#shes a chaotic blonde child

[munsons-curls]

Black Dahlias

Pairing: Ghostface!Eddie Munson x F! Reader (18+)

Contains: 18+!! Heavy, graphic smut. Rough, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex (M/F receiving), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink if you squint, possessive!eddie, mean!eddie, slight innocence kink. Minor ghostface!steve. CANON DIVERGENT.

Trigger warnings: DUBCON, knife play, stalking, panty theft, drinking and drug consumption, emetophobia, allusions to sexual assault and child abuse, graphic depictions of murder, violence and gore. <-PLEASE HEED THESE TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!

A/N: happy All Hallows’ Eve!! 🎃 thank you so so so much to T @hotchs-bitch for leaving me 112 comments on this Google doc despite having her own 17k word WIP. I love u.

Somebody’s watching you. 

Your eyes dart around the open courtyard, scanning the area for anything, anybody that stands out, but the unease rolling in your stomach dissipates as quickly as it arrives. 

In the distance, you spot a tall figure lighting a cigarette under the awning of the drama block. His dark, curly hair sits at his leather and denim clad shoulders, ringed fingers bringing a cigarette to his mouth. He’s initially a cutting figure, intimidating and looming but you find yourself drawn to him in a magnetic way. 

You meet his eyes briefly, your attention ripped away when a girl with short, dirty blonde hair rushes past you, splashing you with her converse. She windmills to a stop and begins apologising profusely, running back to you. 

You meet his eyes briefly, your attention ripped away when a girl with short, dirty blonde hair rushes past you, splashing you with her converse. She windmills to a stop and begins apologising profusely, running back to you. 

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I’m so sorry.” She rasps. “I totally didn’t even see that stupid puddle and now you’re soaking!” 

“No harm done.” You smile, downcast. “I was already wet.” 

She looks you up and down, her eyes widening at you soaking through your clothes. “I’m so sorry. Do you have, like. A ride or something? How long have you been waiting here?” 

“Since class let out. I’m just waiting for the rain to clear to walk home.” You smile.

“Okay. Forget it. C’mon. You’re coming with me.” You’re being dragged away by a well-meaning hand before you can protest, leading you to a dark red BMW. “C’mon!” She insists when you drag your heels, pulling you down the hilly path to the car. 

You curiously look back for the figure in the distance, but he’s gone by the time you manage to pull free of your new friend. 

“I’m Robin. And that head of hair you see is Steve.” She says, motioning to the driver in a green uniform vest.

You greet Steve quickly and he mock-salutes you with two fingers, offering you a tight smile as Robin ferries you into the back of the car, quickly taking her place in the passenger side. She shakes out her hair, water droplets splattering Steve. 

He squirms and wipes his face before starting the car. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes, Robin. I’ve told you—if you want rides from me, the least you can do is be on time.” 

Evidently, Robin bringing in strays isn’t new to Steve, he doesn’t seem at all irritated by an unknown girl dripping rainwater in the back of his BMW. He’s more irritated by the wait. 

“Vickie needed help with a special project! Besides, class actually let out fifteen minutes ago, so technically we’re both late.” 

You stifle a laugh in the backseat, and your driver’s eyes flit up to yours through the rear view mirror. “Who’s your friend?” 

“That. Is actually a great question.” She muses. “We just met and I couldn’t stand to leave her out in the rain. I didn’t get your name.” She turns around to face you. “Did I?” 

She seems harmless enough, a little frazzled and chaotic, but rumours about this town put you on edge. The cult-like unsolved murder of Chrissy Cunningham two months ago still sits like a layer of smog over the town, a simultaneous refusal of the townspeople to acknowledge it—or let it go. 

You know the guy accused was cleared. How or why—you’re not privy to yet. 

You will be soon enough. 

You smile and tell Robin your name. 

“Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Steve asks. 

“Yeah, my dad took a job at that new state lab, so I transferred in.”

“I see. And where am I taking you lovely ladies today?” 

Robin’s face crinkles and she rolls her eyes, a silent plea to ignore her friend and his overt-chivalry. “Do you have the video for Nance’s?” Steve nods. “Then we can go straight there.” 

Your brows furrow. “I’m sorry. Where are we going?”

“Our friend Nancy hosts a movie marathon every Friday with a few other friends of ours.” She adds proudly, “Courtesy of Steve and I — we work at Family Video, over at the strip mall on Franklin and Marsh.” 

“Ah.”

“Yeah. You’re gonna love it, it’s great!”

“Oh, no. No, I really appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to intrude, I don’t think your friend would be too happy about somebody just, y’know. Waltzing in.” You chuckle. 

“Oh, trust me. You don’t know Nancy. She loves playing hostess, and she’ll love you. Don’t worry.” Robin reassures you, pulling down her visor mirror. 

Steve hums, agreeing with Robin. “She’s right. Half of Hawkins practically has a key to the Wheeler’s. Just, y’know. Don’t tell Ted.”

You smile awkwardly, settling in a little better in the backseat. You don’t interject in the conversation much, Robin thankfully takes care of that for you as she rambles to Steve about Vickie and her new boyfriend. 

You’re content to let the heaters warm your skin, and to watch the rows of houses go by, cautiously relieved at the possibility of some new friends after two months of loneliness. 

At the Wheeler’s, you introduce yourself politely to Mrs Wheeler, offering a smile to the distracted man in front of the TV. Steve looks at you, mouths, “Ted.” And you nod in understanding, suppressing a laugh. 

Mrs Wheeler hands you a warm towel and ushers the three of you down into the basement. 

“Nothing too scary.” She says pointedly, looking at Steve. “If I have to sleep in the same bed as my twelve year old son again, there will be hell to pay, Steven.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I promise. Nothing too scary.” 

You follow Robin and Steve down into the basement; cozily decorated with throw blankets, cushy rugs, a sofa and a loveseat bracketing a TV on the far edge. Sconces and low lamps light the space, illuminating the group huddled in front of the TV. 

“Who’s ready for Halloween II?” Steve exclaims, fishing out a VHS from under his windbreaker. 

“Ah, so he lives!” Says a theatric, but deep voice behind you. “You’re twenty minutes late, Harrington.” 

You let the voice wash over you before you turn around. Your breath hitches when you match the voice to the same figure who was lighting a cigarette under the gym awning just a little while ago. 

You study him now, up close. Shoulder length, curly hair, sharp bone structure. High cheekbones and an angular jawline, a strong neck, full, red lips and most disarmingly, big, brown eyes. He’s intense up close, but it’s not an intensity you necessarily have a desire to run from. 

His brow raises at your inquisitive gaze—you’ve been staring. “This one of your strays, Harrington? Or is this Buck’s doing?” 

Steve gestures vaguely before walking away, leaving Robin—Buck—to make your introduction before joining Steve too. You pull your towel closer to your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin under an intense gaze. 

He extends a large hand, chain link bracelet falling around his wrist. “Hey. Eddie.” 

You take his hand, warm and large, in yours, letting his fingers wrap around the back of your palm firmly. Your voice is hoarse when you tell him your name and he laughs. A throaty sound that emanates from his chest, a grin taking over his face.

He has dimples.  

“Yeah, I know.”

Your heart skids to a stop. “You do?”

“Yeah? Buck just told me.” He replies, looking at you quizzically. He wraps his hands around your upper arms, manoeuvring you so he can slide past, his chest pressing against your back. His leathery, piney scent drifts to your nose. “You comin’?” 

You nod meekly, watching him take a seat on the couch, legs spread apart as he adjusts his hips and sinks down in his seat. Fondness spreads through you at the awkward, oddly charismatic way he carries himself. He lays an arm over the back of the couch leisurely, opening himself up as Nancy winds the VHS. 

Magnetic as he may be, there’s a shroud of something around him, something dark that extends past his appearance. 

You make a resolution not to find out, to get through this year without mishap, but when Nancy takes the last viable seat, you’re left to take a seat next to the guy you promised to swear off. 

Eddie stiffens when you take the seat next to him, awkwardly tensing and stealing looks. Robin offers you a comforting smile as the movie starts, and while you stay firm on wanting as much distance between you and Eddie as you can manage, the heat between you slowly builds, and the distance becomes smaller. The pull towards each other becomes heady until you’re pressed up against one another, your shoulder tucked into Eddie’s arm, your head under his chin. 

You feel his heart rate spike at the jumpscares, matching yours, but where you wear fear and apprehension on your face—Eddie wears excitement. 

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you. 

It’s a thought that crosses your mind multiple times a day, every day for around ten months now. It starts as a fleeting occurrence, something you can chalk up to anxiety, but as the days pass, the rolling unease in your stomach, and the pressure on the back of your neck becomes more insistent. 

Somebody’s watching you. 

It’s near constant; following you at home, through the school hallways, free periods, the mall. It’s worse at night. With fall on the horizon, the days are shorter, and in the dead of night, you feel as though there are eyes on you, crawling up your body like little fire ants. 

Curtains and blinds don’t help. The feeling is heavier when you can’t see what lurks outside. 

A heavy thump from downstairs tears you from a deep sleep, the sound grabbing you by the chest and slamming you into consciousness. You sit idly for a few seconds, allowing your brain to catch up and your heart to settle down before you brave breaching your covers. 

You glance at the clock. 

02:22. 

It’s not until you’re several shaky steps towards your bedroom door that you realise what the sound was. 

Somebody closed your front door. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, making sure you’re wide awake. You reach for the door with trembling hands and step outside into the lit hallway—you can’t sleep in a dark home when you’re alone. 

“Dad?” You call out. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing for his voice to call back so badly, you almost imagine it. He’s not due back for another five days, and when you lean over the bannister to look at the entryway, and don’t miraculously see his shoes—your blood runs ice cold. 

Somebody was in your house. 

There’s an idiom associated with horror movies. 

When you hear a strange noise, going to investigate is an almost sure fire way to get yourself killed and have your face plastered on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. But your feet carry you downstairs anyway, curiosity outweighing rational thought. You at least want to know if you need to get the hell out of your house, and with no escape upstairs, you’re safer downstairs. 

The floorboards under the stairs creak with your weight as you pad down to the front door, double checking the lock. You slowly check the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen when a chilling thought occurs to you. 

You freeze. 

The door closing could have been a person going out. 

Or a person coming in. 

Ice freezes down your spine, cracking your resolve as your heart jumps to your mouth. Suddenly, the kitchen phone rings and you yelp, body recoiling at the sound. 

“Hello?” 

“You want to play a game?” A voice leers. 

“What?” 

“I’m just messin’,” replies a more familiar voice. “What are you doin’ up this late?” 

“Eddie?”

“No, the fuckin’ Grim Reaper.” He deadpans. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. What are you doin’ up’?” 

“Nothing. Just needed some water.” You reply absent-mindedly, filling up your glass. 

You’re here, you might as well. 

The water replenishing your dehydrated body kicks your brain into gear, a thought occurring to you. “Wait. Why did you call me if you didn’t know I’d be awake?” 

“I saw your lights on.” 

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean, you ‘saw my lights on’?”

“Relax, 21 Questions. I’m doin’ a run for one of my regulars and I was in your neighbourhood. Thought I’d drive by and see if you were all good since you were so tetchy about a week alone. Saw your lights on—gave you a call. That okay?” 

You smile at his gruff gesture. 

You’ve learned that about Eddie in the past ten months. He’s well-meaning, but every sweet gesture is undercut by a layer of sarcasm and gruffness. You don’t blame him for his coldness. 

Despite moving to town two months after Chrissy’s death, you were quickly made privy to everything that happened, and the aftermath, you saw for yourself. Eddie, despite being cleared, still subjected to whispers and dirty looks, branded a devil worshipper and a cult worshipper and a murderer. 

Graffiti on his locker, snide comments in the halls, even his business took a hit. His only saving graces were Hopper, who’d cleared him, his Uncle Wayne and your group of your friends—and to a lesser degree—you. 

“Of course that’s okay.” You reply. 

He makes a non-committal noise. “You doing okay, though?”

A part of you wants to tell him you’re scared, maybe have him blow off his weed run and come keep you company. There’s a safeness with Eddie, but you decide against it. 

Your voice pinches when you speak. “Yeah. All good.” 

A moment of silence stretches between you, almost like he doesn’t believe you. He breaks the silence finally. 

“You sure?”

“Mhm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow.” You finish and slide the phone back into the hook. 

You replenish your glass of water, content to explain the slamming sound away as yet another coincidence—maybe as a dream your brain confused with reality when you were coming to. 

As you set the glass on the kitchen island, your eyes catch a glimpse of something behind the roll of tissue. You slowly reach forward, moving the tissue out of the way to reveal a single flower with thin, dark maroon petals and a pink centre. 

A black dahlia. 

You pluck it from the countertop with a shaky breath, examining it under the light, and drop it when you feel a pull at the back of your neck, the feeling of somebody’s eyes on you returning again, making you feel uneasy.

You don’t spare the flower, nor the window behind you a second look, the glass of water left on the marble as you grab a knife and walk firmly to the couch in the living room. You draw the curtains and switch on the TV, flick through until a rerun of a movie plays on mute in the background, lulling you into as deep of a sleep as you can manage in the circumstances. 

But somebody’s watching you. 

——————————————————————————

You drag your body through the hallways the next morning, eyes weighed down like dumbbells and head fuzzy from the lack of sleep. You let your head rest against the cool metal of your locker to offer you some relief as your eyes close, succumbing to your exhaustion. 

“Hey!” Nancy’s voice chirps. She looks at you perplexed when you jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You blink heavily and pull your locker open. “No, it’s fine. Just tired, that’s all.” 

“Did you stay up late studying for Mr Haskell’s?” She asks, propping her hardback textbooks against her hip. 

Shit. 

“God, I wish. I actually forgot.” You sigh, grabbing your binders. 

Your peripheral registers something falling out of your locker and drifting to the floor as you take out your things. Nancy’s quicker than you, balances her books on her hip and bends to pick up the item, your heart skidding to a halt when you see it in her hand.

Another black dahlia. 

You feel the blood drain from your face, your stomach dropping and fingers going numb. 

He was here. You’re being followed. 

You feel that ominous feeling return, the feeling that you’re being watched, the crowd in the hallways offering you no solace. It feels like walking through a group of people with an invisible stab wound, nobody any the wiser of your impending doom except for you. 

Nancy spins the flower from the stem, a smile taking over her face as she extends it to you. “A dahlia… nice. Who’s the guy?” She asks in a sing-song voice. 

Your voice feels far away when you answer her. “There’s no guy.”

“Sure. She says sardonically. “You have flowers in your locker but no secret admirer. I want details.” As she walks away, she nods as an acknowledgement to somebody behind you.

You squeeze the flower between your hand just as a strong pair of hands pat, or rather, jostle your shoulders. 

“What’s this I hear about a secret admirer?” 

“Christ, Eddie. You almost gave me a heart attack.” You mutter, stuffing the flower into your pocket. 

His eyes narrow as he scans your face. His gaze is intense, but it offers you an odd kind of relief— his exuberance oddly cancelling out the nauseating fear clouding you. 

Leaning against Nancy’s locker with his hands in his pockets, he asks, “Why so tetchy? You okay?” 

“I’m fine.”

He leans in, looks down at you with a gaze that makes your skin prickle, a feeling you’ve had often during your friendship. 

He taps your shin with his foot. “You know, you’re cute when you lie.”

Your breath hitches. He smells like leather and pine, and he’s tall and broad and warm, and if you leaned into him just a little, you know that some of your tension would at least melt away. 

“Really, Eddie. I’m okay.” You smile, squeezing his hand. 

You retract it quickly, Eddie stiffening when Carol saunters past you, accidentally tripping over Tina’s leg to bump into you with a sickeningly sweet, “sorry, honey.” 

Your first instinct is to push her right back. You’d love nothing more than to pull out a chunk of her hair after what she and her asshole friends did to you. You’re smarter than that, though—she’d paint herself as the victim and you’d end up in detention with a serious mark in your permanent record. 

You roll your eyes, muttering a defiant, ‘bitch’, under your breath. 

“What was that about?” Eddie asks, jerking his chin towards Carol and Tommy. 

“Nothing.” You clip. 

He narrows his eyes expectantly, giving you yet another opportunity to reveal to him what he already knows. 

Around a month ago, after a fight at a party, Steve had ended up crashing at Eddie’s for a few days after being arrested—courtesy of his ex best friend Tommy crying over a busted lip. Hopper had reassured Steve it was for appearances, that he’d be free to go as soon as his dad picked him up, secretly knowing that Tommy had most likely deserved the right hook. 

Mr. Harrington though, had kicked Steve out after making his bail. It was then Steve had told Eddie about the incident at the party, about how Robin had called him absolutely furious after Tommy had tried to force himself on you. 

He’d gotten a knee to the balls from you, Robin and Nancy piling on, and a right hook from Steve, but the damage had been done. By the next morning, Tina and Carol had worked their magic, branding you as the whore who tried to steal Carol’s boyfriend. 

Eddie watches Tommy and Carol keenly now, an expression on his face that you’ve come to see more often recently. It’s as though the warmth drains from his eyes, leaving behind an unfeeling presence before he snaps back. 

The warmth returns to his eyes as quickly as it disappears, working its way to you as if by an invisible line. “You can tell me.” He says softly. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

Your chest constricts. “Eh. Apparently, I’m a whore. It’s whatever.” 

His jaw ticks again. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re about as pure as they come.” He marvels, gaze lingering on your lips. His hand absently brushes some hair behind your ear, and he freezes, letting it hang awkwardly. 

You huff, slapping his wrist away. “Okay. Yoda? You sound like an idiot. This isn’t the 1800’s—women have and enjoy sex, you know?” 

He snaps back into his detached ruse, leaning against the locker to play with his rings. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, suggestive lilt to his voice. 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” 

“Dude, you’re nasty.” 

“Maybe.” His eyes darken before he inhales deeply. “Listen, I got a free period, so I’m gonna run. I have a business meeting that is most urgent and requires my utmost attention.” 

“Eddie-“

He’s already walking away, his broad back heading for the doors at the end of the hall. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll be back by lunch, Sweetheart.” 

You smile to yourself and reach back into your pocket, having temporarily forgotten about your present. You wish you could hold onto that feeling of safety and happiness that Eddie gives you a little longer, bottle it up and use it for when your anxiety reaches its peaks. 

Being around Eddie always has that effect on you, try as you might to push it down. 

——————————————————————————

“Turn on the news.” Nancy hisses through the crackly phone. “Now!”

“Christ, Nance. Do you even know what time it is? It’s barely light outside.” You grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Forget about the time, just turn on your TV!” 

“Okay! Okay, gimme a second.” You groan. 

You rush downstairs for the TV remote and flick through the channels until you get to the news. On the screen, police and ambulance sirens paint the scene red and blue, police tape cordoning off a house just a few blocks from yours. You turn the volume up and catch the last few words from the reporter.

“—Tragedy rocks Hawkins once again, as the bodies of two teenagers, Carol Perkins, and her boyfriend Thomas Hagan were found butchered in the early hours of this morning.”

The words go off like a bomb in your ear, the floor giving out from under your feet as you slump down on the sofa, shakily clutching the remote. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holy fucking shit.” You murmur. 

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” 

Your voice sounds tinny when you speak. “They were murdered?”

“Butchered.”

“God, I know I said I wanted to see her head on a spike but this is awful. I can’t believe somebody would do that.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at your proximity to the victims—despite your vitriolic hatred for the both of them, Carol and Tommy are—were—people you saw everyday. You can’t say anybody deserves to be butchered. 

“Can you meet Robin, Jonathan and me at my place in an hour? We’re gonna go get some answers.” Nancy asks. 

“Isn’t that a reporter’s job? Or the PD?” You ask, alarmed. 

“I wanna major in journalism, that basically makes me half a reporter already. Just meet at my place in an hour. Bring sensible shoes.” 

Any room for negotiation goes out of the window as the line goes dead. You set the now clammy phone down on the hook and stay rooted in spot, staring blankly at the TV as the news reel plays out in the background.

“—Police and Fire were called to the scene at around 3:00am when Perkins’ parents arrived home to a fire. Upon their arrival, they found their home in disarray and the two teenagers dead. Hawkins PD are still combing the scene for evidence and are expected to make an announcement later this evening. One thing is for sure though, it seems that death and tragedy are never too far where Hawkins is concerned.” 

You’d completely forgotten about the dark cloud that had been looming over Hawkins this past year. These new killings seem especially insidious with the anniversary of Chrissy Cunningham’s death approaching in just a few days. 

Becoming cognizant of Chrissy, you want to reach out to Eddie to ask him how he’s doing following this news. You’ve no doubt that this time of year is likely to dredge up some horrific memories for him—it’s only been a year since he was labelled as the town pariah—ostracised through no fault of his own.

This won’t help. 

He’ll be subjected to looks in the street again and whispers as he walks by, as though he’s a stain on the town. He’ll be scapegoated. Again. 

You want to reach out to Eddie for him, sure. But there’s also a selfish undercurrent to your thoughts; Eddie’s an increasingly comforting figure in your life and you need him to knock you back on track, especially if Nancy’s going to be critiquing your journalism skills this morning. 

A hit of something to get your head right. 

You hit three on your speed dial, put the coffee on while the line rings and make your way upstairs.

His voice crackles through the phone and has the strangest effect by offering you almost-immediate relief. “Who the hell is this?” He grumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

It makes your heart pick up pace. 

You stifle a laugh. “Eddie, it’s me.” 

He moans, and you picture him with mussed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His voice is still thick when he talks; though, much less irritable this time. “Mornin’, sunshine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t see the news?” 

“Nah. Not yet at least. Late night. What’s going on?” 

“It’s Carol and Tommy. They found their bodies this morning, they were killed.” You whisper the last part in a hushed tone, like verbalising it will somehow bring the curse to you. 

“Wait, what did you just say? They were murdered?” You hear rustling on the other end and assume Eddie’s making a mad dash to the living room in his boxers to turn on the TV. “Do they know who did it?” 

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet—“

“—Hey, man. Turn that up?” 

You pause in your doorway, brows furrowing. “Who are you talking to?”

“Harrington—he got into another pissing match with his dad a few nights ago, told him he could have the couch while Wayne was at work.” 

“Christ, dude. They’re saying they were butchered.” Steve says, muffled in the background. 

You straighten the edges of your bedsheets and start to pick out the sensible shoes Nancy requested, zoning in on another pair you’ll inevitably have to loan to Robin. 

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I thought you already knew. I just…wanted to check in.” 

Eddie pauses before he speaks hesitantly. “Check in?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s coming up to a year since all of that stuff happened, and I can’t imagine this is gonna be easy for you, y’know? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

A surge of warmth spreads inside him. Rarely does he feel truly content or peaceful, especially as of late; he has enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime. But he does feel blessed to have sporadic moments of lightness—short—but always with you. 

“You sayin’ you care about me or something?” He murmurs, no doubt careful to avoid Steve’s ears but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

You snicker, your eyes falling to your slightly open underwear drawer. You go to close it with an absent-minded push of your hips when your eyes catch something. 

Your heart plummets like a lead weight, a shot of dread piercing your chest. 

“Hello? You there?” Eddie calls out, but your hands are trembling. 

Stuffed in your underwear drawer, deliberately wrapped inside a pair of white cotton panties, is another black dahlia. 

“Eddie, I’m gonna have to call you back.” You squeak.

His voice shifts. “You okay? Something wrong?” 

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” You clip, the phone landing with a thud against your mattress. 

You reach for the flower, gingerly unwrapping it from the white cotton only to reveal a small note tucked under the stem. Nausea claws at your stomach and invades your throat, leaving your head tingly and eyes spotty. 

Black sharpie against red paper reads;

“The things we do for love. Be seeing you soon, my flower. I have some business to take care of first.” 

It's as direct a threat to you as you’ve had so far, but there’s an insinuation there too. An icy thought sends chills through your veins. You may be responsible for Carol and Tommy’s deaths which is in itself a steel weight, but this note doesn’t indicate any sign of the violence stopping. 

If anything, it connotes the opposite. 

You can’t explain the paranoia and the flowers away, can’t live in the content grey safety of denial anymore. He was here. 

In your room. Rifling through your underwear drawer. Watching you sleep. 

Could he have touched you? 

Are you the business he has to take care of? 

Your stomach rolls, and you run to the bathroom to empty your guts into the toilet, gagging until the remnants of last night’s barely-there-dinner are gone and you’re shivering and cold on the tiled floor. 

You’re hit with the feeling of somebody watching you again, pressure tugging at the back of your neck like tiny threads under your skin. Your eyes dart out of the window but you don’t see anything. 

Or anybody. 

You never do. 

——————————————————————————

Your investigation with Robin and Nancy turns up nothing except more disturbing information, which you grimly conclude could well predict your own demise. You’re running on fumes, paranoid and scared for your life, the walk up the stairs to get into school seeming like a chore. 

“Tommy went first.” Robin tells Eddie the following morning. 

“What?” He asks, dodging Robin’s attempt to snatch the cigarette out of his mouth. She tries again, but he dodges again, manoeuvring you to walk between them. 

“Yeah. We overheard Hopper and Callahan over the radio. He was shot in both knees first, tied to a chair, gagged, then stabbed. His insides…on the outside.” 

Eddie’s face contorts, not so much in horror, but in mild disgust as he exhales a cloud of smoke. It seems Tommy had enemies in just about every circle except for his own; and despite your best intentions not to think it, you conclude that somebody finally decided to take matters into their own hands. 

“And Carol? Stabbed in the back, chest, and neck. Gutted and tied to a tree. Can you believe that shit? This guy is serious.” Robin continues. 

She’s managed to dig up a rubber band from inside her pocket and snaps it against her wrist, each slap against her skin housing a migraine deeper in your temple. 

You wince. 

“Careful, Buck. Almost sounds like you admire him. Besides, how do you know it’s a guy?” Eddie asks, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“Statistics.” Nancy interjects, clicking her locker shut. “Violent kills are almost always executed by men. That, and the fact that it would take a pretty huge guy to hog-tie Tommy, and then string Carol’s dead body up on a tree.” 

“Alright.” You feel nausea rising in your stomach again. Slamming your locker shut, you squeeze your eyes closed. “Can we not? I feel sick.” 

“You look it.” Robin deadpans, raising her hands in defence when you, Nancy and Eddie cut her a look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a you-look-awful way, I’m just saying you look like you haven’t been sleeping.” 

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, gently turning your face to his. “Yeah. Have you been sleeping?” He asks, cigarette tucked between his lips. His thumb runs over the delicate skin under your eyes. “You look so tired.” 

You tense up at the sudden contact from Eddie, who, despite being notoriously tactile, isn't somebody you’d ever describe as affectionate except maybe with Dustin and the kids. 

You allow yourself a moment of weakness to melt into his touch, his warm skin and icy rings, but your eyes dart to Robin and Nancy who share a wry look. You become aware of the droves of people staring and whispering as they go by too, and suddenly your throat feels tight. 

“I’m fine.” You clip, prying yourself away from his tender touch and he reacts by awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets, hurt by the sudden change. 

He knows it’s because people are staring, he just hadn’t expected you to care. You can’t handle the eyes on you—not when there’s somebody breathing down your neck. 

The rational part of you knows that it’s because you’re in such close proximity to Eddie, who’s been re-subjected to dirty looks and hostile whispers since Tommy and Carol died yesterday. It seems that despite his name being cleared in good faith last year, the people of Hawkins merely needed a reason to scapegoat Eddie again, all too quick to spit the words devil worshipper and cult leader his way.   

Eddie brushes the looks off, his jaw tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing, shoulders tight like a coil as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. 

“Fuckin’ morons.” He mutters under his breath. “A serial killer walks the streets of Hawkins but sure…” He mock lunges at a group of lowerclassmen who flinch and disperse down the hallway, earning more looks from passersby. “Let's all gather around to stare at the freak.” 

“Mr. Munson,” Higgins’ voice booms, his eyes falling to the cigarette in Eddie’s mouth. “You can either put that out, or I can put it out for you—and while I do relish in giving you detention—I no longer wish to see you roam these halls for yet another year. I’m frankly sick of seeing your face.” 

“Oh believe me. The feeling’s mutual, asshole.” Eddie grumbles, a begrudging appeasement on his face. He theatrically plucks the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out against the metal rim of the bin behind you. “Guy’s a pain in my sack.” 

Robin’s cackle is cut short when a sudden buzz crawls over the student body. It takes over like a swarm of bees, students yelling and clamouring in the direction of the football field. In the distance, you see Argyle and a pale Jonathan cut through the crowd, right as Mr Higgins receives a radio transmission and pushes through the horde himself. 

You narrow your eyes, your group pulling Jonathan and Argyle to the side of the stampede. “What’s going on?” 

“Dudes, they found another body.” Argyle tells the group. 

The news hits you with the subtlety of a crashing train, leaving the words ricocheting in your ear. You fight to keep your composure, doing the maths in your head to figure out where on your shadow’s roster you fall. 

“What? Who? Where? How? How do you guys know?” Nancy asks in rapid succession, grabbing Jonathan and Argyle with a hand each. 

“I was walking down to take pictures out on the football field for the yearbook, and saw what I thought was a doll or a scarecrow or something. Just hanging from the goalpost.” Jonathan pants weakly. 

“Yeah. Got closer and realised it was a real person. A lady.” Argyle adds, shaking his head. 

Eddie huffs, leaning against his locker. “A lady?” 

“Tina.” Jonathan corrects. “Somebody already tipped off the cops—Hopper pulled up right as we saw her body. She was in her pyjamas, you guys. All covered in blood.” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, bending to put his hands on his knees. “I think I’m gonna throw up.” He wheezes. 

Argyle rubs his back sympathetically, while Nancy kicks herself into high gear. Rifling through her locker, she grabs her school newspaper notebook and best ballpoint pen—the kind she reserves for sleuthing and writing speeches—and turns heel. 

“I swear, if you want something done right…” she mutters and she’s a flash of a perm as she scurries away, joining the now well-informed student body of the attraction outside. 

The gaggle eventually dies down and gets filtered into the gym, squashed together like sardines in a can; some taking up the bleachers, some using the benches, the lowerclassmen claiming the floor as their sitting space. 

Eddie tucks you into his arm on the sidelines where the rest of your friends sit in an effort to conserve space. He balances his copy of Lord of The Rings on his knee, the spine snapped, edges frayed and tattered, various motor oil stains soaked into the paper with rows and rows of annotations littering the page. 

At best, it's well-loved—at worst, it’s unreadable—but it’s one of Eddie’s prized possessions and it shows. 

Higgins’ voice through the speaker silences the hustle of whispering students, rumours and gossip dying down almost immediately. 

“All classes are henceforth suspended until further notice. When prompted, please collect all important belongings from your lockers and proceed to leave in an orderly fashion. Police Chief Hopper also has an announcement to make—please remain where you are for now.” 

Cheers for class suspension are cut short when Hopper swiftly implements a strict citywide 9:00pm curfew. 

“Any citizens reported to be out after this time will be brought in by an officer and questioned before release. It is vital you heed this curfew as it has been put in place for your own safety. Please report any concerns directly to the Police Department or call 9-1-1. Thank you.” 

A resigned groan makes its way through the crowd as students filter out, Tommy’s old friend group uncharacteristically quiet; haunted by the news. It tracks—the only discernible pattern so far is that the killer has a vendetta against their group of friends. 

It’s your own entanglement that doesn't track. 

“So. What’s the rundown?” Robin asks Nancy as you make your way down to the parking lot. 

Nancy looks pale. “Tina was cut from chin to stomach through her nightgown.” She says, shakily. “But there’s more.”

Your blood runs cold. “More?”

“Yeah. It’s not confirmed yet, but I overheard Hopper telling Higgins they found another body this morning on the other side of town. They said the description matched Fred Benson.”

“The guy who did the student paper with you?” Eddie asks. 

Nancy bristles. Her relationship with Fred had soured last year after he insisted on covering Chrissy’s murder, putting Eddie at the forefront. Nancy had refused—then fired him. 

“Yeah.” She goes on. “Parents didn’t even know he was missing.” 

Nancy’s words only stand to remind you that you too could be murdered and strung up like a carcass for the town to see—and nobody would be any the wiser until it was too late. 

You should tell somebody. Anybody. But your mind stops you, a terrifying thought crossing your mind. Telling your friends could put them in danger too. Taking out entire friendship groups seems like a day’s work for this killer, and if anything happened to your friends, you’d never forgive yourself. 

“I’m gonna wait for Will and the rest of those guys, make sure they’re okay, but we’ll reconvene at Nance’s?” Jonathan asks. 

“Wait—you heard Hopper. There’s a curfew.” You say.

Nancy shrugs. “Safety in numbers. C’mon.”

Eddie pats your shoulder as he lights another cigarette. “I’ll catch up with you guys later—I left my briefcase inside. I’ll bring the beer to Nance’s.” 

“Somebody’s gotta tell Steve, does he even know what’s going on?” You ask.

“I’ll take care of it.” Eddie says, voice thick with smoke. “I gotta swing by Family Video anyhow, it appears Keith is in the market for my recreational sleeping aids.” 

Argyle gestures to Eddie who gives him the affirmative—and you shake your head. A serial killer walks the streets and your friends are making sure there’s enough weed at an unmandated ‘gathering’. 

“Be safe?” You call out to Eddie.

He kicks his leg, gives you a mock salute. “Always am. You too.” 

——————————————————————————

“Well. I’m just saying, y’know. There are certain rules when it comes to slashers.” Jonathan mumbles through a mouthful of chips. 

“Is that what this is? A slasher?” Steve asks, adjusting in his seat. 

The basement air smells like weed and cheap beer, the sourness of the salsa that Robin opened twenty minutes ago cutting through the stench. Your stomach is already in pieces with worry, talk of a slasher movie and the dank air does little to quell your nerves. 

“Yeah. I mean. Think about it.” He munches. “You got a guy in a mask goin’ around, killing a bunch of teenagers, hanging them up on goalposts?”

Argyle’s content to listen, offering a grunt of agreement here and there, but he pipes up. “Yeah. Plus, y’know the whole haunted past in a small town thing. No offence, my dude.” He says to Eddie. 

Eddie raises his brows, shakes his head. No harm done. 

“So, these rules then. Let’s have ‘em.” Steve says. “What do you got?”

“Well. The first is that everybody’s a suspect. Everybody. That’s a given.” 

“Yeah. No shit.” Steve nods, huffing a laugh.

Jonathan stands up, his eyes wide. “Now the rules to surviving a slasher movie—well. That’s a whole different ball game.” 

“Go on.”

“Rule number one: never have sex.” 

You catch Eddie’s eye from across the room. It’s something you’d noticed pretty much the day you met; oftentimes you’d be engrossed in something, or just happen to look up at Eddie to find him already watching you. His gaze makes your skin prickle with intensity, blood warming under your skin. 

Despite being in a room full of people, your looks always seem like they’re reserved just for the two of you, an invisible string tying you to him and pulling you closer despite the physical distance remaining the same. 

“—Big no.” Jonathan continues. “Sex equals death. Slasher and horror symbolism in general relies heavily on the innocent virgin as a survivor trope. Promiscuity guarantees death.” 

Eddie’s gaze lingers on yours, his elbows perched on his knees, chin tucked into his chest. He looks good in this light, full lips casting a shadow, his eyes transfixed on you. You lose your nerve and look away, but can’t fight the desire to glance at him again. 

He’s still watching you with almost drunken eyes that you attribute to the beer, though you know he can handle his alcohol.

“Number two: no drinking or doing drugs. It’s an extension of number one—the sin factor. It’s a sin!” 

“Oh great. Guess we’re all fucked.” Steve mutters, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s bullshit, man. This isn’t a slasher and no serial killer is going to know if you’re a boring, sober, virgin.” 

Eddie finally averts his gaze, picking at the frayed denim on his jeans. “Byers, you know I make my living supplying recreational substances to those in need.” 

“—And Steve has deflowered every legal girl who likes men, all the way up to like, Fort Wayne.” Robin snorts, raising her drink. 

“Well—not exactly.” Steve squints. “But they both make a good point. By your so-called rules, Byers; Eddie and I would’ve been the first ones to go.” 

You shake your head, feeling a massive tangent coming and decide to cut out while you can. The thought of going home to an empty house fills you with dread, especially with the recent uptick in dead bodies. You can’t sleep, not when your ears pick up the smallest noises and twist them into sinister scenarios. 

The wind howling through the gaps in your windows sounds eerily like somebody screaming, the floorboards settling make you see an intruder out of the corner of your eye. 

You’re exhausted. 

Nancy follows you upstairs, turning you by your arm. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Yeah. It’s a little much down there.” You inhale deeply now that the air is thinner and fresher. 

“You know what they get like when they drink.” Nancy laughs. “Do you wanna stay over tonight? Robin was thinking about crashing and I don’t love the idea of you at home by yourself with everything going on. Just stay with me until your dad gets back.” 

You feel a wave of relief wash over you. “Actually, would you mind? I don’t really wanna be by myself.”

“Yeah!” She laughs. “Of course. I can take you to grab your stuff in the morning.”

“Thanks, Nance. I gotta double check the alarm and locks anyway, so I’ll go grab my things now.” You smile, turning to grab your keys from the bowl on the credenza. 

“You sure? It’s late.” 

‘Rule number 3,’ Jonathan continues downstairs out of earshot, ’never, ever, under any circumstances, say you’ll be right back.’ 

“It’s a few blocks away.” You reassure her. “I’ll be right back.” 

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you. 

You feel a tug on the back of your neck when you get to the top of the Wheeler’s cul-de-sac. It becomes more insistent as you turn left on to a densely tree-lined street, which, dimly lit as usual, is eerily silent. With the exception of you and your friends, it seems the residents of Hawkins are abiding by Hopper’s mandate. 

You brush the feeling off and slide your keys between your fingers, picking up pace. By the time you get to your driveway, your heart is in your mouth and you’re almost at a full sprint, nearly slipping on the corner of a flowerbed. 

You’d devised a plan on the way home. 

Check the alarms, downstairs windows, upstairs windows, grab your bag from the closet in the hallway and pack as you go. Simple enough.

But somebody’s watching you. 

Your trembling hands make you fumble and miss the lock a few times, the key bluntly jamming against the metal. You’re finally in, about to twist the lock when a hand aggressively swipes at your arm and drags you backwards. 

You yelp, stomach swooping in pure terror, blood pounding in your ears. 

He’s here. 

You come face to face with a bloodshot Jason, whiskey heavy on his breath. He looks desperate and frenzied in just a pair of chinos and a white polo—it’s freezing out. His presence offers you an odd sense of relief, you can tell from his appearance he’s not about to hurt you and he doesn’t pose any immediate danger. 

He seems scared. 

He pulls you in close, his vice grip making your skin pinch. 

“Let go, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you, why are you outside my house?”

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? About what?!” You snap.

“About the company you keep.” He slurs darkly. “You’re not new anymore, but you weren’t here when it went down. When Chrissy died.” 

You squirm, attempting to free your arm, but Jason’s grip is vicious in his trance-like state. “What the hell does that have to do with me?” 

He’s here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. “It’ll be a year tomorrow. And it’s like she was never here. Like she never existed.” 

Your heart sinks for him, a loss so large, so young is sure to rock anybody. But you know the other side of him—the side that radicalised half the town into hunting down Eddie. That almost killed Lucas and Erica when they tried to help. 

“Look. Jason. I’m sorry about what happened, but that doesn’t explain why you’re grabbing my arm.” You grunt, trying to break free. “What does this have to do with me?”

He jostles you, shaking you hard enough that the pain radiates up your arm like a vine. “Everything! This has everything to do with you! Your friend? Eddie? I know they cleared him, said that he had nothing to do with it, but I know the truth. I know what he is.” He says, words dripping with disdain. 

In a surge of defensiveness, you drag the serrated edge of your keys across his skin, drawing a little blood. 

“You bitch!” He sneers, snatching his hand away. “You’ll regret that. You’ll regret not listening to me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; don’t say I didn’t tell you what he was!” He angrily stalks off, disappearing into the tree line.

When you’d first moved to Hawkins, rumours of golden girl Chrissy dying at the hands of a satanic cult had intrigued you. Dustin had filled you in on the rest and after meeting Eddie and the rest of his innocent D&D group, you knew those rumours were a work of fiction.  

“Hey!” Eddie shouts from a few feet away. He gestures in the direction of the tree line. “Was that Jason?” 

“Yeah.” You mutter, gingerly touching your arm. 

Eddie closes the last few feet between you, jogging to you as you open your door. “What did he want?”  

“Said he saw me walking home, wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Eddie looks at you incredulously as he steps inside. “Looked intense, you okay?” 

“Yeah. All good.” 

Eddie’s eyes fall to the raised welts on your forearm, your hands paler from the lack of blood flow. He gently holds your wrist and brings it up to the hallway light to examine the marks. 

“Did Jason do that?” He asks. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No.” You sigh resignedly. “He was drinking, and he said some stuff about Chrissy’s death anniversary, I think he was just… a little out of it. Got a little overzealous.” 

“Overzealous?” Eddie asks, getting closer to you. “He left a paw print. Y’know I swear, guys like him think they can get away with anything—“

“—Yeah. But I’m fine, Eddie. It looks worse than it is.” You place your hand around his and squeeze reassuringly. “Really. I’m okay.” 

“You sure?“

“I swear, Eddie. I’m all good.” 

Your peripheral suddenly plays a cruel trick on you, making you jump at the impression of somebody in the kitchen. 

Eddie finally lets go of your hand, laughing at your reaction. “You okay? You’re really jumpy.” He asks, rubbing your shoulders as you walk into the kitchen. 

“There’s a serial killer in town, Eddie. Why aren’t you jumpy?” You deadpan. “Is that why you’re here?” 

He chuckles self-effacingly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Nancy told me you took off to grab your things and I didn’t want you to have to walk by yourself with all that stuff.” He stops you from reaching for the window with a hand on your hips, walking around you instead. “Here, I got it.” 

He extends his lean body to twist the window handle, his t-shirt riding up to reveal his toned abs. Red welts—scratches—mark his stomach and a twinge of jealousy creeps up your chest when you think about how he may have gotten those marks. 

“Hey!” Eddie says, snapping his fingers. “Where do you keep goin’, you good?” 

Embarrassment warms your cheeks, snapping you back into reality. “Of course. I have my knight in shining armour, don’t I?” You say sardonically, rounding the island to go upstairs. 

You’re halfway through the hallway before you realise you’re not being followed by Eddie; he’s since taken to standing in the doorway with a look that you can’t read. 

“What is it?” You ask.

He slowly steps towards you. “I know you’re kidding, but for what it’s worth—you never have to worry about that stuff when you’re with me.” He says softly, his voice thick. “You’re always safe with me. I hope you know that.” 

You share a look in the dimly lit hallway, and you don’t know what this thing is between you—the thing where you know each other best, and look out for one another, and make one another feel safe, but where touches and looks linger for longer than they should. 

You don’t have a shadow of a doubt colouring your answer when you reply, knowing wholeheartedly that you believe it. 

“I know.” 

When you get back to Nancy’s though, the night has taken a turn for the worse. The kids sit in the living room with the rest of your friends, everybody huddled up together around the TV as the breaking news reel plays.

“What’s going on?” You ask, setting your bag by the door. 

“They found another body.” Steve tells you in a hushed voice, mindful of the kids but it’s useless—they’re watching the same thing you all are. 

“Higgins.” Nancy explains, approaching you and Eddie. Out of earshot of the kids, she says, “they found him tied to the same goal post they unhooked Tina off of today. His eyes were gouged out and he was stabbed in the neck. He bled to death.” 

Three victims. Three victims in one day. 

Nancy mirrors that thought, but all you can think about now is how much longer you can outrun the shadow breathing down your neck, seemingly getting closer every day. 

——————————————————————————

Breakfast is a bleak affair. 

Mrs. Wheeler does everything to make sure you eat, encouragingly puts out a spread that most people dream of, while Mr Wheeler grumbles under his breath. You watch the boys, El and Max stuff their faces with pancakes, syrup dripping down their chins, but after the morning news, you can barely stomach anything. 

Youre realising after watching the morning news, that it’s becoming a twisted kind of routine to wake up and expect the news of another murder. 

Today’s victim: Andy Clayton. 

Jason’s best friend and yes-man; found hacked to pieces, fibres of his letterman jacket found in his stab wounds from the brutal kill. You stick close to Nancy and Robin for the rest of the day, but when you come back from investigating, you find a chilling surprise on the Wheeler’s doorstep. 

Nancy giggles and ducks inside with Robin, leaving you with your gift. Four black dahlias tied together with a length of twine, a note folded in half between the stems. 

“I promise it won’t be much longer until we’re together, my flower. See you soon.” 

Your head instinctually whips around, your eyes scanning the street, but it’s dead silent save for the occasional passing car. You turn back to the house, ice flowing into your veins as you realise you’re a sitting duck, and staying here would put everybody else in danger too. 

The Wheelers, the kids, Robin. 

You tuck the note into your pocket along with the four flowers and grab your bags, lying to Nancy that you’ll be back. Your first stop is going to see Eddie to ask for some company at the police station. You make the walk to your house, drop your bags in the trunk of your car and make the seven mile journey to Eddie’s trailer. 

The sun sets on your way there, casting the sky in blooms of oranges and pinks, the landscape so much more vibrant in Hawkins than anywhere else you’ve lived. Eddie’s beat up van isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the lights inside his trailer are on, you knock once out of politeness and come in anyway after finding the door unlocked. 

Not that Eddie ever remembers to lock his doors. 

Inside, he’s still nowhere to be seen, the only thing interrupting the silence is the hum of the energy saver light bulb in the background and the sound of a dog barking outside. 

“Eddie?” You call out, clicking the door shut behind you. “You home?”

You’re met with more silence. 

You glance at the small clock above the hat-lined wall. 

5:30pm.

Tentatively, you take a seat on the pull out couch that Steve and Wayne have taken to sharing by now, using the time you have to contemplate how best to broach the subject of your stalker with Eddie; where to start, how much to say. 

Your legs start to tingle from nerves and pent up anxiety, forcing you to your feet. 

You pace the length of the living room and to the kitchen and back again. Your stomach knots and unknots, a surge of nervous energy lodging in your throat and dissipating throughout your chest. 

Absently, you walk into Eddie’s room—a bomb site on a good day. As you close the door behind you, something large and black swooshes against the hook, a large coat or a cloak of some kind, probably for his Hellfire Club meetings. 

You should talk to Eddie about rebranding that soon. 

You smile fondly as your eyes travel over his poster lined walls, the acoustic guitar perched in the corner, the magazines on top of his nightstand. The second drawer of his nightstand catches your eye, ajar slightly because of something caught between the drawer and the frame. 

You look closer, eyes narrowing when you pull a length of twine out from the drawer. You examine it curiously, holding it up to the light when a thought occurs to you. 

With a hesitant hand, you reach into your back pocket to pull out the dahlias you’d received earlier that day, comparing the twine to the one in your hand. Your brows furrow as you bring both pieces of twine together, joining the two diagonal edges to fit perfectly. 

It’s a dead match. 

You pull out his drawer in a daze, head growing fuzzy as you rummage through his things. It’s a coincidence—it has to be. There has to be an explanation. 

Ice flows into your veins when you find five black dahlias tucked neatly into a roll of newspaper, red square note paper next to it. Your head rushes with blood, the room spinning as you try to somehow refute what’s in front of you. 

This can’t be what you think it is. It can’t be.

You gag and run to the kitchen to empty your stomach in the sink. It’s fruitless, your stomach turning up nothing, leaving you to dry heave and clutch the counter. 

No. No, no, no. 

Your hands tremble, blood rushing in your ears and pumping through your body to drive you into high gear, to get the hell out. 

You dart for the door, grabbing your bag and keys, and slam face first into a black wall, your hands taking the brunt of the impact, the shock forcing you back a few steps. Your bags and keys fall on the floor, the blood draining from your body when you look up at a cloaked figure with a white mask. 

You tense up, making peace with the fact that this may be your end but still hold out a small amount of hope that it isn’t who you think it is behind the mask. 

Then the figure speaks, says your name in that familiar way that sends shivers up your spine. 

Eddie. 

Your knees buckle and you trip backwards, the pressure inside your head increasing until you can hear a high-pitched whine. Shakily holding out your hands in front of you, you see them stained crimson, an unknown person’s blood licking your skin. 

It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to darkness. 

——————————————————————————

A horrible weight surrounds your head and there’s a ringing in your ears when you come to. It takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up, but when it does, you jolt in your seat, your movement restricted by something binding your hands and mouth. 

You start to hyperventilate. 

“Hey. Hey. Calm down.” Eddie says, crouching in front of your chair, sporting a busted lip, a bruised eye and bloody knuckles. “Fuck—Calm down, I need you to breathe, okay?” He rips the tape off your mouth and you struggle against the ties, but he pulls the chair in by its arms.“Hey! Breathe. C’mon—just match my pace, alright, you’re gonna pass out again. Fucking breathe.”

He exaggerates his own breathing rhythm now that you can see his chest in just his t-shirt to let your breathing fall into tandem with his. You let yourself breathe, focusing on the air expanding in your lungs, but terror still grips you.  

Eddie watches you carefully, like you’re a cornered animal, his mask pulled up, hair matted to his forehead. “I’m going to cut you loose so we can talk, okay? M’gonna explain everything, but you can’t run. Can you do that?”

Images of Carol and Tommy, Tina, and the rest of his victims flash before your eyes. Eviscerated. Bludgeoned. Gutted. 

You nod, not daring to look down knowing that the rope, the chair and your skin are stained with fresh blood. 

“Good.” He breathes. 

He brings a bloody hunting knife to your wrists, lodges the flat edge between you and the rope, and cuts upwards, slicing you free. You plant your shaky feet to test the waters, and launch yourself forward into Eddie’s chest, knocking him out of the way to start running. 

“Goddamnit!” He grunts. 

You make it a grand total of two paces before Eddie easily whips you around, pinning you against the wall. His nostrils flared, he reaches into his back pocket, brandishing the knife again. A scream dies in your throat as he places the glinting silver’s blunt edge against your neck. 

“I didn’t want to use this. But I told you not to run, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!” His voice thunders inside the trailer, and you flinch backwards, hyper-aware of the knife at your throat. 

The change in his demeanour makes you feel insignificant, like you never mattered to him. That realisation makes a lump catch in your throat. “You’re… you’re—“

He nods slowly, wide grin splitting his face. “Yeah. I am.” He replies mockingly, flipping the mask back on. “What did Jonathan say? Ghostface?” 

A part of you thought—hoped—that he would try to deny it. You’d believe any explanation he’d give you if you tried hard enough, because accepting anything else would be easier than this. 

Than accepting that your best friend is a serial killer. 

“Jason… man, the bastard knows how to fight,” Eddie laments, licking his busted lip behind the mask. He clenches and unclenches his bruised hands, silver rings stained with blood. “Pulled my fucking cloak off and everything—but what are you gonna do? I had a knife. He didn’t. Bled out on my clothes but he knew it was me.” 

You don’t want to hear this. You can’t hear this.

You look desperately for an escape, eyes darting until you spot something that makes your stomach swoop violently, grief ripping through you at the prospect. 

Steve’s white Nikes, covered in blood. 

You turn to Eddie shakily, eyes wide. “Did you kill Steve?” 

He softens, trailing the knife over your cheek. You’re as still as you can be despite your body feeling like it’s vibrating, knowing too well that the smallest of movements could kill you. 

“So sweet. So naive. My flower.” He whispers. “You think I strung Tina and Higgins’ big ass up on those goalposts myself?” 

“No…. He—Steve?” You blubber, another wave of grief washing over you. You’ve just lost two of your best friends in the space of five minutes and you don’t have the time to think about the implications. You just need to make it out alive. “Why? Why did you do this? Why did you kill those people, Eddie?” 

“Because there’s only so much a person can take. I mean, a year passed since Jason sicced his merry brigade of uptight Catholics on me. They all got to move on, get college scholarships, access to trust funds and opportunities to get out of this shithole. Me? I was gonna stay here and rot.” He seethes. “I tried my best to keep it under control. To push my urges down. But then I saw Carol bump you in that hallway, and I remembered what Tommy did to you at that party. That’s when I decided to end it.”

“How do you know about that?” You shudder. 

“Harrington told me everything. Y’know for someone who secretly loves killing, he protested far too much in the beginning. Though, in his defence, I think he was a little cooked after the whole Russian torture thing. It was a perfect plan, really. I killed the people on his list—he killed the people on mine. Solid alibis. No connection.” 

“I never asked for this. For any of it. You don’t get to pin your sick little indulgences on me, Eddie.”  

He flinches, recoils at your words. “But I did it for you. To keep you safe. Why don’t you get that?!” 

Salt falls from your eyes, trails down your face until your cheeks and neck are wet, a lump in your throat. “Are you going to kill me?”

He stares in awe at the pulse visible under your neck, lightly traces his knife over it. He may not even dignify your question with a response; all he would have to do is press in and you’d bleed out right on Mr. Munson’s orange carpet. 

“I told you that you’re always safe with me, do you remember that?” When you ignore his question, he uses the knife to tip your chin up and takes the mask off. “Answer me.”

His eyes soften when he waits for you to answer, as though hanging onto your words for desperate validation. You get a glimpse of the Eddie you know—knew. 

Your Eddie. 

“Yes.” You reply truthfully. 

“So how can you ask that? How could you possibly think I’d kill you?” 

“Then why stalk me? Why send me the flowers—the letters—if I wasn’t next on your list?” You sob. “You must’ve known what I’d think, that I was scared. Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you.” He whispers reverently, closing in on you. His eyes soften, and when he says those four words, it’s Eddie. Eddie, despite the blood spatter on his neck and arms. It’s why it takes your breath away, because you can’t disregard it as the ramblings of a madman. 

There’s some truth to it—even if it is sick. 

And you hate yourself more for wanting him. 

He sheaths the knife in his back pocket, closing the distance between you. “Do you have any idea…how long I’ve wanted you? How I’ve had to keep tabs on you from afar because I was afraid of what you’d think about me? I’ve wanted you since the day you moved here, way before we ever even met.” 

You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this. 

Your palm makes a cracking sound against his cheek, leaving a blooming red mark on his face. “I hate you.”

His lips brush against yours. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I fucking hate you, Eddie. You broke my trust.” 

“I know.”

Your fists beat down on his chest and arms, throwing punches against a solid chest. He grunts and takes the brunt of your beat down silently, your palms picking up the blood from his soaked t-shirt. It’s only once you’re reduced to tears that he stops you, encircling both of your blood-stained wrists and pulls you close to his chest. 

“I hate you.” You repeat in a small voice. 

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down at you. 

He looks more like himself now, the version that makes you laugh, and loves to read, and has a rich imagination. The Eddie who makes your breath catch in your throat. His gaze is heated, loaded with the challenge of your hatred for him, as though he’s waiting for you to prove it. 

His lips are plump and red, the divot on his chin pronounced. 

“You really hate me?” He whispers. “Because I’ll let you go. You can go to the police, have me arrested, I don’t care. I just want you.” 

You launch yourself at him, crushing your lips against his for a burning, all-consuming kiss. Your knees buckle at the long-awaited contact, his lips full and soft, yet demanding when they slide over yours, capturing your mouth with a bruising intensity. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him so forcefully that it makes you mewl, the soft contours of your body moulding against his harder ones, blood soaking into your pale pink dress. 

You pull away, panting for breath. “I hate you.” You chant. “I hate you. I hate you.” 

He kisses you harder. 

Your hands tangle in his hair as his lips devour you, hungry tongue meshing with yours. He moans in pain when you suckle his bruised bottom lip, the sound going straight to your core. He frantically reaches to touch as much of you as he can, presses his body against yours to make your chest heave with pleasure.

You pull away, looking at him hesitantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pleads, voice cracking. “Don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.”

“I am scared, Eddie.” You whisper, a tear escaping your eye. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I meant it when I said I’d never hurt you. I just wanna take care of you. Make you feel good the way you deserve. Will you let me do that? Can I show you? Please?” 

Despite your fear, you’re warming to the idea that he’s still the Eddie that checks on you in the middle of the night, the Eddie that once drove an hour at 3:00am to pick you up from a party. 

You swallow. “Yes.”

His warm eyes sparkle, capture your lips in another heated kiss. He moans desperately into your mouth as your lips slide over one another, panting as he firmly runs his hands up your hips, trailing up your ribcage and to your arms. He pins your hands above your head, stretching your body out and shoves his knee between your legs.

You break away from his mouth in pleasure, the coarse denim of his jeans rubbing against your panties. Your mouth falls open, head lolling back against the wall. 

“Oh, you needed this, huh?” He says darkly, rocking his knee between your legs. “You like me. And you hate yourself for it.” 

You chase his mouth but he dodges, a wicked look on his face. You fist your hands in his shirt collar and pull him down to capture his full lips between yours again, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Eddie groans, his mind immediately jumping to how you’re capable of drawing blood for him too, even if it is his own. His cock twiches. “That’s my fucking girl.” He murmurs, dragging his thumb against his lip to wipe the blood. “You’re not as innocent as you look, huh?” 

You wrap your hand around his large wrist, bring his hand to your own mouth to smear his blood on your lips. His eyes gleam, cock painfully hard. Your gaze falls to his lips, bruised and bleeding, blood in his mouth and on his chin. 

“Go ahead.” He smiles knowingly.

You let the tip of your tongue trace the blood on his chin and lick upward until you trace the seam of his lips. He swallows your next breath with a bruising kiss, your lips coming together in a frenzied, sick heat, the taste of copper and warm blood coating your tongue. 

He squeezes your hip with a large hand, brings you down to grind against his knee, the act debasing but you don’t care. Eddie makes you crazy, his broad build, his possessiveness; his dark side. 

“C’mon. Let me see that pretty face when you cum. Go ahead. Cum on my thigh like the sick little thing you are.” He murmurs, looking down at the mess you’re leaving on his jeans. He roughly forces you to look down, his hands framing your face. “Look at that. Look at the mess you’re leaving. Soaking fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet, do I make that cunt leak, baby? That all for me?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. For you. For you.” You chant.

“Atta girl. Cum for me now. Cum on my thigh.” He coos, rocking his leg up into you. “Let go, c’mon.” 

The coil in your stomach wraps tighter around itself, Eddie’s rough words making you throw your head back in a silent moan as you finally come undone. He holds you close to him, an arm around your waist to help you ride out your orgasm, your arms around his shoulders, held in a tight embrace as he continues to grind his knee into your pussy.

“Oh that’s it, that’s my pretty fucking girl. So good for me, doing exactly as I ask you. So fucking good, baby. Just breathe—you got it. Good girl.” 

His words somehow prolong your orgasm, your pussy convulsing around nothing, until all you can do is dig your nails into Eddie’s shoulders and cry. 

When you come down, you’re languid, but renewed, wanting more. Both of your eyes are blown, heady with lust, and Eddie brings your mouth back to his, unable to stay away. 

Cradling the back of your head, he licks into your mouth and you angle your head to kiss him deeper, hungry for more as you mewl into his mouth, scrambling against the wall. You tug at his t-shirt, pull him closer by his belt loops, and he moans at your show of control. 

Sinking to your knees, you keep your eyes up and on Eddie as you watch him register your movement, his brows furrowing with exertion. He plucks his blood-soaked t-shirt off his body, drops of crimson staining his abdomen and his hands now. 

You look up at him with wide eyes. He’s intimidating from this angle, tall and broad, but still lithe; ink and blood covering his pale chest and arms. You trace the scratches on his lower abdomen, shivers erupting on your skin at the realisation of how he really got them.

You kiss the still-red marks, tonguing over his v-line and lower abdomen, bluntly scratching at the smattering of hair that leads below his jeans. 

He cups your chin tenderly, leaving behind blood. “Tommy begged for his life. Begged me not to kill him, but I did anyway. Made him bleed out right by the pool while Carol watched. For what he did to you.” 

You should hate this. You should get off your knees and leave. But you can’t. Not when you’re one orgasm deep and you’re wet between the legs. Not when you’re about to worship this man. 

You kiss his hand, then his stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses over his abs, tracing the tip of your tongue over the red scratches. You move over, scratching your nails down his stomach to mirror the other side, leaving angry red marks. 

Why should Carol be the only one to get to mark him? 

He hisses through his teeth, hands hovering over your head hesitantly as you lick over the fresh marks with more kisses. “What? You jealous?” He laughs.

You answer him with another swipe at his v-line, red claw marks imprinting on his skin. The tent in his pants begs to be touched, and when you rub over his hard cock through his jeans, his thighs tremble. 

“Can I suck your cock, Eddie?” You ask innocently. “Please?” 

“Jesus fuckin—“ He grits out, bracing against the wall in front of him. “Go ahead, baby. Take my cock out, lemme feel your mouth.” 

You bite back a smile at his eagerness as you undo his belt, shakily pulling down his jeans and boxers together to free his cock. You swallow, your skin heating at the sight of his cock; average length but the girth takes you off guard, his tip red and leaking pre cum. 

He looks at you knowingly, like he knows he’s going to destroy you when the time comes, but until then, he’s going to bide his time with your mouth. He groans breathily when you stroke the length of him, using both hands to twist and pull, goosebumps erupting on his skin. 

“Shit, shit, shit. That’s it. Squeeze a little tighter there—ah—fuck. Oh, that’s it, baby.” 

You sweetly suck on his tip, licking up his pre cum. Eddie’s abs twitch when your tongue swipes over the vein on the underside of his cock, and you make a mental note to tease him with that. His hips jerk forward on instinct, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth, his hands hovering over your head.

“Like that, Eddie? Am I doing a good job?” You ask, kissing his tip. 

“Yeah, baby. Such a good job like I knew you would. Need a little more.” 

You work way down the shaft, laying wet, open mouthed kisses on his heavy cock, languidly slapping his tip against your tongue. Eddie’s chest flushes with exertion. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his expression darkening when you take his hands and direct them to your head, silently asking him to take control. 

“Show me what you want, Ed. Do it exactly how you wanna.” You murmur letting his cock slap your tongue. 

You stay like that; mouth wide and tongue out for him to take the lead. A splitting grin takes over his face as he nods, gently gathering your hair on top of your head. 

“My best girl.” He whispers.

He thrusts into your mouth slowly at first, tentatively testing the waters, but as your warm, wet mouth invites him in for more, his thrusts get deeper and more aggressive. Tears prick your eyes as his thick cock reaches the back of your throat with each rough thrust, his hands pulling your head forward. 

“Fucking Christ, your mouth. So pretty with your lips stretched out around my cock, on your knees for me.” 

You nod as he punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust that makes you gag around him, and you feel him twitch in your mouth, spit and precum messily trailing down your chin, covering his balls and thighs in a slick sheen. 

He wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah… you’re my filthy little girl, aren’t you? Love taking my cock any way I’ll give it to you, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, feels the vibration against his cock and throws his head back in pleasure, his hair a halo around his head. 

“So pretty, so fucking pretty—my angel. My pretty little angel. A little wider—shit—just like that.” Eddie whines incoherently when you reach up and massage his balls, slick with your saliva while he holds you in place and fucks your mouth. “Thank you, baby—fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Tears stream down your face, but you’re drunk on the taste of him, your pussy throbbing with his words and needy voice. You’re galvanised knowing that on your knees, you’re capable of reducing a man as powerful and terrifying as Eddie to this. 

A whining, whimpering, mess. 

He withdraws from your mouth with a drawn out groan, his cock twitching in front of your face. You glance up at him, a flush spreading from the centre of his chest to his neck, his ears and cheeks bright red, lips swollen from biting them. 

“C’mere.” He murmurs, dragging you up by your throat—not even with enough force to reduce your airflow—but as a possessive gesture, a means of control. 

He disregards the mess on your face and kisses you in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues and heavy breaths, his cock pressing against your tummy. He swallows your moans and whimpers with a light grip on your throat as he takes the breath from your lungs. 

  “Let's get you off your feet, what do you say?” He rasps. 

You nod, hooking your arms around his neck as he sweeps you off your feet, dark gaze burning yours. He throws you on his creaky mattress, leaving you to crawl upward as he stalks towards you like you’re his prey. 

Shoving your knees apart, he strokes your calves, laying gentle kisses on your now sore knees. “You trust me?” 

You take a beat, making sure to run the scenarios through in your head. “Yes.”

He reaches for a knife from his bedside table, and your skin turns red hot, equal parts desire and terror mixing like a cocktail under your skin. 

“Eyes on me, okay? Just relax.” He coos, kissing your forehead. “Not gonna hurt you.” 

He settles between your legs, and despite you being the one fully clothed out of the two of you, you feel vulnerable but safely kept. He scrapes the blunt edge of the knife gently down your neck, circling your pulse point. It scratches against your collarbone as he continues its descent down in your skin. 

You close your eyes as he hooks it around the neckline of your dress, and you feel him stall, remember his words.

Eyes on me. 

“Good girl.” He breathes when you force yourself to look at him. 

With a sharp tug of the knife, he cuts a jagged line down the centre of your dress, starting at your neckline and ending just above your belly button. You startle at the sudden movement and jump slightly but a hand on your hip holds you down. Slowly, he takes the two halves of the dress and rips with his bare hands all the way down until it falls open at your sides. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re perfect.” Eddie rasps, trailing the knife back upwards. 

“Don’t tease, Eddie.” You whine, shivering at the cold. 

“Patience, my flower. I like to draw things out.”  

You stiffen, the reminder of his extra curricular activities reminding you of who he is. He dips down and places a sweet kiss on your lips to absolve you of your worries, then with a tattooed hand, drags the knife between your breasts, then to the left. The sheets in your hands are the only traction you have as he circles your nipple with the knife, flicking the bud with the metal. 

“One wrong move…” he reminds you. “One wrong move, and this could end terribly for you, couldn’t it?” 

You whimper, nodding. 

“Good thing you trust me. Better thing that I love you.”

He trails it down your stomach, watching the goosebumps appear on your skin as he travels south, the muscles under your skin jumping at the touch. The cold metal reaches your panties, scraping over your covered mound, and despite the imminent danger, you feel yourself dripping for him. 

“You’re doing really good, baby. Proud of you.” 

He goes further still, careful to always use the blunt edge of the knife, but with the weapon out of sight, you’re forced to hyper focus on the sensation, figure out which part is where. You cry out when the cold metal bumps against your puffy clit through your panties, your hips bucking. 

Eddie laughs throatily, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, was that good? You liked that, didn’t you? My depraved little angel.” 

“Yes, Eddie. Please, I need more.” 

“That’s right, you do. Well done.” 

You feel tension against the waistband of your panties before it snaps, your panties cut off at the legs. Eddie pulls you up roughly, dragging your panties off you and leaving you fully exposed and open to him. Gathering them in his hand, he brings them to his face, inhales deeply as his eyes roll back into his head. 

”Fucked my hand over n’ over again with the panties I took from you. Wrapped around my cock pretending it was you, whispered your name when I came. You know that?” 

His words make you squirm and he laughs knowingly. Gripping your chin gently, he tells you to open up so he can slip your panties into your mouth. The salty sweet taste of you floods your mouth, your slick coating your tongue and the cotton. 

“You keep nice and quiet for me, I swear I’ll make it worth your while, baby. Can you be good for me?” 

He’s in control and he knows it and it makes you writhe in pleasure. You nod eagerly, pussy fluttering at the prospect of what he has planned for you. 

He slaps your cheek lightly again. “Good girl. Nice and quiet, yeah?” 

He yanks you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and brings your legs to wrap around his waist, turning you as he lays on his back, moving up the bed. 

“C’mon, baby. Come sit on my face, gimme that pretty pussy.” 

You hesitate, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but he takes your hands in his, pulls you forward until you're straddling his waist. “C’mon. Let me taste you, baby. Please?” He coos.

Hooking two arms around you, he moves you up until you’re hovering above his face, the change in dynamic making your insides clench. 

“Please, baby. Just wanna taste you. Please? Let me kiss that pretty pussy?” He whines, tugging on his cock. 

You tentatively lower yourself onto his face, the only thing visible to you now, his upper face. He latches onto your pussy immediately, sucks your clit between his plump lips and your hips buck, trying to put some distance between you and the source of your pleasure. He moans loudly into your pussy, thick tongue and full mouth messily kissing your cunt, strong jaw anchoring you.  

“Such a sweet fucking pussy, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me… could get drunk on the taste of you, so fucking wet, dripping down my face—my God.” He whines, hooking his arms around your legs to keep you flush to him.

Your legs tremble around his face—his face—blissed out and so full of concentration. You lean down and push the hair off his forehead, and he moans in pleasure, sucking your clit harder as you pull slightly on his scalp. 

“That’s it, baby. Grind on my face, use my tongue. Make yourself cum for me, baby. Grind on me.” 

Your heart beats erratically as you slowly work your hips in circles on Eddie’s face, moans and whimpers muffled by the panties in your mouth. His hands reach up to squeeze your tits, pinching your nipples almost painfully and pleasure sparks at the base of your spine. 

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make me proud. Cum for me.” He encourages, flicking your clit with his tongue. The sound of Eddie’s mouth and your wet pussy fill the room as you chase your release, melting into him while pleasure washes over you in waves. 

You cum with a silent scream, head thrown back and focus on the feeling of Eddie’s hands on your tits and mouth lapping at you. You come crashing down, electricity crackling at the base of your spine as you pull on Eddie’s hair. 

You fall onto your hands with blood thrumming in every single nerve ending, your hair sticking to your neck with exertion. Eddie lays a messy kiss on your clit before lifting you off him and gathers you in his arms. 

He checks your face for signs of concern, but you’re utterly blissed out. Unpicking the panties from your mouth, he wipes the saliva from your chin to kiss you. You’re boneless in his arms, trusting him to hold you up, sweaty body flush against his as his mouth moves over yours. He consumes your being, wanting you from the inside out, your entire body vibrating with need, more so when you feel his cock jump between your legs. 

“You’re so hard, Eddie. So thick.” 

He swears under his breath as you tug at his cock, heavy and warm in your hand. He grips your throat, a smile making its way onto your lips as he regards you with a knowing look. 

A look that he knows you’re his. That you’re just as twisted as he is. 

He spins you around, your back flush to his tattooed chest and grips your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. You stroke him languidly, feeling his sticky precum coat the tips of your fingers while his fingers spread your pussy lips. 

“Look at yourself.” He urges, kissing your cheek. “Look at how wrecked you are, spread out and naked for me. Look at how good we look together, my flower. Look.” 

The sight in front of you makes your knees buckle. Next to Eddie’s guitar, is your reflection, blissed out with your hair matted to your face, legs spread wide while Eddie’s ringed fingers rub your clit. Behind you, Eddie watches the reflection, his tattooed chest and abdomen littered with scratches and bruises. 

Both of you are stained with blood, handprints marking your throat, your hips, your tits, actual remnants of a crime on your bodies, mixing with sex. 

“Keep your eyes on that mirror, baby. Whatever you do, do not take your eyes off that mirror. You got that?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. Anything you want.” 

He lays a kiss under your ear to soothe the sting of two thick fingers plunging into your pussy, your head lolling back. The slick coating your thighs and pussy makes it easy for him to slide in, the sting soothed by the pleasure of him hooking his fingers inside you. 

“Ohh, I know you like that, don’t you, my girl? That feels good inside my pretty baby’s pussy, huh? You wanna close your eyes but you can’t, can you?” He coos mockingly, lightly slapping your cheek. “No, you can’t. Because you said you’d do anything I want. So you’re gonna stay right here…and I’m gonna finger this pretty little cunt to get you ready for my cock.” 

“Eddie…” you whine, palming his cock. “That feels so good, your fingers… so thick.” 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

He withdraws his fingers and plunges them deep inside you with each word, drawing out your pleasure like a length of elastic; tension building and building precariously close to a snap. The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as his pace increases, a furious work of his wrist leaving you hanging onto his arm for dear life. 

“Cum, baby. Come on, gimme another one, I know you can do it. Do it for me, baby, let me feel you squeeze my fingers.” 

“Gonna cum, Eddie…so close.” You whimper. 

You watch his biceps flex and his shiny, slick covered fingers as you come undone. You’re decidedly full, but not full enough, fluttering around his fingers wildly as he talks you through your release. Your eyes go hazy with ecstasy as you fight to keep them open, to watch his onslaught like you promised you would. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl. Pretty eyes on me, yeah? Just breathe baby, you’re doing so good. So fucking good squeezing me like that. So pretty.” 

When your heartbeat comes down, he kisses your cheek, holding his ring and middle fingers up to the light, your slick stretching between his fingers. 

He brings them to your mouth. “Suck.” He says simply, gasping when your tongue presses against his fingers to lick the taste of yourself off him. 

“Sweet?” He asks. 

You nod around his fingers. 

“Well done, baby. We’re not finished yet, though.” 

With a large hand on your upper back, he pushes you down into his pillows, the smell of him surrounding you like a haze. His sheets are rumpled, but a welcome reprieve, they smell like him and in a way, it’s like laying on him. 

Eddie’s large hands angle your hips upwards just slightly, the rest of you still face down on the mattress. You feel the blunt head of his cock slide up and down your slit, your sloppy cunt making him slip. 

A sharp crack lands on your ass, making you jump, the pain soothed by a cool relief as Eddie massages the skin, pulling at it posessively. He squeezes you hard enough to leave bruises but it only spurs you on, the sick thought of Eddie possessing you, marking you—owning you—makes you drip onto his sheets. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” He rasps from the exertion of controlling himself. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

He braces himself over you with toned arms, his legs bracketing yours as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you, agonisingly slow. His broad chest flushes a deep crimson. 

You feel him slide right back out of you, and try again, his lips between his teeth. “God fuckin’ damn it, you’re so tight, pushing me right back out.” He pushes in again, and you watch him mesmerised. “Let me in, angel, c’mon. Let me inside you, gimme that sweet cunt. C’mon.” He grunts. 

Every inch stretches you out, punching the air from between your lungs. You’re completely immobilised and at Eddie's mercy, trembling as he sheathes himself inside you. 

You gasp when he buries himself to the hilt, impossibly full and dizzy with pleasure. “Oh my God, Eddie, that’s deep. You’re so fucking deep inside me—so fucking big.” You sob, fluttering around his cock. 

He drops his entire body weight on you, pushing you further into the mattress, deliciously constricting your airflow. He pulls your arms out in front of you and interlocks his fingers with yours. 

You feel his chest vibrate when he speaks, a deep, quiet rumble that kisses the shell of your ear. “Yeah? That deep enough for my baby’s pussy, hm? Stretch you nice and good?”

You watch the carnal expression on his face as he slowly starts to grind into you, the angle bumping that spot deep inside you that makes your clit jump. You’re sensitive and pliant under him but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in close and snapping his hips, muttering filthy words into your ear. 

He pushes a thumb into your mouth. “Such a warm, wet, perfect cunt. The things I did for this pussy, to make you mine—God.” He grits. “You make me fucking crazy you know that? This pussy makes me crazy.” 

Every inch of his body presses against yours, your skin moulding to his, sweat slicked and sticky, both of your thighs covered in your slick. 

“Love your cock, Eddie. Love how you fuck me. Please, Eddie. Want more, please.” You whine, pulling his hair above you. 

He builds his pace steadily, his hips snapping into your while he sets a brutal rhythm, pressing you further into the mattress. The hot friction of your nipples rubbing against his sheets and his cock set your skin on fire. 

You barely register Eddie angle your hips up all the way before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you up—flush against him. 

“That’s better. Look at you—fucking ruined on my cock, aren’t you? Who else can fuck you like this? Who else makes you this fucking pathetic and desperate?” 

“Nobody, Eddie. Nobody. Just you, only you fuck me like this.” You choke out, legs trembling. 

With an arm around your waist to keep you steady, he hooks the other around your neck, effectively putting you in a light headlock. You’re so close to your release, so dizzy with pleasure that you’re on the verge of passing out. Your head lolls against Eddie’s shoulder and your eyes roll back, your face a sight with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. 

The lack of airflow increases the pressure inside of your body, fire pooling low in your stomach, making you drip . 

“That’s it, that’s it, there you go, there you fucking go. You like it when I choke you don’t you, my filthy little girl. Gonna make you cream all over my cock, want it soaking my thighs and balls, baby. Give it to me.” 

You can barely form words, settling for a litany of, “Yes, yes, yes. Right there, Eddie, don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop. Not until you’re crying. Now c’mon, gimme another one, let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, c’mon. Make me proud, pretty girl, cum for me.” 

You hang on for dear life as he fucks you right into another orgasm, your legs trembling and pussy convulsing around him, but he doesn’t let up. Pounds you right through your orgasm, skin slapping against skin, finally letting go of your throat so you can breathe again. 

“Good girl, good girl, good fucking girl, that’s it. There you go, just breathe—you got it. Just feel it, you got it, c’mon, keep going, keep going.”

White spots your vision as you ride out your orgasm and Eddie finally allows you to fall forward, draping his body over yours immediately. You pull at his hair to bring him closer, slowly grinding yourself against his cock as you come down, a panting, sweaty mess, drowning in bliss. 

You angle your head to kiss him lazily, his lips leaving your mouth tingling, tongue licking into your mouth. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re really fucking intense, Ed?” You tease against his lips. 

“Why? You hear somethin’?” He chuckles, kissing you deeply. 

He pulls out of you, tugging at his slick cock as he turns you over onto your back. You’re both dishevelled, and desperate, chasing a higher and higher release. 

You spread your legs and invite him to use your puffy, sensitive pussy, your thighs and hips covered in juices. He slides in easier this time, grinding all the way into the hilt so his pelvis bumps your clit, while his pick chain dangles in your face. 

You whine, gripping the sheets for an anchor as he starts to drive into you with a rough snap of his hips. 

“Eddie…” you whine. “Feel so good, so deep.” You whimper. 

“Yeah?” He grins, dimple splitting his cheek. He presses his hand into your stomach, withdrawing his cock almost all the way out and slamming back inside again. “Right here? You feel me there? Nice and deep inside this pretty angel cunt, made for me to fuck, isn’t it?” 

“Just for you, Eddie. Just for you.” You chant. 

Your slick smears everywhere, coating Eddie’s lower stomach and happy trail, his pelvis and balls, everything a filthy, sticky mess and you’re in heaven. 

You fist your hands into the pillow next to you, spot a flash of black and white. Pulling on the material, you reveal another mask, and your heart swoops nervously, your body stiffening. 

“You’re okay, baby. Nothin’ to be scared of—here.” He reassures you, slipping the hood on. It takes your breath away, having to reconcile Eddie’s body with the mask, but when he grinds his cock deep inside you, you snap back. “Just me. Just Eddie.” 

You reach for his shoulders and spread your legs to invite him closer, wanting to feel more of him. Eddie smiles behind the mask, knows the reaction you have to it—to him—to the implications. He hisses at the feel of your fingernails digging into his back, cock twitching at your possessiveness.

“You like that don’t you, baby? I know you like seeing me with the mask on, I can feel you fucking creaming on my cock. Makes you horny doesn’t it, knowing I killed for you? You’re twisted. Filthy.” 

You whine for him incoherently, feeling the muscles in his back flex and contract as he fucks you deep and fast, his creaky bed matching his rhythm. The mask cuts off Eddie’s breathing, makes it hard to inhale properly but finally having you under him, writhing and moaning his name the way he’s dreamed of makes him whimper. 

“Wanna see you, Eddie. Please. Wanna see your face.” You cry, reaching for his mask. 

He dodges your hands, pins them above your head with his stronger ones. “Tell me you’re mine first.” He grunts. “Tell me you’re fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Eddie. I’m fucking yours, I’m all yours.” You offer freely, squeezing his hands. 

He slides the hood off, forehead shiny with sweat, bangs matted to his face as he drops his entire body weight on you, pinning your hands again. 

“That’s right. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to fuck. All mine.”

You’re dizzy with pleasure, taking whatever he gives you, your pussy squelching with each brutal pass of Eddie’s thick cock. “All yours, Eddie.”

“Tell me I’m yours.” He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward. 

“You’re mine, Eddie.” You sob, raking your nails violently down his back to prove it. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Eddie.” 

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. “That’s right. You could try to forget any of this happened. But we both know, baby. You love this too much.” 

“God—Eddie. Please. Please, please…”

“Please what? You losin’ your words, now? So drunk on my cock filling you up, you can’t think straight?” He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. 

He grips your throat, making your head fall back and tongue loll out of your mouth uselessly. In a moment of pure possession, he lets a trail of his saliva drip into your mouth, kisses you deeply and thoroughly until you’re seeing stars and on the precipice. 

“Good thing I can think for the both of us, huh? Dunno what you’d do without me, my dumb little angel. Need me to protect you, don’t you? I know, baby, I know. I can give you what you need, don’t worry.” 

You’re reduced to blissful silence as Eddie bridges the gap between you and your release, his own, right on the edge as well. 

“Gonna come, Eddie. So close, please, please, make me cum. I love it, I love you. I love you. I love you—Eddie, fuck.” You sob, hanging onto his back, crescent shaped welts marking his skin. 

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna make all this worth it. All of it, just a little more, yeah?” He pants, rhythm turning sloppy. 

“Yeah. Make me yours, Eddie. Please. Wanna be yours.” 

He drops his entire body weight against you, your stomachs pressing together as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, baby. Make you mine forever, yeah?” 

You nod, biting down on Eddie’s shoulder as you cum, locking your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. You convulse around his cock, pulling him impossibly close. Eddie moans into your neck as he reaches his release, teeth sinking into the skin below your ear as he cums deep inside you, his balls nestled against your ass.  

He thrusts shallowly inside you, shuddering as you both come down, sweating and entirely ruined. Brushing the sweaty hair off your face, he kisses you deeply, pulling away with dopey eyes. 

“Proud of you, baby. You did really good. Thank you.” 

Your eyes grow heavy, and you’re content to lean on him on the way to the cramped bathroom, have him wash the blood off both of your bodies. You register it against the white porcelain of the bathtub as it circles the drain. 

It takes a few weeks and slowly but surely, Hawkins returns back to normal. A week-long procession of back-to-back funerals are grim, your guilty conscience making you sick, but the sicker part of you wonders what else you could have Eddie do. 

Two weeks after Andy Clayton’s funeral, you sit in the backseat of Steve’s BMW and watch the houses go by. You narrow your eyes, tapping Eddie on the shoulder once the white house comes into view.

“That’s the house, Eddie.” 

“You sure, Sweetheart?” He asks, squeezing your hand. 

“Positive. Jenny told me she saw it happen, Father Elijah with that little boy.” 

“Alright. You heard her, Harrington. Let’s go.” He inhales sharply, getting out of the car. 

You join them outside, tugging on Eddie’s hands, stopping him as he goes to put his mask on. “You’ll be careful, won’t you, baby?” 

“Always am.” He smiles, bending down to kiss you.

——————————————————————————

tags: @fezcoismypimp @urlocaltwink @cottoncandywings @stardancerluv @hoe-for-fictional-men @momsaysimpunkrock @southside-serpent-bae @umm-megan @cozyyellowcardigan @binanas @imasimptoowth @adamdrivershairfluffer @a-laura @rosecolorgardens

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fics #ghostface eddie #amber writes

[kamotecue]

you make me crazier ꕥ a. russo

pairing: alessia russo x reader

summary: when the arsenal team gets invited to attend an international artist’s show, little did they know—one of their recent signings is secretly dating them. pop star!reader

you hummed playing with the strings of your guitar, a habit you always had ever since you were a child. currently, sound check was going on and you were waiting for the lucky ones, the arsenal women’s team—you’re a fan of football.

you noticed your manager who was monitoring you with a few of your tour staff. a small chuckle escaped your lips when you saw the way your manager looked at her watch frantically.

“it seems like the arsenal women’s team has arrived.” jenny said, as you hummed—giving her a small nod. as she scurried to greet them.

you strummed the strings of the guitar playing one of your favorite songs, crazier by taylor swift. not knowing that the team had entered already, nor how your favorite person watched with a small smile on her face.

“you lift my feet off the ground, you spin me around.” you sang as you thought about the time where you agreed to be alessia’s girlfriend. the wide smile she had, it was something you had fallen for.

“would you be mine, y/n?” alessia asked, as you gave her a shy soft smile. you gave her a nod, as she lifted you up from the ground—gently spinning you around in happiness.

“you make me crazier, crazier. feels like i’m falling and i—i’m lost in your eyes.” you opened your eyes, as you noticed the team watching you with a smile, some looked starstrucked, and some admired the way you sang. but one—was totally in love with you, and they didn’t know that.

“you make me crazier, crazier—crazier.” you stood up before giving them a small bow, as they had clapped when the song had ended. jenny giving you a knowing look, as she knew about the private relationship.

of course, she knew—your childhood bestfriend turned manager. a chaotic bunch the two of you were.

“did you guys like it?” you asked, giving a small hum. as leah, the team’s co-captain gave you a nod. alessia watched as you came closer, greeting the team.

the sound check was exactly how you wanted it to be, the team enjoyed it. but it’s not over yet, is it? there’s still the actual concert, the team had the closest view to you—as they had the front row.

the set list was simple, you were playing the second album you released—it truly was a hit. you watched as the crowd cheered the loudest, but you kept your eyes on a certain blonde.

it was the way her eyes shined when she watched you sang. the way she’d look at you with pure adoration, and would get a bit teary eyed as she acknowledges what you accomplished and is proud to have you as her lover.

when the last song ended, you stood up—the tour staff quickly entering the stage to grab your guitar, and other things.

“that was a great show, london. i’m glad to have come out here for my tour, and i really can’t wait to come back.” you said, as the crowd cheered. you blew a kiss, as you entered the backstage—knowing that the arsenal team already had passes.

henry, your bodyguard let the team pass as they waited outside of your dressing room. chatter was heard, as the door swung open—revealing you in a simple white long sleeved polo shirt, black pleated wide leg dressy trousers, white trainers and plaid pattern argyle print pocket v-sweater.

“hi, i’m y/n.” you softly said, as the team chuckled at your awkwardness—even jenny gave you a pointed look, snickering at you.

you chatted with the whole team, not minding how you held onto alessia’s pinky—it was covered by a jacket she had placed over her leg.

a simple post is what broke the internet, it also had the arsenal group chat blowing up.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

pretend you’re the one alessia is hugging. an iconic photo this is.

liked by alessiarusso99, katie_mccabe11, leahwilliamsonn, and 12,253,042 others.

y/nl/n23: as a queen once said, you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. @alessiarusso99

⤷ alessiarusso99: likewise, love. you’re the best thing that’s ever been mine as well.

leahwilliamsonn: can’t believe you didn’t tell us, less.

⤷ alessiarusso99: sorry, cap. at least you know now

name1: no way, an arsenal and y/n l/n crossover.

name2: breaking the internet like it’s preath.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #arsenal wfc imagine #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

[kiisstuff]

The Bakshi Family

Summary:

"The Bakshi Family" is an interactive fiction inspired by the sitcom Full House. After the untimely death of their mother, Rakesh Bakshi finds himself navigating the challenges of parenting his four children— The twins Alisha & Asim, Bevis, and the youngest, Darsh. The family's dynamics are further complicated by the arrival of their 25-year-old aunt/uncle, the MC, who must balance their own life while helping the Bakshi family cope with their loss. Amidst the chaos, the MC encounters five potential romantic interests: Bo Wu, Rakesh's best friend; Rakesh himself; Grace Clarke, a celebrity; S Smith, the neighbor; and Charlie Andrew, the teacher. As the MC forms bonds and supports the Bakshi family, they discover that love and laughter can heal even the deepest wounds in this heartwarming and entertaining interactive narrative.

Aunt/Uncle MC: Play as the 25-year-old aunt/uncle, juggling personal life and responsibilities to support the Bakshi family in the aftermath of their mother's death. (decide to play male or female and create a personality and a appearance)

Diverse Romantic Interests: Choose from five distinct romantic interests, each with their own personalities and backgrounds. Will you pursue a relationship with Rakesh, the best friend Bo, the celebrity Grace, the neighbor S, or the teacher Charlie?

Coping Mechanisms: Witness how each family member copes with grief in their own way. Delve into the emotional nuances of the characters as they navigate the healing process.

Parenting Challenges: Assist Rakesh, the father, in overcoming his chaotic and embarrassing parenting style. Navigate the ups and downs of family life while trying to understand the needs and emotions of each child.

Slice-of-Life Situations: Experience everyday situations reminiscent of the Full House sitcom, including heartwarming family moments, humorous mishaps in the kitchen, and the joys and challenges of raising children.

Bo Wu:

Personality: Bo is a 28-year-old Asian-American with a flare for the dramatic. He exudes arrogance, flirts unabashedly, and considers himself the coolest person in the room. Despite his rude exterior, there's a mysterious charm that draws people in.

Appearance: Bo has fair skin, dark brown eyes, and shoulder-length black hair tied in a small ponytail. Standing at 6'0ft, he embraces a relaxed and effortlessly cool style.

Rakesh Bakshi:

Personality: At 36, Rakesh is the Indian father of the Bakshi family. Despite his embarrassing and chaotic parenting, he is genuinely nice and friendly. He enjoys baseball, snowboarding (though it always ends badly), and casual cooking sessions that often result in culinary mishaps.

Appearance: Rakesh has tan skin, messy brown hair, a casual stumble, and stands tall at 6'4ft, giving him a laid-back and approachable look.

Grace Clarke:

Personality: Grace, a 23-year-old British celebrity, is sweet, insightful, outgoing, and enthusiastic. She enjoys singing, acting, dressing up, surfing, yoga, and cooking. Grace brings a positive and vibrant energy to every situation.

Appearance: Grace boasts porcelain skin, mid-length wavy auburn hair, and ocean-blue eyes. Standing at 5'3ft, she carries herself with a sensual and graceful demeanor.

Scott/Skye Smith:

Personality: S a 29 American Person, is the athletic neighbour with a shy, spontaneous, logical, caring, and strategic personality. They have a love for various sports and photography, bringing a unique dynamic to the neighborhood.

Appearance: Scott, at 5'8ft, features blond, bald hair, a beard, sharp features, rosy skin and an athletic, sporty look, while Skye, standing at 5'6ft, has blond hair in a loose bun, sharp features, rosy skin and also an athletic, sporty look.

Charlie Andrew:

Personality: Charlie, the 28-year-old Native American teacher, is efficient, reliable, playful, and intellectual. They enjoy reading, hiking, and drawing.

Appearance: Charlie has shoulder-length aqua blue hair, brown eyes, golden brown skin, and a professional look, standing at 5'8ft. They radiate a calm and intellectual aura.

demo: tba probably April

forum: tba probably April

other: soulmate-if , TBFamily-If

#interactive fiction #if wip #wip #no demo #romance #family #interactive novel #interactive game #TheBakshiFamily #The Bakshi Family #second if

[imaginespazzi]

Forget jealous Paige, how do we think poor KK's dealing with the fact that her father and sister were literally vibing to her song WITHOUT her 😭

Alright unserious unedited chaotic family drabble because I feel like procrastinating. Like I'm not even joking this is the most random thing I've ever written so read at your own discretion:

It's way too early in the morning when Paige's phone rings, making both her and Ice groan.

"KK what the fuck," Paige asks groggily, wiping at bleary eyes as a furious KK's face fills her phone screen.

"You said you didn't have a favorite child. LIAR," KK yells.

"Oh my god KK," Ice whines from across the room, "please shut the fuck up. My head is pounding."

"GOOD! TO MY SONG?" KK pays no attention, still as loud as ever, "HOW COULD YOU? BOTH OF YOU FUCKING TRAITORS."

"Bro you knew we were going," Paige sighs, sitting up properly.

"That's not the point. You know what give me one second. AZZI. AZZI. AZZI," and then KK's off running, blurry on Paige's screen as she yells for Azzi.

"Oh my god what? What?" Azzi's concerned voice comes through the phone, a smile replacing her frown when KK thrusts the phone in her face, "oh, hi P!"

Before a now grinning Paige can reply, KK cuts her off, "no! Don't hi P her. Did you see Ice's live? They been having the time of our lives without us. THEY WERE VIBING TO MY SONG. MY SONG AZZI!"

"Uh they're quite literally there to get drunk and party, we knew this," Azzi says, trying to hide a smile.

"Again not the point," KK sighs exasperatedly.

"What is the point KK," Paige asks with a tired yawn, "get to it then."

"The point is that you two are getting divorced and I'm finding myself a new stepfather. I will not be tolerating this disrespect," KK says firmly.

"Excuse me," Paige says shrilly, "I do not agree to a divorce."

"You don't have to. Mothers do what's best for their children and Azzi's gonna do what's best for me. Right Azzi?" KK glares at Azzi who sighs exasperatedly.

"You're both aware that you're not actually my husband and child right?"

"Excuse you," Paige screeches at the same time as KK gasps dramatically and Azzi has to mentally prevent herself from sighing again.

"Okay alright, divorce yes okay," Azzi gives in, KK squeals and this time Paige is glaring.

"Wow. It's that easy huh? Guess all of those years meant nothing to you."

Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her smile at Paige's mock offense.

"And now to find a stepfather," KK says triumphantly and then her eyes light up with a glint as a blonde walks in, "KATE!"

Kate looks like a deer caught in the headlight as she walks cautiously towards an over-excited KK and a slightly mortified Azzi, "uhhh hi?"

"I have a very important question for you Kate," KK says with all the seriousness of the world, "are you married?"

"Uh....no?" Kate answers, confused at that line of questioning, as Azzi hides her face in her palms.

"KK what the fuck are you doing?" Paige yells at her phone, suddenly very unamused by this whole thing.

"Ssssh P-boogers, I'm about to perform a wedding."

"Umm what?" poor Kate asks, looking at Azzi for help, not used to the insanity that is the UConn women's team. To be honest, she's not fully sure if all of this is a joke.

"You and Azzi are getting married and then you're going to adopt me," KK says firmly.

"I swear we're normal people....most of the time," Azzi tries to reassure Kate.

"Dearly beloved, or unbeloved since it's Paige and Ice, I guess, we are here today to marry these two women," KK begins and then looks at Azzi and Kate who are standing a feet apart, "uh hello? You have to hold hands."

Paige splutters, "Martin I don't know you that well but if you hold her hand I swear to God."

"Oh calm down ex-father," KK fires back, "let me get my new parents married in peace. Now since there are no objections-"

"I OBJECT," Paige yells, turning to a sleeping Ice who's trying to block out the noise using a pillow, "ICE your mother is getting married to someone else, get the fuck up and come here and object with me."

"Your objections don't count because you're liars and traitors. MY SONG. MY FUCKING SONG."

"Bro you're all I was thinking about I swear," Paige pleads, "after every Bow, I was like oh my god KK would have loved this. I missed you every second I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not good enough," KK says petulantly.

"I got you a signed autograph. It was gonna be a surprise but you need to know. I swear KK, I would have had so much more fun if it was with you bro. It just wasn't the same."

"Oh that makes me feel great. Thanks Paige." Ice mumbles from under the sheets.

"ONE MAD CHILD AT A TIME THANK YOU," Paige says exasperatedly.

KK contemplates Paige's words for a moment before turning to Kate.

"I'm sorry Kate. It looks like this wedding can't go on. It's not you. It's us. Hope you understand," she says with a solemn expression, "but I already have a father and she's great. A little stupid sometimes but great."

Kate nods dumbstruck, unsure what had just happened in the last couple of minutes but she's pretty sure she's just been dismissed.

"FATHER," KK yells turns her face back to her phone, "I missed you. Let's never fight again. That was the worst 10 minutes of my life."

"SON SON," Paige shouts with glee, "let's never do that again."

Azzi pinches the bridge of her nose, wondering how she'd let this become her life.

"If the two of you are done, can I go back to rehab now?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Paige narrows her eyes at Azzi through the phone, "were you about to get married to someone else?"

Oh boy here we go again

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kk arnold #ice brady #kate martin #this is literally the most unserious thing ever like idek what was going through my brain #inspired by all the unseriousness from the weekend i gues #wcbb

[storiesforthemoonchild]

Family Day | Emily Sonnett x Reader

dropping this cause the USWNT doc came out today. I feel like Saucy would be the most chaotically fun wife lol. request is here... Enjoy :)

“FAMILYYYYYYY DAYY!” A mess of blonde curls makes her way into the room screaming. 

“Amelia, inside voi-,” you attempt to remind your daughter only to be cut off. 

“FAMILYYYY DAYY,” Your wife jumps up from the bed matching the energy of your 5 year old. 

“YESSSSSSS!”

“My loves please!” You sigh. “Inside voices.” 

“Sorry mom,” Emily mocks, making a face that your daughter smirks at.

You shoot your wife a warning glare that makes her throw her hands up in surrender. “Are you two ready to go?” You ask while throwing the last of your necessities in a bag. 

“Yes ma’am,” your wife says saluting you and immediately having it mimicked by your daughter. You roll your eyes and Emily seems to finally pick up on your slight annoyance. “Go put your shoes on baby saucy,��� she ushers her mini me out the room. 

“Actual shoes baby girl, not your cleats,” you yell after her. “Please stop calling our child baby saucy.”

“Aw come on she loves it and this one,” she places her hand on your 6-month pregnant belly and rubs, “baby saucy #2 will love it too.” 

You accept the kiss she places on your lips before speaking, “I need you to be my wife today, not my second child okay?” You joke stroking along her arms. 

Emily huffs, crossing her arms in a pout, “I’m always your wife.” You kiss away the pout, smiling as she pulls you into her arms. “All good?”

“All good. Now go make sure she puts on an actual pair of shoes please,” again she salutes you before sprinting out of the room. You roll your eyes playfully at the gesture.

You can’t help but love her playful nature, that’s what made you fall for her in the first place. Emily had the title of fun parent sealed from the moment you gave birth, probably even before. She would tell jokes to your stomach and jump in excitement when she felt the baby kick in response. You adored your very adult second child.

The time she spent away during the season between national team duties and away games was hard. While the result didn’t end how they would have liked, you were happy to have her home consistently for a while, but nowhere near as happy as your daughter, Amelia.

The 5-year-old had planned a whole family day to the Zoo and Aquarium down to the very last detail. It was the focus of every conversation over the last week. Emily entertained her with poorly drawn out schemes of how they would travel through every exhibit. A star placed over the lion and shark exhibits, as they were ‘TOP PRIORITY’.

When you walk to the living room to gather the troops, the sight you see is absolutely adorable. The two perched identically on the edge of the couch, Amelia with one shoe on and the other in Emily’s hand as she uses it to point out different tactics taking place during the WSL game on the TV.  You snap a quick photo before making your way in.

“Oh are we staying in? Let me take off my shoes and get back in bed. Baby Saucy has been a bit moody in here all morning anyway,” you say dramatically.

“NO!” They both shout, scrambling to put on the final shoe and rushing towards the door.

You shake your head amused and meet them by the door, “I knew you liked the nickname,” Emily teases, placing a kiss to your cheek as you quickly shove her away with a laugh. 

The day goes about how you would expect. You are being dragged around by both arms, one in Amelia’s and the other in Emily’s, going through each exhibit. 

“Mommy LOOK!” 

“Babe, keep up.”

“Mommy quick the lions are out.”

“Do you think we should get her a baby lion for Christmas?”

“Can we take the baby shark home?”

“Scratch the baby lion, maybe a baby shark?”

“LOOK! LOOK!”

They would say things to you and sprint away before you could even give a response. You were rightfully tired, a grateful sigh leaving your lips when you finally made it through the last exhibit. “Okay my loves, let's get ready to wrap it up.”

“Should we throw mommy in?” Emily jokes, acting like she’s going to lift you up bridal style.

“Nah, I want to meet the baby,” Amelia shrugs, rubbing at her eyes a tell-tale sign she was tired.

Emily scoops the girl up in her arms, causing her to immediately snuggle against her. All the excitement quickly being replaced by exhaustion. “Ready to go baby girl,” Emily coos, only to get a sleepy nod against her chest in return.

You’re endeared by the bond the two of them share. While she loved to play and joke around with the 5-year-old like they were best friends, nothing was better than seeing her be the protective mama bear. She rubs a soothing hand against her back, “Mama, can we get a shark?” Amelia asks.

“Yeah baby girl. We can get whatever you want.” 

Your eyes triple in size at the statement, making Emily smirk. She pulls you into her side, placing a kiss on your forehead. She grabs your hand, leading you towards the gift shop and you chuckle in realization. 

Amelia is knocked out before you even make it to the car. Emily puts her in her carseat sure to tuck her new stuffed shark securely in her arms for the drive. “How are you feeling?”

Your head hits the back of the seat with a sigh, “Very happy and very tired,” you smile.

“Today was fun. I love you both so much,” Emily leans over the center console to kiss you. “And I love you the most baby saucy #2,” she coos at your stomach. 

“We all love you too babe. I think I deserve a foot rub and massage tonight. What do you think?” 

“I think that sounds amazing,” Emily agrees, switching the car into gear and placing her hand on your thigh. 

#emily sonnett #emily sonnett x reader #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt #uswnt woso

[alexiabae]

KIND³: lia wälti x fem!reader

Summary: the calmness installed on their chaotic lives.

Warnings: fluff.

Note: English is not my first language.

not my gif.

"I don't understand why I'm here." Aitana murmured, playing with her fingers. She was shivering a little, the condensation coming out from her mouth.

Y/N smirked, leaning her head on her shoulder. "It's a Champions League match. Plus, you agree to come." She hummed, watching both teams to warm up.

Aitana rolled her eyes and leaned her back on the seat, deciding to save her hands on her jacket's pockets. "If I knew that it would be so cold, I would say no." She said.

"It's London, I thought you should be used to the cold." Y/N point out.

"Never." Aitana groaned.

Y/N chuckles. "You look like an angry child." She teased.

"Shut up..." She lowly whined, making her friend laugh. "Finally they go in." She saw how both teams get inside to prepare themselves and next time they come back to the pitch is to play the match.

"You love Laia too much..." Y/N hummed, knowing how her friend hates the cold and her complaining about it was the proof.

Aitana blushed a little, moving away the hand from her friend when she pinched her cheek.

"Do you two miss us?" Ana came, drinks on her hands, tending them towards the pair, behind her is Frido.

"Only Frido." Y/N reply, sipping from the cup.

The mentioned chuckled and wrapped her left arm by her shoulders, side hugging her. However Ana raised an eyebrow and positioned herself next to Aitana, not without showing her middle finger to the girl.

"Very mature for your part..." Y/N tried to hold a laugh when Ana gazed at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Careful." The older woman warned, only to receive a hug from the girl, making her eyes roll. Y/N kiss repeatedly her cheek. "Ya, ya."

It's when Y/N's gazed collies with Lia's, the grip on Ana's chin loosened and changed for a side hug and leaned her head on her shoulder, heart eyes directed towards the Swiss brunette, a loving sigh escaping from her mouth. Ana hears her and watches her, seeing how a silly love face formed on her features, making her roll her eyes when directed her gaze towards the pitch, seeing the almost similar expression in her best friend's face.

"You two are apart and keep with those looks on your faces..." The blonde Swiss mumbled, but without showing it, she is happy for both of them, especially Lia.

Y/N shrugged, with a dreamy sigh this time. "I know... Is it amazing?"

The blue eyed woman directed her gaze towards the other one, biting her bottom lip intensely. She watches how she keeps a conversation with Aitana, the smile always accompanies her.

"Hmm." Ana hummed, feeling how her ears felt a little warm, extending on both cheeks. Her gaze came back to the pitch before Frido could feel her gaze on her. "We should sit down." She proposed, sitting down.

The other three imitate her, Y/N changing her seat from before and sitting between Ana and Aitana.

•••

The grip on her collar tightened, bringing her face towards hers, smashing their lips together. Her back hit the wall and a satisfactory sound was heard, making the brunette smile on the kiss.

"I miss you too." She whispers, tightening her hold on her hips. A smirk playing on her lips, seeing how Y/N keeps her eyes closed.

Without opening her eyes, she searched for her lips. The hand on her neck pushes softly towards hers, Lia letting herself guide because can't hold the urge to kiss her back.

Their mouth meets in a fervent kiss. Their tongues keep a battle to see who would win, to stay like always in previous encounters, they both win, swollen lips and whispering nonsense.

Lia's hands loosened the grip on her hips and moved it to her thighs, lifting her. A muffled yelp slam on her lips, breaking the intense make out.

Y/N looked down and saw the smug look on her beautiful eyes looking up at her. "It's not funny."

"It is when every time I do it, you do the same." She teased, gaining a gentle smack on her arm.

The midfielder started to distribute kisses on her face, whispering an apology after depositing one, making Y/N let out a loving smile.

A loud bang on the door after being opened, make them startle and break the moment.

"THEY ARE HERE!" A thick accent sounded. They looked at the intruder and saw a moth of blonde hair before it disappeared briefly to approach next to them.

"Beth, why?" Lia mumbles, putting on the floor her girlfriend, her right arm wrapping instead on her waist. Soon, she was hugged by the loud girl, intensifying her scowl on her face.

"Because I love celebrating with ALL my teammates!" The blonde explained, clearly with the intention to annoy her friend. Her blue eyes meet Y/N and wink at her, making her chuckle.

Soon, many footsteps were heard and the empty room was filled by red and white colours. Confetti and champagne were directed towards them, startling Y/N a little.

"Guys! Be careful, please." Lia warned them gently, who noticed the reaction.

"Go and celebrate with them." Y/N whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek when the brunette looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm going to annoy Ana and Aitana." It made Lia giggle.

Lia held her hand until the last moment, before she disappeared from her view.

"Girl, you are screwed up." Beth murmured, smiling innocently when Lia gazes at her.

•••

"It's weird." Aitana murmured, laughing nervously. She moves herself on her spot, her leg bouncing.

Lia chuckled, agreeing with her. "I know..."

Without knowing, they both prayed for their partners to come back soon. Plus the other two blondes, they could keep up a nice conversation with more people, but when they are alone, the words disappear and approach the tense and awkward silence.

"You played really well." Aitana compliments her, trying to create a new atmosphere.

"Thanks... I play better when I need to impress my girlfriend." Lia joked, blushing a little for the choice of her words. For her luck, Aitana chuckled relaxing a little.

"You don't need that with her. She is already impressed by you." Aitana confesses, looking at her.

Her blush deepened, scratching her neck nervously by the confession. "Same here." She confessed too.

Aitana was glad to hear that. She has eyes and with a simple look, she knows Lia is saying the truth, but sometimes it is good to confirm it.

"There is a more reason why I disliked you..." Aitana lowly said, making Lia open her eyes surprised. "You see... Five years ago, Y/N was in a relationship, a long one." She started to explain. She didn't know if Lia was known of this, but she needed to explain the half truth reason. "And not, I do not have the same behaviour as her, in fact, I adore her. I thought that they made a good couple, in my mind there isn't room for the image I knew." Lia saw how after finishing that sentence, Aitana's eyes darkened, it got sad too. "She cheated Y/N numerous times. She played the perfect girlfriend when the reality was different. Bad words, screaming, silly discussion... Y/N always forgive her. Until I found out." She saw how Lia was shocked by this information. "If she touched her in a bad way, I would kill her." She confessed, very serious.

Lia bit her bottom lip, believing every word Aitana said. She has a reason. She was, is, scared her best friend to suffer again. God, Lia doesn't know this, but knowing it now, she wants to hit that girl to make Y/N suffer.

"You are a good person." Lia blurted out, squeezing her shoulder gently. It took the Catalan by surprise, it showed on her face. "I came to blame you for the hate. I would resent it too."

"Please, if for a casual you two don't work, don't play with her. You don't look like that... it's only a warning. I can't see her like that again." Aitana begged her, her posture changing to be more near her.

"I'll do it." Lia promised, closing the distance and giving a needed hug.

They like that for a while, sharing some good memories to pass time, slowly creating a warm bond.

A click took their attention, seeing a sheepish look on Y/N face. "Sorry, I needed a photo from my favourite people together."

Ana passed her and sat down next to Lia. "They made it on purpose. I'm so tired!" The Swiss complained, stretching her free feet on the floor.

Laia walked and sat down on Aitana's lap, kissing her cheek with a kind smile, whispering something that only could hear her.

Frido sat down on the free sofa, enjoying the new mood.

And Y/N walked slowly towards her girlfriend, imitating Laia's action. "I'm so happy..." she let her know, throwing herself to hug both of them, since they are still close.

Lia and Aitana look at each other between the hugs, a silence agreement sealing between them.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #lia wälti imagine #lia wälti x reader #lia walti #lia wälti

[fanaticsnail]

Grand Line Playgroup

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Adoptive parents have all taken the initiative to join together with their children to form: Grand Line Playgroup. This is the way it usually goes at playgroup: filled with shenanigans, support, and most importantly love for their children. 

Themes: the adoptive parents of one piece, all children are all relatively aged 3 to 7, but Robin is 10, au they all live, modern au, platonic, not an “x reader” fic, parenting drabble, fluff, nonsense. 

Parents: Mihawk, Rosinante (Corazon), Bellemere, Dadan, Zeff, Uncle Beckman, Shanks, Garp, and Smoker.

Children: Perona, Zoro, Law(rence), Nojiko, Nami, Uta, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji, Uta, Koby, Helmeppo, Robin, and Tashigi.

Notes: A small drabble about what it would be like if the one-piece characters were adoptive parents to an assortment of their toddler counterparts. This silly brain-worm was brought to you by several conversations with @feral-artistry & @writingmysanity, and the bestest aunties @since-im-already-here & @sordidmusings. This worm got to me and I needed to get it out.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff, @gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix, @i-am-vita

Dracule Mihawk arrives at Grand Line Playgroup ten minutes early every single Tuesday. He has a personalized gothic embroidered bag for both of his children filled with snacks, changes of clothes, water bottles, first aid kits, and a book for him to read while his two children play.

The next to arrive is Donquixote Rosinante. He always attempts to get there early: set up his variety of bags to ensure his son, Lawrence, has everything he needs to enjoy his time at playgroup. His hair is a blonde, fluffy mess of mopped curls, his clothes disheveled and askew, but his smile is always cheerful despite his constant exhausted exasperated state. 

He wears matching nail polish with his daughter, Perona: today, she chose pink with black accents. He has parenting down to a fine art, everything always perfectly planned for any circumstances. Zoro takes out a collection of sporting equipment and begins kicking around a soccer ball as he waits for his friends to join him. 

Law is a quiet child, not really engaging with Perona as she sets up a mock tea-party, nor Zoro as he kicks the ball against the wall. He, instead, opts to sit quietly alone and read a picture book in comfortable silence. 

Mihawk offers Rosinante a moist towelette, gesturing wordlessly to his lips, cheeks and right eye where Law graffitied art with permanent marker on his face as he slept. Rosinante gives him a gratuitous smile, huffing his laughter as he scrubs at his face with the towelette. 

The next to arrive is Rosinante’s old work colleague, Bellemere, with her two daughters in tow. Nami and Nojiko were walking arm in arm before rushing off to join Perona in her tea party. Bellemere gives Rosinante a clap on his shoulder, nodding her acknowledgement to Mihawk before taking her elected seat. 

As the clock ticks over to 10am: a small bundle of nervous, chaotic energy bounces inside the door and over the walls. This flash of black hair was followed immediately by a small blonde child that stares, unblinkingly, at Law. Dadan is exasperated as she carries an older and asleep Ace in her arms, attempting to catch up with Luffy to rein him in and set up. 

As if on queue, Ace wakes up and immediately springs out of Dadan’s arms, hurrying over to Zoro and joining him by kicking the ball against the wall. Sabo backs into the corner of the room and glares with his pale, blue eyes at Perona’s tea-party with intrigue. 

Rosinante springs into action, offering to ferry Luffy towards his regular playmate, Zoro. As Luffy nearly joins Zoro, he is instead drawn to the sticker book Law is holding containing bugs, beetles and arachnids. Luffy becomes entranced by the stickers: and he and Law begin cataloging them by shape, size and type over pages of lined paper. 

Dadan sighs, already exhausted although her day has barely begun. Rosinante smiles and fawns over the two dark-haired boys before resuming his seat beside Bellemere, talking about the latest gossip at his old workplace and the shenanigans his colleagues' love lives.

After Dadan, in comes Benn Beckman with his niece, Uta. Uta bounces on her heels as she runs over to Sabo, doing all in her power to make the small blonde smile instead of glare. She has a cheery disposition, guaranteed to always get a smile out of the quiet boy the longer she sings and pulls faces at him.

Zeff is the next, his young son, Sanji, sprinting towards the soccer ball and easily stealing it away from Zoro. They immediately get into a heated fistfight: legs and limbs flying as they butt heads as to who's turn it is to kick the ball next. Mihawk sighs, immediately rising to his feet to play referee to the match as Beckman places Uta's bag beside Perona's. 

Arriving late, and with his two adoptive sons Koby and Helmeppo, strolls Garp. Dadan glares at him, up turning her lip in a snarl as Garp shepherds his boys into the room. The tension is thick between these two due to Garp's history of dropping off children at Dadan's and not returning to raise them himself. She refuses to help with the latest two additions to his family, although she cares for them greatly. Sabo nods at Koby, Helmeppo scoffs at Uta. 

Another late arrival is a larger gentleman with his quiet and older daughter, Robin. Sir Crocodile is dripping in luxury brands, gold rings and smells of expensive colognes. Robin immediately humors Perona, Nami and Nojiko by playing mother in their tea party adventure. 

“Mihawk,” the larger man gruffy nods in acknowledgement. 

“Crocodile,” Mihawk mirrors his tone, gesturing with his chin to take a seat beside him. Sir Crocodile takes his seat before unrolling the newspaper tucked beneath his arm and beginning to read. 

As the children interact together, the more talkative parents swap parenting advice amongst one another. 

Rosinante asks for support with Law's current food aversion. How does he get this child to eat grained carbohydrates without him gagging about the fact it's bread? Dadan is a seasoned expert in parenting at this stage, still ignoring Garp as Garp speaks to Mihawk about his blonde son’s latest interest in kendo. 

Bellemere joins in the conversation, Mihawk leaving as the topic changes to work and joining beside Beckman who is silently brooding on the chair beside Crocodile. 

“No Shanks today?” Mihawk quips at the larger man. 

“No Shanks today,” Beckman parrotted in return with a disgruntled and gruff growl. 

As if the mere mention of his name summoned his presence, in comes the red-haired Shanks in a lazy and cheerful stupor. His socks are raised to his knees, tucked into some comfortable sandals on his feet. His cargo shorts are tied loosely on his hips by a brown belt, and his patterned shirt is open to expose his bare chest. 

Glasses are lying lazily on his head as he extends an enthusiastic smile at the children before acknowledging the adults. An enthusiastic chorus of “Uncle Shanks!” echoes throughout the playspace, a flash of small bodies immediately moving to tackle and engulf the redhead in a warm embrace. 

Shanks falls on his ass, holding high his coffee cup as he laughs at Luffy, Uta, Ace and Sabo as they enthusiastically clutch at him with grabby hands. Their faces all shine with the utmost adoration at the redhead, who shoots Beckman and Dadan a wink while mouthing: “I'm still the favorite.”

Beckman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as Dadan rolls her eyes at him. 

The adults are finally all gathered for their children’s weekly playgroup, the kids settle into playing amongst themselves once again. Shanks offers Beckman a smile before offering him the half-drunk coffee cup. The taller man takes a sip, choking on the liquid as the surprising burn of warmed alcohol scorches his throat so early in the morning. 

As their meeting draws to a soft close, a knock at the door interrupts their close knit conversation. 

“I heard there was a playgroup in here?” a gruff voice rumbled at the door. White hair and the scent of tobacco immediately sprung through the hallway. In arrived a large gentleman, another common associate of Garp, Bellemere and Rosinante who immediately sprung up to greet him. 

Smoker presented ushered a quiet child into the room, her uncertainty was one the children knew well. Immediately, Luffy sprang up from his arachnid archiving with Law and went to introduce himself to the girl. Smoker smiled at the interaction, nodding to Tashigi as an indicator for her to go ahead and play, before joining Bellemere and Rosinante. 

“Finally decided to foster, Smoker?” Bellemere smiled, embracing him into her warm and welcoming arms. Smoker returns her gesture, tapping her on the shoulder and releasing her from the embrace. 

“Foster? Not a chance,” he smirked, pulling away and smiling at the purple-haired woman, “Adopting.”

#one piece #platonic fic #mihawk #zeff #smoker #bellemere #rosinante #shanks #beckman #dadan #garp #perona #zoro #sanji #luffy #ace #sabo #uta #robin #law #nojiko #nami #koby #helmeppo #tashigi #they all live au #modern au #parenting au

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

christmas cookie run ( elisa de almeida x reader )

prompt: just elisa and yall's daughters being chaotic while making cookies to surprise you.

author notes: a lil christmas fic since everyone is making one. this is my longest fic by far (aleast it feels like it). hope you all enjoy!

it was christmas eve and the de almeida household was getting busy. the house was decorated nicely in christmas decorations with child-made drawings along the walls in the hallway. along with child decorated stockings that were hanging off of fireplace.

elisa and yall's twin daughters, ana & julia, are in the kitchen. elisa is trying to help the two kiddos make some christmas themed cookies to surprise you with since you are out running errands. ana stands on her tippy toes, trying to grab the bowl full of cookie mix off of the counter. "wait, no, baby" elisa says as she picks up ana and sit her on the counter. meanwhile julia is occupied with looking at the mixer attached to the bowl.

the twins are a complete handful and putting sweets in the mix makes them even worse.

"how does it work, mama?" julia says, her eyes curiously looking at the cookie mix in the bowl. she starts to poke her finger in the mix, but elisa grabs her wrist in time thankfully. "we have to cut it on, lili but firstly we have to put some more stuff in the bowl, okay?" the french player smiles as she places a small kiss on julia's wrist. ana glares at the sight before offering her wrist up too.

"kissy, mama" the blonde haired little girl says as she pushes her wrist in elisa's face. the french player rolls her eyes before kissing ana's wrist as well. than elisa moves over to the fridge. trying to keep a close eye on the two toddlers on the kitchen island as she pulls out the chocolate chips from the freezer part of the fridge. she walks back over to the island, opening up the bag of the chocolate chips.

it takes a good ten minutes to get ana and julia to stop eating the chocolate chips while also crushing some at the same time. eventually elisa gets the twins to pour the chocolate chips into the cookie mix. now it's time to mix it all up. ana and julia both use their tiny hands to hold onto the top of the machine. elisa places her bigger hand on top of theirs. rolling her eyes playfully once they start bullying her about her hand weight.

"just hold the bowl, mama. your hand is sooo heavy" julia pouts while ana pulls her hand from up under elisa's hand. she slaps her hand on top of elisa's and frowns at her, "what lili said. your hand is heavy"

"why am i getting bullied by my own kiddos? fine" the french player rolls her eyes again, her hand going to hold the bowl. now ana and julia can happily hold onto the top of the machine without the weight of elisa's hand on top.

finally, elisa cuts on the machine. the kitchen fills up with giggles as the vibrations of the machine makes the girls hands feel all funny. after all that, it's time to pour the cookie mix into different shaped pans. elisa picks up julia in one arm and ana in another. putting them down on the floor so she can grab the pans.

she grabs a pan with heart shaped holes and another one with gingerbread man shaped holes.

"which one?" elisa asks as she shows the twins the two pans. now of course these two can't seem to ever agree as ana points right at the heart pan while julia points to the gingerbread man one.

julia's brows furrow as she glares at her sister. than she looks up at elisa. "mama, pick mines. it's better" she says. ana shakes her head in disagreement, "no it's not." their little back and forth goes on for a good five minutes before elisa steps in. "we can just do both" she says, setting the pans onto the counter. the girls frown in displeasure but get over it pretty quickly.

they start to run around the kitchen as elisa pours the cookie mix into the individual holes in the two pans. putting them into the oven before putting it on the right temperature. now with all that running and arguing and playing around, the twins are looking tired but obviously won't admit. good thing elisa can tell when they are tired from a mile away. "c'mon, let's get into bed and get all cozy, hm?" elisa says as she approaches the twins who were now playing around under the kitchen table. "no!" julia pouts as she gets up from under the table, going off running. ana, who is easily influenced, follows right along after her sister. the girls run around the house, trying to outrun their mama for a good while before elisa catches them. throwing them over her shoulder before walking to you and her's bedroom.

"you two can even sleep in the big bed with mama, okay?" she says as she lays them down on the bed. ana is the first to protest as she glares at elisa, "don't wanna." julia would protest alongside her sister if she wasn't already knocked out. the little brunette clings onto one of the various pillows on you and elisa's bed. "i know you wanna, nana" the french player leans down to place a kiss on ana's forehead. that's enough for her to turn over and cuddle into her sister's side. elisa places a kiss on julia's forehead too. she sits on the bed so ana can go to sleep comfortably (the little girl literally won't go to sleep unless she feels elisa presence. it's a problem).

it takes a good ten minutes, but both twins are in deep sleep finally.

you haven't gotten not one call since you left the house this morning. which is unusual at best and concerning at worse. usually the girls would beg elisa to call you so they can see your face even if you were only going to be out for like ten minutes.

however, there were no calls or texts from your wife. you try to figure out what those three rascals (yes elisa is included) could be doing as you stand in line at the grocery store. snapping out of your thoughts once it's your turn.

after paying for your groceries and taking them to the car, you decide maybe it's your turn to call them while you're out. you click on elisa's contact, cutting on the heat in the car as you listen to the phone ring. after two rings, elisa answers. you smile hearing her voice; you can't lie you missed it even if just for a few hours. "hi baby" she says. you can hear the smile in her voice as she talks. you reply back, "hi babe. what are you and the girls doing?"

you hear a bit of shuffling and footsteps before elisa replies. "they're napping. they tired themselves out. you know, running around. i'm just lazing around.." she says, her tone sounding like she doesn't even believe what she is saying. her tone makes you slightly suspicious but you let it go.

"give them kisses for me" you say, starting to drive off (your phone sits nicely in a phone holder you got. don't hold your phone and drive y'all). elisa hums in acknowledgement. you can hear metal meeting the marble of y'alls' counter. now you are even more suspicious but again you let it go. sometimes it's better to let elisa do her own thing than question it.

"i'll talk to you when i get back to the house, okay?" you say, deciding to let elisa finish doing whatever she is on the other side of the phone. "alright baby. love you" she says back. you can tell she is distracted but it's whatever. you reply back with a i love you too before she hangs up.

back at the house, elisa has already gotten out the the pan of cookies. she lets them cool off as she grabs the icing out of one of the cabinets.

her tongue peeks out of the side of her mouth as she concentrates on icing the cookies. coloring the cookies in white, blue, and red. she tries to decorate them and make lil outfits on the gingerbread man ones but she isn't the most creative person out there. it takes a few minutes to finish all the cookies but two. those special two are for ana and julia to cover with icing; one gingerbread man and one heart.

elisa doesn't even have to go get the girls to do their cookies as the soft footsteps of the twins sound out into the hallway. eventually making their way to the kitchen.

"why did you do them without us, mama?" ana asks in a sleepy voice as stands on her tippy toes to look at the cookies. julia is alot more grumpy as she goes to cling to elisa's leg. "i left two just for you guys" elisa says as she picks up julia than ana. one twin for each of her hips. she sits them down in their chairs at the kitchen table. right infront of where their cookies sit, all nice and bare.

once comfortable, the twins have at it. with ana happily putting white icing all over her heart cookie and julia making a lil outfit for her gingerbread man. obviously the twins are only so young so they make a bit of a mess. elisa internally cringes thinking about how she is going to have to clean those little messes up but it's fine. those adorable smiles makes it all worth it. ana finishes with her cookie first. it has white icing on it with the words love u mama smushed up together in the top half of the heart and mommy written in the bottom half. than julia finishes. her cookie being just the standard gingerbread man but with pink hair (she begged elisa for some pink icing even if it wasn't christmas colors).

"great job, kiddos" elisa says as she gives them both kisses on the cheek. she is about to say more when the sound of your car can be heard from outside. the twins jump down from their chairs (giving elisa an damn near heart attack) and run off to the front door. waiting by the door for the moment you walk inside. elisa follows behind them, leaning against the wall as she waits at the door as well. you are bombarded with very loud voices the moment you walk inside the house. ana and julia's voices overlap as they try to tell you about their cookies. "one at a time please" you say as you come down to their level.

"this is for you and mama" ana says as she smiles at you. giving you a kiss on the cheek before handing you the cookie. julia gives you her welcome kiss on the cheek before speaking, "i made a cookie for you too mommy." she gives you a smile as she shoves the cookie in your face. you take the two cookies and smile as you look at them. "you two are the best daughters in the world. you know that right?" you say as you give them a few kisses back. they let you indulge before pulling away from you.

elisa is smiling the whole time this is happening. coming over to where you three are before placing her hands on top of the twins heads. "alright, enough of welcoming mommy. go put on your shoes and coat so you two can help get out the groceries" she says. ana rolls her eyes before running off and julia follows soon after. you stand back up to your actual height before hugging elisa (you put the cookies in your coat pocket. you will regret that later). you two kiss for a long moment. smiling at each other as you pull away slightly.

"didn't expect that, did you, baby?" she says as she gives you a peck on the lips. you shrug, "knew you was up to something when you didn't call. still, thank you."

"ew, stop being all mushy" ana says as she stands behind y'all. she pushes past you two to go outside to the car. julia flies past you two as well as she runs outside to the car. elisa gives you one last kiss for now before letting you go. grabbing her coat so she can also go get the groceries.

"hope you got my favorites," she says. you roll your eyes playfully before saying, "duh babe."

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #frawnt

[evangelifloss]

Oh my God guys they actually chose a child actress for presumably Maria. This is fantastic news

Maria's bond to Shadow and relevance to his character, is intrinsically tied into the anti-military message of the OG SaB2 storyline. Ageing her up would have been tragic, of course, but it wouldn't carry the same weight. Maria didn't choose to live on the ARK, she wasn't an adult who was in charge of how she wanted to live or where she wanted to go. Gerald Robotnik made those decisions for her with her best interests at heart as any good parent (or in this case, grandfather) would do. She was terminally ill. She was on the ARK so that she could receive immediate treatment for her terminal illness once Robotnik found a cure via Project Shadow. And you know, the ARK would've been an incredibly sterile place-- another safeguard to keep her alive. It's even said the lighter gravity on-board helped ease her progressing disease.

And due to decisions made by the U.S Military based on arbitrary reasoning, they shot her. Point blank. She had no weapon, she was running away, and she was twelve years old.

She was only on the ARK because the same people that authorised her murder, had authorised Project Shadow ergo, the ARK, to begin with.

Robotnik wanted to heal. To help. He took the offer from the U.S Military to lead the Project, because an 'Utimate Life-Form' would theoretically be medically Perfect. No genetic mishaps, no illnesses, viruses, or anything to threaten its life outside of physical attacks. Something like that, could become a blueprint for cures. He could cure Maria, and ontop of that, start to heal others like her.

The caveat of course, was to create a lifeform with immortality and he decided if there was a chance to give his granddaughter an opportunity to grow up and see adulthood, the price was worth paying.

However his experiments whilst chaotic in nature did too well and the whole thing was shut down. All personnel related to Project Shadow with the exception of Robotnik himself, were to be killed. Age, race, relation, rank, if you worked on Project Shadow or knew what it was, you were to be shot on sight.

And that's why sonic/shadow fans go so rabid for ANY Sab2 content as this backstory ties into the whole plot of the game whose main links run straight to Maria Robotnik's fate.

Granted, it has become somewhat of a meme regarding how many times we get to see her die and in how many formats of that horrific sequence of events but the root message behind it carries more weight than many post Sab2 games. In fact, we rarely get to see such narrative driven themes from SEGA due to its constant mis-handling of the sonic franchise.

So yea, shoot that blond child on screen in cinemas. I want that white girl ELIMINATED on screen in front of parents who thought it was going to be a "lol sonic go fast" movie. The Masses Must Know that Sonic games Can and Will Go Hard (when Sega puts effort in.)

#sonic 3 #sonic adventure battle 2 #sab2 #maria robotnik #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #gerald robotnik #space colony ark #project shadow #sonic movie

[heartlilith]

My Placements and How They Manifest

Capricorn Ascendent:

My mother told me that when she gave birth to me, it was worse than my other 3 other siblings by far. She had to be induced because there was no sign of me wanting to come out into the world (lol). She said she was in labor for hours and when I finally came out, she started hemorrhaging. It wasn't fatal obviously because she's alive today but yeah, I kind of associate that with my Capricorn rising. Still to this day, change is very uncomfortable for me especially if I have no control over what's happening. My childhood was great until my mom divorced my dad and remarried, that's when shit went south! I had new siblings, a stepfather, and had to see my dad heartbroken while also battling melanoma and being laid off (2008 recession). My sister stayed with him and I went with my mom. They were always fighting and spiting each other but it was my sister and I that missed out. It was always "what is your father saying about me?" yada yada yada. Growing up, I was bullied by my sister a lot, in my opinion, it was more than the usual sibling fights. My mom also took a lot of her anger out on me; she ended up getting a divorce not too long after remarrying, became an alcoholic and filed for bankruptcy. Being a Capricorn rising and dealing with the backlash of that, I always have money saved, ALWAYS. I'm like a squirrel hiding nuts I stg. If I'm completely broke I'm an anxious mess. It's also why I strive to be independent and self sufficient. It's why I manifest being filthy rich. High school was terrible tbh and I battled with depression and anxiety. College was a lot better and moving away from my mom and chaotic family did me well, I went from a 2.6 GPA in high school to 3.85 in college. Rereading this it sounds kinda like a sob story and that's not what I'm trying to accomplish so I'm just going to move on.

1st House Neptune, Uranus, Lilith:

I made a separate post either on here or Reddit about how my features have changed so much over the years. As a child, my hair was blonde then it turned blonde/red in late elementary school. Since then, it's turned darker and darker through the years. Now it's dark brown. My eyes were dark blue as a child and now they're light green - I attribute this to Uranus and Neptune being on my Ascendent. In my opinion, I'm not photogenic at all (Cap rising?) and I think I look different in every picture I take or is taken of me. With Lilith being in my first house, I was sexualized a lot growing up by older guys/men. And also bullied by boys my age; I remember they thought I was "too girly". Guys, I shit you not after I had enough of it, I started showing up with boy shorts and those tank tops guys wear HAHAHA to be more of a "tomboy"... I'm not really sure what that is but yeah, I must've been 10 or 12 or something. People would always say "it's because they have a crush on you/because they like you!" and I would be so confused. Nowadays, I think I rub some people, specifically men, the wrong way and they dislike me for "no reason", or maybe they have a reason but they never come out and say it. My Uranus in the 1st shows up as being quirky I guess? I'm not really sure. Maybe it's that my parents were never disciplinary at all, I could do whatever I wanted. At the time I loved it but deep down I think I wanted to them to care, so I would act more and more reckless. Today, maybe that sets me apart. One last thing about Neptune/Uranus in the 1st is that I can't stand to see people treating people/animals/or what have you, the wrong way. I can't even watch Youtube videos of animals starting off abused... even if the videos end with them being happy and healthy, I CAN'T DO IT. It deeply disturbs me.

Side Note (1st House Lilith):

As a small child I was obsessed with being naked all the time and skinny dipping LMFAO like it was a problem. Luckily there were no creeps and I was fine but would this placement indicate that in anyway? Let me know because it doesn't really fit with my Capricorn rising.

(I'm really sorry this post is so long and detailed I think I'm having word vomit)

Virgo Moon:

As a child I was really reserved and "chill". I already talked about my relationship with my mom and she was critical and whatever. One thing that sticks out about this placement is that she would always push the idea on me to "stay pure" and to "stay innocent", especially when I was a teen. Always pushing this on me. Always telling her friends I was "naive" and yeah maybe I was in a sense. I don't know it's weird how that fits. My mom wasn't all bad though. She definitely had many faults but she was a great mom in certain aspects. Growing up, I realized she's just a human like me, with problems of her own. I don’t hold it against her. Today, my Virgo moon makes me sooo anxious and worrisome. I definitely see the negative qualities it brings but the good qualities out weigh them. I love buying people gifts and I'm a great gift giver if I do say so myself. With my Capricorn rising and Virgo moon, I hate PDA and it can be hard for me to be lovey dovey (even with all my Leo), so I show love by buying gifts - kind of like my dad. My parents were never there for me emotionally but they bought me great gifts hahaha, I guess that's why. Also I tend to "mother" my partners; I do their laundry, do the cleaning, make their doctor appointments, and take care of them in a sense - like my mom did for me. Writing this out I can now see why I am the way I am lol.

Moon square Jupiter, Pluto, and Saturn:

Ooooff. Well I won't dive into it too much. I will say it affects my mental health greatly and I've had a lot of trouble in that department. My Moon square Jupiter really makes my moods go up and down. Like high highs and low lows for sure. I try to look at it positively even though it's hard sometimes. Having the high highs brings out my inner child (Jupiter in the 5th). When I'm happy I'm really happy and giggling and silly. And of course the flip side is low low :( But I like the high highs so I deal. Also with this, I tend to avoid being sad at all costs. All costs. I'm a true escape artist when it comes to emotions. With Pluto and Saturn squaring my Moon, I am infact a MOODY BITCH. LOL, hey at least I can admit it. It brings intrusive thoughts, obsessive thinking, insecurity, and guilt with it too - all that great stuff. Moving on.

Cancer Mercury:

I like my Cancer Mercury a lot, even though it's paired with my all my Leo placements which can make me a ~smidge~ dramatic. I wasn't the best student in high school but I did take the hardest English courses they offered, which in hindsight saved my GPA lol. In college, I studied English with a concentration in creative writing. I mostly wrote and studied poetry which I loved so much. I'm a great listener and if I could write an advice column I would. I love how my Cancer Mercury makes me empathetic and how I'm able to put myself in anyone's shoes. One negative about this placement is that I get hurt easily (paired with Leo Sun and Virgo Moon esp), but I won't let you know I'm hurt, I'll just get angry and mean. I don't like that about myself and I wish I was more vulnerable in that aspect but it's easier to be angry than sad... right?

Leo Venus and Mars:

After talking about all the above placements, my Leo side is definitely my ray of sunshine in a way. I feel like with my Virgo Moon and the aspects it makes, it kinda settles my Leo ego. That's not to say I don't have an ego, I definitely do... just look at this post it's all about meee :) I have pictures of when I was 3-6 years old and flexing my muscles hahaha and I thought I was so strong I would go around and show everyone that I could pick my mom and older sister up. So weird. Other than that, when I dislike someone I tend to go on rant for awhile about everything I dislike about them. My least favorite thing is when someone makes me feel inferior or small, that will put me on 10 easily. I don't get mad all that much, it takes a lot but when I do get mad, I see red. Maybe cause I have Mars at 0 degrees. I do get over things quickly though, emotionally anyway, but I do hold a grudge. Also yesss, I have Leo hair. It's long and thick and hard to manage. Growing up, my mom would never let me color or cut it and I'm kinda glad now looking back on it.

8th house Moon & Venus:

This is why I hold grudges hahaha. In my opinion, the 8th house can be hard to understand/put into words until you experience it (in synastry, transit, natal, etc), then you just know. With Venus here, every person I'm romantically involved with transforms me but also takes a piece of me as well. In my experience with the 8th house, you can gain a lot of good things but it comes with a price. Whether its a mix of my placements or just these placements specifically, love really hurts! Break ups have put me in dark dark places. When I do love someone, I want to merge with them, like become "one" if that makes sense. So when it comes to an end, I have a huge hole left. In my life, this has manifested as when I ran away from home to a different state and ghosted my family and friends just to get back together with my boyfriend, all on a whim. I'd give it all up for someone I love. With Virgo Moon being in my 8th house, my anxiety mixes with my obsessive behavior which manifests as dermotillamania. I struggle with it so bad. I'm working on it but yeah that's kinda interesting looking from an astrological sense. Moon in the 8th house gives me great intuition though... I'm always right about the vibes. But this comes at the cost of feeling things extremely deeply.

Scorpio MC:

This is another placement that I like about my chart because my Capricorn rising makes me come off as intimidating and my MC makes people see me as powerful and mysterious. I don't know if people actually see me this way but even it being a possibility gives me like Olivia Benson vibes. I love her. Anyway, one thing I will say is I don't have social media anymore and haven't for years (besides Tumblr and Reddit) because I really value my privacy. I don't like people knowing things about me unless I decide to share it with them, even small things. Tumblr and Reddit are okay in my mind because I don't know anyone in real life. But even this post I'm already thinking of deleting and I haven't even posted it yet lol. When I did have social media, I would overshare and then delete the post an hour later. I was always deleting pictures and revamping my aesthetic. I became obsessed with likes and comments and scrolling that it was too much and I didn't like the power it had over me. Something else that I think manifests from my MC is that I love psychology, astrology, and things that tie into personalities.

5th house Jupiter & Saturn:

It always confused me on how to interpret having Saturn, the planet of limitations and responsibility, and Jupiter, the planet of expansion and luck, in the same house. I thought that they canceled each other out in a way, or level each other out... is a better way of putting it.  I actually messaged @astrosky33 and asked how they interpret it. Her (?) answer was interesting and made a lot of sense. Jupiter and Saturn in the same house gives off both energies at the same time (why didn't I think of that? lol). So for the 5th house, in terms of my hypothetical kids, I would be a parent that has fun and is silly but also strict in some ways and responsible. One way Saturn in my 5th house manifests is that I don't want to do anything creative unless I feel it's productive in some way, which I don't like about myself. Meaning, I don't want to read a book if the genre is fantasy, I would rather read non-fiction or a self help book; something that I can learn from. Also, I really like hobbies where I can produce something, like making candles or making spell jars. If I can make money from a hobby that I love then even better. Jupiter in the 5th house manifests as being child-like and also loving kids. If things are going well and I'm happy, then I can be excited and goofy like a child. If things aren't going well, then I can throw a tantrum like a child. I love kids because my early childhood was the best time of my life before life hit me upside the head (lol). This past Halloween, I made goodie bags for the trick or treaters and got so excited when the doorbell rang. I don't know, I just want to protect kids and shield them from the bad in the world. Kids, out of everyone, deserve to be happy.

Sun sextile Jupiter:

Things tend to work out for me, well, as of lately anyway. I struggled a lot growing up and I was always wishing my life were different. I couldn't wait to leave home. Now, I have a boyfriend who I love very much and we live very comfortably. I have a great job and I am so much happier than I was before. Of course, life isn't always perfect and there are problems at every turn. I wish I could go back in time and tell 15 year old me that everything is going to be okay, more than okay actually. I have a dog and two kittens who I love very much and I'm very fortunate to have the life that I do. I try to stay positive because there's no point in being negative and sulking all the time. Plus, you never know what can happen so be thankful for what you have, even if in your eyes, it isn't enough. I believe in being nice to people, you never know how far one act of kindness can go. Lord knows I needed it during some pretty tough times in my life.

Venus square Saturn (TW: Eating disorder, drug use, phobias):

Going back to having fear of abandonment and being uncomfortable with PDA... well here is the culprit. Or some of the culprit. Since Venus is in my 8th house, I feel like this aspect plays into my fear of my family dying, more specifically, my parents. Whenever I visit home and I see they look a little older, move a little slower, I get really sad. Their birthdays are supposed to be for celebrating but I can't help but get sad. It takes over me and I obsess about what I'm going to do when the day comes and they're not here anymore. I put on a brave face though and I buy them nice gifts and send flowers on holidays... but it's always in the back of my mind. This aspect also manifests as having low self esteem and growing up this was very prevalent. I didn't care about myself at all; I did drugs, I put myself into bad situations that I get anxiety just thinking about what could've happened. I had an eating disorder, dated boys that were awful. I'm fortunate that I made it out okay. I still have insecurities today but during that time in my life it was so intense because even as a teen without this aspect, you deal with insecurities. It was like double trouble.  

If you read this far, thank you. I hope it was semi-interesting and Im really curious to know what you guys think. Should I make a part 2? I’m feeling a little “out there” by posting this so I hope it's not too much. Thanks again for taking the time to read this.

(let me know what you think!)

#Capricorn rising #Leo sun #Virgo moon #8th house #Jupiter 5th house #Saturn 5th house #5th house #1st house #rising sign #astrology #astro observations #astrology community #astro #astro community #rising signs #sagittarius #leo #scorpio #cancer #Virgo #Leo Venus #Leo mars #Leo stellium #cancer mercury #Scorpio mc #midheaven #scorpio midheaven #sun sextile jupiter

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Mama 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Chaotic weekly dinner feat. our favorite Maximoff. 

A/N: This is pure fluff. Y'all probably forgot that you voted for this it took me so long. My b. Enjoy!

Warnings: fluff, drinking, messes, and slightly suggestive language

“No, no come here please.”

You smile widely as Natalya stumbles back over to you to return the fork she’d picked up from the kitchen floor. You’d been cooking for tonight’s dinner while you took care of the dogs and fed your daughter a snack. She was getting old enough to feed herself but her small plastic utensils often ended up on the ground. She liked to throw them around and as fun as it was to run and grab them before the dogs did you were considering making her use her hands tonight.

Your family would be here soon for the weekly dinner, and Wanda still wasn’t back yet with the dessert. You’d made your famous cheesecake, but your damn cat had jumped up on the counter and stepped on it no fewer than 6 times before you grabbed her and threw her outside. Wanda had followed her outside of course to make sure she didn’t run away as you cleaned up the mess and tossed the entire cake in the trash. You’d been so upset and Wanda had quickly agreed to run to the store to pick something up. You told her to leave Fletcher outside, but you had a feeling that she’d snuck her back in.

“Hello?”

The front door opening alerts you to the fact that your friends are here. Boone is already running ahead to lead them to the kitchen and you smile in response to Yelena’s voice from down the hall.

“Where’s my niece?”

You watch Natalya crawl for the front door and pass Boone before she’s intercepted by Yelena. She quickly snatches the little one off the ground and spins her around with a wide smile. Natalya’s excited squeals make you smile brighter despite what Natasha asks you as she sets down their contribution to dinner.

“What’s with the fur child?”

Nat looks to Fletcher who is licking her paws frantically near the back door. You just groan in annoyance before you go back to the kitchen and wave the redhead over. You open the trashcan so she can see the entire cheesecake you’d made sitting in there with many, many, cat paw prints.

“Oh no! No cheesecake for you Yelena.”

This catches the blonde’s attention and she hurries over to see what her sister is talking about. Little Nat is still in her arms and she gasps in horror. This catches Little Nat’s attention and she just smiles as she points at the ruined cake in the trash.

“No!! What happened?”

You glare at your wife’s cat who’s enjoying the cake on her paws before you shut the trash can and move to help your friends unpack what they’d brought. You hear the garage door open and you realize that your wife is back. You consider going to greet her, but Rogue beats you to it and you don’t feel like competing with him for your wife’s attention at the moment.

“That damn cat. She jumped up on the counter and kicked it onto the ground. Wanda went to get something else.”

As if she’d heard her name, Wanda walks into the house with an arm full of desserts. She’d only been a little stressed while at the store because she knew you were upset about your favorite dessert being ruined, by Fletcher no less. You’d be less annoyed if one of the dogs had been responsible, but it was still a disappointment given you’d worked on it all day long only to have it destroyed minutes before people were supposed to show up.

“I got some stuff. I hope it works.”

Her friends could tell she was anxious about your reaction. In her absence you’d started boiling water, and upon further inspection she realized you were making sauce to go with the pasta. She didn’t question it because she didn’t want to tick you off further, so she just set down the many desserts on the counter with a sigh. Yelena’s already looking at them with a contemplative hum and Nat just offers a smile as she tries to steal her niece from her sister.

“These look great, Wands.”

The doorbell spares you from having to answer, and you hurry to the front door. You figure that whoever it is has their hands full because they usually just walk on in. Wanda watches you go with a sigh before she goes to stir the pasta you’d started. She isn’t sure why you made this other than to pout, but she’s not going to worry about it too much right now. She helps her friends prepare the food they’d brought, well mostly Yelena because Nat’s now playing with Little Nat and going to check on Fletcher. She’s eaten all of the cheesecake off her paws, so she’s either going to have diarrhea or she’s going to be bouncing off the walls soon.

“Sestra! Guess what I brought!”

Wanda looks up from the salad she’s preparing when she hears her brother practically stomp into the room with an arm full of booze. She groans under her breath, but she curses when she sees you grab two of the bottles from him with a smile. She has a feeling tonight is going to be a wild one.

“That is not how it went down! I definitely won!”

Wanda looks around the table to see that her friends are all laughing at her brother’s outburst. You’ve been quieter than usual from where you sit with Natalya by your side. You’re going back and forth between feeding her and yourself while still checking on your dogs occasionally. They had camped out under the table waiting for food to fall and as expected, Rogue was right at your wife’s feet. Boone was sitting next to Yelena and Fanny because she was the most likely to feed them from the table despite you telling her not to do that.

“It definitely is, Pietro. She beat you by a long shot.”

Wanda smiles when you speak up in her defense against her brother who’s as usual, telling a misremembered version of events. She barely remembers what he’s talking about it had been so long ago, but she knew that she’d won because her brother usually did.

Pietro shoots you a betrayed look that you just smile at before feeding Natalya another bite of her pasta. She smiles and laughs happily as she tries to steal a piece from her fork and just shove it in her mouth. Wanda’s also watching her daughter eat so she misses Fletcher sneak toward the kitchen. She must have gotten out of the room that you’d put her in. Your friends are still laughing at Pietro’s expense as you tell the story accurately and watch as his frown deepens with each word you say.

“I remember helping her up first and then you almost pulling me over the cliff when I went to grab you.”

This was one of the rare times that you’d convinced Wanda to go rock climbing a few miles from your house. Pietro of course had wanted to go and you had watched the twins literally battle their way toward the mountaintop as you waited anxiously for them. You weren’t a huge fan of heights and you’d hiked up to the peak to help them get set up, but you’d just opted to watch them race their way up the mountain side.

Wanda smiles as she drops her fork and looks up at her brother with a glare. She remembers this part and unfortunately she also recalls how terrified she’d been when you’d started to lean over the edge of the cliff to grab her brother.

“Right. He almost pulled you over, and I nearly ran him over with the car.”

You can’t help but laugh at this because you had found it terrifying at the time, but the idea of Wanda trying to force her brother to walk back was hilarious. They’d argued of course and you’d just sat in the passenger seat watching anxiously, but when Wanda had gotten in and locked the doors behind her, Pietro had run after them as she drove away. He’d ended up jumping on the roof of the car and Wanda had been so surprised she’d slammed on the brakes and caused him to roll off the front of the car.

“I think you did it on purpose.”

You are enjoying watching your wife bicker with her brother, and you miss Fletcher jump up on the counter to look for any food that's been left out. Luckily most of it was put up, but she turns to the island to see that something’s still there. Pietro continues to drink as he scowls in defeat, and you and Wanda share an amused look as the conversation switches to Nat’s upcoming birthday. She’s 2 months away from being 1 year old, and your friends want to throw her a party. You’d argued that she’ll never remember anything from it, and that it was mostly just a party for you. Wanda had agreed, but she was more willing to celebrate this milestone in your daughter’s life.

It was an excuse to get everyone together again.

When the details were mostly figured out, you were hungry again and decided to get up for another serving of food. You don’t make it though because Pietro stands up drunkenly to bring his plate over to you. Miraculously he doesn’t spill anything as he hands you his leftovers that he’s decided you want. You do but you’re still a little surprised that he’s giving you his food. You watch Wanda frown but you just shrug before taking a bite of the pasta your brother-in-law didn’t want to finish.

“I’m going to get another drink. Anyone want one?”

Wanda just rolls her eyes as she wipes some of the tomato sauce off Nat’s cheek with a sigh.

“Don’t you want to slow down, Piet? Pace yourself? You won’t get to hold Nat later if you’re trashed.”

This makes him pause, but he still walks to the kitchen to search for something to drink. The loud clatter of a pan falling on the ground makes you turn around suddenly. You see that Pietro’s not even to the kitchen yet and you stand up to make sure nothing bad happened. You have a sneaking suspicion that you know what’s happened, but when Piet rounds the counter and curses loudly you start to panic.

“Shit! Don’t eat the cat, oh god!”

You’re up and Wanda’s following you quickly when she hears what her brother says. She grabs Natalya and hands her to the closest person, who happens to be Steve. He accepts the younger Maximoff who just smiles at him before watching Wanda hurry to the kitchen.

You arrive to see red all over the floor and on Fletcher who’s lying on her side yowling. Rogue is standing over her, and he appears to be chewing as you hurry forward to grab him.

“Rogue, no!”

You realize that he’s not really eating Fletcher as soon as you grab him and see all of the sauce you’d made on the ground. You groan in annoyance before pulling Rogue away and shooting Fletcher a disgusted look.

“This damn cat.”

“Y/n!”

You jump in surprise when you realize that your wife had followed you into the kitchen. You turn to see her looking at Fletcher and she gasps at the sight of her covered in and eating tomato sauce. You take Rogue toward the sink and sit him down to try and wipe off his face, but he’s mostly licked it all away at this point. Wanda tries to clean up the mess on Fletcher and on the floor. It’s a few minutes later that Fletcher runs away when Wanda tried to wash her off. She sighs and you are finished up with Rogue at this point, and you just now realize that Pietro had been eating what was left in the pan on the ground.

“Seriously?”

Steve stops talking immediately when the small brunette on his lap squirms impatiently. He’s not sure what she wants. After offering her some food only to have her swat it away, he tries to shift her so she’s more comfortable, but she only gets more irritable as a result. When she lets out a noise that is closer to word, he freezes and his friends hold their breath as they look to her expectantly.

“Mama.”

Nat gasps and Yelena nearly chokes on her drink as Steve turns toward the kitchen to call you and Wanda over.

“Y/n! Wanda! Get in here!”

You’re still stressed so you quickly get up and head for the table with Wanda on your heels. She ignores her brother’s questioning noise as she heads to the table to see everyone’s looking shocked. No one’s speaking and Wanda’s frowning as she opens her mouth to ask Steve what’s wrong. The fact she’d left Natalya with him and he was the one calling for her made her think that something had happened. That said, looking at them now, Natalya was just a little fussy. She walks over to them, and she smiles widely when Nat reaches out for her.

“Mama.”

Wanda stops short and you grin at the fact that your daughter’s said her first word. You’re so grateful that it wasn’t a curse word. You watch as Wanda takes Natalya from Steve with a teary smile. She kisses her baby’s face before turning toward you and holding her out to you.

“Mama? Did you say your first word?”

“Natalya, you’re so cute!”

Your daughter holds her arms out to you and mutters ‘mama’ again under her breath and you nearly start crying with Wanda. You take her from your wife and you kiss her face all over before bouncing her on your hip with a wide smile.

“Your mamas love you little one.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you makes Wanda turn around. She’s still smiling even at the sight of her brother with the pan still in his hands as he practically licks it clean.

“So do your aunts and uncles. That’ll be your next word, right, Little Nat?”

Wanda snatches the pot from him before offering him a smile as she looks to where you’re holding Nat up and pretending to drop her. You catch her before she hits the floor, but Wanda hates that Nat loves it so much. She laughs hysterically and you do it again before handing her off to Natasha with a smile.

“Here, little one. Go ahead and practice. I’m going to throw your furry sister into a bathtub.”

Wanda just watches her daughter get tickled by Natasha for a few seconds before she registers what you’d said. She turns around quickly to find you reaching for her cat, and she hurries to follow, and hopefully stop you from dunking her.

“Y/n, no!”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #wanda x you #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au

[luhafraser]

Anons in my inbox... Sorry... I'm not ignoring you, but what do you want me to say? Nothing new here...

New Blah Blahlands?!

Another blah blah blah book... Nothing new in this "I had Covid" speech or have you guys already forgotten the Xmas 2021 - QT LA playlist on Spotify?! ... He's just unfolding a script that he created in December 2021... There was his "wee" accident too... A series of misfortunes... True or not?! Believe what you want... 😜🤣 Fact is that at the beginning of January 2022 he no longer had anything (or he wouldn't have gone to the Chargers game with Marina and Alex), he was in LA and I don't need to mention where Caitríona was, right?!

(The best part was Cait giving her location in a interview, where she was supposedly at the end of 2021 - London -, and this article being published on January 1, 2022... Because it's very common for Cait to give her location! 😜🤣)

All the "clans" in this fandom are fed with these books... We already had "the gardener" Sam, the bluebell flower thing, and now even the believers in gay theory are well served with this pathetic description of Sam and his flirtations.

Oh... And the article in The Telegraph? He should be ashamed of that. But tell me... How many thousands of people, from outside this fandom, are going to read and/or pay attention to that?

Of course, one or other will read it because of the usual bait...

Oh and of course, JJ...

Regarding this "I don't have time for relationships because of my work", I already gave my opinion in another post.

It doesn't make any sense... After all, he supposedly had relationships years ago while filming Outlander.

---

Years ago (2019) a well-known shipper stopped believing that Sam and Caitríona had children (in secret)... One of her statements to stop believing is exactly what Sam has been using for a while to justify why he doesn't have a relationship/family. She even said that Sam would never deny his child...

Well, I don't blame this shipper, far from it... But let's be honest, SC use a lot of what we talk about here... Very little in favor and much more against shippers' beliefs.

Sam for Philippine Daily Inquirer magazine, in early 2020:

He probably added "the trauma of his father's absence" in Waypoints book, to cause commotion and be a slightly better excuse than that lame one used first?!

And the announcement of the blonde child, in August 2021, was a blow delivered using what that and other shippers started to claim. We are often our own worst enemies, even if unintentionally.

---

And what Sam said about "his daughter"... Well... He didn't lie. He doesn't have a daughter WITH MM...

😜🤣

---

It's as if the SC is always on the defensive, justifying something... Which seems strange at first, but... If Sam just said "I'm single because I want to be"... That wouldn't tease us, right? Maybe not in the same way... It probably wouldn't cause a buzz talk (here)... Anyone outside of this fandom will see just another unknown actor, who is not romantically involved with his co-star (and that's what they want).

It's been years of the same....

All of this crossed the line of ridiculousness, and when the world outside is so chaotic, sometimes it is impossible to have fun and be distracted by this circus. Sorry, Anons.

#sam heughan #outlander #caitriona balfe #sam and caitriona #shit show

[silent-raven13]

When Miles prank Hobie🥺

After Hobie's little prank, Miles decides to prank him back. This was after he forgiven Hobie's little prank, he waited to do the prank.

"So you're gonna do it?" Gwen asked as they eat lunch together at Headquarters.

"Yup! A little pay back. I wonder what he'll do?" Miles hums.

"Probably freak out!" Gwen knows Hobie would probably go into panic mode. He loves Miles, too much.

"Awe, good! He got me so heated." Miles huffed.

His blond friend giggles, "Your gonna make your baby be sad."

"Good!" Miles grins widely.

Pav and Hobie came into the cafeteria to find their friends eating, "Hey guys!" Pav happily said to them.

Hobie cooly said, "Yo, Gwendy. Hey, Sunflower." He went to sit next to Miles to give him a kiss on the lips until Miles turn his head away from him. "Huh, luv? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Hobie!" Miles hums as he eats, he glanced over at his man to find him frowning.

Pav laughs, "Oh, what did I missed? Did you two fight?"

"What no?" Hobie quickly turn to his partner being confused, "Luv, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, dude." Miles casually said as he chews his fried rice. "Mmm, this rice is so good. Try it, man."

Hobie pouts as he heard Pav gasp, "Did you two broke up? Miles, you always call him your bae or baby!"

Gwen giggles, "Yeah, Hobie. What happen?" As she plays along.

"Wha? Luv, what's wrong?" Hobie asked having to slouch over to his boyfriend being upset with hurt in his eyes, "Sunflower, tell me what's wrong! Did I hurt your feelings, luv?"

"Mmm," Miles ignores him as he eats.

"Sunflower!" Hobie whines being a child having to put on his puppy eye look. "This isn't funny!" He kisses Miles' cheek try to fix whatever got his boyfriend upset with him.

Pav watches with joy like a drama show. "Wow, I never seen Hobie be so sad."

"I never knew he can get sad." Gwen smiles with amusement.

Miles giggles feeling Hobie's kisses on his neck, "Hobie, stop!"

"No, until you tell me what's wrong. Is it because I didn't give you a hug or cuddles. Oh, I know, luv!" He picks Miles up to have him on his lap, "How about this?"

"BAE!" Miles finally said it out loud feeling embarrassed how his boyfriend picks him. They're both Spider-men, out in Spider Society and this was so sudden.

"Awe, there it is. It feels good when you call me that." Hobie's arms around Miles' waist with his lips on his boyfriend's neck placing kisses.

Miles giggles, "Stop. You're tickling me! You're good, bae. I was just pranking you as pay back!"

"I don't like it! Don't be cruel, Sunflower!" Hobie kisses him on the lips, "I apologize didn't I?"

"I still wanted pay back! Just so you know how I feel!" Miles kisses him back, "Mi amor."

"Mmm, everything is to the rightful order." Hobie sighs with relief with his face buried in Miles' chest.

"I thought you didn't believe in order?" Gwen asked.

Pav grins widely, "For real! Mr. I don't believe in order but chaos! Anarchy!"

"They're right. Maybe I should be chaotic and call you, dude more often." Miles jokes.

Hobie frowns, "No! You're the only order I allow, Sunflower. Keep calling me, your baby!"

"Okay, baby." Miles giggles as he lift Hobie's chin to kiss him on the lips, "Mi amor, *kiss* mi vida, *kiss* mi alma, *kiss* mi cielo, *kiss**kiss* mi nova guapo! *kiss**kiss**kiss*" They kiss being all mushy and lovey dovey.

"Oh brother. I think I lost my lunch." Gwen rolled her eyes.

Pav said, "Awe, it's giving teenage romcom. It's cute."

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spider verse #across the spider verse #spiderman #atsv hobie #spider punk #astv #across the spiderverse #spider man #atspv #flowerpunk

[chamonabis]

Boss bitch 👀

Tell a little about their story. I don't know if anyone would be interested in reading it, but I've wanted to write it for a long time 🥹)

With my OuroAU.

OuroTiger is the boss. He once had a wife, Tomoe. He is cruel, sarcastic and likes to tease and torment his subordinates (can be called S). Even so, he still loved his ex-wife very much, but once his secret was discovered by her, Tomoe committed suicide (I love Tomoe, but sorry😭).

When OuroTiger was 23 years old, both husband and wife adopted a child, Barnaby (current OuroBunny), at that time the boy lost his parents (harmed by Ouroboros), 7 years old.

Gradually growing up, understanding more and knowing "papa's" secret, at the age of 11, Barnaby intentionally let "mom" know "papa's" secret and she was sick, depressed and committed suicide. Barnaby is a bit cruel at this stage, he is a child who has just learned shocking news and is hated, harboring hatred and wanting revenge. OuroTiger knows, hates Barnaby but it's not time to kill him yet (It's beneficial for him because Barnaby have the same NEXT ability as OuroTiger), he orders Maverick to brainwash him, train Barnaby to become a bodyguard.

As he grew older, OuroBunny became more quiet and disliked the old man (Because he started to torture him and didn't love him like before Tomoe died), no longer called "papa", and began working under boss OuroTiger.

OuroTiger also had a painful time losing his wife, then still had to get back up, became more and more crazy and tortured his "son" more, OuroBunny also disliked him, hated him openly but still had to obey his boss's orders. (He's always trying to find out the cause of his biological parents' death, but it's unclear because Maverick brainwashed him.)

Gradually doubting, but not being certain, OuroBunny began to have headaches and chaotic memories. Always by OuroTiger's side, He learns about his past again. As the boss, OuroTiger knew, but still pretended to ignore it, want to see good drama. Gradually working with OuroTiger, OuroBunny got used to standing behind and supporting him and secretly watching him closely, gradually learning many secrets about the death of his biological parents, hatred arose but it was not time to kill OuroTiger (because he never made it all clear and OuroBunny is still suffering from chaotic memories).

At the same time, another feeling sprouted in OuroBunny's heart for the "good father that year" who saved him is still there now (Now covered by hatred).

Side

OuroTiger: black eyes, black hair, darker skin than Tiger (off), he wears glasses because works a lot at the hospital.

OuroBunny: green eyes, blonde hair, already white skin because he only lives hidden in the darkness, no nearsightedness, 5cm taller than boss

On the surface, Kotetsu is very gentle and kind, has a job at the hospital, but cannot save his wife.

Barnaby, with his biological parents' love of robotics, began to learn and when he grew up, he always liked to be alone with the machines. He's a genius, created his first robot at age 15, At the age of 20, he created the first humanoid robot. No matter how much he hated his boss, he unconsciously created a robot with the appearance of OuroTiger, called H-01.

The 23-year-old OuroTiger has been a boss for 2 years, the youngest boss in Ouroboros history.

Kotetsu married Tomoe at the age of 21, Tomoe was in Kotetsu's high school class.

Tomoe was in poor health, and when she was pregnant with her first child, she lost this child (at the age of 22), after which Kotetsu offered to adopt Barnaby as their son. Then 4 years later, she learned that her husband had done many evil things, depression caused her to commit suicide.

Since being brought back by Kotetsu, Barnaby has loved him very much. Although he doesn't know what his feelings are, Barnaby really wants to keep the gentle and funny Kotetsu as his own, not wanting to lose him.

Now,

OuroTiger is 16 years older than OuroBunny.

OuroTiger is 40 years old (3 years older than Tiger)

OuroBunny is 24 years old (2 years younger than Bunny)

#tiger and bunny #taibani #t&b #tnb #barnaby brooks jr #kotetsu t. kaburagi #t&b2 #tnb2 #fanart #my art #digital art #ouroboros barnaby #ouroboros tiger #OuroAU #barnaby x kotetsu

[11queensupreme11]

Queen how does it feel to be a genius?

Girl, I'm here, reading and being so 😈

(Queen, I almost made this anonymous cause... I'm really horny? And I didn't know!?)

Cause you know I'm a Poseidon's bitch but also uncle Hades you're doing a pretty good job with my girl you the reason she forgets about blondes

Like, having sex (that was sex, no matter if you say it wasn't) without penetration cause he knows he'd keep doing it, no matter what the consequences are?

*horny grip*

(Hades, making Percy cum with his finger the moment Poseidon enters... He doesn't stop and Percy is just squirting while telling Poseidon to not see...)

My girl would be having the time of her life with them, good for her

Now, in my mind, Hades makes a party and invites Poseidon, just to have his child distracting him meanwhile he's licking Percy in the other room

Now, Percy sleeping in Poseidon and Hades tits? Girl, leave some for the rest

Also, is the knowledge SHE IS STILL WET WHILE HER FATHER TAKES HER TO HOME

Percy just prays that nothing comes down her cause she doesn't have panty (cue to Hades masturbating to them) and Poseidon being 🤨 cause he knows his brother's niece kink but like, he wouldn't dare... Right?

Now, if I was writing fanfiction about your fic? Poseidon would sit her down on his dick and "teach" her about being pure and not letting lost herself to lust

Poor Percy ends trembling and crying to the end of it

But I'm not (?) So I'm just giggling at your work and encouraging Poseidon to make SOMETHING!

I knew it was going to be good, but no do good, you throw me back to my Wattpad era

Also, Loki panicking cause he lost her and what if she ends up participating in the orgy? That would be karma right there

Loki: fortunately, you didn't do anything that day, right?:D

Percy: haha yes nothing happens... At the party

Loki: why are you so specific?🤨

Now I'm wondering how they are going to be? He's a crazy bitch, and we know he doesn't care about her opinion, so I'm picturing him fighting her and kissing her until she really wants something

But also, right now he's in the friendzone™ (a Chad somewhere had a chill), he's her best friend (kinda)

He could enter to her changing her clothes and just found that she's pissed about him no knocking (like her asking if he saw her piss? Girl, your priorities are kinda a mess, kick him out and then ask) he needs to fight for her to see him something different

(Thor is laughing internally cause it is karma)

The fight scene was so funny, Percy really said: you look like shit, let me treat you like one

Loki's crush on her cause she is just as chaotic as him, her just has the world around her finger and isn't afraid of using it

I heard him fall when she was "I know how to count :D" he was loving her gremlin era

I love all the yandere but Loki is dear to me (never as dear as Poseidon but close) cause he's so funny and just makes Percy to be herself again and loving it

Queen, loving your work as always thanks so much for the update and remember we love Nico :D

YEAH HADES WAS DOING ALL THAT HE COULD TO HOLD HIMSELF BACK CUZ HE KNEW THE SECOND HIS DICK GOES IN HER, HE'S GONNA LOSE IT 🥵

also.... i can see how much you like loki from this ask..... unfortunately, there's something you need to be warned about: loki is not what he seems so be careful 😔😔😔

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

[foressfaction]

:Ticci Toby:{A Rewrite}

CHAPTER 6

WARNING:: This story contains EXTREMELY triggering topics such as Domestic/Child/Substance abuse, Death, harsh language, GORE and dissociation triggers. This story mentions mental illnesses and disorders such as Depression, PTSD, ADHD, and Tourette's Syndrome. !!TICS MAY BE TRIGGERING!!

Chapter six

Toby got home that night, realizing what he had done to his hands on the way home. They were chewed, bloody. Most of the blood was dry, but it wasn't hard to wash off.

Toby found some old pairs of winter gloves, they were black. He cut the tips of the fingers off, pulling them onto his hands to hide his scarred skin. He mostly wore jackets and flannels so the gloves wouldn't stand out as much. He really didn't want to be bandaged up again.

Lyra came opening his door, looking at him wide eyed. "What's up? I had an odd feeling just now."

"Eh? Oh, I'm fine, just- sitting, yep." he shrugged, tugging his hands into the creases of his elbows.

"Wait, Lyra, I have to ask, why was dad so mad yesterday?" he spoke, now thinking about how his head was healing. A white strip of gauze wrapped around his forehead halfway.

Lyra came in and sat down on his bed, hopping a little as she did so, making the bed bounce. "I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you. I quit my job, and well now we don't have much income."

Toby looked down slightly, kinda upset too. "heh..let me guess, dad did-didn't like that because you we-were the only one making money?"

She nodded. "I couldn't handle the drama, I wasn't getting promoted, I was only getting yelled at, work used to be my only escape from the verbal assault but I just didn't feel safe there." Lyra explained. This made Toby wonder, was Lyra skipping school? She never talked about it.

"You're still going to school right?" Toby asked. This earned a guilty side eye from the blonde girl. "Look- don't tell mom and dad okay? It was just too overwhelming and i had to work and- and-"

Toby grabbed her hand with a weak smile. "it's safe w-with me, why would i tell them? I know how dad would react, and mom would nev-never see the end of it." He looked down, a few facial tics leaving him.

"Let's go somewhere." Lyra randomly suggested. "Anywhere, for a drive, walk, even running doesn't sound so bad, I bet I can beat you in a race." She winked childishly. Despite being five years older than Toby, Lyra was a rather playful person. She was just overall chaotic. All she wanted to do was to make her brother laugh, see him smile. He never smiled much, or when he did it was an awkward smirk.

"Nuh uh, i-im way faster than you, believe it." Toby responded, taking on her challenge.

Lyra laughed stupidly and got up, lightning the mood. "Get your shoes on." She left the room quickly.

Toby got up and pulled on his old converses, they were all dirty and worn out from wearing them for so long. Toby followed the girl who disappeared into her room.

Lyra was putting her hair into a loose ponytail. She had bangs that fell perfectly above her eyes, and side tails that were just too short to fit into the ponytail. Her hair was thick and naturally a yellow blonde color. It was rather messy too, a family trait. She pulled on her own pair of plain white converses. Despite being white, they were still in way better shape than Toby's. Her style was pretty casual for their time, baggy jeans, band T-shirts with flannels or other sweaters layered over. They did live in a colder area so thicker and warmer clothes dominated their wardrobe. Plus the family's poor income only allowed them to mostly thrift all of their things, and stick to the same pair of shoes for years.

It's a good thing they never really grow out of old clothes. Both of the siblings being underweight and pretty malnourished. Lyra keeps Toby in check by doing things like they are now, exercising, without knowing it. Lyra and Toby honestly just liked being active. Staying inside all day was a bummer, and so what if it was 50 degrees out, they weren't going to suffice being bored to death all day.

School or work was the only reason they left the house, sometimes it was good to get out.

••••••

#creepypasta #slenderverse #foressfaction #ticci toby #toby rogers #rewrite #creepypastarewrite #ticcitobyrewrite