so close to Steve that they breathed the same humid air. If he so much as swayed, their noses would bump together. Christ, Steve had pretty eyes, a bright, warm brown flecked with amber even in the shade of the garage and he swore he could see Steve’s pupils dilate the longer their gazes locked together.

“So, what were you saying?” Steve asked in a low tone. He tilted his head ever so slightly and those eyes held some kind of dare within them, one eyebrow ticked upward. Eddie couldn’t help swallowing, licking his lips, and Steve went from staring into Eddie’s eyes to down at his lips.

“Just saying that, that everything looked fine. Might, uh, might be the crankshaft or the–” Steve stepped forward just enough to bring their chests together, the back of Eddie’s knees hitting the bumper, and Eddie’s breath hitched, his voice cracking, “–the sensor.”

“Eddie.” The way Steve said his name sent a frisson of heat through Eddie, right to his dick, which was becoming a very obvious guest between them.

“Yeah, Stevie?” he whispered.

Broad, warm hands wrapped around Eddie’s slim hips. Steve worked a finger through a belt loop on each side and tugged, and Eddie realised he wasn’t the only one with a hard on when Steve’s pressed up against his own, pulling a hiss of pleasure from them both. Oh, shit. Leaning impossibly closer, Steve’s lips brushed against Eddie’s when he spoke. “I don’t care about the car right now.”

That snapped whatever faint, lingering reservations Eddie had. “Fuck, Stevie, please kiss m–” He didn’t even finish before Steve’s lips crashed into his, plush and hungry. It wasn’t long before Eddie began to nip and lick, his teeth drawing short, pleased noises from Steve’s mouth before he pulled back a scant inch.

“Fucking finally,” Steve said, and dove back in, biting back, making Eddie groan. His hands found their way to Steve’s sides, then, spurred on by Steve’s enthusiasm, he reached down and grabbed at his ass. His fingers wrapped under the hem and he yanked Steve’s hips in and up, rising to meet them.

Steve’s cock grinding against Eddie’s was a fucking revelation. From the way Steve’s mouth parted with a hot gasp, Eddie guessed he felt the same. “Hold on, baby,” he rasped, and using what leverage he had, Eddie hoisted Steve onto his lap, Steve’s knees spread and braced on the car. There was no way he could keep them there for long, but fuck it was hot, rutting their hips together while they kissed, wet and messy.

Eddie tasted the salt of his own sweat when Steve licked into his mouth and moaned, hands fisted into the denim in his grip, feeling more sweat beginning to drip down his back. The heat was stifling, but nothing compared to what started to grow in Eddie’s gut. One of Steve’s hands buried in his curls and pulled, had Eddie bucking up and whimpering around Steve’s tongue. He could come like this, dry humping on top of the Bimmer, lap full of Steve in those shorts, hands on his perfect ass, would’ve if the idea weren’t more embarrassing than hot.

“St-Steve, wait,” Eddie panted, whining again when Steve’s hand clenched in his hair again.

“Why’d you stop? Don’t wanna stop, Eddie,” Steve groaned, before a little more clarity seeped into him and he leaned back into his arms, concerned. “Or, shit, wait, is this okay?”

“God, fuck yes this is okay. Been thinking about this forever, man.” Steve smiled widely, verging on a little goofy, before ducking in and pressing open-mouthed kisses to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s arms began to shake. His legs had long since begun to tremble. “But, hang on, ah, I’m gonna either drop you or come in my shorts in like two minutes if we don’t rethink this.”

All that did was make Steve start rocking into him again. “Hot,” he mumbled as he licked up a trail of sweat under Eddie’s jaw, making Eddie swear and tip his head back.

Eddie’s knees decided to buckle right then. They shouted, Eddie scrambled, locking Steve in his arms and getting his feet under himself before standing, his hands still hooked around Steve’s ass while Steve’s legs clung to his waist. Steve’s shocked expression likely matched Eddie’s, before he rested his forehead against Eddie’s and laughed so hard his body shook. Helpless, Eddie joined in, holding Steve close while their giggling faded out. But his arms were aching so, gently, he put Steve down.

“Do you wanna stop?” Steve asked. Eddie shook his head.

“You?” Steve shook his. “Thank fuck,” Eddie said. He ran his hands over Steve’s ass, over the crease of his thigh, the tips of his fingers tickling the hair on the back of his thighs before guiding him close again. “Didn’t wanna let you go now that I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Steve dove into Eddie’s mouth with a hungry groan. The slick sounds of their lips echoed in the garage. With a tug, Steve turned them around and backed up into the car, his hands wandering underneath Eddie’s cut up Iron Maiden tee and clutching at his sides, over the fresh demobat scars, nails digging in bluntly.

Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off Steve either. He pawed at whatever he could, finding the places that made Steve pant and hum into his mouth. But he wanted more, because Eddie has always been a bit greedy. One hand snaked its way around to cup Steve through the shorts that barely contained him, pressing his fingers around the hard outline of Steve’s cock and squeezing, rubbing. The low, raspy moan he got for his efforts made Eddie grin wolfishly.

Head lolling back, Steve breathed hard and rose to meet each stroke of Eddie’s palm. Eddie began to bite and suck his way down the strong line of Steve’s neck, biting every mole he could find. “E-Eddie, I want you to fuck me.”

The words made Eddie bite down just shy of too hard. Steve whined, and Eddie lapped at the spot in apology. “I wanna, I wanna so bad, Steve, but we’re fucking filthy, sweetheart,” he mumbled into Steve’s neck.

“Don’t need to do anything. I, mmh, prepared for this.”

Eddie pulled back to blink at him in disbelief. “You what?”

“I’ve been wanting this for months and nothing was working! So I just, made this as obvious as I fucking could.”

“Months?” Eddie’s jaw dropped when Steve gave him a look that managed to be both fond, flirty, and frustrated. “I could’ve been fucking you for months!?”

“Or I could’ve been fucking you.”

That idea, as sexy as it was, had to be pushed aside before it managed to make Eddie’s horny little brain leak out of his ears. “Putting a pin in that, that’s absolutely gonna happen, but I wanna revisit something. You prepared?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah,” he said, simple and cocky and so hot Eddie could combust. Eddie tried to capture Steve’s lips again but Steve stopped him with a firm hand against his chest, pushing Eddie back a few steps. Turning, he closed the hood of his car and instead of twisting back around to face Eddie, Steve leaned on his arms and arched his back.

Now that was a sight. Steve’s long, tan legs spread just so, one knee cocked to give a slight tilt to his hips. The firm, round swell of his ass peeking out under the denim that struggled to hold together. And right on the apex of those pretty, biteable, jean-clad cheeks: two dark, dirty handprints. There’s even the blackened imprint of fingers on Steve’s skin. Eddie’s fingers, Eddie’s hands. His cock twitched against his zipper and he moaned out, “Ohhh my god…”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve’s smug smirk grew, and he tilted his hips up a little further. “I know I look good, Munson, but are you gonna do something about it or what?”

Eddie stepped forward and draped himself along the expanse of Steve’s back, rutting his hips into Steve’s and making him hum sweetly. “Don’t have to get bratty about it, baby,” he said. He dragged his fingers along Steve’s sides, letting his nails catch on the soft texture of Steve’s scars before dipping down and popping his button open in one swift motion. “Tell me how you prepared.”

He felt the shiver his words evoked run down Steve’s spine. As he slid the zipper down and slid his hand in to find Steve had gone commando–both of them groaning when Eddie’s hand wrapped around Steve’s leaking, twitching cock–Eddie nuzzled into the dip between Steve’s ear and neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and musk and the faint traces of a clean, fresh cologne valiantly hanging on.

“I, I got this toy. In Indy,” Steve gasped as Eddie pumped him, pulling his cock out as his hand sped up the more Steve spoke. “Worked myself open on it.”

“What’dya think of?” Eddie squeezed.

“You,” Steve keened, jerking into Eddie’s grip.

“Fuck. God. Alright, enough of this.” Standing, Eddie took his hand away and ignored the needy noise Steve made to instead yank the shorts down. Steve only bothered to step out of one leg, having to kick his foot when they got stuck on his shoe. It made his cheeks jiggle. Eddie couldn’t resist giving him a few taps just to watch it again before spreading those cheeks with his thumbs. More dirt smeared over Steve’s dewy skin, but that was only the opening act. The true star of the show glistened with lube and twitched under Eddie’s hungry stare, already loose and used and ready for him. He held himself back from burying his tongue in Steve’s hole, but just barely, letting out a low, hungry rumble instead.

Eddie couldn't move fast enough after that. He grappled with his belt, popped the button of his shorts and shoved them and his boxers out of the way enough for his cock to spring out without help. Then he stepped forward. Eddie let out a shuddering gasp when his aching cock met the searing heat of Steve’s taint and smeared precome along it, echoed when Steve sighed unsteadily as his head slipped up, up, up. Brushed over Steve’s hole once, twice, before catching on the rim.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whined as he pushed back, and who was Eddie to deny such a pretty request?

He thrust forward and sank into Steve with a slick sound and such little resistance that Eddie’s jaw dropped open in a soundless moan, eyelids fluttering at the hot, wet clench of muscle around him. Another thrust and Steve groaned thickly, his head tilting back so Eddie could see how his bitten-red lips parted deliciously.

“Steve, you good? Please tell me you’re good. Fuck. I wanna fuck you so bad, you feel so good, hot, please Steve,” Eddie begged and rambled, his hands shaking with the need to grab and pull and take.

“If you don’t fucking start right now I’m leaving–”

That was all the permission Eddie needed.

He sank slowly past that ring of muscle and Eddie didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed about the high-pitched, breathy whine that escaped him. Steve really had prepped, just loose enough and slick enough, but he still took his time. He wanted to savour this, the way he slid into Steve’s tight heat, how the feeling made his legs tremble and his stomach clench. Steve deserved the caution. At first, at least.

“Tell me,” Eddie demanded, needing to talk to distract from the sheer feeling of bliss of being enveloped by Steve. “Tell me about what you were thinking when you fucked yourself on that dildo.”

Steve’s head tilted back with a moan, his brows drawn together, and Eddie longed to bite and lick the strong column of his throat, but he didn’t want to get distracted. He wanted to know.

“I thought about your fingers, first. Those rings, fuck, they drive me nuts. Wish you’d worn them today.” Eddie gave his hips a firm squeeze, fingers spread wide to catch as much soft skin as he could, and grinned when he felt Steve clench around him and heard a stuttering breath.

“I’ll wear them next time, big boy. Wanna see how good they look when I’m jerking you off.” The appreciative groan caused by Eddie’s words was divine.

“God yes. Next time.”

Of course it was then that the phrase sunk in. Next time. Eddie hadn’t even noticed he’d said it but Steve repeating it had something other than raging hormones rising in his gut. He didn’t even have time to process the implication because Steve kept going, and started meeting Eddie’s thrusts with small movements of his own.

“Then I thought about your dick. Y’know, it’s so hard not to stare when you get out of the pool.”

“Did you?”

“Duh.” Steve shot a bitchy look over his shoulder. The usual power behind the look was lost in the bright red flush on his face. It completely fell apart when Eddie shifted and hit somewhere new, Steve’s mouth dropping open with a guttural noise that made Eddie’s cock twitch. “S-shit, it’s so perfect,” he said.

Steve’s head hung loose from his shoulders, forehead resting on the hood of the car, needy, lingering moans bouncing off the metal, breath and sweat condensing on it while Eddie inched further into him every time he slid out and pressed back in. With his palms on the Bimmer, Steve used the leverage to rock into Eddie, the muscles in his shoulders rippling under the white cotton tank starting to go translucent with sweat.

Watching his cock steadily disappear into Steve’s hole was addicting. He leaned back to get a better view of how he split Steve open between the grimy handprints he’d left on the globes of his ass, placed his hands there again and dug his nails in, making Steve’s hips jerk so that Eddie sank the rest of the way with a groan.

“God, Eddie,” Steve mumbled, “fuck, you feel so. So, uh, so good.”

“Y-you too, baby.” Eddie could barely form words. The tight pressure around his cock threatened to end things there and then, but Eddie closed his eyes and breathed, letting the fire and the urge and the want die down to a less immediate threat. But then he opened his eyes, saw how good they looked locked together, the way his darker thatch caught against the lighter brown hairs decorating Steve’s ass, both of them wet from the lube he’d pushed out of his hole, and jesus fucking christ he didn’t want, he needed.

Pulling out slowly and bracing Steve’s hips with a punishing grip was the only warning he gave before snapping forward with a loud grunt, the slap of damp skin a filthy echo in the garage. Steve cried out at the second hard thrust, choked off when Eddie kept going, his hips picking up speed.

“Good?” Eddie gasped. Nodding, Steve uttered a desperate, pleading ‘yes’ that made him fuck into Steve faster.

“Look so fucking hot, Steve,” he started babbling, his voice reedy with pleasure. “God, my handprints on you. Want ‘em to stain, be there forever.” Steve moaned and Eddie felt him tighten around his cock. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, I do, I do!”

Eddie leaned forward, draped himself across Steve’s back, and the angle was so fucking good, so much better, and he knew he’d started pounding into Steve’s prostate by the way his gasps had turned into a delicious mix of thin moans and choked out grunts. Fucking him into the car, Eddie let his hands roam. He rucked up the tank top, watched as the last of the dirt on his hands smeared over Steve’s perfect, scarred skin like loving and greedy claw marks. Finding a nipple, he pinched and squeezed until Steve writhed and squirmed.

Then Steve reached up. Buried a hand into Eddie’s hair, grabbed a handful and pulled.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie whined, his hips stuttering, the pain mixing with pleasure and zinging down his spine.

Steve chuckled, unsteady and breathy but so self-satisfied. “Thought about this… for so long, Eddie.”

“Thinkin’ about me so much, sweetheart. I’m honoured. What, hah, what did you think about?” he asked into Steve’s neck, lips catching on his skin, tempting him to lick, to bite. He did, groaning at the taste of salt.

“This. On your couch, by the pool, my bed, anywhere. Been desperate for it.” Steve pulled Eddie closer by his hair while he bounced back on Eddie’s cock as if to prove it. “Or, shit, bending you over that throne of yours and fucking you into it.” Eddie let out a pitchy whimper and Steve cooed in a way that could’ve been condescending but instead made Eddie melt. “But now, now that I know the kinds of fucking sounds you make–t-there, yes–I wanna take you apart. Slow a-and gentle until you’re a mess–”

He cut himself off with a broken moan. Eddie’s hips kept up their brutal pace with short, sharp, hard thrusts, the sound of their sweat-slicked fucking and and the jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle filling the room. His brain was nothing but static. The image was stuck in a loop like the end of a record left to spin. Eddie heard a desperate, animalistic whine and realised it came from himself.

“Close, baby?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded frantically, his lips dragging through beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He’d been holding it off, the fraying coil threatening to snap, his balls aching as they slapped into Steve’s asscheeks.

“You?” Eddie wanted to beg for Steve to be ready.

“Getting there, just, don’t stop,” Steve gasped.

Twisting, Steve pulled Eddie down to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, fingers tangled in his damp curls. Their tongues met sloppily. Shared panting breaths like trying to inhale each other. Eddie’s thrusts were starting to falter. He was going to shake apart at this rate. Might just shatter when he comes, the pressure and heat and need too much and so fucking perfect.

“Steve,” Eddie whined, and Steve’s eyes met his. “So good to me, Stevie, sweetheart. Feel so wet, fuckin’ beautiful. Nee–mmh–need you, need you to come, please baby, please.”

“Touch me,” Steve said, practically commanded, and Eddie wasted no time.

Spitting in his hand and hoping it was enough, Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick, mixing his spit with the shocking amount of precome leaking from the head and spreading it over his length. Christ he was hung. Steve let out a relieved sigh, which Eddie swallowed, smashing their lips together again while fucking hard enough that he rocked Steve into his fist. Steve started making little ah, ah, ah noises. Next time–please let there actually be a next time–he’d worship this cock in the ways he wanted to, the ways Steve deserved, but for now he pumped him mercilessly. Then, then.

Steve seized, a full-body tremble ripping through him as he came, pulsing in Eddie’s hand as he tightened around Eddie’s cock and he was so fucking gorgeous, plush kissed-red lips open in a silent scream, so hot and tight and, and, and–

With a hoarse shout, Eddie came too, rutting helplessly into Steve as he rode out the sparking shockwaves that also had him shaking, the wet sounds between them even more obscene with Eddie’s come slicking the way. He finally stopped when Steve’s whimpers sounded a little too sharp. Breathing heavily, Eddie braced himself on the hood of the car on weak arms to keep himself from collapsing on top of Steve, only letting his head rest in the crook of Steve’s neck where he left one final, achingly gentle love bite.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Eddie’s, their damp hair sticking together.

“Gonna pull out now, Stevie, okay?” When Steve just nodded lazily, Eddie slowly pulled out, both of them groaning at the feeling. And he couldn’t keep himself from parting Steve’s cheeks to see his come dribble out a little, feeling a great deal of pride and greedy satisfaction at the sight.

“Bit late to ask, but you’re still clean, right? After all those tests for the bat bites?” Steve asked, grimacing when he stood up. He was the perfect picture of debauchery, only wearing his rumpled, practically see-through tank top, socks, and shoes, with his hair a wild mess and sweat still dripping from his forehead. The dirty fingerprints and red marks starting to bloom on his neck and hips were Eddie’s favourite part.

“Yep, only time I’ll ever thank those shady government fuckers for poking me with all those needles.” Eddie grinned at Steve’s tired, but fond, chuckle.

Steve looked at the car with heavy-lidded eyes, then did a double-take. “Shit, I gotta wash that off.” There, on the shiny burgundy hood of the Bimmer, was the white splash of Steve’s come, stark against the dark colour. Eddie started cackling and Steve complained, “Dude, shut up, it’ll ruin the paint!”

“Gonna wash your car without these, Winnie the Pooh?” Eddie bent down to scoop up Steve’s shorts, dangling them from a finger. He laughed when Steve snatched them back with a glare that barely hid his begrudging smile. While he stepped back into them with a wince, Eddie said, “Interesting choice of clothing to work on your car, by the way.”

“Worked, though, didn’t it?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed when Steve smiled innocently and shrugged before he wandered off to get a chamois towel and soap. And it clicked. “You planned this? You lured me in with slutty shorts?”

Tossing the towel up and catching it, Steve’s smile widened into something smug. “Yep.”

“Wait. Is the car even broken?”

Steve just offered Eddie another sly shrug and started wiping his come off the hood.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #sac scrawls stuff

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andypantsx3 · 10 months

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quick interlude from the bakugou barbarian-verse.

for @procrastination-artist bc your last drawing of feral bakugou made me go berserk 🙃

"He's a prince?" you ask incredulously, gaping at Izuku. "Bakugou?"

Izuku nods that head of wild green curls, blinking guilelessly back at you. "The closest thing his people have to it, anyway. Their custom isn't quite like Yuuei's," he answers.

You glance over your shoulder to where Bakugou is wrestling Kirishima into the dirt, apparently trying his level best to gouge the dragon's eyes out while he's at it. It's only your knowledge that Kirishima is basically impenetrable that stops you from rising in concern.

"That? That is a prince?" you repeat, hopelessly lost, as you watch Bakugou shove a literal fistful of dirt into Kiri's face.

"His mother is their leader," Izuku tells you, a smile in his voice. "It's mostly a hereditary position, with some fighting necessary to succeed. Kacchan's next in line."

"And stay down you spiky-haired shit!" Bakugou's crow reaches you as you turn back to Izuku, mystified. Izuku's mouth is twisted up fondly in the firelight.

"Well he certainly won't have any trouble there," you say emphatically, moving to turn your sausage over the fire. Drippings of grease sizzle off the sides of it, hissing where they hit the flames.

"The fuck I won't," Bakugou growls from behind you, pointedly loud so you can hear it.

You feel your ears go hot, embarrassed that he's heard you discussing him. But it's only natural, considering you're now legally married, according to the customs of one deeply batshit village.

Not that either of you have acknowledged it, however, short of Bakugou snarling that you were his as he'd won the village marriage tournament. He'd hauled you into his arms, carrying you out of there, only to drop you the second you'd cleared the village sight lines.

And neither of you have spoken of it since. But you can't help but be more curious than ever, now, about the man who sort-of-is, sort-of-isn't your husband.

"I'll wipe the floor with anyone who tries for the seat," Bakugou says, stalking over, his booted stride heavy and sure. "Like those assholes in Dagoba."

You chance a look up at him as he drops onto the log next to you, running a hand through his ash blonde hair. He glows in the firelight, the hard planes of his chest glinting with sweat, and he swipes at a patch of dust high on his cheekbone with the back of his hand. The shadows pool in the divots of his arm muscles as he does so.

"So you really are some kind of prince," you echo disbelievingly, reaching back for your sausage skewer, just for something to focus on. "Who would have known."

Bakugou's smile is white and knife-sharp in the light of the flames as those scarlet eyes find you, hot and intent. Your cheeks heat despite yourself.

"Yeah," he says, sounding smug. "Guess that makes you a princess."

You startle. Your sausage goes flying into the fire, hissing and crackling, and your face flames even hotter than the campfire.

Bakugou's smile is far too self-satisfied in the dim.

#consistent tense? never heard of her #andie's writing #bakugou barbarian verse

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andy-clutterbuck · 7 months

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5x09 | What Happened and What's Going On

#HEY LOOK A BEAR #Rick Grimes #*#rg #S5 #are you even alive is feral wildman rick doesn't speak to some nasty part of your brain #survey says no #hey murder coat love you #you're doing amazing sweetie #b e a r d #more grease and dirt than man #his n e c k #*bram stoker writing furiously about me*

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ageofbajabule · 6 months

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Beautiful Boy | Josh Kiszka

Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, 18+ Allusions to Sex, Groping (Let me know if I miss any)

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: Honestly nothing crazy. This is just a little blurb I threw together after hearing that JOSH WAS WEARING EYELINER FOR THE HAMBURG SHOW! If he wears eyeliner for the next US leg, catch me dying in the pit for Pitt and Grand Rapids…

The next leg of the mighty Starcatcher World Tour has begun. Another month of endless traveling, soundchecks, interviews and shows. You loved the lifestyle you had adjusted too after agreeing to be Josh’s girlfriend 3 years ago. You knew what you were signing up for, and you never looked back. As long as you were beside him that’s all that mattered.

Josh showed you what it was like to love and be loved. He was the embodiment of love within itself. When you first met him you had only been newly single for a few months after a bad breakup. But when the two of you met one night at a small venue show, you hit it off immediately. Hangouts turned into dates, dates turned into nights tangled in each other's sheets. Then not too long after Josh was asking you to move in with him.

Josh had been thrilled when you agreed to move in, and said he was lonely in the mountains. And to say it wasn’t a dream to live in the mountains with the person you love most. You constantly thought your life was a dream and you constantly would pinch yourself for your own reassurance.

But when Josh had asked you to quit your day job and come on tour with him, you were absolutely hesitant. You had never left home, let alone left the country! But he was adamant that you came along as he would miss you too much, and how there was so much to see out in the world. And he wasn’t wrong.

In the span of 6 months you had seen more of the world than you had in the span of your own lifetime.

When you were on tour you had started to help out with the guys to get ready for their shows. Adjusting their outfits, fixing up Josh’s and Danny’s rhinestones. Even helping Jake adjust the sleeves to his suit jacket. Dreams In Gold was chaotic and thrilling. But when the guys were ready to announce Starcatcher, Josh had started to get more creative with his rhinestones and makeup for the shows.

When Starcatcher had finally been given to the world, the very first show Josh had you there applying his makeup and rhinestones. He was so nervous to be up on stage, as he always did get nervous before shows. But because a new era had begun and he was unsure if the fans would react well to it.

Jake had started to experience more with eyeliner for his stage presence. Whereas Josh, Danny and Sam wore eyeshadow and rhinestones for their presence.

Josh had been contemplating wearing eyeliner, but wasn’t sure he would look right with it. But Josh looked good no matter what, you were positive that if he came out covered in grease and dirt he’d still be the most attractive man you ever laid your eyes on.

“Do you think the eyeliner will look okay…” He paced around the dressing room.

“Josh, baby… You look absolutely stunning with the eyeshadow and rhinestones. Why would you think the eyeliner won’t look good?” You pulled out the waterline eyeliner out of the makeup bag.

“Will it be too much?” He kept pacing around. You stood up from where you were sitting, walking over to Josh you stopped him in his tracks kissing his lips softly.

He relaxed in your touch, kissing you back softly. Pulling away slowly, you cupped his face in your hands staring into his eyes.

“You worry too much… and besides if I remember correctly. Didn’t you say ‘Fuck fear’?” You giggled softly, pulling him over to sit back in the chair across form the one you sat in not too long ago.

“I did, didn’t I…”

You nodded, grabbing the eyeliner pencil and removing the cap. You grabbed his face gently, careful to not ruin the work you had finished a couple minutes ago.

“Now, just relax Joshy. It will take two minutes and then you can look in the mirror and see for yourself how good you look.” You kissed the tip of his nose, earning a grin and rosy tinted cheeks from him.

You held his face gently, using the eyeliner pencil to apply the black makeup to his waterline gently. He handled it like a pro, but he had let you experience a ton of makeup looks on him. He was such a good model for you.

After the two minutes of applying it to both eyes, you pulled away smiling contently at the final look. You grabbed the mirror and handed it to him.

“All done…”

He grabbed the mirror turning it to face him, he looked in amazement. The pop that the eyeliner did for his beautiful brown honey eyes and the way the liner complimented the silver eyeshadow. He was in shock.

“Wow… mama. You are god sent.” He chuckled softly, checking himself out in the mirror before setting it down. He pulled you into his lap.

“You are my beautiful boy…” You giggled softly cupping his face into your hands kissing him softly. He hummed against your lips, pulling your hips down and grinding into you.

You gasped slightly as you could feel him hardening beneath you.

“Joshua, we don’t have enough time…” You giggled softly as he peppered kisses along your neck.

“Mama… we have plenty of time.” He started to grab your ass, rubbing it softly before giving it a swift crack that made you yelp, but soothing it afterwards.

“No we don’t! The last time we got tangled up in the dressing room you were late to the stage for the curtain drop!” You smacked his shoulder softly.

“Yeah… Daniel will never let me live that down.” He chuckled softly.

“However… if you’re a good boy tonight. Perhaps afterwards you get rewarded.” You said in a sultry tone against the shell of his ear, licking and nibbling softly. Eliciting a moan from his lips to fall.

“You are going to be the death of me woman…” He chuckled softly.

You giggled standing up from his lap, as he started to readjust his new jumpsuit. A velvet silver jumpsuit that adorned his body well. And the jacket sitting on the hanger he pulled off that had been very similar to Jake’s.

“You look absolutely beautiful…” You blushed, helping him adjust his suit.

“Well with your help of course.” He kissed your cheek softly, before grabbing your ass again.

He started to whisper in your ear, “Just don’t forget who is in charge here though…” He said in a low register tone voice, which sent heat to your core. You were sure your panties were ruined by the arousal that pooled there.

“Good luck baby…” You tapped his ass softly, as you ushered him out to get mic'd up.

“I will see you back in the hotel room tonight, mama…” He smirked softly before getting mic’d up and hitting the stage.

Taglist -

@lyndszee @fkfearandliveyourlegend @starcatcherry @hi-hi-hello11 @gvfmuse @meetingthestardust @myleftsock @thunderstomp-and-tequila @sinsofstardust @vanillabear27 @dharma-divine33 @holybananafuck @thecoldwind @ieatedsammy @gretasfallingsky @char289 @blacksoul-27

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka fluff #josh gvf fluff #joshua kiszka fic #joshua kiszka #gvf smut #greta van smut #gvf fluff #josh kiszka greta van fleet #greta van fleet fluff #josh greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf smut

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

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(Un)bearable Part 2

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Enemies to lovers, kinda dom!Soap, rough, little bit of thigh slapping, use of the nickname “puppy”, neck grabbing

Summary: Reader is new to the 141 and despite coming in hand picked by Price, Soap can’t seem to get his head round the fact that you’re on his team. Soon silly little arguments turn physical and well…there’s more than one way to decide who’s top dog.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

A/N: I'm genuinely surprised at how highly requested part 2 was, but more than happy to indulge everyone's Soap thirst 💕 Hope you all enjoy and sorry about the long wait!

“Soap, where the fuck are you?”

You gritted your teeth as you searched around for the familiar mohawk to reveal itself through the thickets, but you’d have been left with gnarled stubs if you kept it up much longer. Your fellow Sergeant was supposed to meet you about ten minutes before, but he was nowhere to be seen or heard. That was rare for the most obnoxious member of the 141 - it almost had you worried.

You huffed out a breath and gripped the bridge of your nose, taking one last look around before you trampled off to go find him. Idiot. The loose branches and pebbles rolled under your careful feet, and the quiet air revealed nothing else as you moved through the forest like a stalking deer. The trees were filling your senses, dirt and rotting leaves settling in the undertones, you dully thought that if you weren’t going to see or hear from him, you definitely weren’t going to sniff him out - he’d taken to using a stupid deodorant after you’d expressly told him it stank like engine grease.

Wham.

You were slammed to the ground before you even saw a shadow in your periphery. All the air knocked loose from your lungs and you let out a pathetic gasp as you tried to roll your attacker off of you. Panic swelled in your heart and your head rushed as you went to fight back, hands meeting thick muscle as you tried to get a grip on your assailant's arms while he pinned you underneath him like a struggling butterfly. Fighting back only served as a catalyst for the smarmy grin that split your attacker's face - you were going nowhere.

“Miss me?” He asked in a familiar low drawl.

The moment you realised who it was you breathed in a relieved sigh and relaxed instantly, letting your head drop like a ripe apple onto the soft earth. Apparently you still had plenty more quips to put up with. Not to mention more weight, whether the source of it was more of a burden mentally or physically you couldn't say. Soap was perched on top of you like a pile of bricks and you were dealing with a million different revenge scenarios flashing in your mind at once, both things were driving you to reach for your gun.

“What the fuck are you doing giving me radio silence and ramming into me like that!” you hissed.

Finally recovered and thinking better of killing him, you pushed Soap off of you and sat up so you could dust the dirt and leaves from your sides. All the while, he continued to grin like a nasty puppet, sticking close to the ground and watching the distance. You weren’t going to be given any explanation, and it only served to piss you off more.

Though before you could scream at him about that as well, he put his fingers to his lips a moment later and pulled his gun from the ground. The light scrape of metal across dirt was your only warning before a shot fired a few inches from your head. The cacophony cracking through the forest like lightning. It scattered what little fauna there was to the skies and through the leaves.

Luckily (for Soap) you’d had enough wherewithal to cover your ears, but that didn’t stop them ringing. You shook your head, attempting to clear your blaring tinnitus and looked around, soon widening your eyes as you saw a man had dropped just a few feet from you both. His gun glinted dangerously by his side. Soap’s expression had gravely changed as he surveyed the body, his eyes had narrowed and lips were smoothed into an unimpressed line.

“What’d I tell you about watching your back for once?”

You sheepishly looked from him and back at the crumpled man again and frowned. He couldn’t have been following you for long. The soldier must’ve caught you traipsing around for Soap or vice versa and tried to stalk you both till he could get a good shot. Unluckily for him, you had an unwitting protector in Sergeant Sulky Face.

“I’d be able to watch my back if I wasn’t preoccupied on looking out for yours! Why didn’t you answer me when I was calling for you on Comms?”

“I had to be quiet. We don’t all have the luxury of stompin’ around and having other people look out for us,” he growled.

“Oh, yeah that’s me, frolicking around like an arsehole knowing you’ll look out for me.”

“Fuckin’ right you are Frenchie! For once!”

The cogs in your mind were squealing with the restraint it took to avoid following that up. Instead you gave him a withering look and peeled your eyes away so that you could look out for anyone else that might be playing hide and seek. Luckily however, no one else was sneaking around in the undergrowth like their unfortunate comrade who now lay like a crucified man in a ditch.

Meanwhile, Soap didn’t seem to have the same sense of anxiety as you in that present moment. He wasn’t done getting bitchy, oh no. Though that’s how it’d been ever since you’d both hooked up.

On the bright side, no one would be able to tell you’d been consistently finding your way into each other's rooms every other night because you both fought like cats and dogs on every mission, training session and meeting. Though, that said, it did mean working conditions were…strained. It had become a recurring theme in your weeks to get into hellish arguments and match the same unforgiving energy through the night time, rolling all around each other's rooms like a couple of angry deer interlocked with each other.

“Do you realise you could’ve been shot?” Soap continued. “This is why I keep comin’ at you hard when we’re training, you don’t think about anything else once you’ve got an idea in your head!”

You whirled round again and followed the tense line of his square jaw, it was like a cord about to snap. Oh, he really wasn’t leaving it. He was one to talk about not thinking when he was the one that had noisily tackled you to the ground and probably drawn all that attention in the first place for all you both knew.

Hot white seared the edges of your vision and you could feel a wad of coal sizzling away in your cheeks. Your body was fighting punching Soap right between his stupid bushy caterpillar brows, but you weren’t sure how long you could hold yourself off. His tone was practically begging to be corrected all on its own.

“Oh come off it Soap. You don’t get to play the big man because you possibly caught one man stalking me. I looked after myself just fine when you weren’t around. We don’t even know if he was following me either, he could’ve been alerted by you for all we know! ”

“Oh really? You can look after yourself? Well it’s a miracle how you manage it, that’s the second time I’ve stopped someone from killing you in the last month you stubborn cunt. He was following you because he came from your direction, there’s no way he’d have seen me from the way I came because I was careful. You could do with learnin’ a thing or two about that, think about looking after yourself for once and stop worrying about me. Stop bein’ a stupid little fuck with no impulse control and get a grip o’ yourself.”

He might as well have spoken another language after he called you a stubborn cunt. The last part of his sentence neglected to reach your ears and instead travelled into the shaking leaves. He knew how much you hated it when he called you that and still he insisted on doing it, driving you to the brink. It didn’t help with him getting in your face either, all the way in so that his hot breath practically slapped your cheek. That was just the icing on the cake, him getting dangerously close to you and shouting like a rabid dog - you had half a mind to put him down.

“Stubborn Cunt?” you repeated, staring at him like you’d carved your glare into a dagger.

“Aye. Stubborn Cunt.”

“You’ve some fucking nerve, Soap,” you breathed. “You don’t get to call me out for not being careful when you’re the one running round and taking me to the ground. I’m not the fucking problem here.”

He raised his brow at you, but didn’t back down in his challenge. His eyes were like an underwater chasm, dark and depthless as they stared back at you. A fight was out of the question, but you wondered if you could get a lucky shot in before you rendezvoused back to the transport with Price.

You could tell him it was one of the enemies. There was a fifty fifty chance he’d believe you with the way you’d both been carrying on. It was quite frankly a blessing that he hadn’t spotted the bruises or bites that littered both of your torsos after your heavy sessions in each other’s rooms, those weren’t marks that would be mistaken for what you both got out on the gym mats at all, not even Price was that oblivious.

“Fuck sake. Let’s just get out of here,” he grunted, rising slowly to his feet. “Not like you’ll ever take my advice anyway.”

“Your advice isn’t needed. I got by just fine myself before you came into my life sir,” you retort, sending him a challenging chin tilt.

He paused for a moment, his shoulders tensing when he heard you call him that, when he heard you call him by that familiar title that was only usually cried out into a darkened room. For those times when he liked to imagine that you were beneath him in rank while he drove the point home by pinned you under his unyielding arms. You indulged him only to get held that little bit tighter and fucked a bit deeper, a fair exchange most of the time - and right then, it only served to bolster you as Soap came undone.

His composure was knocked clean from his body.

“We don’t do that here,” Soap gritted out.

You smiled, your lips widening like the cheshire cat before a tea party feast. The upper hand finally sat with you, its loose grip precariously holding you above him just for that moment. It felt good to win against Soap, sometimes you liked to imagine it felt better than the sex. Though secretly you knew that was a lie.

“Well, I figured I’ll give you that for now, because I’m not letting you lay a single fucking finger on me when we get back,” you smirked, turning on your heel before you could see his reaction. “You can come begging if you want me again, MacTavish.”

-🧼-

When you’d gotten back to the base you’d both remained in an icy battle of wills, locked in tense silence with each other for days. The only time you deigned to communicate was for the benefit of the team, but other than that your doors remained closed and any evidence of your previous exploits had healed over. All that remained were strained looks exchanged in hallways and gritted teeth whenever you were told to work together, though through it all you stayed professionals and did as you were told.

There was no denying that other people could feel it though. Ghost had joked that he’d start bringing a riot shield to training, lowly chuckling as he and Gaz stood watching you both on the mats one day. Gaz had said it was like watching a Bear and a Tiger that’d been shoved in a cage together, he was waiting for you both to snap.

You both overheard them. You could tell by the way Soap’s eyes glinted, he gave away so much on the surface of those shining blue irises. He wasn’t deterred by them both watching. He threw a couple punches, expecting you to dodge them the way that you had, ducking and dancing backward to a point where you were forced to turn so that you weren’t shoved off the squeaky black rubber below. Soap took his chance and grabbed your arm, holding you against him with the meat of his bicep, dragging your head toward his.

“Are you ever gonna get over the other day?” he whispered lowly.

You tensed, your head practically spinning with the force of the implication behind his words. So he thought it was up to you to just forget about him insulting you and pretending that you were the issue on that mission?

You gritted your teeth and threw your weight back, freeing your body just enough for you to land a kick on his shins so that you could manoeuvre away.

“As far as I recall,” you huffed out, “you were the one trampling around and not taking care, Soap. You don’t get to hold your little superiority complex over me because you think you’ve saved me twice.”

“I have saved you twice!”

You snorted at that and took your chance to come at him, lashing out and putting all the force that Price would acceptably allow behind your hits. Every vein in your body burned, it felt like your heart was pumping pure molten lava, and your limbs were bubbling more and more with each passing second. The air was heavy and your chest burned as you lunged and struck out at one another, only growing more frustrated as you both failed to do much.

“What’s so bad about me wanting you to look out for yourself anyway?” Soap grunted.

“Its the fact that you think I’m insignificant,” you seethed.

“Funny, I don’t remember telling you that.”

“You act like it! You still look at me the same way you did when I first joined - like I’m nothing! Even after everything you still treat me like utter shit sometimes, you know that?”

You didn’t hold back this time, shoving Soap so that he was sent spiralling backwards. His body careened like a struggling seagull, but he stopped himself just before he fell on his ass and looked up at you with a withering glare. His pupils were wide and blown out, his chest was rising and falling heavily with his laboured breaths.

Something in the way that he stared sparked a light somewhere in your mind, an old neuron firing as you were suddenly reminded of your rougher sessions together. You would pretend to fend him off until you couldn’t and then he’d take you up against the wall, furniture, the floor anywhere. Somewhere deep below the depths you could remember him whispering to you, you don’t really want to fight me, you love this. Say ‘I love this, Johnny’.

You swallowed a hard breath and wondered if Soap was thinking about the same thing. Oftentimes, no matter how much you hated him and called him stupid and figured that he was filled with the same venom that you were, there were moments where the facade would crack. You knew that you were both more invested in the other than either of you would ever admit. Perhaps he was onto something when he called you stubborn…

“You two getting tired or something?” Ghost shouted over.

You both whipped your heads round and faced down Ghost and Gaz, then looked back at each other. There was so much in Soap’s face that you could hardly read him. His soft lips were slanted and the crease at the bridge of his nose was set into a firm line, his brows drawn down hard across his dark eyes. He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he got up and looked away from you again.

“Think its time for me to hit the shower, I’ve been at this a while,” Soap said, “Fill in for me Gaz.”

Gaz nodded and you stood there sighing, watching as Soap left. The man was a mystery, one minute he was in your face shouting about you not looking out enough and the next he’d be confronting you and asking why you were in such a mood with him. It would start up like a cycle, he’d insult you and forget about it in a heartbeat, then he’d ultimately come looking for all the attention he craved from you and once he got what he wanted he always hit back with the same stinking attitude.

In moments like those you thought of the rare nights where both of you would be so tired from fucking that you’d both collapse in the sheets together and cuddle. You’d lie there in a pile of dewy sweating skin and loose limbs and slowly find yourselves searching for the others warmth. You’d put your head to his chest and listen to the steady booming rhythm of his heart beat, and then he would sigh and run his hand over you hair and down your back, slowly drawing to a close at the base of your spine where he’d rub circles and draw you even closer.

You thought of those moments because you wondered - if you were to begrudgingly admit it to yourself - if Soap cared about you the way you cared about him. It was a fucked up kind of care, the kind that always ended in bickering and shouting and hurt feelings, but even through it all, care all the same.

You wondered if he knew how to care after all those years of focusing on being the best, focusing on making records and achieving fame as one of the youngest members of the SAS. In all that time, he’d honed himself as a weapon, but you wondered if he had paid attention to much else, if he’d kept track of the people in his life or if he’d let them fall by the wayside. Were you just going to be another in a long line of names in that notebook he always wrote in?

“You gonna give me the first hit for free, Frenchie?”

You jolted when Gaz playfully shoved your shoulder and snapped out of your thoughts. In all your pondering over Soap you forgot about all about training and everything else. You forgot about your surroundings and zeroed in on him. You cursed him and held your hands up, ready to block Gaz if tried to come at you and tried your best to focus on him instead, keeping your mind in the confines of the sweaty gym walls.

-🧼-

You didn’t see Soap for a little while after that. Ghost had come into the kitchen that night and taken him away for a meeting, and soon enough they were packing up and heading off on a mission together, keeping Price occupied with Laswell as they oversaw. It meant that things had been quiet around the base, but you were grateful for the interruption to the chaos.

It gave you some time to think and reflect on your journey with the 141 and the explosive relationship that you and Soap had developed. It was uncomfortable to admit it, but your work was getting sloppy and you were succumbing to your temper in a way you hadn’t in years. You were fucking a fellow team member and you were up all hours of the night sometimes stewing over arguments like an unwatched pot. Your professionalism was slipping and your relationship with Soap was the only factor that was affecting it.

You had half a mind to go to Price and tell him to move you, requesting that you go for the betterment of the team given the interpersonal relationships getting difficult. Not that you’d tell him the extent of the difficulty you were having, oh no. Price himself had threatened to do so plenty of times anyway. He was getting tired of you both scrapping like creatures of the alleyway and he was getting angrier every time he had to break you both apart.

Though you knew yourself that that was silly and you’d worked far too hard to be kicked out from the 141 in disgrace. Being taken out because you couldn’t get on with the team wouldn’t look good and you sure as hell weren’t about to get demeaned on a whole new level just because of Johnny MacTavish and his big stupid mouth. So you decided on the only other option that there was. You had to stop rising to him, had to get him out of your head for good.

-🧼-

Soap was back after a week, work weary and exhausted like someone coming from a long tour instead of a short stint in Colombia. After the debriefing he’d gone straight to his room and shut the door with a bang that rivalled one of his controlled explosions. Despite it though, you continued down the hall and knocked on that same door, stronger and more assured than the other times you’d done it, three firm knocks over the chipped paint.

You opened it without waiting for his response and blustered in, taking in your messy stomping ground with a tinge of nostalgia as you’d thought about what you’d done there weeks before, pressed up against the hard ground like a dangerous target. You bit your lip and looked from the sparse array of furniture and coverings and to their owner. Soap was hunched into a chair in front of the full length mirror, nursing on a bottle of beer while he swiped over his extensive injuries with cotton wool. His chest was bared and gnarly, his body was covered in lots of little cuts that looked angry and red, stretching across the thick expanse of his torso like the textured wallpaper you’d grown up with as a kid.

“Didn’t tell you to come in,” he said eventually, giving you a sideways glance.

“I know.”

“Then get out. I’m no in the mood to start shit tonight.”

You baulked, not used to him being quite so abrasive. Soap usually preferred to be cheeky, a little mean sometimes, but he wasn’t usually so direct unless you’d done something to him. Though it hadn’t escaped you how tired he sounded, his low voice even gravlier than usual as he tried to hiss and claw his way out of your presence. Whatever he’d been doing, it had taken a toll.

“I don’t want to start shit, Soap,” you said gently, stepping toward him like you were approaching a feral animal. “Do you need help? I can get so-”

“I don’t need help.”

He seethed when he rubbed over a particularly rough patch of flesh and cursed, slamming his hand into the table with a bang. You jumped, but remained there undeterred and merely watched on as he picked up his beer and angrily downed it. He lobbed the empty bottle toward the bin afterward, only missing it by inches, but unfortunately with too much force.

Both of you flinched when it smashed. It scattered pieces of green glass around the corner like a high pitched buckshot. The little shards glistened dangerously, as if taunting you with the idea that you were going to tear your already well abused hands up further.

“Fuck sake!” Soap growled, settling his head in his hands.

You stood there unblinking for a moment and gulped, not moving a single muscle. Your heartbeat was in your ears and the smell of beer pervaded the room like a leaking gas, but still you didn’t let it show.

Slowly, with tiny steps, you approached the pile of glass and picked up the pieces, trying not to let them crunch under your boots and scatter further, collecting them in the bin. For a while, the only noise in the room was the clink of the little glass pieces as you collected them, pattering against the plastic like crystalline rain.

When you put the bin down and looked over at Soap again, he still had his head in his hands and was breathing heavily. His back betrayed the way his heart beat a million miles an hour and immediately you knew that this wasn’t the night for saying the piece that you’d prepared. You shoved your speech to the back of your mind and thought instead of how you could try and calm him and bring him down from the panic he was losing himself in.

“Soap?”

No response. He kept rigid in his position and was still taking in air like a panting hound.

You stalked toward him, taking timid steps until you reached his side and gently laid your hand on his back. He jolted with your touch, his back tensing hard, but he didn’t shove you away or shout anymore. He was still, apart from his erratic breaths, you could feel his pulse now through his feverish skin and gulped as you realised just how fast it was.

“It’s ok, Johnny. You’re alright,” you soothed, rubbing calming circles into his back.

He shuddered as you said it. He whined, it came in low and trembled through the air like a puff of smoke, but nevertheless you heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone holding back tears. Everything within you screamed out to turn tail and run, leave him to his feelings, but your feet stayed rooted to their spot and your hand didn’t waver from its course against his back.

You reasoned that you were in a state of shock. In all your time with him, you’d never seen him like this, you’d never witnessed Soap being so shaken or even showing a hint of the man he’d become then. It was unnerving, knowing that someone so composed was crumbling in front of you, it was like seeing your childhood home knocked down into rubble.

“J-Johnny Come on,” you stuttered, unsure how he was going to react next. “Let’s get you up. Come on, come into bed. Shh, it’s alright, come on, I’ve got you.”

He was still mute, he didn’t take the opportunity to crack a lude joke like he normally would, or lash out like you thought he might, or even demand you leave again. Instead he surprised you by letting you drag him up from the chair, the material stained messily with his seeping cuts, and he collapsed onto the bed. The normally resolute and unwilling soldier curled up into a foetal position and shook on the dark sheets beneath like a scared lamb.

“Hey, shh. Shh, now. It’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You soothed him, attempting to calm him down with quiet words and joined him on the bed. Your body slowly formed around him and you wrapped an arm around his middle while keeping the other free, running it over the harsh spiky hairs of his lank mohawk. It sat messily and limp against his head, almost sweated free of the handfuls of gel it took to keep it standing. You felt the traces of product still, but weren’t deterred by them, continuing to rub his head and clutch him to you.

“You shouldn’t be here for this,” he said eventually, his words coming out breathless and weak.

“Why?” you asked.

Was he going to get defensive, did he not want you to see him like this? Or was he trying to protect you from an oncoming outburst? You thought of the many possibilities while the silence grew thick between you, his racing heartbeat the only other thing moving through the room. It beat hard and kept his body warmed like an overworked furnace, he was burning against, but you kept him held tightly to you nonetheless.

“You shouldn’t have to coddle me.”

He was still panting, but he continued to talk through it. He was insistent that you leave, but even then you didn’t miss the fact that he was pressing closer to you as he spoke. The stubborn Sergeant would never admit it, but he needed you there with him. You knew that.

“I don’t have to do anything, Johnny.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” he protested.

“No? How should it be? You wanna call me a few names and see if that makes you feel better?” you asked, chuckling weakly at your awful attempt at lightning the situation.

Soap huffed at that. You apologised quickly for the stupid joke and instead focused back on stroking his hair, trying to clear whatever debris that had been caught up in there. Through all your finger combing you kept discovering chalky little bits of gravel and tried to brush it out of him as softly as you could, occasionally running your fingers over his fuzzy scalp, thinking mournfully that he’d probably clip it back down soon.

“You don’t have to stay,” he tried again.

“I’m not here because I have to be,” you whispered, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“Why’d you even come in the first place? I thought you were still mad.”

You hadn’t expected him to ask that. Hadn’t thought he’d even be coherent for the rest of the night. Though Soap was incorrigible as ever, even through a panic attack he somehow managed to be the most composed psychologically spiralling person you’d ever attended to. You bit your lip and shrugged, ready to tell a half truth.

“I wanted to start a blank slate,” you murmured. “Didn’t want to keep fighting.”

“And you had to break down my door to tell me that?”

“I didn’t break down-!”

You cut yourself off before you could rise to him and reminded yourself that Soap was recovering from something bad, from whatever had happened over on that mission. So instead of correcting him, you clicked your tongue and rested back into the sheets for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“I just wanted to clear the air before things got all heated again.”

He hummed as a response and settled against you again, staying still for a moment. After a few minutes you wondered if he might have fallen asleep he’d gotten so still, the trembling that had wracked his body before, now settled. The sound of him swallowing thickly let you know that he was still awake, he was just considering what to say next.

“I fucked up today.”

You let his words hang in the air, the sentence caught up in the web of tension that already swirled between you both. You pursed your lips and ceased petting his hair, figuring out your next move. He was tense again, you could feel the static jumping through his bones.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked carefully.

“Not much to talk about. Someone threw a grenade our way and separated me and Ghost. I ran off to try and regroup and they caught up to me. They were gonna shoot me point blank in the face, but…Price stepped in just in time.”

“Jesus…”

Soap let out a breath and Sprawled out a little, cosying his back flush against your chest and settling his tired body into yours. You could practically still smell the explosions and gunfire rolling clean off of him, the chalky debris still caught in the creases of your fingers. It was as if he’d been plucked straight from the field and put back in his bed like some sort of game.

“I thought about you for a moment,” he whispered.

You frowned. Did he just-? Surely not? He’d said it so quietly, but even through the doubt that suddenly flared up, you were sure he’d said he thought of you. That seemed like the kind of thing it would take no less than a waterboarding for him to admit.

“You thought about me?”

“Mhmm.”

“What did you think about me?” you asked, voice full of wonder.

You were surprised he’d admitted it, however reluctant his hum of confirmation was. You had to see if he’d tell you more.

“Wondered if you’d be laughing at the funeral - glad I finally got shot to pieces - or if you’d be ravin’ mad you weren’t the one that got to do it,” he said with a small chuckle.

“MacTavish!”

Soap laughed a little louder and pulled away as you sat up, already anticipating that you were going to give him an earful. Ever the one to live up to your nickname, you were ready to start barking at him in an instant. You leaned over him and watched the little pilot light inside his eyes spark, not being able to help the smile that crossed your face as you noticed his anguish lessen.

“You can’t come out with fucked up shit like that Soap, I thought you were gonna say something nice! Sure I’ve made jokes in the past, but you don’t get to say that you thought about me before you were going to die and you thought I’d be glad about it! Fucking hell man, do you really think I’m that twisted and horrible?” you ranted, “you make me want to claw my eyes out at times, but I don’t want you to die! I care about you even when you drive me nuts and even when you make me feel like an idiot, I still-...why are you looking at me like that?”

“You care about me,” Soap simpered, almost visibly burying the trauma deep below the surface. “How sweet, my little puppy just admitted their little feelings.”

MacTavish’s stupid smile only got wider as he watched you clock what you said and he slowly began to rise up. He supported himself on his weakened arms just so that he could get a good view of your flustered face, eyes piercing into you like bullets. As usual. He was wielding his uncanny ability to make you feel like the room was a thousand degrees and you were jumping around like a fried egg trying to stop yourself from burning.

“Soap, all I meant was-”

“Don’t you mean Johnny?”

“No, Soap, I’m not playing this game with you right now.”

“What game? I’m just askin’ you to say my name - you were sayin’ it earlier!”

“Yeah, well you were in a bad place there. You’re clearly better now,” you said sourly, looking him up and down. “I’m not fucking you.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” he laughed.

“You did the moment you asked me to call you Johnny,”

“I dunno about that. If I was wantin’ that, I’d tell you to call me sir,” he said with a growl.

You squealed as he pushed you back on the bed, leaving you flat against the sheets so that he could lean over you and pin you down. The bastard seemed to have renewed himself in the wake of seeing you so vulnerable because in that moment he was caging you in his arms and keeping you right where he wanted you. Your hands flailed to attack Soap’s scratched up chest but it didn’t matter - you may as well have been trapped underneath marble, he clearly wasn't feeling the pain of his wounds so much anymore.

“Soap, c’mon! This isn’t the night for it,” you protested weakly, not even sure you were convincing yourself.

“Isn’t it?”

“You were just about on the verge of a breakdown, Soap,” you said flatly.

“That’s why I’m asking you to give me this,” he sighed, looking off to the side for a moment. “I need it. I want to feel in control again.”

He loosened his grip on you a little, but he used his adjusted position to lean down and kiss your neck, fanning his warm breath onto your sensitive skin. He knew all the right spots to go for, knew exactly how to win you round. You shuddered and held back a delicate moan before it could trickle from your mouth, body still trying to hold back even while some part of your mind traitorously turned against you - telling you to let him do whatever he wanted.

“Soap, please. Look at me a minute, please!” you pleaded, the sensible part of you winning out over the little gremlin inside. “I don’t wanna- I don’t want…I can’t just be someone you fuck to get over the pain. When we first started doing this it was fun, but now I’m at a point where I’ve realised that it…it hurts me.”

“What are you talking about?” he frowned, his eyes trained fully on you now.

“It hurts being close and feeling like I mean something to you sometimes, but somehow feel like a burden anytime we leave each other’s beds,” you said hurriedly, whimpering when you realised what you’d admitted. “I can’t keep on doing this.”

He paused for a moment, looking deathly serious, before he sighed and rolled over, releasing you from his iron grip a little, but still keeping you wrapped in his arms. Soap spooned himself over your figure and held you to him like a teddy bear, saying nothing for a good few moments until he’d thought of something to say. The cogs of his mind were rattling loudly in the silence.

“You’re not a burden. You’re just better off keeping your distance. Better off looking out for yourself, French,” he breathed.

“Is that really what you think? Cause sometimes- sometimes when we stay in each other’s rooms at night, it feels like - well I dunno how to describe it, but it feels good! It feels nice to be each other’s comfort. Then when it inevitably rolls around to the next day its like you become this different person and the guy that replaces you seems like he hates my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts,” he laughed, a strained and uncomfortable ghost of what he would normally sound like. “I just can’t let myself get too close to you.”

“Is that what’s happening right now? You not getting too close to me?”

He snorted as he evaluated the position you were both in and unwrapped his arm from you, the loss of pressure almost causing you to cry out. It felt like you’d been robbed of your beating heart. You sat up with Soap and stared over at him, looking at his eyes as they shifted from you and to the sheets and back again in an awkward circle. You’d have loved to have known exactly what was going through his racing mind.

“What is it you want from me exactly?” Soap asked finally. “It’s not like I can offer you much, shit if Price were to find out we’d be fucked. This is pretty much all I can give you, French. This is all there is.”

He gestured round to the barren room and stared at you earnestly, trying to show you that he wasn’t lying. As if you were asking him for the world when you were well aware of what he had on offer.

“I’ve never expected roses and a parade, Soap. I just wish that when we were outside each other’s rooms you didn’t lord around treating me like I’m an idiot that doesn’t even deserve to be here.”

“Would you stop saying stupid pish like that! I don’t think you’re an idiot, and I think you deserve to be here just as much as anyone else on the team, despite the reservations I had in the beginning you proved me wrong. It’s you that held onto what I thought before and now you’re projecting your crap onto me because you can’t see what I’m really doing when I get on at you! You’re so intent on making me out to be an arsehole, you just don’t seem to be able to get it into your thick skull that I’m tryin’ to look out for you. You’re tenacious and whether you like it or not you’re stubborn. You’re so intent on trying to prove yourself to everyone, you race off like a bull in a ring. One of these days you’re gonna be so distracted by seeing red that you won’t see the kill comin’ and then where are you gonna be? Where am

I gonna be?”

You froze like a deer in the headlights and widened your eyes, heart beating like a thunderstorm was going off in your chest. Vertigo was spiralling through you, every muscle in your body tightening as you fought to stay upright through the haze. Soap cared about you too.

It was taking a while to settle in. It was unbelievable to you after so many hours spent furiously combating what he said to you, nights spent grudging him for thinking that you were an incompetent liability, and now you knew that he returned your feelings back. This was going to make it doubly hard to stay away from him, scratch that impossible, you thought.

After deciding that you were entirely done with thinking for the time being, you wrapped your arms around him and held him close, mind breaking as the dichotomy of your intentions for the night and what you actually ended up doing sank in. You were cuddling the man that you’d come to ‘break up’ with. You’d fully intended on telling him that that was going to be the last time in his room and now you were reduced to a sagging pile of uniform in his arms.

Well, you couldn’t think too much on that.

The two of you drew back from each other and the moment you locked eyes, that’s when everything else melted away. All reason and good intentions were scattered to the wind, abandoned for a kiss that had you both fighting for control. All you had to do was ruck down Soap’s trousers and he was naked, but before you could do much else he had your top and trousers off too, ensuring that you were both bared completely to each other as you went on.

The sound of sharp breaths, grunts and moans filled the air like woodland ambiance. You were the foxes screaming out into the night and the little creatures that tried to move stealthily in the dark all at once, dampening moans and losing cries until you were almost screaming out into the echoing room. Soap’s hard body melded with yours, heating you like a hungry fire, tightening the ever growing coil of need within your belly.

“Yeah, keep moanin’ like that, puppy,” Soap hummed, kissing down the length of your body.

“Ooh, it feels so good, Soap,” you breathed.

You yelped in surprise when he slapped your thigh and whipped your head up to look down at him with a glare. The eyes that met yours weren’t regretful of their actions though, no they were downright set ablaze with expectation.

“You know better than to call me Soap,” he admonished, driving his point home with another slap.

You squealed as he bit at the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaning down and nipping you his teeth, he let his hands roam everywhere but where you wanted them to.He wasgoing to remain stubborn until you addressed him properly.

You huffed out a sigh full well knowing that this was far from where you pictured yourself that night, but even still somewhere in the back of your mind it made sense. You were in heaven and hell all at once, you were getting pleasure you secretly craved and were already paying for it in the moment. You were left panting like your namesake and feeling as if your body was going to explode. Why wasn’t he putting that stupid mouth of his to good use?

“C’mon please, Johnny, please touch me. I’ll be good for you, sir,” you moaned out, reaching for his mohawk so that you could guide him to where you needed.

“Aw, you’ll be good for me, hm?”

“Yeah…c’mon pleaseeee,” you pleaded desperately, whimpering when he nipped at your thigh again.

“Since you asked so sweetly, Frenchie,” he grinned.

You cried out as he licked a stripe down you, gripping the sheets in preparation for what was to come. With every flick and swirl of his skilled tongue, you were begging for more, singing for him as he growled and dug his fingers deeper into the thick flesh of your thighs. He was relentless, his mouth hot and perfect on you, enticing you in for more, causing that feeling from deep within you to grow as the minutes sweetly passed, you were racing to a finish, feeling yourself just about to jump over the edge like cloth in a gale.

Your fingers threaded their way through his hair, trying to encourage him to quicken his pace, but you’d barely gotten your hands tangled through a few spikes before your wrist was snatched away in his vice-like grip. You whined and tried to pull his fingers from you, but it was no use. He slapped your other hand away and fought you off with ease.

You gasped when he drew away from your thighs and started to crawl upwards, shaking the bed with the weight of his unyielding body. He was a tiger stalking toward you and you were prey unable to do anything but moan out like the pathetic little creature you were.

“Poor puppy, were you enjoying that?” he said, voice dripping with fake sympathy.

“Yes! Why’d you stop?” you complained, settling back onto the bed as you realised you weren’t going to get anywhere with him.

He was in charge now, not you. His eyes told you that much.

“Because you were getting greedy,” he said with a smile, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t get to cum before I do tonight. I don’t care how long you have to wait, this is for me.”

“Sir!” you protested.

“No complaining. You said you’d be good for me! You remember the last time you didn’t shut up? I can easily gag you again,” he threatened.

Your skin flushed further with the embarrassment from the not too distant memory of last time, it hit you like a train. He’d picked up an old scarf in a moment of frustration and had tied it so tight round your mouth that you were convinced Price was going to know something was up the next day with the redness that had been left behind.

Your heart was already working overtime trying to accommodate your overworked body, the thought of him leaving marks was going to send you over the edge. There was something so hot about surveying the damage you both did the next day, being able to feel him all over you while you trained, feeling the ache of him.

“I would never complain,” you murmured, giving him the innocent eyes.

“Uh huh, that so? Well why don’t you get on your knees for me and do what you do best.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't fight him. If he wanted to finish first then you were going to make quick work of hi, you decided. So with that in mind, you slid off the edge of the bed and pulled a pillow with you, settling onto it while you waited for him to move into position, dropping his legs off the edge and displaying his cock for your waiting mouth.

His thick length was already hard and straining, ready for you to ravish him. Your mouth was already watering in anticipation, while your body was shivering from the icy air, adjusting to being away from the unbearable warmth of Soap’s body. There was only one way to reclaim it, knowing this, you surged forward and wrapped a hand around his cock while you settled the other on his thigh, holding yourself against him and feeling the fine hairs of his legs brush against your sensitive skin.

You followed suit with him and licked a long stripe up his shaft to begin with. You then settled your tongue around the tip, licking and swirling until he was making high whiny moans in the back of his throat. You gathered the spit that already pooled in your mouth and let it drip onto him, pumping it messily down his length with your hand while you dipped your head and swiped your tongue over his balls,sending him jolting and shaking.

“Fuck! You’re so fuckin’ good at this,” he moaned, making the springs of the mattress squeal as he tightened his grip. “Keep going, yeah…just like that ugh-”

You could feel your mouth curve in satisfaction as you finally swallowed him, taking his dick into your mouth and to the back of your throat. Soap was left speechless and instead settled on a growl, grabbing your neck as you kept on sucking, ready to take over when he wanted. The pressure of his fingers round you and the way his cock jumped in your mouth only served to make you more determined, he was sensitive that night. He was all wound up and ready to go.

“Yes, fuck yes, oh my god! So good for me, that feels so good…”

You kept on a steady rhythm twisting your hand and letting your head bob up and down on him. Listening as his moans grew lighter and airier with every passing minute - like he was reaching the end of a piano scale, ready to come plummeting down. You were engrossed in your task, you barely noticed when he put a little more pressure on your neck and only realised what he wanted when he pushed you off of him.

You frowned, confused that he pulled away when he was getting close, usually never one to tease himself like that. Though, your confusion settled when he went straight to his drawer and pulled out a condom, inviting you up to the bed with a quick hand gesture. It was all you needed to come jumping up like a rocket, settling over him while you rubbed at your jaw, trying to work out the ache that already coursed through your tired muscles. Taking him was always a struggle.

“You did so well for me,” he growled, rising up to meet you while he slid the condom over his shaft. “I want to finish inside your perfect little body.”

You gulped, not able to respond as he kissed you deeply, swiping his tongue over yours and distracting you from any kind of coherent thought. All you knew in that moment was the warmth of his mouth and unbidden strength of him as he wrapped his arms around you, and the sharp sound of the lube bottle opening. Your body was so familiar with the sound you preemptively tensed for the cold of the liquid before he smeared it around your opening, you could feel his mouth smiling around yours.

“You’re always so sensitive,” he whispered, breaking away from your mouth and hovering around your ear. “Relax for me, love. That’s it, it feels so good doesn’t it?”

His breath tickled your ear and you shuddered from the dual sensation of it while his fingers entered you. Shivers raced up your spine and felt like they were sparking out of your body. First he started with one, but soon enough he pumping two inside you and getting you nice and ready for him. His fingers curled and kept up a good pace, and soon enough he was pulling them out and shoving you into position, knowing you were almost too gone to move yourself.

“Hands and knees,” he growled, forcing you upward while you struggled to get control of yourself.

You got shakily into position and for that he gave you more praise, making you squeal when he pushed himself inside you and buried your face into the mattress, forcing you into the soft sheets below. Your cheeks smushed up against the wrinkled bed and your stomach tightened as you felt him bottom out, your hands grasping to stay upright while he dug his fingers into your ribs.

“You’re so special to me, you know that?” Soap sighed, curling himself over you. “No one else drives me wild like you do.”

Your head was barely there, but still you heard him as he whispered his sweet words out into the air, dissolving into the atmosphere as your breaths mixed with each others. You panted as he picked up his pace, hips gently fucking into yours before they were bucking wildly. His cock caught in just the perfect spot everytime, the feeling of it pierced through your core and rattled around your body sending you wild for him.

“You feel so good. You’re so tight around me,” Soap groaned out. “Keep moaning for me, yes, just like that. Fuck!”

“Feels so good, Johnny. Yes, faster, feel so guh- good.”

“Yeah? Yeah? I can go faster, gonna give you everything you can take! That’s it take it!”

He curled one of his hands around your hip and played with you as he sped up his pace. The sounds he drew out of you were like nothing you’d ever made before, and they mixed with his loud grunts and moans to create a wall of noise that competed with the slap of skin on skin.

Your flesh felt like it was turning to molten lava and your belly tightened more and more as he continued, your legs shaking as they struggled to stay upright. Everything felt like it was becoming too much, too much heat, too much noise, but it was perfect, it was all you needed to reach the edge. You were so close. So, so close…

“Fuck, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” you called out, barely able to speak coherently anymore.

“Gonna come for me?”

“Yes!”

“Remember- ugh - what I said?”

He comes first.

You mentally cursed and fisted the sheets below you as he kept up his punishing pace. With the way he was going you weren’t going to be able to indulge him, your vision was already going shaky and your breaths were coming in in short pants, you couldn’t hold on any longer if you tried.

“I can’t hold on,” you whimpered, arms giving out a little as your hips tried to slow against him.

“Yes you can!”

He slapped your thigh and growled even louder, keeping up his punishing pace until he was straining, his thrusts were growing irregular and his hand was getting sloppy in its movements. After a few more thrusts he was spent, roaring into your ear as he pressed against you. You could feel the warmth of him growing inside you, but had little time to process as he bucked into you hard and sped up the hand that still snaked round your hips, sending you spiralling with him only a few moments after he had finished.

You felt sparks of white light dance outwards in front of your eyes, sparkling like angel dust behind your closed lids.You panted, feeling like your throat might burst from the pressure and whined, feeling your legs shaking even still as you settled against Soap and lost yourself in each other, dying a little death in his arms that now lay limp around you.

Neither of you made any moves while you recovered, his breaths huffed out against your neck and the air began to ring with silence as your heart quietened down. Soap’s mouth closed as he regulated with you.

The room begun to settle its spinning and finally you were able to keep your eyes open for longer than a few seconds. Within moments you were wrapping yourself closer into each other, shuffling and nuzzling into each other's skin like it was your last few moments alive, tangled up in sweat and heat. You both sighed as you settled and looked into each other's eyes after some time, each considering the other for a moment as the air settled around you.

“I thought about this,” Soap murmured, casting his eyes down to the arm you had wrapped around his neck.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“When they were gonna shoot me…I actually thought about lyin’ here with you. Someone told me once when you think you’re gonna die, think of somethin’ good so you don’t go down panicking. I thought of this.”

His voice was grumbly and low, so close to sleep that you wondered distantly if he was having a waking dream. You shivered again, your muscles aching as they tesneed back to life with frenetic energy. It was a little difficult to comprehend. The man that you’d once convinced yourself was an annoying robot sent to test your last nerve was apparently a well of untapped emotion.

“Did it work?”

“Did it stop me from panicking?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…difficult to say, that moment feels blurry now. Like short term amnesia or something like that. Didn’t help much in the aftermath though.”

“Too busy thinking of me while you were fighting your way out?”

“Pretty much.”

“Sap,” you laughed, feeling your disbelief reach its height.

“Not so much. Nothing more distracting than dealing with a semi in a firefight, Frenchie.”

Idiot!

You slapped his chest and listened to the whoop of laughter that left him with malice, suddenly having second thoughts about spending the night with him. Though even while you struggled to get off of his combusting chest, he kept you held against him, his thick biceps wrapping around you like overgrown anacondas and keeping you rooted to the spot.

“You’re a moment killer Soap!”

“Ach, don’t pretend you don’t find it funny too. Don’t get all moody with me!”

“I’ll fucking show you moody, MacTavish!”

#soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny MacTavish x reader #mw2 #modern warfare fanfiction

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bunwritesss · 8 months

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Burnt Pancakes And Chocolate Kisses

Summary: You have a mission: make sure Daryl's first morning at your new house in Alexandria is the best morning in the entire world. Will you succeed?

Genre: Fluff. The fluffiest thing I've ever written. 💕

A/N: Hiiii everyone!!! I am so proud of this one, I think Daryl is so adorable in it!! 💕 Also thank you so much for your cute comments, feeling like my writing is appreciated encourages me so much more than you think! I love y'all <3 Also as always I apologize for the english mistakes!

t felt weird, everything felt weird.

Your group had started moving into the houses that had been offered to you by Deanna, and you had begged Daryl to move in with you into one of those. Your pleading eyes and the excitement in your voice when you mentioned showers and proper beds conviced him to follow you within a heartbeat. You had moved in during the afternoon, both keeping your meager possessions into a corner of the room. This way, it would be easier to grab if something went wrong. You were happy to have found such a peaceful place, but you weren't dumb.

Neither of you slept well during the first night. You had tossed and turned into the bed, and even Daryl's soothing arms around your restless form did not help. You were both alert, unable to calm down.

But as the optimistic of the group, you did not let this awful night put you down. You got up early after a good two hours of rest, satisfied to see Daryl had fallen asleep as well, the exhaustion finally getting to him. You immediatly went to take a shower. The hot water hitting your shoulders and the dirt leaving your body had made you tear up, and you had spent a few minutes obsessively smelling the bodywash and shampoo that you found in the shower. You swore it was the best thing you had ever smelled. And as you left the bathroom, with a clean body that smelled like strawberries, a peaceful mind, and the biggest grin in your life, all dolled-up in cute jeans and a purple (purple! finally some clothes with non-neutral colors!) top, you had one mission. Make sure Daryl spent a good morning as well.

You knew the man did not miss domesticity as much as you, and you knew Alexandria and its dumb leader had taken a toll on him. He spoke even less than before, tensing every time a stranger approached you or someone in your group. And you knew he would not stay in bed for long, even though he clearly needed some more rest. So you did not have much time to make the perfect breakfast in bed for him.

Making the batter of the pancakes did not take long, the recipe was almost engraved into your mind. And thankfully, everything you needed was already in your pantry, or your fridge (and yes, you teared up when you felt the cool air on your skin. The lack of rest really did not help with your fragile state). Feeling bold, you dropped half a pack of chocolate chips into your mix. Chocolate was a rare thing to find during these times, but you both deserved it.

'Yer food is burning.'

You hummed to yourself as you turned the heat on, greasing a pan and letting your pancakes cook. As they did, you poured two glasses of apple juice, inhaling the smell of it with a tearful smile. You had showers now! Showers and a bed and apple juice and purple clothes and Daryl! If you were not so focused on your mission, you could have started crying right there, right now.

You went on finding the cutest plates in your cupboard, leaving the most basic ones at the bottom, and kept humming as you tried to find some kind of syrup to pour on your pancakes.

Daryl's voice startled you as you were pouring some chocolate chips into your mouth, eager to taste it again, and your eyes widened. The pancakes! You turned to the pan, and cringed at the look of your burnt pancakes, the room slowly filling up with smoke.

'Fuck!' You swore.

Daryl was quicker than you, turning the heat down and discarding the burnt pieces of coal (you couldn't call these pancakes anymore) into the trash. He smiled fondly at your bashful expression, placing the pan back.

You frowned playfully, letting him take care of the rest of the pancakes. You sat on the counter with your legs crossed, looking carefully as he poured the batter onto the pan.

'Why don't I cook these for ya, trouble?'

'It was supposed to be a breakfast in bed!' You protested.

'I'd have stayed into bed if I hadn't been woken up by the smell of burnt stuff.' He teased you.

He carefully placed the pancakes on the plates you had chosen, giving you the biggest ones, as he always did. You did not move from the counter and he simply sat on the table, munching on the pancakes like a starved man. Which he was, since you were both too tired to cook during the previous night, eating whatever could be eaten raw in the kitchen. You ate as gracefully as he did, both of your chins covered in chocolate. And as you finished eating, you both sighed contentedly at the same time. The shared sound made you giggle as Daryl gave you a confused look.

'The trick is to take them off the heat at some point.' He kept mocking you and you snorted, swatting his hip with a kitchen towel.

'Look, if you're this good at cooking, I'll let you make everything we eat.'

'Wouldn't mind doin' just that.' He said, his expression so sincere you almost felt the grateful tears coming back.

'I'm honestly so happy to be here!' You excitedly kicked your legs against the counterside, and then carefully placed both of your feet on Daryl's thighs. He rested his hands on your feet, enjoying your happy rambling. 'Are you happy, Daryl?'

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and he nodded with conviction. Alexandrians sucked, and whatever was going on between these walls was weird, but you were here with your chocolate-covered chin and your feet on his thighs, trying your best to make him an amazing breakfast, and smelling like artificial strawberries, so it was fine. The silent answer made you tear up again, and you rose from the counter, embracing him as you practically buzzed with happiness.

'I love you so fucking much.' You said, and his 'I love ya too' was muffled by your shoulder as you pecked his cheek, enjoying the chocolate stains you were spreading all over his face.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #daryl fluff

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jakes3resin · 1 month

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Ran My Fingers Through Your Hair

Curls Fic is finally finished, @getinthefuckingjaeger here you go, the finished thing. I'm going to go lay down and wail now.

John's curls are a mess.

Well, technically everyone's hair is a mess right now. Buck can't even imagine what his own hair looks like at the moment, but Buck can only focus on John, has only been focused on John since the man walked in looking like he'd been kicked to hell and back nearly a week ago.

It's just... John's curls are tangled. They're dirty, and Buck isn't completely sure they actually managed to wash out all of the blood. He'd been too focused on keeping John alive back then. He still is, but now with John's fever finally breaking, Buck can focus on other important things.

Like John's curls.

They're the prettiest shade of chestnut that Buck's ever seen. Never seen anything half as pretty. John says his hair's just brown, maybe a coffee brown if he's feeling poetic, but he doesn't know what Buck's talking about when he says they shine in the sun. There are pretty hazel and auburn undertones that you can see when Bucky stands just right in the sun if you look, and Buck always looks.

That pretty chestnut is hidden now. No hazel or auburn in sight. Buried even. Under dirt, blood, and grease like Buck's never seen. John's hair is a mess.

And don't get him started on John's curls. Buck can barely bring himself to see them as they are now. They're usually movie star pretty without John even trying. Buck had heard more than one girl lamenting how such pretty curls ended up with John, who doesn't grow them out or spend too much time on'em. He doesn't need to, Buck muses as he reaches out for one such curl. They just spring to life, beautiful and perfect. John grumbles more often than not that they're annoying under his crusher cap, how they're always falling in his eyes if he doesn't gel them back. So why can't he cut them off, Buck always gets asked, big blue eyes staring up at him with light and laughter.

Because I love them, Buck always answers. And that's that. John always let's Buck have his way and keeps his beautiful curls even when he moans and groans about them. He doesn't mind them too much really, just complains so that Buck turns to stare at him. He loves it. He let's Buck pet them and preens when Buck helps style them.

Buck's curls are limp now, weighed down and unwashed.

It's silly to be so hung up about the state of John's curls, this Buck knows. But, there's something in him that needs to see those curls healthy and full of life. A clawing, desperate thing that refuses to budge out of his chest whenever he looks down and see dark, dark blood and dirt burying those precious curls.

Where did it all come from? Buck brushes more dirt off. Why won't it just go away? Why is it there? What happened to John to cover him like this?

"Buck," Brady's voice cuts through Buck's thoughts, and he stares up at the other. He clears his head, tries to show Brady that everything's fine, that Bucky's on the mend.

Brady looks worried. Buck understands. Even though John's fever had finally broken late last night, they're not out of the woods yet. There's still the concussion to worry about, the barely healing wounds on his face and body, not to mention the general peril of living here in this camp that could end up killing John. Worrying about all of that is exhausting, and Buck hopes the boys can at least take some hope and solace that John's doing a bit better today. Some hope would be good for them.

"I brought dinner." Brady lifts his hands, showing off the bowls full of what passes for food round here. Buck presses his lips together, trying to calculate just what he'd have to bargain to get John something healthier. "How about I help him eat? Give you some rest."

Rest? Buck turns back to stare at John. He's still sleeping thankfully, but can Buck afford to rest right now? There's so much to do still. He can't leave John.

"I'm fine Brady."

Buck doesn't turn to look at the other man, but he hears him sigh and turn away. Plates clang together, and Buck just lets that noise fade away to check on John again.

He's still sleeping. Doc says it's good that he's sleeping, that it means his fever and concussion are healing. Buck hasn't seen those pretty blue eyes in so long, but he tells himself that it's okay. That rare fevered glimpses will be enough if it means John's here, that he's healing like he should be.

Buck doesn't think about those first few awful days. John collapsing into his arms. Brushing dirt off only to find dried blood and deep wounds. His temperature rising and rising without end. Of John's screams as the fever dragged up memories Buck couldn't understand. How John had stared through him, treating him like a ghost.

Perhaps Buck is a ghost. Perhaps he...

"Major, please."

Buck jumps when he feels a hand come down onto his shoulder. He whirls around, placing himself between John and whoever dared get this close.

"Brady," Buck breathed out once he recognized the other man. Brady stares at him, face pale.

"Please, I'll wake him up and help him eat. You can sit right there and eat too."

"I'm fine," Buck brushes the other off. Brady clenches his jaw and steps closer. Buck reaches down to bury a delicate hand in John's curls. Despite the grime, they ground him, keep him in the moment.

"Sir," Brady's eyes dart from John to Buck and back. "I'd like to help. He wouldn't want you working yourself to the bone like this. He needs you Buck, and if you collapse because you wouldn't rest, I'm not sure the boys and I could take care of both of you."

Buck presses his lips into a fine line. His fingernails scratch at John's scalp. John stirs.

Brady turns back towards the table. Buck looks down at John. His eyelashes flutter, but sleep still seems to have him in its grasp.

"We could wash his hair after we eat."

Buck whips back up to look at Brady. Brady meets his gaze evenly. His fingers curl up, strands of hair caught in their grasp. John shifts under him. He breathes out, forcing himself to calm down.

"It's not right leaving his hair like that. Doc said we could try washing it once his fever broke, right? I'm sure Bucky would love to wake up to clean hair."

Buck stares at him. He slowly extracts his hand from John's curls. John murmurs something just as Buck takes one stumbling step away, but Brady rushes in before Buck can move back. He smiles at Buck, but it's not as calming as it should be

"I'll be over here then." The words taste bitter.

Buck gestures to the table. Brady seems to deflate ever so slightly, but Buck can understand that. Watching over John can't be good for the men. John's usually so full of energy, and watching him sleep and sleep and sleep has to be taking it out on the others. Buck should say something.

"Boys," Buck greets as he drags out a chair next to Benny who greets him with a quick nod. Benny gives him room, but his presence is grounding as Buck sits. The others stare back over their plates. "Mind if I join you?"

"Course not Buck," Murph slurps up his broth.

"Take a seat."

"Thanks."

Buck barely tastes the food, which on any other day he'd be glad for. The Ritz this was not, but the longer he sits, the more he wishes to go. He can hear John’s voice murmuring something, but it quickly stops. The boys all talk, discussing what's happened that day, guard rotations, and any news they've heard from the new arrivals. Important things, but Buck can’t focus on them. Their voices fade into a dull drone falling into his ears. Buck takes it in and tries not to turn around.

He stares down at his hands and tries not to flinch when he sees how dirty they are. Dirt, John had said something about shovels. Why shovels?

"Buck?" Benny nudges him.

"Hmm?" Buck scrapes his spoon against his bowl for lack of anything else to do.

"Crank says there's an extra jug of boiled water if you'd want to wash Bucky's hair."

A jolt runs through him. Buck looks up. Crank stares back, a tentative smile on his face.

"That's mighty kind of you," Buck drawls. "Thanks."

"I'll go grab it." Crank rushes towards the window.

"How's ole Sleeping Beauty over there anyway Brady?" Benny calls out. Buck clutches at his spoon.

"Sends him compliments to the chef. What do you think he's doing, Benny?" Brady calls back, a sarcastic bite to his voice that sends the others laughing.

"Just asking Johnny," Benny's leg presses against Buck's, and he tries to smile as everyone seems to take this as a cue to settle down.

Crank comes back with the water, sets it down right in front of Buck with a satisfying thud.

“Should be enough in there to get him up to grooming standards, right?” Crank laughs as he says it.

Buck’s stomach rolls. His meager dinner barely settled before it turns over. He says something, he’s really not sure, but the boys all laugh and turn back to the last of their food. Buck turns his head and catches Brady tucking a curl behind John’s ear. Its the one that likes to hang right in John's eyes. It flopped back nearly a second later, stubbornly refusing stay.

Brady looks over and sees him watching. He smiles, but Buck can see how tired the other man is, dark shadows under his eyes. None of this was easy for them. John was a pillar for every man here, had been since the war began, and watching him struggle like this couldn’t have been easy.

Buck excuses himself from the table, unable to bear it any longer. His exit is quietly accepted as the boys start to gather up plates. Crank takes his and exchanges it for the jug.

Normally, Buck would protest, but the water plays some kind of siren song on him. The idea of cleaning John’s hair is too tempting. He’ll have to get Crank back for it another day.

“How’s he doing?” Buck sets the jug down next to John’s bunk. Brady’s hands quickly gather up their dishes. John doesn’t stir.

“Ate most of the broth, hates turnips though,” Brady gnaws at his lip. “Wasn’t fully lucid, but he recognized me which is something right?”

“Sure, it is,” Buck pats him on the shoulder. “Doc said that it’s a good sign if he comes around like that remember?”

“Right Buck,” Brady holds up the plates. “I’ll take these, and then we can wash his hair. Wait for me?”

“Sure,” Buck says. The lie falls off his tongue without any remorse.

John’s hair… It doesn’t feel right letting someone else wash his hair. Not when he’s like this and doesn’t know who it is. Brady disappears from view, and Buck grabs a rag from his own bed. Its not much, but it’ll do for now. He dips it down into the water, he really was going to have to thank Crank. Buck hadn’t even thought to save some water.

Buck turns and looks at John. His curls lay limp against his pillow, gnarled and greasy. There’s dirt and blood streaked across the pillow. Buck desperately misses John’s shampoo. Some dame had recommended it to him once, and it worked wonders on his curls. Left them soft and springy when John didn’t style them.

Buck runs the rag gently across his head, careful not to tug on any of the curls. It comes away spotted with dirt, and it kills him that he has no idea where it came from. None of them were this bad when they came to camp. Just John. Just John with his dirt and blood.

“You said you’d wait Buck,” Brady sighs from behind him, and Buck can’t find it within himself to feel guilty. “Fine, I brought a bowl. We should be able to soak most of the blood out.”

Brady helps him maneuver the bowl under John’s head. Buck tosses the pillow aside, a vindictive pleasure running through him at sending the dirty thing flying. John flinches when they pour the water over his hair, but Buck is quick to calm him.

“Stop,” John grunts, restless. Brady freezes next to him, but Buck just pets at his curls. More blood blooms bright red in the water.

“Just me, Bucky, just me.” Buck whispers even as John clutches at his blanket. He mumbles his name, and Buck smiles. “Don’t worry, just washing out your curls for ya.”

Brady stays silent but tense next to him until John settles. Buck reaches over for one of the aid kits they’d kept at the foot of John’s bed since his arrival. There’s not much left having been picked clean while John’s fever raged, but there’s some soap that had been left alone thankfully. Buck had bartered for it before John’s arrival, and hopefully it’d do the trick here.

“Its not shampoo, but we’ll make do right John?” Buck runs a hand over John’s curls. Brady jolts next to him, and Buck spares him a glance. Right, he’d forgotten that his John wasn’t the only one here. “Run the suds back and forth over the curls. Don’t tug on’em, alright?”

John’s curls still feel stiff in his hands as he washes them. The blood had clumped and matted the hair on the back of his hair together, but letting it sit in the water seemed to be the trick. The water turns a deep murky brown, but a weight lifts off Buck’s shoulders the more he washes away.

“Hand me that comb.” Buck points, and Brady jumps to follow.

Brushing through the wet curls calms him. He’s done it hundreds of times. John pliant under his hands as he works. All that’s missing is John’s running commentary. Buck carefully works around the cuts on John’s head. They’d spot cleaned them to the best of their ability days ago, and Buck wasn’t going to risk reopening the wounds now. Doc could take a look in the morning if John felt up to it.

Wounds like these don’t just appear on a person’s head. One cut, Buck could chalk up to maybe the bail out hadn’t gone smoothly, but there were three cuts on John’s head all of them crisscrossing. Something has to happen to cause these. Someone has to be responsible for this. John had said something about German towns, calling out for guards to stop something. The pieces weren’t connecting.

There’s no towel to dry out John’s hair, but Buck grabs his spare shirt. He’ll be fine. Brady disappears with the bowl and jug.

“Buck?” John’s voice breaks through his concentration. His voice sounds lucid this time, and Buck scratches his nails through the now clean curls. John hisses at the sensation. “That you?”

“Got it in one.” Buck can’t hide the relief in his voice. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” John grunts. Buck can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him at that. God he’d missed that voice. It hadn’t been the same during those fevered days. John hadn’t… John hadn’t been there, not really.

Buck puts away his now sodden shirt and comes round to face John. Clear blue eyes greet him, and he can’t help the smile that fights to appear.

“Tell me I look better than you do?” John’s eyes trail over Buck’s face, and Buck drinks him in.

“Never,” Buck grins. John laughs and then groans as pain no doubt spikes through his head. Buck rushes forward cursing himself. He grabs his pillow off his own bed and gently lifts John’s head to place it underneath. “How’s that feel?”

“I’d say better, but this is worse than any hangover I’ve ever had.” John murmurs, eyes pinched tight. “How long have I been asleep?”

“In and out for about a week,” Buck shifts putting himself between the light and John’s eyes. The soft sigh of relief from John tells him everything he needs to know. “What do you remember?”

“Germans,” John shuts his eyes trying to concentrate. Buck cups his cheek, and John practically melts into the touch. His cheeks feel too warm against Buck’s cold hands, but its not high enough to be a fever. “Brits actually hit something.”

“What?” Buck’s heart leaps into his throat. Had John been in a bombing? The question bursts out of him before he can stop it. A dish clatters behind them, the sound as loud as a bomb in Buck's ears. A bombing could make sense. That would explain the head wounds.

“No,” John murmurs, eyes shut as if the memories are hurting him. “Sorry, that wasn’t it. After. Was there after. Germans were there. So much pain.”

“John,” Buck tried to soothe him. “Its okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re okay.”

“Terroflieger, that’s what they called us.” The German falls clumsily off John’s tongue. His breathing speeds up. His hands twist in his blanket. “The guards didn’t stop them. Shot the others”

“Stop John,” Buck begs. He doesn’t want to know this. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe for me.”

“They asked about you,” John stares up at Buck. His eyes are wild, and Buck’s not sure John’s even actually seeing him. He’s a ghost again for John. “Asshole seemed smug about it. Shooting down all the good pilots.”

Buck didn’t know what to say. He pulls John into his arms, allowing the other to bury his face into his shoulder. He murmurs quiet platitudes as John shakes. He wishes he could stop those memories from hurting John. Wishes he could wash them away like dirt and blood and dirty curls.

But all he can do is bury his hand into wet curls and curl himself around the one person he has to protect. His fingers tug and pull at the curls, destroying all of Buck’s hard work as John shakes in his arms still talking. Still listing horrors that Buck can't piece together. Voices fade in and out behind them.

“Its okay,” Buck murmurs, pressing a kiss into John’s curls. They’re a mess again.

“We’ll be okay.”

#mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky #clegan #bucky egan #john egan #buck cleven #gale cleven #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #this actually took everything out of me #am i super happy with the final product? no #but i need this away from me before it causes problems in my real life

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

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Everybody Hurts

Chapter 18

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 12/27

Word Count: 7.9K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

The following Friday, you rode from school over to Trusty Transmission, the garage where Eddie worked. You’d never been there before but this morning, as Eddie snuck up behind you, arms around your waist and gentle kisses against your shoulder while you were getting your coffee for work, he’d informed you that your car would be ready and asked if you could stop after work to pick it up.

He seemed pretty excited about it and honestly, so were you. You loved riding with Eddie but it would be nice to have your own set of wheels, a sense of independence to go wherever you wanted without having to make a call and ask a favor. Your bike worked for anything in town while the weather was nice but if you wanted to head to the city for anything, you would need a car or a ride.

You caught sight of Eddie’s van as you hopped off your bike, placing it in the rack just to the side of the entrance. The building sported brown siding with a red roof, the name across the front in red as well, and multiple garage doors out front for cars to be pulled in for service. To the left was a parking lot where, you assumed, cars waited for their turn. Being the only mechanic shop in Hawkins, it had to do decent business, leaving no one any other option.

As you pushed open the door to a world of dirt and oil and metal, you were pleasantly surprised to see the garage was bright and clean. Large windows along the sides allowed plenty of natural light to cover the space as well as intense fluorescent lighting overhead. A car lift sat in the center and mechanics covered in black grease worked on cars throughout the place with a sense of productivity. A faint smell of oil hit your nose while the sounds of motors and tools echoed loudly throughout.

“Hey there, sweetheart, can I help you?” asked a man in dark blue coveralls, wiping his hands on a rag as he approached. He looked to be about fifty, salt and pepper dotting his dark beard and short hair. His name, Dave, was stitched in red across the front.

“Yeah. I’m actually looking for Eddie.”

Eyebrows rose up in interest, an amused smile crossing his lips, “Oh, so you’re her.”

“Sorry? I’m who?”

“Munson’s girl,” he grinned knowingly. “The one he’s putting in all that free time for. The little Honda is yours, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, heat warming your extremities. like sitting in front of a fire after hours in the cold, at being referred to as Munson’s girl. Did he talk about you like that at work? He had to have talked about you enough for this guy to think you were his girl.

“Man, he’s been working crazy hours to get that thing back in shape, staying long after his shift is over. You must be something pretty special for him to do all that work for free.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day Eddie Munson finally settled down with one girl. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to him, but it’s definitely for the better so keep it up, alright?”

“I…I’ll try,” you stammered. Had Eddie really spent hours working on the car? You’d just assumed it had taken so long because he’d fit it in where he could. Had it needed more work than he’d told you? You had never wanted him to give up that much time for you.

“Come on. Follow me,” Dave said, waving his hand and you trailed behind him, following him up to a black pick-up, familiar coverall clad legs with two black boots sticking out of the bottom. “Munson! You got a visitor!”

Fingers free from their usual chunky rings wrapped around the front bumper of the truck as he rolled out from beneath it. You were horrified when an audible whimper escaped from your lips at the sight of him. A black bandana was wrapped around the top of his head, smashing his bangs flat to his forehead, damp from sweat, the rest of his hair in a low bun to keep it out of his face while he worked. Grease stains, like strokes of paint crossed his cheeks. He was dirty and grimy and Jesus Christ, he was so damn hot. You wanted to pull those coveralls down and climb that man like a fucking tree.

“Prom Queen,” he grinned, catching sight of you, and you swore your heart would batter its way right out of your chest. “You made it!”

“Uh…yeah…I…I did…” you stammered. What the hell was wrong with you? You’d seen Eddie after work before. He often picked you up from school. But by that point, he had usually cleaned up, his hair was back down like usual, and the coveralls were gone. But for Christ’s sake, they were coveralls. They were literally called that because they covered it all so why were you so damn turned on?

“You wanna see it?” asked Eddie, hopping to his feet, eyebrows wiggling excitedly.

Yes. Yes you did, so goddamn much. Your eyes roved over his backside as he turned to set down the wrench and then pulled a rag from his back pocket, wiping his hands down before tucking it back in. Then this man had the audacity to undo the top buttons of the coveralls, dragging them down, allowing them to hang off of his waist before knotting the sleeves around the front.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” he muttered, the back of his forearm running across his forehead.

“Y…yeah…”

Eddie’s head turned slowly, a wicked smile curving his lips up on one side like a semi-colon when he caught you, panting after him like a dog in heat. You swallowed, surprised your tongue wasn’t hitting the floor. He stepped into you, invading your space with the tang of mechanical parts, the smoky aroma of the Camels he smoked, and the delicious damn musk that was just essentially him all the time.

Head tilting, his fingers grabbed onto a lock of your hair, working it between the pads, “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Very much.”

He chuckled, the sound like a shockwave straight to your center as he leaned in close, nose coasting along the skin of your cheek, lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Fuck, the way you’re looking at me right now, I want to kiss you breathless but I don’t want to get you all dirty.”

“I don’t mind dirty,” you whispered, eyes slipping closed.

“Mmm, that’s right. My girl likes to be dirty for me, doesn’t she?”

There it was again. His girl. The very sound of those words rolling off his tongue, his nose brushing your skin, did things to you that you could not begin to describe because they were things you had never felt before in your life. You considered yourself a feminist. You didn’t belong to anyone but yourself but fuck, when he said that, it was a sledgehammer crashing through everything you’d once thought about yourself because you wanted to be his, completely.

“Yes…” you breathed, losing sight of everything else but him. There were no sounds, no smells, nothing but Eddie.

“As much as I want to bend you over the hood of this truck right now, I don’t like to share. Can’t have the other guys getting a look at what is for my eyes only.”

You blinked, eyes going wide, suddenly remembering that you were not alone. You were in the garage, in the middle of the day, surrounded by his co-workers. What in the hell were you doing? Seriously, this man made you lose all self-control. The old you never would have let yourself get like this out in public. Of course, Cam had never given you a reason to feel like this anywhere, not even in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“Shit. Yeah. Sorry. Obviously, you don’t want to kiss me or anything in front of all the guys at work. I…anyway, didn’t you want to show me the car?”

Eddie’s tongue ran over his lower lip before he gently pulled it between his teeth, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb ran across your cheekbone. He smiled, soft and warm, a cozy blanket cocooning you, and then leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It wasn’t the all consuming kiss your body craved, the kiss that made you feel like he was devouring you, taking every breath from you until you were left fighting for air. It was tender and sweet, like a hug when you needed one the most, chicken noodle soup when you were sick, it was happiness in the form of a kiss.

“Darling, I don’t give a shit if all these guys see me kissing you,” Eddie told you, his fingers winding through yours. “They’ll just know how very sexy and hot as fuck my girl is. Let ‘em wish they could only be half as lucky as me.”

With a wink, he pulled you behind him, smirking at his co-workers as they watched the two of you with interest as you headed out of the building and into the lot that you had seen when you first arrived. You made your way past a handful of cars in various states of repair before he swung his arm wide to display your little Honda.

Your jaw dropped open, “Eddie…oh my god…this isn’t…is this even the same car?”

“Yep. Same old beater my uncle’s had for years but all fixed up now. I replaced the head gasket, sealed up the oil pan, put in a new battery, and got you some brand new tires.”

“But the paint…it’s…it looks brand new.”

The little Honda absolutely shined candy apple red under the glare of the afternoon sun. The rust spots were long gone. It no longer looked like a used car that needed love. It looked like it had just been driven off the lot. You couldn’t believe the amount of work he must have put in.

Eddie’s lips pressed together as he toed the gravel of the lot with the tip of his steel toed boot and shrugged, “It was just some paint. Not a big deal, really.”

“But it is a big deal,” you told him, beaming from ear to ear. “It’s a very big deal. I never expected you to put so much time into it. I…Eddie, I don’t know how to ever thank you for this. It looks amazing.”

He smirked, lips pouting preciously to the side as he took a step into you, backing you into the car, “I mean, I could think of a few things.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. How about you come to my place tonight?” he suggested and your heart skipped a beat.

“Really?”

He hadn’t invited you to his place yet and you hadn’t wanted to be pushy. He’d been staying over at your place quite a few nights and that was wonderful. But you couldn’t deny that you were dying to see where he lived, where he called home, to get a close-up look at all the personal pieces of Eddie.

“Really.” His hands covered your hips, pulling your body flush against his. “I can make you dinner and maybe we can come up with a way for you to show your undying gratitude.”

“You’re going to make me dinner?” you asked, surprised.

“Please. Don’t sound so shocked. I’m a grown man. I’ve been on my own for eight years. I think I can manage to cook something. It might not be fancy but I know the basics of working a stove.”

“Well, okay then. You know, I think a man cooking is very sexy.”

“Oh, do you? Maybe I’ll have to whip out my apron.”

“As long as that’s the only thing you’re wearing,” you teased, palms resting against his firm chest, knowing you were probably getting grease stains all over your clothes but not caring in the slightest.

“I am a very bad influence on you,” Eddie growled, his tongue darting along your lower lip, causing you to gasp.

“Very,” you agreed huskily, hands running down, over his stomach and hips, slipping into the back of his coveralls to squeeze his denim covered ass.

“Son of a bitch,” he grunted, forehead pressed against yours. “You are trouble. You’re going to get me fired, woman. The boss won’t think highly of me fucking you on top of a car in the parking lot.”

You giggled, “Guess I should get going then.”

Eddie reached into his pocket, holding up your keys, “Take your brand new car. I’ll bring your bike back to my place and I’ll see you later, okay? I get off at five and we can continue this then.”

“Can’t wait,” you grinned, kissing him once more before you pranced excitedly to your new set of wheels, causing that rumbling laugh from Eddie that you loved so much.

___________________________________________________________

The warm breeze of the day swept through the car as you drove home. You’d laughed when you’d turned the car on to find AC/DC playing, a little surprise from Eddie. The cassette case sat on the passenger seat, a note from him in black Sharpie that read, Because you can not only name three songs but could write their memoir.

Along with that cassette, he’d included a bunch more ranging from Whitney Houston to Metallica to Tupac, another note sat with those, reading, For my girl who appreciates true talent. Your stomach flipped over again at those two small words, my girl, pleased at the way they sounded, at how it felt to be Eddie’s, to feel like he was proud to show you off, to let everyone know you were together. Maybe it wasn’t very strong woman of you but you didn’t care. You could be a strong woman while enjoying belonging to someone.

You would never make yourself less than for anyone else. You would never forget yourself in your efforts to keep someone else happy. You’d done that for far too long in your relationship with Cam. Maybe you felt so lucky that a guy like him had ever noticed you. Maybe deep down you didn’t feel like you could ever do better than Cam. But you knew now that he wasn’t the perfect guy you’d thought he was and you definitely knew you could do better because you already had. Cam wasn’t in the same ballpark as Eddie. Hell, he wasn’t even in the same time zone.

Eddie stirred feelings within you that you hadn’t known you could experience. He made you feel wanted, desired, and taken care of. You would never be able to truly convey how much it meant to you that he had put all that work into fixing the car, that he’d even taken the time to fill it with cassette tapes he thought you’d like.

Cam was all about grand gestures, buying you a piece of jewelry or taking you out to the most expensive restaurant. But life wasn’t about the grand gestures because those came far and few between. It was about the little things, like leaving cassette tapes, getting your coffee ready in the morning, leaving you a little note to find in your teacher bag when you got to school that read, I’ll be missing that beautiful face until tonight. Those kinds of gestures cost nothing but meant so much more.

Especially considering that now, looking back, you were certain that most of those gestures were done from a place of guilt. Cam had been trying to cover his own ass, to keep you from becoming suspicious of his extracurricular activities, his late nights at work, his out of town meetings. And it worked. For far too long, you hadn’t questioned a thing, believing your marriage was rock solid when, in reality, it had been on shaky ground for years.

Cassie was probably not the only one. You remembered catching him kissing Rachel Litmore at one of his friends, Timmy's, epic parties. You’d been looking for him and what do you know? There he was, in the backyard, the two of them pressed together against the big oak tree, his tongue down her throat.

Oh, he’d promised you that it had meant nothing. He’d been so drunk. Rachel had tricked him. He was too intoxicated to know what was going on. Hell, he’d even said that he thought it was you. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. It had always been bullshit and you should have seen that way back then, long before you ever walked down the aisle and promised in front of all of your friends and family that you would spend the rest of your life with him.

But no, you’d convinced yourself that it was a mistake. Cam loved you. Of course he did. He always told you how much you meant to him, how you were the only one. You didn’t think that had ever been the case. How many more had there been for the man who always had to feel like the most important person? How many women did it take to satiate his need to feel desired?

You pulled into your driveway, pushing those thoughts away because Cam was your past and Eddie was your present. You hoped he would be your future, too, and you didn’t want to dwell on what had been. You wanted to dream about what could be.

Making your way to the mailbox, you pulled the front open, reaching in to grab the stack of envelopes. Leafing through them, you headed up onto your porch, unlocking the door, dropping your backpack just inside. Walking into the kitchen, you dropped the envelopes on the counter as you looked through, pausing when you saw a cream color envelope with your name and address embossed on the front.

You slid your finger under the flap, breaking the seal, slowly exposing the thick cardstock inside. Beautiful pale blue paper with silver writing:

Ms. Cassie Jones and Mr. Cameron Campbell request the pleasure of your company at their nuptials

Saturday, the 21st of September

1 o’clock in the afternoon

The words began to blur in front of you, your stomach rolling sickly. Your fingers opened, the invitation slipping from them and onto the counter. A throbbing began behind your eyes and you slipped them closed, inhaling slowly through your nose in an effort to keep your lunch from coming back up. You splayed your hands flat on the counter, your entire body trembling with rage at the cruelty of two people you once would have called the most important people in your life.

You snatched the phone off the wall, punching in your sister’s number. Kim would know what was going on. In fact, you couldn’t believe she hadn’t told you about it when you’d spoken a few days ago. Why wouldn’t she warn you that this was coming? A heads up would have been appreciated instead of the gut punch you received when you opened that envelope, just another blow dealt by them. As if running you over hadn’t been good enough, they just had to put the car in reverse and crush you all over again for good measure. Make sure they didn’t miss any pieces on their way to their happily ever after.

“Hello?” came Kim’s voice down the line, slicing through the fog of disbelief and anger.

“Kim?”

“Sis?”

“How could you not tell me this!?” you demanded, fingers wrapped around the cord so tightly that the rubber was digging into the tender flesh of your hand.

“Tell you what?”

“That Cam and Cassie are getting married in a few months!”

“What!?” You yanked the phone from your ear at your sister’s earth shattering shriek. “What in the hell do you mean they’re getting married? How do you know?”

“I got a goddamn invitation in the mail today!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. That is so fucking low,” seethed Kim. “Just when I thought they couldn’t sink any further into the muck, they prove me wrong.”

“Do they really expect me to attend this thing?”

“No! Obviously not. They don’t actually want you to come. They just wanted to rub it in your face. Look at how happy we are since you left. I’m sure Cassie is just tickled, showing you that he actually loves her because he’s marrying her. Well, newsflash to that trashy bitch, he married you too. It’s only a matter of time before he gets bored and does the same shit to her. Jesus Christ, the ink on the divorce papers is barely dry. Those two didn’t waste a minute and in a few months? They must have already been planning this thing because you know Cam isn’t doing anything small. He never passes up a chance to show off.”

“I…I don’t understand any of this. Why do they keep wanting to hurt me? I’m not the one who did the betraying here!”

“Because they’re in denial. They don’t want to be the villains in this story so now they can say, see, we’re in love. We’re so in love that we couldn’t help our feelings. We’re getting married and spending the rest of our lives together. We didn’t want to hurt anyone. We both love her but the heart wants what it wants. We even invited her to the wedding but she just can’t find it in her heart to forgive us.”

“No. How could I…how could they…Jesus Christ! How could anyone actually expect me to show up to this thing? They really think I would come, sit and watch the two people who stabbed me in the back pledge their lives to each other, and be happy for them?”

“No. Look, I’m not saying any of it makes sense. But this stinks of two people who are doing everything they can to rid themselves of their guilt, make themselves feel better about the shitty things they’ve done. You know what you should do? You should show up. They’d never expect that,” Kim snorted.

“Are you insane? Kim, I am not going to their wedding. The very thought makes me want to puke.”

“Yeah, but just think about it. They’re trying to rub it in your face that they are so happy while picturing you all alone, miserable, crying your eyes out. But you’re not. Show up with your new man. Show them how you’ve moved on, how you don’t need them. Show them how they haven’t taken anything from you and, in fact, your life is better off now. Show Cam exactly what he lost, what he chose to throw away in exchange for that inferior piece of garbage he’s got now.”

“Kim, no. I can’t do that.”

Your sister made a sound as if trying to dislodge a hairball, “And why the hell not?”

“Because it’s petty.”

“They’re petty! You don’t have to go and be a bitch. You just go and smile and hold your head high. You don’t even have to talk to them. But, come on, just imagine them up there, stumbling through their vows as they try to ignore that you’re sitting right there. Imagine Cam fumbling through his words because he can’t get over how you’re so much hotter than Cassie and what the hell was he thinking? Imagine him losing his mind because your new guy is so much hotter than him.”

“You don’t even know what Eddie looks like,” you sighed.

“I don’t have to. I’ve heard you talk about him. Am I wrong?”

Your cheeks blazed with heat, your teeth worrying over your bottom lip, “No. You’re not wrong.”

And it was true. Cam had nothing on Eddie. Those steel gray eyes couldn’t hold a candle to Eddie’s, like deep pools of top shelf whiskey that she wanted to drown in. His close cropped blond hair could not compete with Eddie’s soft, tousled waves. Cameron Campbell did not come close to Eddie Munson, not even in the same universe.

“Talk to Eddie. From the way you’ve described him, I bet he’d find an opportunity like that quite fun,” your sister chucked. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see that.”

“Cam wouldn’t know what to do with a guy like him.”

“But I bet you do,” cackled Kim.

“You’re so wrong,” you laughed, shaking her head. “You enjoy revenge just a bit too much.”

“No. I enjoy revenge on people who hurt my sister. That’s my job, babe. Nobody messes with my family.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you too, pushover.”

“Alright, speaking of my new man, I have to get going. He’s making me dinner tonight at his place and I have to get ready. Oh, and I get to drive my new car over there. He got it all fixed up and gave it a new paint job. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw the before and after. It looks brand new!”

“Sis, I am so happy for you. Eddie sounds like an amazing guy. He’s already done more for you in a few weeks than Cam did in a decade. I can practically hear the happiness radiating off of you over the phone. You deserve this, sis. Seriously.”

“Thanks. I am pretty happy.”

“So, when are you bringing him home so we can meet him?”

“Kim, I gotta go.”

“Hey! When do I get to meet this tall, dark guitar player?”

“Love you, Kimmy. Bye.”

“Don’t you hang up!”

___________________________________________________________

“Welcome to my castle, fair maiden!” Eddie bellowed loudly as he swung the door open to his place, ushering you in with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

A loud laugh erupted from you as you saw he had actually donned an apron for the occasion. It read It’s no sin to get my sauce on your chin, with a saucepan and spoon full of liquid. Of course Eddie would have an apron like that.

“Love the apron,” you told him, dropping your purse onto a chair just inside the door.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s teeth flashed brilliant white. “Well, if you like my spaghetti sauce, you’ll absolutely love…” He brought both hands down in front of him just in case you didn’t get the very obvious meaning behind the message.

“Got it, thanks.”

He shrugged as he waved and you followed him into the kitchen, “You’re the one who said you wanted to thank me for the car. I mean, that would be an excellent show of gratitude.”

“Duly noted,” you chuckled, leaning over the pot simmering on the stove, inhaling the aroma of spices. “This smells amazing. Is that…did you make spaghetti sauce?”

“I did,” he stated, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter. “I learned from my Uncle Wayne. He’s not a gourmet chef or anything but he can whip up a few things and his spaghetti sauce is way better than some Ragu from a jar.”

Your eyes moved around the house, eager to soak in as much detail as you could about the man in front of you. This was his sanctuary, his space, and you were itching to see what treasures you would come across in here that might give you just a little more of a peek into the enigma that was Eddie.

“Your house is nice,” you commented. “Want to give me a tour?”

Eddie pushed off the counter with his hands, “Okay. The bread’s got about six more minutes and the sauce needs to simmer a bit. Well, kitchen as you can see. You walked through the living room when you came in.” He moved through the archway of the kitchen. “Dining room and there’s a half bath just down that hall, along with the door to the garage.” Taking your hand, he led you up the stairs, pushing open a door to the right. “This is a bedroom but I use it for my instruments and amps and shit for now. Across the hall is another bedroom where I stuck my old bed from the trailer. Occasionally, if one of the guys gets shitfaced or something they’ll crash. Next to that is the bathroom and then…” He pushed open the last door on the right. “This is my room.”

Your hand curled around the frame of the door as you looked inside. The bed was covered in a black blanket. The walls were a deep red where they weren’t covered in posters of various metal bands from Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath to Judas Priest and Metallica. A large Corroded Coffin banner hung along one wall, a dark red guitar with crackles of black paint proudly displayed underneath. You slowly stepped inside, making your way over to it before turning back to him.

“Is this guitar special? Do you still play it?”

Eddie’s hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing, “No. I don’t play that one anymore. It uh…it kind of saved lives, I guess. I don’t know. It just felt wrong to play it anymore but it also felt wrong to get rid of it so it sits there.”

You glanced over your shoulder, confused. “The guitar saved lives?”

“I mean, yeah? Kind of. I don’t know. I guess maybe I did it because I was the one playing it but it…you know, I really should go check on that sauce. Red is a bitch to get out when it boils over.”

He turned on his heel and walked out suddenly, leaving you standing in his bedroom. You looked around you, wanting to stay, to get a closer look at all the things on his nightstand and his dresser. But it would be weird if he went downstairs and you just remained up there. He would definitely think you were snooping. So, with a sigh, knowing you’d gotten a small piece of a much larger picture once again, you followed him back down and into the kitchen.

Eddie turned his head at the sound of your feet across the linoleum floor. With a smile, he gestured for you to sit at the dining room table, a small round wooden table with four chairs. The top looked like it had been well-loved, possibly a hand-me-down, notches dug deep into the wood in places. Your finger ran along one, feeling suspiciously like it could fit one of Eddie’s large rings. You imagined him sitting in this exact spot, anxiety running through him as he tapped or pounded his finger against the tabletop.

“Your house is really nice,” you commented when Eddie approached with a big plastic bowl covered in a towel.

He snorted, “Thanks, I guess.” He shrugged, calling over his shoulder as he headed back into the kitchen, scooping pasta and then sauce onto a plate. “I mean, I don’t really have that Home and Garden vibe going on but it works for me. You know, if you’re into nerdy shit, heavy metal, and thrifting for furniture.”

“Oh, I love thrifting!” you exclaimed just as he was setting one plate in front of you and another across from you. “You can find really great stuff that other people just planned to toss out in the trash.”

“Well, that explains it!” Eddie proclaimed with a chuckle. “Wine, beer, water, or pop?”

“Umm, wine if you have it.”

“White, okay? It’s just the box shit. I keep it around for the girls.”

“Fine with me.” He made his way back into the kitchen so you called loudly, “And explains what?”

“Why you’re into me,” he answered, setting a glass in front of you before taking the seat across from you. Eddie lifted his fork, twirling pasta onto it and shoveling it into his mouth with a smile, his eyes lighting up mischievously. “I’m the definition of thrift store, baby. I’m the trash that was sitting on the side of the road and you decided to save me from the dump and load me in the back of your car.”

“Eddie…” you groaned, sipping on your wine. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked through a mouthful of garlic bread.

“Talk about yourself like that, like you’re not worthy, like you’re not an absolute find. You’re not garbage. And if you are thrift store, you’re the priceless antique that someone tossed in the pile without realizing its true value. And I am thankful that they did because then I just happened to get lucky enough to find you.”

“Damn sweetheart, you’re gonna make me blush.”

“I’m serious. Eddie, you know, if you would just tell me what happened back then then maybe I could…”

His fork hit the plate with a clatter and he sat back, dropping his napkin in his lap, “Prom Queen, we talked about this. I can’t tell you that. I will tell you anything else you want to know but not that, baby. You told me you could handle not knowing everything.”

“No, I know I did,” you said quickly, bringing your glass to your lips, taking a long swig. “And I can. It’s fine. I just thought…never mind.” It wasn’t fine but it had to be. Eddie wasn’t going to share with you. You swallowed down another drink of wine, pushing back the disappointment. “Anyway, I got an invitation to Cam and Cassie’s wedding today in the mail.”

Eddie sputtered, almost showering you with his beer. His hand came to his mouth, he swallowed slowly, and set the bottle down onto the table. Folding his hands, he leaned in, that little furrow appearing between his eyebrows.

“Are you shitting me?”

“Nope. Not shitting you. They’re getting married on September 21st. Didn’t want to waste any time I guess.”

“Those fucking assholes. Jesus, that’s goddamn low, man. I can’t believe they had the balls to send you an invitation.” His fist slammed down onto the wood, the plates clattering, you jumping. That same hand instantly opened, reaching over the table to cover yours, thumb running over the back of it soothingly. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That just pisses me the hell off. I just, Jesus, are you okay?”

You shrugged, offering a small smile, “Yeah? No? I don’t really know.”

Eddie’s head tilted forward, eyes trying to catch yours, his own wide, almost vulnerable as he asked softly, “Do you still love him?”

“No,” you stated, shaking her head. “No. Any love I felt for him died as soon as I realized he’d been cheating on me for a year. It’s not that. I mean, I will always care about both of them in some weird twisted way because they were such a large part of my life for so long. But it’s not even that. It’s just that I don’t understand how two people who I trusted with everything, two people who I thought cared about me, loved me, are so willing to hurt me again and again. They claimed they couldn’t help their feelings but to send me an invitation? To rub it in my face that they’re together and happy after everything? Why?”

“To make themselves feel better. To say, see, we’re not the assholes everything thinks because we’re in love. And to say they invited you but you couldn’t be the bigger person and come, which is all a bunch of bullshit and anyone with half a brain cell could figure that out.”

Your fingers ran over your brow bone as you chuckled, “You sound like my sister. Kim said something very similar.”

“Sounds like a smart girl.”

“I don’t know about that. She also said I should go and take you as my date to rub it in their faces.” You rolled your eyes, guffawing at the very idea, finishing off the last of your wine. “Can you imagine?”

Those plush lips pooched out as he raised his hand up, finger pointing directly at you. You did not have a good feeling about whatever was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Actually, I think that’s a damn good idea,” Eddie said, only proving your fears correct. “I say we do it. Why not? I think I have a suit jacket up in the closet from…well, a funeral. Let’s do it. Let’s go and have the best damn time. Why not?”

“Why not? Eddie, are you kidding me? There are a million reasons why not.”

“Like what? Because he’s an asshole? Because she’s a raging bitch? Because they wouldn’t like it if we were there? Well, maybe they should have thought about that before they invited you.”

You rose from your chair, coming around the table, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Eddie, they did not actually want me to come. We both know that.”

“They sent the invitation,” he sang, his chair moving along the floor with a scrape as he pushed back from the table. Large hands covered your hips, pulling you into him. “Besides, I really do want you to come.” There was that mischievous grin again. “I mean, it’s vitally important to me.” Those hands traveled, cupping your breasts as he rose to his feet. “Maybe the most important thing to me.”

“Eddie…” you breathed when one of his hands slid into your hair, tangling the locks between his fingers, tugging it back. His nose and lips moved up the side of your neck.

“Come on, Prom Queen,” he urged, rocking his hips forward, his already hard length providing sweet pressure that had you moaning. “Let’s go to that wedding.” Teeth scraping the skin of your jaw, hand kneading the fleshy mound of your breast through your top. “Let him see how stupid he is.” A nip at your earlobe, tongue slipping along the shell of your outer ear. “Let me show him how very glad I am that he’s so fucking dumb.” Fingers slipping underneath your top, dragging over your stomach, pinching your nipple between his fingers until you cried out. “Because now this is all mine.”

Then your shirt was off and his lips were claiming yours, tongue dominating yours, hands massaging your breasts. You groaned, the sound swallowed, hands gripping the lean muscles of his biceps as you met his kiss with the force of the desire currently pulsing between your thighs. You rose onto your toes and Eddie’s hands came to your waist, lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

Fevered kisses, gasped breaths, and then you were on your back on his couch and his lips were everywhere, your body buzzing, nerve endings burning, held open to the open flame that was Eddie’s lips, tongue, and teeth. His hands grabbed onto the waist of your shorts, pulling them slowly down your legs, that beautiful mouth worshiping every single inch of skin as it was exposed.

Kisses to your ankle, your calf, his hand wrapping around it and nudging it over until it landed on the floor, opening you to him. You groaned roughly when his mouth laid over your lace panties, a slow exhale, warm breath brushing over your most sensitive parts. Your hand tangled in his long locks, pulling his head back and away.

Eddie’s eyes, molten chocolate, burned into yours as that lower lip jutted out in the sweetest little pout, annoyed that he had been stopped. You rose up onto your knees, grabbing onto the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your hand came to his chest, pushing him back against the arm of the couch.

“What did you stop me for, baby?” he growled, his finger hooking into your panties, pulling you toward him. “I was gonna make you feel good, make you forget all about those assholes.”

“Mmm, and I am looking forward to that, but I believe I still owe you a thank you for the car,” you reminded with a smile, your fingers working his belt buckle, coming free with a clink as you slid it from his jeans, holding it up and dropping it to the floor with a thud.

“Oh yeah?” One eyebrow raised, those lips curving up on one side as you unbuttoned his pants, the purr of his zipper as you slid it down.

Eddie lifted his hips as you grabbed onto the loops of his jeans, pulling them down and off, leaving them in a heap on the floor, quickly followed by his boxers. Sitting back on your heels, your tongue ran along your bottom lip as you took in the sight of his engorged cock, the tip glistening with wetness already as he sat, one leg against the back of the couch and one on the floor, spread and ready for you.

“Like what you see, baby?” mused Eddie, head shifting to the side, brown locks falling across his face, those deep brown eyes watching you intently.

“Very much.”

You settled yourself on your stomach between his legs. Reaching out, you took his length in your hand, velvet fingers moving along his rigid shaft. Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut at your touch.

“Fuucckk…” he groaned.

“Feel good?” you inquired, your grip becoming firmer as you pumped him with your palm.

“So good, sweetheart…so fucking good…”

Bolstered by his reaction, you flicked your tongue across the tip, delighting in the hiss from between his teeth that followed, his hips bucking up, reactively searching for your mouth. Keeping your hand around the base, you wrapped your lips around him, working as much of him as you could inside the warmth of your throat.

“Jesus Christ, yeah, baby. Just like that,” Eddie praised, bucking up and into your mouth, sending the tip of him hitting the back of your throat until you gagged. “Love that goddamn mouth. Looks so pretty wrapped around my cock, princess.”

You hummed around him as his fingers dove into your hair, guiding you up and down. Wetness pooled in your panties, pleasure racing through you at the knowledge that you could make him feel this good. You’d never had a man react to your touch the way Eddie did and you found it was a powerful aphrodisiac. You swore you could get off just from the sounds that you were capable of drawing out of him. You just wanted to make him moan, growl, and curse again and again.

You released him from your mouth to run your tongue along the underside, the thick vein that ran there. Continuing to work him in your hand, you lifted his cock up just enough and then you did something you’d never done before. Hesitantly, you ran her tongue over one of his testicles.

“Jesus fuck!” Eddie cried out, his entire body tensing for a moment. “Fuck baby, do it again.”

You eagerly complied with his command before taking one of the heavy sacs into your mouth carefully, remembering your friends talking about how sensitive they were, how guys loved ball play but you had to be gentle. The sounds that Eddie was currently making let you know that whatever you were doing was right as you sucked softly before showing the other one the same attention.

“You’re like goddamn magic…jesus…fuck me…baby, I’m so close…” he gasped, guiding your mouth back to his cock.

You took his length in again, hollowing out your cheeks. Your hands came to his thighs, the muscles tense under your grasp. Eddie’s hips rocked helplessly, his head collapsed back against the arm of the couch, sweat slicked tendrils of hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He looked so goddamn beautiful on the verge of losing control and all because of you.

“Fuck yes. Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop. Right there. Jesus. Fuck. Shit. Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, his grip on your hair tightening as he roared, back arching up and off the couch before he painted your throat with his release. “Holy shit…that was…holy shit…”

You smirked, swallowing him down, before crawling up his body. Hovering over him, you tenderly pushed pieces of hair from his face, your heart aching at the sight of him, completely blissed out, peaceful, happy, a small smile on his lips as he looked up at you.

“You are so beautiful,” you whispered, thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“I thought we went over this,” Eddie teased. “Sexy, sweetheart. I’m sexy. It’s much more manly.” He snatched your hand in his, pressing his lips to your fingertips. “But thank you. Now, I have something that I started before I was so rudely interrupted that I am dying to finish.”

“Oh, by all means, don’t let me stop you,” you laughed.

“Sweetheart, the goddamn U.S. Army couldn’t stop me.”

He leaned into you until you had no choice but to lie back on the couch, his lips claiming yours once again. Calloused fingers, a guitar player’s fingers slid along your skin, down your side to hook into your underwear.

Just as Eddie was dragging the lacy fabric over your hip, the entire room lit up with a flash of lightning that was quickly followed by a rumble of thunder so loud that it shook the house. It took you a moment to realize that Eddie was frozen, his hand on your outer thigh, and that hand was trembling.

“Eddie?” you asked softly, your own hand cupping his cheek, turning his head to you.

His eyes were wide, no longer molten chocolate, those brown pools were defenseless with fear. Plush lips were parted, quick ragged breaths sounding between them. You didn’t know how you knew but you knew he was back there, wherever there was, the place of his nightmares and something about the storm had set him off.

“Eddie? Hey. It’s okay,” you assured, sitting up, your arm coming around him, his body shaking, like the lone leaf on the tree, fighting to survive the bitter winter wind.

You pulled him to you, his body collapsing against yours as if he were a rag doll, an inanimate object incapable of movement. You snatched the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around the two of you. Just holding onto him, you rocked gently back and forth in an attempt to soothe whatever was aching in him.

Eddie whimpered, soft moans, his eyes slipping closed, head shaking back and forth. He was scaring you, again, but you knew you wouldn’t get anything out of him now. He was in the midst of it, all but gone to you, his body was with you but his brain was somewhere else entirely.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” you repeated again and again, trying anything you could think of to make whatever this was better for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I fucking hate lightning…that place…red sky and lightning…” He groaned, burying his face against your neck like a frightened child.

“That’s okay. Fuck lightning.” You ran your hand over his hair, your other one gripping his arm tightly, keeping him locked against you. You had no idea what place he was talking about. Red sky? The fire? Was there a storm the night of the mall fire?

“Don’t…don’t leave me, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I am going to stay right here with you, okay? I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay.”

“I’ll never be okay…”

Your eyes slipped closed, a tear slipping down your cheek, your heart aching for him, the things he’d seen, the things he’d been through, the things you would never get to know and could therefore never truly be able to help him with.

Chapter 19

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