#the movie was fun and loving it is fine! i don't mind the changes to loki even though marvel is generally insulting and sidelines abuse!

[ilovescaredysquirrel2]

What I'm excited for coming soon (TADC episode 2, SpongeBob, and Wallace & Gromit and more)

Okay, I'm going to start with The Amazing Digital Circus episode 2 since it's all my friends and I are thinking about. Just when I didn't think it was going to be better than the first one, I really trust Glitch and Gooseworx with this! I saw the trailer and I'm way more excited, in fact, maybe a little too much. I just know it's going to be fun and hilarious! Although I'm worried that Pomni might get abstracted, I don't want her to abstract. She's one of my favorites but I don't want anyone to abstract really. I'm too attached to these characters! Also, I saw those moments with Ragatha and Princess Loolilalu meeting each other and I love to see girls supporting girls in anything. I find it very healing to my inner child, and also I just like the girl power, it's so refreshing to see! Also, I heard that this will focus more on Jax, who's kind of a jerk sometimes and maybe they'll give him a softer side here, or something to make people feel bad for him, and I like that idea to show that not everyone is all bad or all good. Also, Jax has been stuck in the digital world since he was a teen so you can't help but to feel bad for him. Another thing, that candy elephant thing looks cool and I really hope Gumigoo is voiced by Tustin Macafee. If he's not, it's fine, but I can't think of anyone better for the voice role than Tustin!

As for the new SpongeBob movie, it's gonna be released in theaters and the OG team is going to come back (except for the creator, who sadly passed away a while ago). I heard something that one of the directors said that there will be nudity in the new SpongeBob movie, but I hope he was joking.

Also, I love that they're making fun of AI with this new Wallace & Gromit movie. As an artist, I think people overdo it with AI and that I think we should stop using it for art purposes unless it's only to mess around with and not actually use. I hope they make fun of Disney too. Imagine making fun of both AI and Disney, in an Aardman movie! That'd be awesome! Also, I heard Nick Park wasn't going to work on it at first but he decided to come back (I think he changed his mind after the new Chicken Run 2) and I really hope Wallace & Gromit makes more money than Chicken Run 2.

Also, I'm not much of a Disney fan so I don't care much about the Inside Out sequel or Moana sequel. I think they're really unnecessary, however, I have more hope for the Inside Out sequel than the Moana one, even though I do like Moana better. I feel like Disney should just stick to Kiff and that Molly Magee show or whatever its called, because those are the only two good things that Disney still has left. (Obviously, I'm religious and don't watch shows with ghosts, so I'm just more interested in Kiff but both shows are better than Disney's movies rn).

Finally, the last Bluey episode... I haven't watched it yet and I hear it's really emotional. I don't think I'm prepared for that so I'll stick to watching my favorites, like the beach one. I just hope they don't end Bluey yet, it's the only good kid shows that's still running. Plus, it's from Australia and they deserve to make a lot of money off this show, even though greedy Disney is involved in airing it in my country. I support the foreign shows all the way!

Tell me your thoughts! PLEASE CHAT WITH ME IN THE COMMENTS, ESPECIALLY YOU TADC FANS! DON'T HIDE!

#tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus #tadc episode 2 #tadc #spongebob #bluey #wallace & gromit #my thoughts

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money��

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #vampire!au #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie smut #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x afab!reader smut #fem!reader #luveline's halloween party

[xiaours]

hi! can I request genshin men realizing that their s/o isn't eating (or either being fed by their boss or whatever), and losing their initial cheerfulness bcs of it? thank you in advance!

'WHY AREN'T YOU EATING?'

— genshin men being concerned when they find out you haven't been eating

pairing. genshin men x gn!reader (seperate)

cw. comfort, words of admiration, pet names, mentions of fat shaming/not eating, overthinking

note. you are all perfect the way you are ! don't let anyone tell you otherwise <3

You sat there, picking at your food. You and your boyfriend were out at dinner, his idea. Since the two of you couldn't spend much time together due to the duties he had to fulfill. You were glad that he took you out, but brought to guilt once you realized he was taking you out to a restaurant. You continued to pick at your food, which he had noticed, giving you a curious eye.

"[name]? Is there something on your mind..?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze. "Mhm, just a bit stressed lately.."

You shifted in your seat as he continued to look at you. He has set down his silverware, neglecting this dinner as he pulled his attention to you. "Is there a reason why?"

"Work. My boss. They said.. some things."

"Mm. What 'things'?"

He knew your work field. You worked hard for your job, an admirable person to say the least. He had never expected you to be too stressed by how well you dealt with changes.

He picked up the fact that you were uncomfortable. He let out a small sigh, "What did they say, [name]."

"They made fun of how I looked, following my weight.. saying that I shouldn't eat as much as I am now." You felt sick to your stomach remembering their exact words. Insulting you, and you couldn't stop it. You didn't want to get fired.

You picked at your nails. He looked at you, his eyes softening at your state. He reached his arm out, grabbing your hand.

"You're perfect the way you are, [name]. I didn't fall in love with your looks, I fell in love with your personality. And it hurts to see you stressed over someone's words."

"Eat as much as you like. Don't listen to other's unneeded words."

You smile, he has always made you feel better mentally. You give him a nod. "Alright, thank you."

"Of course, my love. Now eat, it's your favorite."

He would deal with your boss sooner or later, but at this moment, he wanted to be there for you.

— neuvillette, ayato, kazuha, zhongli, diluc, cyno, albedo + your favs

It was a movie night, one that you have every Saturday night. Your boyfriend has made some popcorn and sat down with you as you both picked a movie. Throughout the movie, he noticed that you hadn't eaten any of the snacks that were currently displayed on the coffee table in front of the two of you.

He wouldn't think anything odd about this, but it also seemed like you weren't present, mentally. You looked spaced out. He reached for the remote, pausing the movie.

"[name], something on your mind?"

You spanned out of your thoughts, shifting into a more comfortable position, and looking at him swiftly before looking back at the television. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He sighed, "Don't lie to me, something is bothering you. Is it the movie?"

"No, no. It's just.."

He looked at you, setting the popcorn down on the table as he moved his body in your direction. "Did someone do something to you, I'll get rid of them."

"Babe. I'm just overthinking, it happens all the time, let's just watch the movie."

"I'm not unpausing it until you tell me what's going on. You can talk to me."

You took a swallow, "My friends, y'know. The ones that I hung out with last weekend."

He crossed his arms. So it was your friends? He didn't seem to like them very much. They seemed rude and fake, and maybe he was right.

"They made fun of me about how I looked, my weight exactly. They told me how it was practically impossible that I'd be dating you without bribing you with money." He was shocked, to say the least. How could they say such a thing?

"Listen hear, don't listen to what they have to say. I love you. Looks aside. You're a wonderful person and you make me happy. If they don't know a great person when they see one, stop being friends with them." His hands met yours, holding them softly.

"Thank you." You looked down, smiling. "Can we continue to watch the movie?"

"Of course." He had unpaused the movie. Pulling you closer to him as the two of you proceeded to eat the snacks.

And for your friends, they'd be dealt with.

— kaveh, childe, heizou, thoma, wanderer, wriothesley + your favs

© xiaours. do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ signed ! #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #ayato x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x reader #kaveh x reader #childe x reader #heizou x reader #thoma x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette comfort #ayato comfort #kazuha comfort #zhongli comfort #diluc comfort #cyno comfort #albedo #kaveh comfort #childe comfort #heizou comfort

[spncvr]

HIII I kinda suck at writing so maybe you could take my idea and use your amazing writing skills and make something of it? (Only if you want ofc!!) hear me out yk how Spencer rambles about random facts and everything at the bau imagine if he had a partner (was a profiler as well) and that knew a lot about musics or movies and would ramble about it to him?

Ignore this if it sounds stupid 😭

rambles | s. reid

summary: you talk a lot, spencer doesn't mind.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: okay so idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but reader wears a dress lol. drinking, and again my terrible english,, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: hey beautiful!! this deffo does not sound stupid i had fun writing it but this is so bad im sorry i didn't do u justice *crying emoji* also im so sorry this took me forever to finish LMAOOO

masterlist

YOU CAN FEEL it.

In your spine, in your ears. The song’s quiet but it had you in its grip, tight and firm—music’s always been like that to you. It didn’t matter if it was Hendrix, Queen or even Chopin; it has always been the one thing to make you stop dead at your feet. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could possibly describe how it made you feel. Perhaps, you think humorously, you ought to learn another language, or two. 

You’re wearing this dress. This sweet, white silk thing that sweeps against your knees each time you take a step. The taste of expensive wine sits against your lips, lingering. The glass rests idly around your hand and your grip is careful. Expensive red wine and a cheap dress don't usually mix well together. 

“You okay?” 

You smile, teeth and all. Spencer who’s found his place next to you, furrows his eyebrows worry painted against his soft features. He looks tired. But he’s here, with the rest of the team; he always is.

“Fine,” you say, blasé. “You, Dr. Reid?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “Yeah, fine.” then, “nice dress.” It’s a small whisper. 

You brush your tongue against the wine on your lips. The comment catches you off guard—especially when he’s dressed like this and looks at you like that. So, all that leaves your wine-stained lips is a small: “Oh.” then, because you remember your manners you say, “Thank you.”

The song changes, and Spencer smiles, “The songs—” he says “they’re nice.”

“I—” You stop yourself from rambling because really, they’re more than nice. It’s Elle Fitzgerald. She’s—Her voice, her instrument is clear as a bell, with diction that’s almost impossible to misunderstand. Her rhythm is— well it’s, you can set her as the metronome for her own band. Which, well, isn’t exactly easy to do. The way she’s able to scoop and bend her pitches with such precision is, beyond, nice. So the song, really it’s, more than nice, it’s a masterpiece it’s—

“Uh, yeah, s’nice.” you pause, “More than nice, really.”

Spencer smiles, amused, “More than nice?” he echoes.

You clear your throat, “It— yeah. I mean, it’s Fitzgerald, you know…”

“I don’t know,” he says simply.

Figures, you think. “No, yeah. She’s, like, got this tone in her voice, you know? And it’s like she’s the one leading the band— with the rhythm, I mean. As in like, instead of the drummer, which isn’t exactly easy to do. You know, actually, some people say she — she’s got the voice of an angel. Or something along the lines; can’t really remember and—” you pause, slightly embarrassed at how much you’ve been talking.

“Er, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. The edge of your shoes had suddenly become increasingly interesting. “didn’t mean to go on a tangent.”

Spencer kisses his teeth, and you look up to find him grinning. “No, uh,” he scratches the edge of his eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about something you like.” He seems to think about his next words as he brushes his hand against your arm. It sends a shiver that lingers longer than the touch itself. Spencer Reid could be so cruel sometimes. 

“I love listening to you talk.”

Your dress ends up wine-stained, anyway.

as usual my inbox is always open for requests (or just to talk lol) but it will take 192374 years to actually finish it,, reblogs are soo appreciated !! (u guys r always so kind idk why im asking for them) so is feedback btw!! (despretely in need of some)

#c can’t write #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #flangst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Simon relationship hcs ♡

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I may have gone a little off the rails, and this sort of turned into a little bit of a psychoanalysis for Simon lol

I just had a lot to say, okay

Hope you like it <3

The ask is here ♡

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The only way I can ever see Simon getting in a relationship is through friendship.

First of all, no one would realistically ever approach him, he's a scary looking fella. I know I would be scared shitless lmao (love you, simmy)

The tall, dark and broody aura with cold brown eyes, almost like the freezing dirt you'll be buried in if you look for a second too long. Or that's what it feels like. The skull mask doesn't help either, it's sort of odd, but who are we to judge, right?

I know a lot of people say he doesn’t know how to talk to people, and while I think that is definitely true to an extent, I also think that he just doesn't want to. He doesn't see the point in it, and that's the thing.

This man can't do anything without reason. There needs to he a reason or a point to doing something, otherwise it's just a waste of time in his eyes.

The only exception is going out with the boys or hanging out occasionally. I think he very much feels like he doesn't deserve happiness, so any simple pleasures are immediately shut down.

I mean, this man is literally the king of self-destructive behavior.

He locks himself away on leave, again, only does what he needs to on base (or what he feels he needs to), and that's it.

But he's also very responsible, so I don't think he'd ever do anything self destructive wise that would be considered irresponsible.

He takes care of himself on a physical level, and he needs to, but his mind is an absolute train wreck. His job keeps him in check, and that's good.

Otherwise, he'd be down a hole the size of the Mariana trench.

He chronically needs to have noise playing. Whether that's music, a movie, or just the dishwasher running, just something. He would spiral so fast if he had time to be alone with his thoughts, so he keeps himself busy.

In comes Riley (the best boy). Simon has something to do, to busy himself with, and he actually gets outside sometimes because of the pup. He's got a cuddle buddy, a weighted blanket, and a steady presence in his life all at once. Dog of the year award goes to Riley.

Anyway, you somehow got into their little circle. Probably through Johnny or Kyle. They start taking you along to the nights at the pub or the football games at one of their flats because you're fun to hangout with. They like to have you around and let me tell you, Simon is not thrilled at first.

How dare you just inject yourself into their group, and come along during their hangouts. He's annoyed. Not at you, necessarily, but just that he needs to deal with change now. Which isn't usually a problem considering he needs to be kept spontaneous and alert for his job, but once he's away from that, change is like his worst enemy. He hates it.

Things are fine like this, good almost, why do they need to change? He's very cold and sharp with you for the first few months, he just needs time. He sees that you're not a threat after a while.

You didn't disrupt their dynamic as much as he thought you would. You're a fun addition, but you don't steal all the attention from his friends. You know when to back off. After a hard mission, they all need to decompress, and they just can't guarantee they won't snap at you and hurt your feelings.

You respect it, and with a quick "don't be stupid. Stay safe" text the conversation is done.

You don't ask about their job. You don't really care what they do, and they obviously don't feel comfortable telling you too much, but as long as they come back safe, you're good.

You bring a more caring presence into the group, something which they all need desperately. Simon is caught off guard. He never expected something like this, but it feels... nice. We all know you melted his cold heart and he's putty.

But not an overexaggerated amount, just right where he can crack a smile or huff a laugh, and it doesn't feel weird. He even starts to hang out one-on-one with you. It starts off somewhere in public, a cafe or the local pub. The idea of coming to your flat is still a little uncomfortable inside his chest, but you don't push. You're just happy to spend time with him.

And then, out of nowhere, he invites you to his flat. All on his own, comfortably, and you have to stop yourself from being too excited that you finally cracked him.

Simon does feel a little nervous when you first get there, but you're so chill about it (you're probably freaking out on the inside as well), and you just hang out like you normally would.

Riley is so excited to have a new friend!!! No matter how old he is, he jumps around like a puppy, overjoyed to get a visitor.

The second he sees how you're acting with Riley, he's smitten. Not necessarily in a romantic way just yet. You're giving him scratches and pets and talking in The Doggy Voice and it makes Simon's heart all fuzzy.

Riley is essentially his best friend and family, having been there through some of his worst times and to see how infatuated his pup is with you makes him so happy.

I mean, now you just have to come over more often, right?

He always talks about how Riley misses you (all an excuse, he misses you, but he won't say that) and that you need to come over to hangout soon.

When he's deployed again, he leaves Riley with you. That's the equivalent of someone trusting you with their newborn child for Simon, but he trusts you fully. You've earned his trust, respect, and adoration. (Cue Simon giving Riley a serious pep talk to keep you safe but it all slides off, Riley's got smooth brain)

When he comes by to pick Riley up and he steps inside your home for the first time, he gets smacked in the face with a feeling he can only describe as home. It's so warm and cozy and you.

That's when he knows he's fucked. He never wants to leave. It's so much better here, with you and Riley, than his flat. Sure, he can call that home too, but not in the way he can call you home.

It's a very subtle love that slowly starts to bubble up. He enjoyed being your friend, you made him feel normal for once in a while. He was just a guy with a job and friends. Not lieutenant Riley. But how could he have not fallen for you? He wants to be more than just friends, he wants to be yours.

He's never felt more taken care of than when he's with you, and he's slowly letting himself feel the good things again. And you're the best thing. For him and Riley. The pup probably thinks you're his mum already tbh

He gets touchier too. An arm slung around your shoulders, your thighs touching when he's sitting next to you or brushing his fingers against yours. He craves your touch so bad, he even starts hugging and the boys absolutely lose their minds

He feels like you're soothing all that has ever made him feel pain or weird. So, basically, he's utterly in love with you. But he will never ever say a word about it. His fear of your potential rejection almost paralyzes him.

He can't lose you and he'd rather stay silent about his feelings than mess up what you have.

Now, the boys are trying to get into his thick skull that you're also head over heels for him, but he's so far in denial, you could call him a crocodile ( hehe de-nile, get it?)

You confess. Your willpower just can't rival Simon's, and you crumble. How much you like him, how amazing he is in your eyes and how when he came to pick up Riley you almost felt like a little family.

And at that, he breaks. He doesn't know what he's doing, he's never been in love before, he's walking in the dark but he can't care about that when it feels so right. I imagine he probably just stares at you for a while while you're sweating buckets because he doesn't know what to do.

Does he say something? Does he kiss you? Does he hug you? Does he propose-

He's so caught up in his head, playing all kinds of different scenarios that he forgets that he didn't answer you.

Simon gently pulls you into a hug and you can feel the love oozing from his touch. He's not a man of many words, so all he says is a quiet

"be mine."

And the deal is sealed, ladies and gents!!! You just hold each other for a while, feeling the relief wash over your hearts.

Simon loves so fully it makes my heart all fuzzy just thinking about it.

It may not seem like that to other people, but he loves you so much it's insanity. Now, he's not about any grand gesture but the little things that will make your life that much easier. Of course you do get the occasional bouquet and don't get me started on the dates he takes you on, but he will do the dishes after dinner.

He'll fold the laundry. He'll feed the dog. He'll sweep the living room. He'll grocery shopping. And if you're someone who tends to get a messy room very quickly (like me lol) He'll help you set up a system to keep it functioning and neat.

Simon brings the structure, helping you get through your days better while you show how him to enjoy things.

The little things. Like the little dance parties you have with Riley. Like the late nights with the moon shining down on you. Like the sunny day in the park that led to the best afternoon nap ever. You balance each other perfectly, and Simon loves that about you.

You loosen him up. He's still Simon, and that's perfect, but seeing him crack a smile more often doesn't only warm your heart, but the ones of his boys, too.

He's not big on PDA but at home he has now issues with showing how much he loves you. A kiss here, a peck there- he can't ever pass up an opportunity to kiss you.

Now jealousy.... I do think he gets a little more secure the longer you are together but he will still kill anyone with his stares that dares to even look at you suggestively.

He's very possessive. He's always been possessive, not wanting to share with his brother or being very particular about who gets to touch his things. But you? Christ, that's another level. You belong to his heart, and not in a weird objectifying way. You chose him despite everything that he was and is and you're willingly his so of course he won't let you go as long as you want to stay.

It still baffles him everytime when some bloke comes up to you, with Simon obviously being pressed to your side, and asks for your number. He always had the problem of being noticed a lot with his size and now he's suddenly air??

He'll step in everytime, pulling you closer and wrapping himself fully around you. Simon will definitely say something as well, but his absolute favorite thing is when you beat him to it.

"I'm taken, Thank you. I'm very happy with Simon. Say hello, Simon!"

You smile innocently at the drunk man in front of you just to make it extra awkward and Simon has the biggest grin underneath his mask before he presses a kiss to your temple.

What you didn't see was the death glare Simon shot him, making him scramble away to presumably bother another poor woman.

He can get overly jealous if you don't get the hint sometimes, but he would never ever take that out on you. He'll be grumbly for the day until you can get out of him what the problem is.

But at the end of the day, you're in his bed and that's all the reassurance he needs.

He loves cuddling you. He'll knock out in seconds if you're in his arms or vice versa. He prefers to be the big spoon because he needs you pressed against his chest, but he won't deny you the pleasure of being his lovely jetpack.

Simon LOVES to get kissed on the cheek. It's so sweet to him, a little token of your appreciation or a good luck smooch. It makes his nose scrunch up slightly and it's the cutest thing ever.

For you, he adores placing little pecks on your nose. Mainly because you complain that it tickles and he thinks you look adorable, but nothing can beat your lips on his.

Holds your hand in his sleep. It's more of a subconscious thing, but it's so endearing. You're not sure if Simon knows that he does it. You haven't told him. You're just gonna keep this sweet little secret to yourself.

You'll end up getting married because he knows you're the one. He doesn't want anyone else ever.

You're all he needs and wants.

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If you want my NSFW hcs on Simon, just pop into my inbox and ask for it!! This post is already so long, I'll make a separate one for the spicy stuff if you want it :)

More Cod works and other stuff --> 🐝💫

~Fi 🩷

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#bumblebeesfromvenus #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #we die like simps #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

AAAGH I loved your sinner!Adam fic about him and Reader watching TV together 🥺

I heard you take sinner!Adam requests so is it okay to have a sort-of part 2? Maybe watching movies became a regular thing between them and one time they end up kissing during one? If you find it repetitive and don't want to it's totally okay, I understand! I hope you have a nice day and keep up with the good work 🥹

Oh I loved writing this. The fic below is a sequel to this ficlet

I do hope that you liked it. I'm always worried I've made him too ooc but Sinner!Adam is fanon based atm and if he is wanting redemption he would change his ways.

So Urm yeah enjoy. . . .

What we watching?? Sinner!Adam x GN!reader

Fluffy af

That night watching trashy romcoms with Adam could have just been a one off thing and you would’ve been fine with it. But when he approached you in the communal kitchens the next morning with a proposition to make ‘Thursday film night’ a regular thing between the two of you. You had asked him why. He said that hanging out with you yesterday was one of the most fun things he had done in a long time. You smiled fondly at him before agreeing.

-

As Thursday night rolled around again. You were looking forward to sharing some more of your favourite films with Adam. He’d said he would be there by 6ish. You glance at the time on your phone. It was only 6.05pm. He’s probably just running late after the one on one session with Charlie.

An easy way to keep your mind busy was dragging out all your blankets and making a sort of nest type thing on the floor by the couch. You used to do this with your family when you were alive. It just made the movie marathons all that more special. After seeing how far Adam had come since arriving at the hotel. You had really wanted to show him how much he meant to you.

‘Wait, as a friend.’ You stopped mid cushion grab. You liked him as only a friend right? Right?

Your door burst open and slammed shut very quickly Adam was only 45 minutes late, you looked up seeing him breathing hard, carting an armload of snacks, drinks and a few bowls of things.

“There you . . .” he shushes you looking frantically at the closed door. “What did you do?” You whisper as you crawl onto the couch.

A far off loud shouting could be heard in the silence. He waited a minute more before letting out a breath.

“It wasn’t my fault honest.” He looked extremely guilty. You quirked a brow wanting an explanation. “I was trying to make my super awesome dip for our movie night but I maaaaaay have made a really big mess but I didn’t mean to, I just tripped over that cleaner chick who was chasing more of them roaches. This hotel must have an infestation or she is breeding them just to kill. Oh wait, I’m getting off point, the thing is I might have made too much of the dip than I intended and I kinda launched half of it onto another patron. But it wasn’t my fault. This time at least.” He frantically spoke as he juggled the drinks and snacks about in his arms before depositing them carefully on the coffee table. Standing back up he turned and looked down at what you were making. “What’s that?” He points to the accumulated amount of cushions, blankets and other soft furnishings piled on the floor.

“Well, the thing is.” You hopped off the couch into the nest trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. How were you supposed to explain the reason behind it without him laughing at you? “You know what it’s stupid let me just . . .” You felt shame rush to your cheeks as you tried to dismantle the obviously stupid idea.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Looks comfy as fuck. Budge up would ya.” You hopped out as he set himself down in the dead center of the nest, keeping his legs open slightly to give you a place to sit. Last week he really liked having you snuggled up close to him, why did you think this week would be any different.

You chose the first movie and plopped yourself down in the space he left for you, his arms wrapping around your middle pulling you flush against his chest.

“So what we watching?”

-----

“I have a question do all of these movie have the same premise?” Adam asked after about 15 minutes into the third film.

“Whatdya mean?” You say through a mouthful of chips.

“Like . . hang on pause the film a sec.” He fumbles for the remote to stop the movie. You shuffle a bit to see him better. “Like don’t get me wrong they’re good films, a bit cliché but surely the lead woman knows that the ‘Oh I’m a famous something or other I have no time for a man’” his fake high pitched womanly voice had you laughing. “Hey shush let me finish my thought.”

“But you make such a good woman.” You poke at his chest playfully.

“Ah ha ha ha.” He grabs your hand in his. “But seriously shush. My point is are there any original ideas in these films?”

“You saying I got trash taste in cinema?” You try pulling your hand away from his grasp. Adam doesn’t let go but pulls you closer to him.

“What I’m saying is watching all these oblivious people who clearly have strong feelings for the other person, got me thinking.” He looks down at your hand in his. “Ya know what never mind let’s keep watching the movie.” He lets go of your hand and grabs for the remote, setting the film going again.

The whiplash from that conversation was enough to make your head spin. You stayed a second more simply looking into the face of a man who had something he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to do so. As you turned back in his arms to watch the movie, you could hear a small sigh of relief.

You tried to go back to watching the movie but you couldn’t. Adam only held you loosely now, choosing to focus more on grabbing snacks and sipping his soda. Your mind went into overdrive.

‘What did you do wrong?’

‘Was he mad at you?’

‘Did he . . . wait did he like you?’

You almost choked on a piece of popcorn at the realisation. Adam liked you.

Daring to flick your eyes to look at him. He was focused on the film but the soft look of longing he bore was almost too much.

“Adam?” Your voice was gentle so as not to spook him.

“Mmmyeah?” He was still watching the screen.

You grabbed the remote and paused the TV again.

“Hey, it was getting to a good part.” He looked down at you annoyed. “What. Is there something on my face?” He touches his face trying to feel for any irregularity. “Hey, say something you’re freaking me. mmmf” You pulled him down by his shirt and kissed him. He froze against your lips.

‘Shit was I wrong?’

You move to pull away. But his hands cup your face pulling you back into a tender kiss that makes you melt into his touch. The kiss lasted no longer than 5 seconds but you didn’t care you felt like your entire body was floating.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He spoke softly as he broke the kiss. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Your words were barely a whisper but it was all he needed to pull you back against him, he kissed you in such a tender way that made your heart flutter in your chest. You didn’t realise he was capable of such gentility but you craved more of it. Your hands carded into his hair, being careful of his horns, as one of his hands went to cradle the back of your head, effectively tilting your head to allow him to deepen the kiss. His other hand moved to your lower back, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. The kiss had an undertone of heat laced in the movements of your joined lips.

You broke the kiss panting slightly, you noted his pupils were dilated slightly as you were sure yours mirrored back.

You had to slow this down now before you regretted anything.

“Adam.” Your voice low in warning. “As much as I enjoy kissing you. Can we take whatever this is a little slower?”

You expected him to whine or pout about being told no. but he just smiles goofily at you. Swiping a thumb over your lower lip.

“Sure thing.” He kisses your forehead before helping you settle back against him the way your were before. He picked up the remote “Ready to continue?”

You weaved your fingers with his other hand and nodded “Ready.”

--------

I hope this is what you wanted.

My ask box is still open if anyone else got requests

#jamie writes #callmerainman #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam #gender neutral reader #sinner!adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #prompt filled #my fic

[97keanu]

figure skating for the first time x keanuverse ? ⛸️🤍🎄❄️

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ohohoho this is perfect !!!! Thank you for asking, I've had this on my mind for a bit now! (And I may also be writing a fuller fic for such a thing with reader x young!JW :3c) John Constantine, Kevin Lomax, and Neo undercut! Pure fluff!

❄️.*ㅤ Since he's on my mind, older John would love going ice skating with you! He's probably done it at least once himself, and if not, with as skilled as he is as working his body through the movies, I think he would manage just fine! I also have a head canon that when he grew up with The Director, they didn't seperate teaching ballet by gender of who was there (no "just girls learn ballet, boys learn how to kill" deal.) So, I like to think of John Wick as someone who can do all he does because he also has a rigorous background in learning ballet, having those precise body movements, knowing how to work every muscle in his body to his advantage.

Therefore, I would like to imagine that John takes you to the nearest rink (or perhaps a lake he knows that's more private?) And actually helps to teach you how to skate better (or how to at all if you don't know how!). He would be patient, watching you and only stepping in when you need it, his arms wrapping around your waist or steadying your elbow.

Eventually, you're doing it on your own, and John is there watching you, a smile creeping on his face from being able to teach you something so intimate to him. He actually has to be the one to stop you once the night starts setting in, the temperature getting way too cold to stay out in much longer.

He takes you back to his mustang and already has a fuzzy blanket there to wrap you in. You in the night back at his apartment, drinking a late night coffee and John listening to you giggle about how much fun you had with a warm heart.

❄️.*ㅤTed Logan however, lives in sunny California, so they don't see snow or ice often enough for ice skating to be a regular ordeal. He is your skater boyfriend however, so when you do end up finding a indoor rink to take him too, he thinks he will be pretty good at it from the get go. And he isn't horrible, he knows how to balance well and tries to stay up right, but it's actually so different from riding his skateboard or even rollerskates that it takes him a moment or two to get really good at it. Once he has it down though, he's skating around, pulling you by your hands until you two are laughing and doing goofy circles around the rink. Eventually, his himbo-ness gets the best of him, and as he's admiring how pretty your hair looks under the ice rink lights, he slips, bringing you down with him. He takes the harder of the fall, you fall on top of him with rosy cheeks and a smile already forming from how silly your boyfriend can be. You two end up laying there and laughing in the middle of the rink for way too long, maybe even annoying a few other skaters, but you two couldn't care if you tried. The night ends with the two of you warming up at a nearby cafe with hot cocoa and plans to try it again sometime.

❄️.*ㅤJohn Constantine would flat out refuse to go ice skating with you. Your big doe eyes would plead with him, but that's not going to change his mind. You tell him how much you enjoyed going as a child, how you love to ice skate, but you're not going to find a Los Angeles city boy like him on an ice rink anytime soon. Or, are you?

Maybe after his refusal, he takes on a demon hunting case that just so happens to lead him to a hockey rink. When the chase leads you two there, you don't see John stop to think about what he's doing as he tries to run out onto the ice. You go after him, your sneakers sliding and skidding on the slippery surface, but your years of practice skating have you able to keep your balance. To your dismay, ahead of you, Constantine is not someone who's trained in such things, and for the first time ever(and probably the last), you see Constantine fall flat on his ass. You easily skid by, reaching out a hand to help him up, and he can't deny grumbling a 'thank you". By the time you're ready to resume chase, the demon is gone.

"See? If we had just gone skating last Saturday, maybe you would have been prepared for this type of thing!" You know you shouldn't rub it in, but you can't help pointing out the truth.

"Yeah, yeah," Constantine carefully finds his way to the rinks edge, and gets out onto non-slippery flooring. "Okay, Maybe I'll take you next time..."

You squeal with joy and the two of you end the night with you having a hot tea in his apartment and Constantine taking a whiskey and nursing his bruised backside.

❄️.*ㅤKevin Lomax is not one for ice skating. Our good southern boy hasn't even roller skated a day in his life, and he's not about to trade his cowboy boots for a pair of blades.

"Please, Kevin! I really want to go skating!" You pester him, and eventually he caves, lucky that New York gets more snow than Florida.

He wraps you, and himself, up tight in winter clothes, and bites back complaints about how cold it is. He takes you to a local spot that he's heard of, and only a few other couples are out at the rink. Good, less people to have to see him fall on his ass when this goes awry.

He still has to maintain the confidence of a business man, so he keeps his lawyer smile on and helps you into your skates. At first, he let's you go ahead and skate without him, watching you perform moves he is actually pretty entranced with. When you pull your leg up over your head, he actually gives a holler out of support("Yeah that's my wife/girlfriend!").

Eventually, when everyone else has left, you persuade him into trying on a pair of skates, and to your surprise, he does. You gently take him out onto the ice, and for a few moments he's actually doing it! You let go gently, and he glides by himself, able to get down the simple movements, but nothing too crazy. In the end, you two do slow circles in the middle of the rink, face to face with each other. Kevin looks deeply in your eyes, and you're happy he's obliged your silly request. He leans in for a kiss, and you feel your legs shake on your skates. To your surprise, you're the one who's lost your balance first, and Kevin catches you with a laugh.

"Too much for you, darlin'?" He whispers with that husky southern voice, and the redness in your cheeks isn't just from the cold anymore.

The two of you end the night at a fancy dinner spot, something expensive, decorated in holiday spirit and the sound of a live pianist and violinist playing soft Christmas tunes.

❄️.*ㅤNeo lives in Chicago, so he's no stranger to the cold or navigating ice. I believe he likely has gone ice skating before, probably as a child, but hasn't done that in many years. When you ask him, he's apprehensive, but it doesn't take much begging for him to agree.

He takes you to a spot that's supposed to be the best experience, and only after you two have bought your tickets do you realize it's PACKED. There's way too many people here for Neo's comfort, or yours for that matter, and after about an hour of trying to find your way onto the ice where you two can have some alone time, you see it's not going to happen tonight and give up.

Neo makes it up to you by taking you to your favorite dinner spot. It's an enjoyable date night still, but he can tell how badly you wanted to go and can see the disappointment that you couldn't.

So, after about a week, he tells you that he's taking you out for a surprise.

When you arrive to this mystery destination, you realize it's the same ice rink. You ask him why, knowing it's another Saturday and it will be packed just like before, but Neo motions to the lack of people in the parking lot.

"What...?" You say as you begin to piece things together. "How did you...?"

"We have the whole place to ourselves. I took out every ticket just for us." He says slyly, obviously proud of this feat.

"What do you mean? That has to be crazy expensive!" You know Neo is well enough off, but that sorta price is excessive even for him.

"Well, their website for buying tickets was particually hard to hack..." He looks over at you with a smirk and smiles big when you throw your hands around his neck, gleeful for his talent tonight.

"No! You didn't! Neo..." You say into his neck giving him a big squeeze. "Thank you..."

The two of you head inside and are treated like unknown celebrities, putting on an air of being such, and trying to remain lowkey. You both have fun pretending to be people you're not, and Neo skates alongside you easily, even taking the risk of dipping you back and twirling you a few times. You're surprised your typical home dwelling boyfriend could be so suave and savvy, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You get hot drinks at a concession stand, and eat pretzels and Chicago style hotdogs to your content.

#i hope you enjoy these takes! all your boyfriends are willing to do a winter time activity with you due to feeling the holiday spirit! #except constantine...but you know how he is lol #john wick x reader #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #neo x reader #ted logan x reader #kevin lomax x reader #lila speaks #ask lila #my writing #••• ◛ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ! #keanuverse

[amomentsescape]

Slashers Spend Halloween with Reader

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I'm honestly pretty bummed that Halloween season is officially over after tonight, but I hope you all had a great time! Thank you all for your requests and support on my writings this month. Stay spooky, everyone!

Freddy Krueger

Bar Hopping!

Are we surprised?

Freddy loves to have a good time, especially if it involves drinking and dancing with his hot partner

LOVES if your costume is a bit showy

Loves it even more if you both are matching

If he doesn't like the music that's playing, he changes it with the flick of a finger

If there's someone that's getting a little too close to you, he'll make them disappear for the night (and deals with them later)

And what's even better is that all of your food and drinks are free when Freddy is around

With the quirk of his brow, people are at his command, and no one will treat you any less differently either

Is constantly complimented on his costume because of how "real" it looks

But the moment your social battery runs out, he'll whisk you away into dreamland and cozy up next to you

But if you're ready to be out all night like he is, you can expect one killer hangover the next morning

Michael Myers

Horror Movie Binge!

Michael is clearly not one to go out

As much as he likes Halloween, a bunch of screaming kids or equally drunk adults isn't his forte

But he does like horror and gore

So just say the word, cook the popcorn, and grab a blanket because Michael won't refuse

He even lets you cuddle into him if you want since it's a "special" night

Will share some snacks with you

Probably won't use the blanket, but he's fine if you put it on him

Literally doesn't even blink during the scariest parts of the films

Just don't expect him to binge movies with you all night

Michael can get stir crazy easily

And since it's Halloween night, you can expect him to want to go kill even more

There are too many lives that need to be disposed of in his eyes

But he does secretly cherish that time with you beforehand

He promises to watch more films with you later if you're still awake

Just another reason to come home to you

Jason Voorhees

Walking Through the Woods!

Jason knows you still want to celebrate Halloween, even if it's not with a party or some public event

So what's better than a stroll through the woods?

You have to wait until it's dark, of course, and the moon is bright in the sky

He insists on taking his machete too, just incase

But he happily takes your hand and lets you lead wherever your heart wants

Loves to hear you ramble on about any current interests or hyper fixations

Especially loves when you bump into him or give his hand an extra squeeze

Will stop every once in a while to hold you close, trying to keep you warm from the cold night air

Also likes to watch you pick up random items you see on the ground or around the trees as you walk

Your constant curiosity for things makes Jason incredibly happy

If you guys manage to find a stump, he'll have you rest on it while he sits on the ground beside you

As you lean yourself against him, you share stories of what you did for Halloween as a child

Jason just listens in, content

Thomas Hewitt

Game Night!

It's actually his idea to find some spooky games to play for Halloween night!

It's up to you whether you play together or with his family

He kinda likes those traditional board games that change their theme just for Halloween

But he's also happy to try something new with you!

Will snack on random candies and chips you brought along for the night

Also likes to hear you talk about whatever comes to mind

He's honestly pretty good at the games and is able to beat you from time to time

Will play a scary movie in the background

You both don't really pay attention to it, but the sound is nice to have

If you lose, he always reaches over and squeezes your hand as an apology

But as long as you're having fun, that's all he cares about!

If you win, he claps happily and relishes in your laughs

You end the night playing a simple card game, giving you a chance to talk more and share what you love about Halloween

Bubba Sawyer

Carving Pumpkins!

Well, this only makes sense

Bubba and his family have all the perfect tools for carving pumpkins

And he finds the idea of jack-o'-lanterns keeping away spirits interesting

You have a bowl of candy and a couple drinks besides you both as you get to work

He definitely confuses the candy bowl with the pumpkin guts bowl a few different times

But he's honestly super quick with carving

It's all the practice with sharp instruments

He opted for more of a silly face while yours is a little more creepy

You decide to save the seeds later to bake for a snack as well!

Bubba turns on some fun Halloween cartoons while you both work

He even leans over to show you better ways to hold the knives and how to cut more evenly

Helps you light the candles to go inside the pumpkins once you're done carving

They both end up on the patio, lighting up the area with a fun glow

Brahms Heelshire

Reading Scary Stories!

His parents weren't big on such fantasy tales when he was younger, so he never got to read much fiction

But when you showed him some scary story books you still have from being a kid, he was intrigued

He doesn't really like reading, but he loves when you read to him

You both make a whole night out of it

You get some popcorn ready, turn out the lights, and even make a little fort in the living room out of chairs

You managed to find a flashlight to use when reading as well

He lays with his head in your lap, listening to you read the stories

You even managed to jump and grab him a couple of times, causing him to yelp

He actually ends up getting a little paranoid later into the night, making you read some lighthearted stories instead

Once he feels more relaxed, he ends up falling asleep to your reading

You smile as you get up to grab some blankets and pillows, deciding to sleep in the fort for the night

Norman Bates

Spooky Baking!

Norman has always been quite talented in the kitchen

You'd be happy only eating his cooking for the rest of your life if you had to

And since there wasn't much else to do in the middle of nowhere, you were happy to help Norman with his ideas

You start the night off with making some simple cookies

He made the dough and baked them while you got to decorate

You ended up creating little "spider" chocolate chips with a toothpick!

He then wanted your help making cupcakes

These took a bit longer, but neither of you minded

Norman had a record playing in the background, and it was easy to just converse back and forth with one another

While the cakes were in the oven, he took you by the hand and danced around the kitchen with you

Also plants plenty of kisses on your forehead throughout the night

You both took turns icing the cupcakes once they were cooled

Each treat ended up turning out a little different since you both wanted to create unique patterns and colors

And the best part of the night? Eating your creations together while watching an old Halloween film!

Billy Loomis

Halloween Party!

You thought it would be a horror movie binge, didn't you?

Well, lucky for you, Billy was down to try something different this year

Especially since the whole month comprised of watching every scary film known to man

He is obsessed with your costume, unable to keep his hands off of you

He isn't HUGE on parties to be honest, but if he gets to show you off looking like this, then he's happy to come along

He shares a few drinks with you once you're there

He doesn't like getting drunk, especially since he wants to keep an eye on you

But he enjoys holding onto the red solo cup with his arm around your waist

Occasionally whispers dirty things in your ears and plants warm kisses along your neck

He enjoys seeing how much he can push your buttons out in public like this

Will dance with you if you beg

But it's hard for him to say no to you either way

The night is cut short when he gets into a fist fight with a random guy for flirting with you

Don't worry; he plans on paying the man a visit later

Stu Macher

Trick or Treating!

You think you're too old for trick or treating? Think again

Stu finds you both costumes that make you unrecognizable

You don't think this is going to work out though since Stu is so freaking tall

But somehow, the adults don't question it too much

It's easier to not ask questions, it seems

He grabs your hand and drags you from house to house, laughing with you about random things

And once you both have your fair share of candy, he convinces you to play ding-dong-ditch with him

He may have stolen a pumpkin from someone's yard as well for being "cool-looking"

Asks to trade some of his candy for yours

Occasionally pulls you into people's backyards and makes out with you in the dark

And once most of the kids are back at home, he takes you to his place so you can binge on the candy

The night ends with a horror film too, of course!

Eric Draven

People Watching!

Although this may sound boring at first, anything with Eric somehow turns out to be fun

He sets up a little fort on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, the view being in the dead center of everything

He makes sure you're bundled up in plenty of blankets

The candy bowl is full, and he even has some snacks and drinks to share

You both look over the edge and just watch all the people walk by

You take turns pointing out random people and try to come up with stories on who they are, what their costume is, where they're going, etc.

Always ends in shared smiles and laughs

He strums a couple of tunes on his guitar based on your request

Plenty of cuddles and cold kisses as well

You end up staying out a good majority of the night, only going back home when the streets become empty

Your safety will always be his number one priority

So although you didn't do anything super exciting for Halloween, Eric still made the night very enjoyable for you

And at least this way, he knew he could protect you

#slashers x reader #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slashers preference #slashers #michael myers headcanons #michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween #halloween movie #jason voorhees headcanons #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #friday the thirteenth #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire headcanon #the boy 2016 #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis headcanon #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu macher headcanons #scream movie

[moodywyrm]

Not annoying at all, as a matter of fact I'd love to know those thoughts if you don't mind sharing 👀

omg hi!! im so normal abt this totally didn't freak out when this came in <3 also this got,,,,, a lil out of hand I fully intended on just doing hcs but I can never follow the plan to save my life so <3

abby and a gf with nipple piercings ,,,,, where do I start,,

if you've had them since Before you two got together, they're such a fun little surprise that she discovers and promptly goes insane over. because the first time she sees them isn't during sex, it's during a sleepover.

you're staying over at Abby's for the first time and, because you're gonna sleep there, you're not wearing a bra. the fabric of your sleep shirt is thin, so the second you walk out of the bathroom after having changed into your pajamas, Abby zones in on the lil bumps under your shirt. because she knows what nipples look like and those have something Special to 'em. but she doesn't want to bring it up to you because what if you think she's a creep for staring? (spoiler: you don't! this is abby fucking Anderson! she could anything and you're like whatever you say momma)

but she cannot stop fucking staring! especially if you have fun jewelry, like the hearts. you're sitting back against her chest, trying to just Watch The Movie, but you can feel Abby's eyes boring into you. The neckline of your shirt is low, stretched out from years of use, and she can just barely see the tops of your tits, and Jesus fuck she's gonna start drooling if she keeps imagining how pretty your tits must look with pierced nipples. Her hands are resting on your tummy, but she wants so so badly to drag them up just enough to brush against your nipples.

She's so not slick about it either, twitchy hands creeping up your tummy until you huff and grab them. "You okay there, Abs?"

"I- Uh, um, yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"Because you're all nervous and shit, is it 'cause I'm staying over?"

You hear her swallow, and shift you around until you're straddling her lap, staring at her with concern. "No, no it's not that, promise."

"Then what it is?" You ask, rubbing at her shoulders to try and soothe her. As you do, you see her eyes flit down to your chest and it clicks. "Oh, I see."

There's a lilt in your voice that makes Abby sweat, suddenly very needy for the weight of you in her lap. "Uh, um, I don't know what you're talking about."

You lean forward, pressing your arms in a bit closer, arching your back to push your chest forward. "I think you do."

Abby gulps, and you take the opportunity to pull one of her hands from your waist and slide it up under your shirt until her finger tips are brushing at the hard metal jewelry.

"Shit," Abby gulps, her entire body on edge. She looks up at you with these big, needy eyes, borderline whimpering, "Can I?"

"Go ahead, baby"

And she's off, rolling the buds between her finger tips with one hands and helping you pull your shirt off with the other. Once it's off, Abby whines, taking in the sight of your pierced nipples, harsh metal against soft skin.

She leans forward, pulling one nipple into her mouth and toying with the piercing, giddy with the way you moan for her.

"Sh-shit, that's it baby," You whimper, holding the back of her head to your chest and panting.

Abby's moans are muffled, her praises only heard in the split seconds were she detaches to suck at your other nipple.

"So – mmh– so fucking pretty"

"Mmm, can't get enough of these – mmh– pretty fucking tits–mmh – fuck"

She's pawing at you, trying to grind your hips down into her as she's sucking at your nipples, trying and failing to keep her composure. Your tits are covered in spit and bite marks, nipples swollen and needy when Abby pulls away and presses a rough kiss to your lips, making you throb.

"Go get on the bed baby, gotta grab something."

n e wayz she's so. abby please. literally want nip piercings so bad abby pls one chance just one <3

also: abby with her gf's nipple piercings

#jupiter-va #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader smut

[stinkyme]

Hi! I couldn’t find the request state, I’m so sorry if they’re closed :c but if it’s okay, may I request Dazai, chuuya and tecchou when In the middle of a very cold night, s/o starts trembling because of the cold? So much fluff if that’s possible ^^

Hello darling! You got the right request state and of course you can, I apologize for the wait, I hope you like it and enjoy it! :) <3

Format is a short scenario :)

CW/TW: SFW, none besides some cursing on Chuuya's part; GN!reader, pet names (baby, darling, angel), fluff

I apologize for any mistakes in advance! :)

Let me warm you up || Dazai, Chuuya, Tecchou x Reader (separated)

Dazai Osamu

Dazai and you made a deal to stay over at his place tonight. You were quite excited because it was a long time since the two of you were able to finally have some alone time given so much work both of you had. You had an amazing night, filled with catching up, lighthearted gossiping, giggles, cuddles, watching movies and simply enjoying each other's presence and at some point two of you fell asleep. You don't exactly remember when you fell asleep but you woke up suddenly shaking due to feeling so cold. You were sure it wasn't this cold before but you couldn't really focus due to your whole body convulsing as your teeth started chattering. Your movement most likely woke up Dazai as his soft voice filled your ear.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Dazai whispered in a sleepy tone, his warm lips faintly brushing over your earshell sending more shivers down your spine as he put his palm over your forehead.

"I am cold." you responded quickly as you took a deep breath trying to ease up the tensed muscles.

"You are not sick, which is good but let me warm you up baby." he said in a raspy but somehow still milky voice as he pulled you in towards him.

"Turn around for me, can you do that?" he was still whispering and you nodded, quickly turning around and facing him. He threw his leg over you as well as his arm, squeezing you tightly. He moved his other arm under your head making it rest on his dim biceps as his forearm and gentle hand rested on your back. He quickly moved his other hand away from hugging you, tucking you under the blanket, making sure your back is fully covered and slowly putting it back where it was before, once again squeezing you close to his body. He was gently rubbing your back with his hands making you feel warmer.

"Is it a bit better now?" he was murmuring out and you nodded, moving your body more into his. You were getting sleepier as you kept getting warmer and feeling safe in his soft and loving embrace. Dazai started humming, closing his eyes, his silvery voice lullabying to sleep as your body kept relaxing more and more.

"Tomorrow I might tell you I turned off heat on purpose but until then, sleep well my love." he made a confession through a faint whispering as you shoot your eyes open, making his eyes widen as his lips curled downwards.

"You did what?" you questioned in a sleepy but accusing tone.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, go back to sleep baby." he was trying to trail away from the topic as his expression changed, a sly smirk appearing on his face.

"Dazai Osamu if you don't turn on that heat right-" you were getting worked up when Dazai cut you off.

"Tell me, are you feeling warm now?" he kept trailing off in his usual, just quieter tone.

"I do but that's not the point, you-" you were trying to explain in a slightly louder tone as he cut you off again.

"Then we don't need heat, plus do you really want me to leave you here to be...alone...without me...without my loving arms…to keep you warm…?" he was making little pauses between his remarks trying to gain your sympathy as he faked being hurt.

"Oh shut up. Fine. I just don't get the point of you doing this." you exclaimed in a slightly annoyed tone but deep inside you didn't mind.

"Well it was a fun way to get you to cuddle me." he replied teasingly, squeezing you even tighter.

"What-" you tried to ask him another question but your voice got muffled by him squeezing your head into his chest.

"Shhh, don't worry your pretty head about that. Now just let me keep you warm." he whispered out, pulling away, his gaze lovingly tracing your features. You gave up on trying to understand his reasoning, head snuggling into his chest as you closed your eyes. He started moving his fingers sensuously through your hair sending more shivers down your spine. Soft humming was filling up the room again making you slowly drift off to sleep, your body and mind feeling cozy, warm and loved in Dazai's arms.

"I love you, Y/N. Sleep tightly, my love." he whispered out, finger gently brushing over your cheek as his eyes were scrutinizing your sleepy face as if he was wondering how you felt so peaceful with him. He was slowly tucking the blanket behind your back one last time making sure he doesn't wake you up, putting his hand back on your head and kissing your forehead, leisurely drifting off to sleep himself, feeling just as peaceful and warm as you.

Chuuya Nakahara

Two of you were spending time in Chuuya's apartment after going out for dinner. Both of you finished showering and changing in more comfortable clothes. He had some paperwork to do but you wanted to sleep because you were tired.

"I just have some things to finish but I promise I will join you soon. Let me at least tuck you in, darling." he was insisting in a soft yet raspy tone and you nodded, yawning sleepily. Chuuya and you went to the bedroom and you laid under the blanket quickly, a faint smile appearing on your lips as you were waiting for him to tuck you in. His lips curled into an amused smirk as a mellow chuckle escaped his throat. Chuuya started tucking the blanket around you, hands gently pressing the fabric on all sides, making sure your whole body was nicely covered. He was straightening the edges behind your back and finishing up the process as your eyes began to close, sleepiness overpowering you. Chuuya's face leaned in near yours, his warm lips placing a loving kiss on your forehead. Your blissful smile was slowly melting away from your face as you were falling asleep.

"I will be in my work room so I don't disturb you, sweet dreams angel." he was saying under his breath, tender and amorous gaze trailing over your sleepy expression. He was admiring you for a while and finally slowly taking his leave, quietly closing doors behind him. He went into his work room and started working on paperwork for the Port Mafia that had to be done.

Some time has passed and Chuuya began noticing the cold sensation that suddenly made his focus trail away from the papers.

"What the hell now?" he exclaimed to himself as he got up to check the radiators that were stone cold. He was frowning as he was checking the ventil, however it worked perfectly. 

"Shit." he spat out under his breath as he took his phone to call technicians and see what he could do about this.

"Come on, pick up assholes." his voice was still quieter than usual, one foot repeatedly tapping on the floor as he was waiting for their response.

"Hello? Yeah, Chuuya Nakahara here, my heat stopped working and I was wondering if something was on my side or-" he got cut off by the technician on the other side of the call.

"Sorry sir, everyone's heat got cut off due to some issue in the central heat system, we can't do anything right now, you will have to wait a few hours." tehnician answered calmly and politely.

"You gotta be kidding me! It's freezing, did you go outside? How do you expect people to sleep in this cold?!" Chuuya questioned in a highly annoyed tone, getting slightly louder than before.

"Sorry sir, there's just as much as we can do as for now." man answered and hung up, leaving Chuuya insanely irritated. He clicked his tongue, mind still focusing on how to fix this before you wake up. He was pacing around the room, meanwhile you already woke up, your whole body shivering as you moved into fetus position trying to warm yourself up, gripping the blanket tightly. Chuuya kept pacing for a while when he heard your little sniffles and almost ran into the room.

"Angel, you are awake. I am so sorry, they cut off the heat, something in the central system..bastards..oh you are shivering, hold on, let me warm you up." he was jumping from topic to topic as he went to the huge closet that was filled with blankets and took out three thickest ones, clumsily walking towards you. He put them on the end of the bed, swiftly picking one up, spreading it in air and letting it drop over your body. He repeated the process with two other blankets and started adjusting them nicely around your body, tucking you in for the second time. You began to feel warmer and warmer due to heavy, cozy and fluffy blankets as well as Chuuya's tucking. 

"Why don't you join me? It must be cold for you as well." you questioned Chuuya in a drowsy tone as your eyelids kept opening and closing slowly, a second wave of sleepiness washing over you. You moved from fetus position to the usual one as your muscles kept relaxing and untensing. 

"I want to stay up and make sure you are not uncovering yourself." he was whispering out, voice sweet and loving.

"I have three heavy blankets over me, it's very unlikely. Now, get in here." you were convincing him in a sleepy yet firm tone making Chuuya nod as he quickly got under the blankets with you. You dropped the blanket over his body, putting your hand briskly under the covers and right around Chuuya's waist as you put your leg over him, hugging Chuuya tightly. He moved his arm under your head as his other arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his body as it rested around you.

"Sleep tight angel, make sure to have some sweet dreams." he whispered, his warm breath covering your face.

"I will baby, you make sure to get some sleep as well. I love you." you said sleepily as your eyelids became heavier, quickly drifting off to sleep as warmth completely relaxed your whole body.

"I love you more and I will, don't worry." he replied gently, even though he didn't really sleep as he said he would. Chuuya was waking up almost every hour out of concern that you got uncovered or cold again. He would check up on you and with utmost care tuck blankets around you more in just in case which is why he didn't feel very rested in the morning, but he didn't regret it one bit as long as you are warm and comfortable.

Tecchou Suehiro

Tecchou and you had a mission and had to spend the night in the woods during a very cold night so you put on some fire as you shared one blanket that was covering your backs. You have set the tent before so now Tecchou was observing ants and naming each one of them, explaining their hierarchy to you as his honey-like voice kept making you sleepy and drowsy. Listening to wood cracking under steady fire as well as Tecchou's soft tone made your eyelids grow more and more heavy. You put your head on Tecchou's shoulder, slowly dozing off.

"Hm? Oh, are you getting bored Y/N?" he inquired in his usual tone making you jump from suddenness.

"Oh? No, no. I am sorry, your voice has been putting me to sleep as well as the fire." you replied with genuinity in your voice as Tecchou's face remained the same.

"So, is my voice boring you out? Should I switch it up?" he questioned in as genuine of a tone as yours was, making you giggle.

"That's not what I meant, I was already sleepy and I like your voice so as you kept talking it made me sleepier, not because I am bored but because it comforts me. Do you understand?" you explained in a loving and soft tone as Tecchou's lips curled into a dim smile.

"I do now, well...should we go to sleep? We have huge things to do tomorrow so I guess that's the best choice right now." he answered his own question which made you giggle even more as you got up and put off the fire with water from a bottle.

"I agree with you...even though I wish I asked you to do Jouno's or Teruko's voice, I wonder how that would sound." you kept giggling as you got inside of the tent. Tecchou was following right behind you, his expression revealing he was thinking about what you've said. You got inside your sleeping bag and unfortunately they were kinda bigger than you expected so a lot of air kept coming inside, making you slightly cold but you were too tired to think about it. You fell asleep almost instantly, not even saying good night to Tecchou as he got inside his sleeping bag, still thinking about what you said and how he would do the voices, practicing them inside his head, however falling asleep quickly after. 

Around forty fives later, a biting and sharp wind started howling through the branches as it sneaked inside your tent and further into your sleeping bag, waking your already cold body up. You opened your eyes as you took a deep breath, chest slightly hurting from your muscles tensing up. You were trying to keep quiet so you don't wake Tecchou up but he was already awake from the combinated loudness of the branches and wind. He took notice of your body shivering and tensing up as the thin fabric of the sleeping bag kept stretching from your movement.

"Baby? Wait, let me warm you up." he whispered out sleepily, gently rubbing his eye as he got out of his sleeping bag. He was kneeling towards you and swiftly undid the zipper of your sleeping bag.

"Can you get up for me? We can share my hoodie. It's painfully oversized, I can probably fit five people inside." he said in a soft tone as his hand gently rubbed your arm. You nodded, slowly getting up as your muscles kept shriveling. Tecchou undid his zipper and went behind you, his heated and thin T-shirt clothed chest pressing on your back as he wrapped the hoodie around you and pulled the zipper up. You put your knees up and rested your arms around your legs as he pulled the hoodie further over them, making you cozy and warmer. His clothed arms wrapped around your body as the two of you kept snuggling for a while, your body kept slowly reheating.

"It will be hard to sleep like this, you know?" you told him as a soft chuckle escaped your throat.

"You think?" Tecchou took that as a challenge and swiftly pulled you down with his body, the two of you laying over your sleeping bag as your eyes widened for a quick moment due to his rapideness.

"Well...how will we close the zipper of a sleeping bag?" you were teasing him playfully making Tecchou squint his eyes as he realized his mistake.

"Makes sense...well take my hoodie." he got up without any warning, making you scoff as your body got pushed by him.

"Can you at least give me a heads up before you do something?" you asked him in a slightly surprised tone as he stayed silent, moving his upper body swiftly and getting out of the hoodie. You put your arms inside the sleeves, turning towards Tecchou, a worried expression appearing on your face.

"What about you though? You can't stay in that thin shirt the whole night." your voice kept expressing worry and care making Tecchou chuckle lightly.

"Heh, I will be fine. My body is always high in temperature so I will be okay and we can sleep together in your sleeping bag therefore I will also be warm." he reassured you and you nodded as the two of you got inside the bag, your back pressing against his front. He put his arm around you pulling you closer to him as you put your hand over his forearm, squeezing it gently. Wind was slowing down just as your body got completely reheated, breathing syncing up with Tecchou's.

"Now you can sleep nicely baby. Have sweet dreams." he said the second part of his sentence in some mixture of demonic and high pitched tone making you shoot your eyes open.

"What the hell was that?" you asked him concerned as your heart started beating slightly faster.

"Oh, I was imitating Jouno." he answered in his usual tone, making you sigh out.

"Never do that again. Please." you said sharply, closing your eyes as you kept getting sleepier.

"Hm...fine. I think I did a great job though. Now, sleep well angel and have some lovely dreams. I love you." he whispered out, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your head. You were giggling as you squeezed his forearm.

"You did, that's the problem." you laughed out as you moved his hand closer to your lips and kissed it. Tecchou chuckled at your confirmation.

"Sleep well Tecchou, I love you more." you whispered out, closing your eyes as warmth and coziness kept filling up your body, two of you quickly dozing off to sleep feeling safe, secure and comfortable.

The End :) <3

Special thanks to my loveliest @iovetecchou for helping me with preface for Chuuya and Tecchou, I love you :D <3

I hope you liked it and enjoyed it! :) <3

Thank you for the request one more time and huge thanks to everyone for supporting me and being nothing but kind, I deeply appreciate it :) <3

Huge kisses on the forehead for everyone :3

#bsd scenarios #bsd fluff #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x y/n #dazai osamu fluff #dazai osamu x reader fluff #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara fluff #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x yn #chuuya nakahara x reader fluff #dazai x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #tecchou suehiro bsd #tecchou suehiro fluff #tecchou x reader #tecchou x yn #tecchou suehiro x reader fluff #bsd chuuya

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants a little reassurance from you, and no matter what he does, he's not getting it. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing and smut

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

Bradley was kissing along your neck, rubbing his nose against your hair and inhaling your sweet scent. 

"Roo, I'm working." 

Of course you were working. It was the only thing you have been doing lately. You were sitting at the dining room table, eating a room temperature hot pocket and answering emails.

"I think you should take a break...with me."

Instead of responding, you just hummed and continued typing away on your computer. It was actually cruel, the way you had come home late from work, undressed right in front of him, taken a quick shower, and changed into his UVA shirt. All without acknowledging him at all.

"Sweetheart, come on, it's late. Let's go to bed."

"Bradley. I have a lot to get done," you mumbled, refreshing your browser and revealing a bunch of new emails. 

"You can pick up again tomorrow," he whispered, squeezing your waist through the cotton fabric. "I've been thinking about you sitting on my face all day. Let me make you cum on my mustache, Baby Girl."

You sighed and looked up at him. "Not tonight, okay?"

He swallowed hard. "Sure." He turned and went to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed, trying to keep the hurt expression from his face. 

If you didn't want to spend time with him in bed, there was no way he was going to get you to have a conversation about the wedding either. Bradley leaned against the bathroom vanity and examined his face in the mirror. He looked older than his thirty-six years at the moment. He also looked miserable. He brushed his teeth and fell asleep alone in the king sized bed. 

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

You were trying your best to keep yourself organized, but the wall in your office was starting to look solid yellow from all of the post-it notes you had hanging there. And now you couldn't locate the one you needed. "Shit," you muttered, trying to determine whether or not it had fallen behind your file cabinet. 

The sound of your growling stomach was distracting you, so you started eating your lunch while you searched for the note. You groaned at the sound of knocking on your door. If your team scheduled one more surprise meeting for this week, you were going to scream. 

"Come in!" you called, still trying to pull your file cabinet away from the wall.

"What are you doing, Baby Girl?"

"Roo!" you gasped, rushing around your deck to give him a hug. 

He squeezed you tight, and you buried your nose in his uniform shirt. He smelled good, and now you just wanted to go home and snuggle with him.

"You okay?" he asked you, kissing the top of your head. 

"Mmhmm. Just tired. And I have a meeting that doesn't even start until five, so I have no idea when I'll be home later."

He sighed deeply. "So you want to go to the movies a different night?"

Shit, shit, shit. That was probably listed in your personal calendar somewhere, but you hadn't checked. "I can skip the meeting," you told him, looking up into his brown eyes. "I can skip it."

He just shook his head. "No, we can go another night. It's fine." 

But he sounded annoyed. You needed to figure out a way to make this better. "Listen. I'm almost maxed out with my days off. I really need to start using some of them so I don't lose them before the end of the year. We can both take a day off and do something fun."

His lips twitched as he looked at you before he said, "Won't you need the days off for the honeymoon?" Then he cautiously added, "You said we could get married this year."

Your mind was overworked enough already without adding wedding planning to the agenda. "Yeah, I mean, as long as we can find a venue that can accommodate us and everything else."

"You ready to start looking at venues, then?" he asked hopefully.

"Roo, the next couple weeks are not going to be a good time for me to do that."

He pressed his lips together. "It's already mid-September. I was hoping to get a jump on this last month."

You squeezed him and said, "We'll figure it out." 

He rubbed your back and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Yeah... we'll figure it out. I love you," he told you before he left. And as soon as he was gone, you realized he could have helped you move the file cabinet.

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

Bradley was so lonely with you constantly working late. He took Tramp on so many long walks, the poor dog was exhausted. He also helped the elderly neighbors with their yard work, and he played piano by himself. And he barely ever saw you before seven o'clock. 

The worst part for him was that he was the only one initiating intimacy. Not just sex, but anything. You were either tired or working or thinking about working. Last night when he started kissing you in bed and running his fingers along your neck, you moaned, so he thought that was a green light. But then you literally yawned against his mouth, and told him you were too tired. The night before that, you were sitting up in the kitchen on your computer until who knows what time. You told him you would be in to say goodnight, but you weren't.

It was short-term. He knew that. And he knew your work was important. It was literally paramount to his own safety whenever he flew his F/A-18. But he fucking missed you. He missed you whining about how you needed him to get you off during the cookout. He missed shower sex. He'd give anything for you to call him Daddy right now. 

Fuck. Just thinking about it was making him hard, but you probably wouldn't be home for hours. So he ran his own hand along his cock. Again. He jerked off like he did before you and he were dating: to the mental image of your legs in a short skirt, to the thought of him sliding his hands underneath said skirt. 

He came easily, but he didn't actually feel any relief.

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

Bradley was trying to be patient, but it was supposed to be Hard Deck night, and you were currently pacing around the kitchen on the phone with Sonya from your lab.

"Did you try saving it first and then opening it in a different format?" you asked, walking back around the island. "Hmmm. I'm not sure. Email it to me, and I'll try to open it."

Bradley watched you open your laptop as you put your phone on speaker. You glanced over at him when he twirled his keys around his finger, and you winced. Then you held up one finger in his direction, and he took Tramp out back.

You'd been like this for the past two weeks, and his patience was starting to wear thin. Every day you came home exhausted, and unfortunately he had been making dinner most nights. Which meant it never tasted very good. He was craving one of your fancy homemade meals, but he didn't want to ask you to make one for him. You were so busy at work as it was. 

Bradley knew how you were. Work was important to you. And you were important to him. So he would just have to wait it out.

"Sorry!" you said, poking your head out through the sliding glass door. "Sonya and I got it sorted, so we can go out now, Roo."

"Yeah, okay," he replied, tossing the ball one more time for Tramp. 

When he was alone with you in the Bronco, everything was perfect. You queued up one of his favorite playlists and laced your fingers through his. You sang along badly to the song which always made him smile, and he played with your ring. 

"Did you have a chance to look at any of the wedding vendors on that list I gave you?" he asked softly as he pulled into the parking lot. 

You shot him an apologetic look. "Not yet, but I'll look at all of them tomorrow. I promise."

Bradley just grunted as he shifted into park. He climbed out and helped you out of your door. "Please look at them," he said, grasping your chin and guiding your face up until you would meet his eyes. "It's important to me."

"I will," you whispered as you leaned up to kiss him. "It's important to me too. I just have got to get past all of this shit at work."

Bradley kissed you harder and you wound your arms around his neck. He let you soothe his nerves with your soft lips and your little noises. It would be okay.

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

As soon as you and Bradley were inside the bar, Phoenix had a beer in your hand. "Unless you're pregnant. Are you pregnant?" she asked, about to pull the drink back out of your grasp. Bradley was already on his way over to the pool table.

"No!" you said, surprised. "What the hell, Phoenix? Do I look fatter or something?" you asked, looking down the front of your body. If anything, you thought you might have lost a little weight, because you kept forgetting to eat when you were at work. You really needed to start setting reminder alarms in your phone. 

"No, but we haven't seen you in like two and a half weeks," she replied, pushing the beer in your hand closer to your lips. "We started making up conspiracy theories for fun. I thought maybe you were home with morning sickness. Bagman said you probably moved out, and Bradley was just pretending to hold it together. Fanboy assumed you went to the Comics convention in Philadelphia without inviting him, and that's why we haven't heard from you."

You pressed your lips together, simultaneously trying not to laugh or cry. "I'm sorry. I have been so busy with work. My boss is up for a promotion and I really want one by next year as well."

Phoenix eyed you closely before asking, "How are the wedding plans coming along?"

You glanced past her to see your fiancé taking a shot at the pool table. As much as you promised him you would start looking at venues and photographers and florists, you found you just didn't really want the added stress. You knew Bradley would be okay with just doing something simple in Maryland, if you told him that's what you wanted. You also thought you could get him to agree to an elopement if you really pushed him. But you just didn't know what you wanted, and you didn't have the energy or time to sit and think about any of it right now.

"Um, we haven't really started," you told Phoenix while you played with the label on your beer. 

She leaned in a little closer until you met her eyes. "Well, you should start," she told you, all hints of joking gone. It felt like a warning. 

"Yeah," you agreed. "I know that."

"He will do whatever you tell him you want to do, but please, tell him something." You had never heard her use this tone of voice before. 

You swallowed down a sip of your beer. "Did he say something to you?" you asked softly. 

"Yes."

"What did he say?" you asked, chewing on your lip.

But Phoenix just shook her head. "I don't want to tell you." Then she walked away, leaving you alone and upset.  

You tried your best to blend in with everyone. You had missed them. It wasn't like you hadn't. But now you felt like you were letting Bradley down, and you still had almost two weeks left of deadlines for work. But if he was talking to his best friend about you, and Phoenix wouldn't tell you what was said, that was bad.

You wrapped your arms around Bradley from behind and he chuckled. "Come here," he told you, pulling you into a hug. You pulled him down for a kiss before agreeing to play some pool. You saw Nat eyeing both of you quietly as she sipped her drink. You would do better. You would make time to talk about wedding stuff.

And you'd give Bradley a blowjob later. That would probably make both of you feel better. It had been a few days.

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

Bradley liked this a lot. It felt really good to be enjoying your mouth instead of his own hand. As soon as you both got home, you started undoing his jeans. 

"Right here?" he asked you softly, in the dark entryway. 

"Right here," you confirmed, dropping down to your knees. He had honestly been hoping to have sex with you, but this felt so good, he didn't want to stop you now. 

You sucked on him so well, and when you released his dick in favor of gently teasing his balls with your mouth, he groaned. "You know I love that."

"Mmm," you hummed, and he wrapped his fingers in your hair. "I know what else you like," you whispered, before taking his cock in your mouth again and getting sloppy. 

Yep. You knew exactly what he liked. 

Once he was sated and you were standing and kissing his neck, he said, "Why don't you go lay in bed? I'll get you off with my mouth and fingers, Sweetheart."

You ran your nose across his Adam's apple but shook your head. "I'm going to get a little work done before bed, okay?"

Bradley felt like he had been slapped in the face. You just got him off, and then turned him down. He felt like something cheap. Or like a chore you had to do. Like something less desirable than work. He felt like nothing more than an obligation as he watched you flip on the light and sit at the kitchen island with your computer. 

"I'm going to bed," he told you and headed down the hallway. He never thought you could possibly make him feel badly about himself. You. You were the one who always made him feel wanted and important. He had never imagined he could be so happy with someone. You stood up for him. You nursed him back to health. You were his teammate.

But right now he felt like he was going to cry. And it's not like he could talk to anyone about this. That would be mortifying. His wife-to-be would rather work at midnight than let him go down on her. He'd already talked Nat's ear off about the fact that you wouldn't commit to any wedding plans. You wouldn't even tell him where you wanted to get married. He couldn't get one detail out of you. He named three songs he thought you could use for a first dance together, and you just told him you would think about it. 

You kept telling him you would think about things, but you weren't getting back to him with any information. He was starting to get terrified that he would end up getting deployed again and have to leave you for months without even a wedding date to look forward to. 

He sat on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. The urge to talk to his mom was so strong right now, he actually did start to cry. 

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

You joined Bradley in bed after he was already asleep, and you were awake before he was the next morning. You dressed in your last clean uniform and drank a mug of coffee. You really needed to make sure you did laundry tonight. You scowled at the coffee and drank it as quickly as you could. Somehow Bradley had become better than you at making your coffee the way you liked it. You smiled for a minute as you remembered how weird he thought your french press was when you first moved in with him. 

It was still early, and you didn't want to wake him, so you left him a note on the counter. 

Roo, I love you. Fly safely. 

Then you grabbed your bag and left. Today you would find out if you had to go to Annapolis at the beginning of October with your team to help present your research. You were practically vibrating with excitement. 

You had promised Bradley you would look at wedding stuff today. And you would. Probably while you ate lunch. But you just didn't see how the two of you would possibly have enough time to plan everything and get married this year. September was almost done now, and you didn't know how hard it would be to find a date that was available somewhere. 

If you had to talk him into next year, you would. It would be fine. 

So you got to work right away, and everyone ended up working through lunch. You were planning on taking a break soon, and then you'd text Bradley and see how his day was going. And during your break, you would scroll through some wedding venues and see if any of the locations appealed to you. 

"We're going to Annapolis," Bickel announced from the lab doorway. 

"Are you serious?" you asked him, slowly standing and trying to see if he was joking. 

"I'm serious," he said with a smile as the lab erupted in cheers. It was hard for you to imagine that just a few months ago, you thought you might have to take a leave of absence or switch locations to avoid having to work with Josh. Now you would be presenting your work on a national scale in your home state. 

You took your phone out of your pocket to text Bradley, but Bickel was already loudly telling everyone to join him tomorrow night for dinner and drinks on him. You had rescheduled tomorrow night to be movie night with Bradley. He already bought tickets. You were going to have to cancel on him a second time. And you were going to have to tell him you'd be in Annapolis for a week next month. 

You were also probably going to have to tell him there was no way the two of you were going to be able to get married this year. 

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

"I'm so sorry, Bradley. Can you take Jake or Nat to the movies with you instead?" you asked him.

"Sure," he answered, not even looking at you as he poured himself a bowl of cereal for dinner. 

"Great. And um... well... I'll be gone for a week next month. But it's good! Because I get to present my work in Annapolis."

He turned to look at you and nodded. "I'm really proud of you," he told you quietly. And he was. You had worked hard, and you had earned this. 

"Thanks, Roo," you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. "You've made everything so much easier for me. And in a few weeks, we can really start to get back to normal, you know?"

He swallowed hard, letting his hands come to rest on your hips. He hadn't touched you like this in a few days, and he had missed it so much, it was almost painful now. "That sounds nice."

"I need to do laundry and make sure I have something to wear to dinner tomorrow night," you said, pulling out of his arms and heading to the bedroom.

Bradley just wanted to feel close to you again, so he followed you and sat on the edge of the bed while you perused your dresses. 

"What about this one?" you asked, holding up your black wrap dress. 

"Bronco sex," he said, and you started to laugh. "Reminds me of Bronco sex."

"Yeah... me too," you told him, hanging it up again. "Better not wear it to a work dinner. I'd be thinking about you the whole time."

He rubbed his hand across his face. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

"No. Just hard to focus. How about this dress?" you asked, holding up the blue one you wore when you picked him up at the docks a few deployments ago. 

"Sex against the inside of the front door," he whispered. But you were already pulling out a sweater to wear over it.

"I know you like this one," you said, holding it up in front of your body for him to see. 

"Loved it since the first time you wore it, Baby Girl."

You took a deep breath. "I guess I should start thinking about what kind of wedding dress I want."

Bradley immediately jumped up from the bed. "Yes! Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

"I'm not supposed to talk about that with you!"

His heart sank again, but he supposed you were correct about that detail. "You want to call your mom and talk to her about it?" he asked. 

"Roo, it's almost midnight on the east coast. I'll worry about it later."

He didn't want you to worry about your wedding dress. He wanted you to be excited about it.

"Let's go watch a show," you told him, headed for the living room. A few minutes later, Bradley was the big spoon to your little spoon. You put on a show he didn't even like very much, but he was too embarrassed to ask you to switch it to Real Housewives of Atlanta, so he just held you close. 

Then he started to kiss your neck, working his lips and his mustache next to your ear. "Roo," you whispered, and that tone of your voice was like a shot of adrenaline through his body. 

"Sweetheart," he whispered, already growing hard for you. "Can we get in bed?"

You sighed. "I'm too tired tonight." So he stopped kissing you and just held you. Soon your breathing evened out, and he could tell you were asleep. So he watched the end of the show by himself, and then he scooped you up and carried you to bed. He tried to tuck you in gently, but you woke up. Now he was terrified that you were going to go back to the kitchen with your computer instead of at least sleeping next to him.

"I'm sorry I'm so tired," you told him before you yawned. Even the way you were arching your back as you stretched had him aching for you. When you pulled your shirt and bra off and replaced them with his UVA tee, his mouth went dry.

"I hate to say this, but... can we schedule some sex into your calendar?" Bradley asked you.

You laughed. "We can have sex this weekend."

"Last weekend, you worked all weekend. Same as the weekend before that."

"Well, I won't this weekend, okay?"

He just nodded as you headed to the bathroom.

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

Poor Roo! Come on Baby Girl, he just wants you to plan the wedding!

Part 3

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader

[doll-book]

𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐬/𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐫. · ° . ♡ ⊹

☆彡 -`, why building your dr around a partner could possibly be a blockage ꒱ 𔓘

ʚɞ゜・゜this is something i only internalized recently. on social media, i began noticing that when anti-shifters decide to run their mouths, they usually attack us or call us delusional for scripting popular celeb/character partners first. that means that the shifting content locals are exposed to first is about significant others and dating in other realities.

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

💭 i started thinking .. why? why is 90% of shifting content i see about couple scenarios, s/o faceclaims, etc? why is recent shifting culture so based around dating and finding love in other realities? lately, i realize i've also been affected by the content i see so much. i have only one dr where i don't have an s/o, and it's my self care dr. i felt & still feel like i had to be dating someone in every reality i wanted to shift to, and if i didn't, i'd be missing out on something.

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

💭 i’ve now realized that this way of thinking could possibly be a blockage. when you build your entire dr around a person, you neglect the other important parts of shifting to a real place. when you shift in, you won't be spending 24 hours a day with your s/o. even if you did, you'd quickly get tired. (i know, getting tired of THE namjoon or THE beomgyu sounds crazy, but they're people just like us. don't put your s/o on a pedestal once you shift in, that's unhealthy for both of you (ˊ‸ ˋ )...)

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

i had to take a step back, and ask myself realistic questions like: ➴ "is this a dr where i have the time and energy to emotionally support my s/o?" ➴ "will our relationship be healthy in the long run, taking our lifestyles into account?"

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

— ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ there was some discourse over this on tiktok (as always🙄). people were saying, "if you think your relationship is/will be unhealthy, just script it never becomes that way and you both love each other wholeheartedly forever."

💭 i don't want to make this complicated by getting into my beliefs about scripting, but simply put: your s/o is a real person, with real emotions and feelings. i can't stress this enough. you can script that they love you forever, but if both of you are in an environment that is busy or constantly changing, that will affect the dynamic of your relationship no matter what you script. it doesn't mean that they'll stop loving you, but like any normal relationship, the circumstances have to work out.

💭 furthermore, if you script that they love you forever no matter what, that could become a burden for you. what happens if you lose feelings, want to pursue other dreams, grow emotionally exhausted, etc? scripting relationships is a super sensitive thing imo, but shifters kinda gloss over it. it could unintentionally lead to traumatic experiences in your dr, so pls be careful pookie!

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

➴ what circumstances make for an unhealthy relationship? i'll use one of my drs as an example: my rich & famous dr.

💭 i'm a world famous model and actress in this dr, with a number of amicable breakups from before i shift in. naturally, i scripted that i start dating one of my biases, and everything seemed perfectly fine until i started truly getting into the headspace of this dr. i began visualizing my day to day life, and not once did my relationship cross my mind.

💭 i scripted a packed schedule full of fun things i've always wanted to do. photoshoots and movies and exclusive parties and secret friendgroups - literally everything that makes a glamorous lifestyle. i scripted that the only day i have off completely is sunday, for relaxation, self care, and sleeping in.

and then, i started thinking about my partner. ➴ "when will i see her next?" ➴ "what will we do when we're together?" ➴ "are we both excited to see each other?"

when i answered these questions honestly, i realized most of them were negative.

➴ "i might not see her for a one or two because of our overlapping schedules." ➴ "we might go on a date, if she's tired we can just hang out at home." ➴ "realistically, no.. we'd probably both be tired, even if we meet up on an off-day because of our exhausting work weeks."

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

💭 when i shared my thoughts to some shifting friends, they just said "script that your workload isn't as much." but.. i don't want to? i enjoy the realism of being tired after a long day. it's like proof i truly worked, and everything isn't just a dream. i could script that my schedule is more spread out to make time for my s/o, but then we come to my point:

💭 i dont want to change the entire structure of my dr just to have a partner. if my s/o doesn't fit into the dr i planned, i don't want to squeeze them into it. to me, building your dr around having an s/o feels wrong and unnatural. i notice shifters tend to forget: you're really truly actually going to this place. you have your own life to live, things to do, etc etc. don't let having a partner overshadow the experience of shifting.

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

💭 when it comes to actually fixing the issue, it may feel weird to delete an entire person out of your dr or become strangers w/ them - so just change your relationship status. in my fame dr, i re-scripted my former s/o to a person i'll meet and become very close friends with. if it turns into something more over time, after i shift in, that's great!! yay for me! i just don't want to feel held back by someone i should be cherishing, and instead let it happen naturally. if you feel more comfortable scripting out your relationship, then you do you!

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

NOTE: i'm not trying to say stop scripting significant others. by all means, script an s/o! a partner! a boyfriend! a girlfriend! a husband! a wife! a spouse! a sneaky link! anything! it's your reality, i'm not trying to take away from that fact. i'm just pointing out how shifters often gloss over the realness of being in a relationship. this was simply a reminder for those who may be feeling the same way i did, and to help those people to make the neccessary changes. if you feel that the relationship you've scripted is happy and healthy, go for it cutie! even if its not happy or healthy, but you.. want that..? it's none of my business fr 🤷‍♀️. you were warned, and you have the resources you need to do your research. i trust you!

and one more thing i should mention, i'm saying all this without even starting on how the aroace shifting community must feel abt it. if you're aroace & wanna share any comments, suggestions, or experiences, pls msg or ask !! this is something that affects most shifters regardless of orientation but aroace ones especially😭 hope yall are hanging in there..

• ୨୧ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • ୨୧ . • ☆ . ° .• ° *₊ ° . ★ . • .• ୨୧ °

that's all! ily!

#shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #scripting #shifting script #i love u #i hope ur having a great day #kpop #kpop shifting #desired reality #desired self #manifesation #444

[lady-rose-moon]

Understanding Home Alone || Loki x Reader || Secret Santa fic!!

A/N: hello everybody, this is my entry for @fictive-sl0th Secret Santa fics! My fic is for @cultofcarter, your request was so interesting and the Christmas movie idea was perfect! I went for a Christmas classic, however, I hope you don't mind.

Fic dedicated to: @cultofcarter

Word count: 1.6K

Contents: fluff, christmas movie commentary, slightly sad ending with hopeful meanings

PLEASE ENJOY AND HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!

As December rolled around again, you were excited to finally spend it with the one you’d desired to for so long. Now that you had gotten over the nervousness of being in a relationship with the villain turned Avenger Loki Laufeyson, you were fully prepared to be the most annoying girlfriend in the history of girlfriends this Christmas season. The God of Mischief was no stranger to Christmas, he told you as much, expressing his sorrows for turning Yuletide into Christmas some years ago and you grinned at the idea of showing him movies dedicated to the Christmas Spirit.  

The morning your decision was put into the making, you’d managed to sneak into Loki’s bedroom and decorate his room with green decoration, including a small Christmas tree that you’d stolen from one of the floors of Avengers Compound. Tony wouldn’t miss it.  

“Loki!” you called out with a grin as he roused from his sleep, his ebony curls deliciously falling around his shoulders as he sat up in bed to stare at you tiredly. The moment he registered the difference in the room, he raised an eyebrow at you and you only smiled back innocently with a soft, “what?” 

“What have you done to my chambers?” the God demanded, looking around the room with a grimace as you shifted on your feet, unsure as to whether he was happy or unhappy. 

“Well... it’s Christmas time so I decided to decorate your room to have some fun for Christmas!” you replied with an uneasy smile, your body tense as you tried to figure out what the God in front of you was thinking to the redecorating. “I know you usually don’t dabble in the seasons but... it could be fun, just me and you watching movies and having Christmas cookies?” you added, gesturing to the tupperware full of Christmas cookies you’d baked a few hours earlier.  

The God of Mischief's lips twitched slightly as he took in the sight of you standing proudly next to your handiwork. It made sense that he wouldn't love the idea of something being changed in his personal space, but there was no denying that a part of that twitch was from a soft smile. His eyes drifted to the tupperware container and the cookies it held. 

 "You baked Christmas cookies?" he asked, a soft tone to his voice in spite of the amusement in his eyes. "And you said watching movies? What movie would we be watching?" 

Loki rolls his eyes, but he has to smile a little at the adorable attitude you have towards Christmas. It's a sweet, endearing trait that the God has noticed about you. 

He grabs the container of Christmas cookies by your side and takes a bite of one before he turns his attention to the movie you're putting on. "Fine, home alone can be fun," he says with a half-hearted shrug, though you have the feeling that he secretly loves the idea. 

You eagerly sat on the bed, Christmas cookies open between you and Loki as the movie began. When you looked over to Loki, you saw that he'd conjured up a book, his eyes flitting across the words then to the screen every so often. *That's fine*, you thought to yourself as you turned back to the TV, *at least he was spending time with you*. 

As the movie began, you bunched your legs up and hugged them, resting your chin on your knees with a contented sigh. All of this was so special to you, the tradition going back so far that you could barely remember the Christmas it started with your family. "Look whatcha did ya little jerk," you repeated the line with a grimace after Kevin spilled the milk over everything in the movie, grinning when Uncle Frank said it just seconds later, turning to Loki with delight, catching him watching the screen before his eyes darted down to his book. 

As you eat your Christmas cookies and watch the movie, Loki enjoys himself in his own way. He's watching both the movie and reading his book at once, only stopping when he wants to focus on one thing or another. 

Loki feels his eyes drift to you from time to time, as if he's drawn back to the sight of you every so often. Your adorable personality shines through in the small moments of interaction, and even though he may not show it, he's certainly having a great time. 

"Oh, darling! This movie isn't meant to be serious!" you tease, turning to him with a mischievous smile. He's so concerned and it brings a smile to your face, knowing to anybody else it would seem as if he doesn’t care. But with you? Yeah, you’re definitely his Achilles heel. "It's a comedy about a child getting into all sorts of hijinks!" 

You chuckle at him and nudge him playfully, grinning when he reacts accordingly. "It's called 'Home Alone', remember?" 

Loki huffed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glued to the TV screen as Kevin explores the house alone. He didn't understand how a family could just leave and forget that their child was upstairs still, no alarm clock to wake him and Fuller had been moved so Kevin wouldn't have to sleep with a bed-wetter. Even with the annoying child across the road coming to annoy the leaving family, that made no excuse for someone checking for Kevin in the bus or in the airport!  

"Loki, come on," you chided with an affectionate smile, handing him a snowman cookie with a soft smile, "he's fine!" 

Continuing on with the movie, you watched Loki's reactions intently as the neighbour - the supposed antagonist - appeared in the shop, causing Kevin to retreat without paying for his toothbrush. "I'm a criminal," you whispered Kevin's line, grinning as Kevin said it seconds later then you smiled wider as Harry and Marv were seen in the van and almost hit Kevin. Loki flinches as the van stops just milliseconds before it could hit Kevin and then watches with bated breath as Kevin hides in the Nativity from the robbers.  

"For a Christmas movie, this has serious storytelling, why do they even care about the child?" Loki muttered to himself, a look of disbelief appearing on his face. 

"I feel like you have these moments where you think you're being all cold and logical, but then your heart just takes over and you're suddenly way more invested than you ever intended to be!" you tell Loki, poking him playfully. 

Loki watches the movie with intense interest, his eyes glued to the screen. He can't seem to take his eyes off the situation, a slight worry forming on his face. When the scene changes to the house full of "life", however, he is confused. When he sees inside, noticing that it was just a deception to scare away the robbers, he sighed in relief and whispered, "kid's a master of mischief." 

As the movie progresses and the pair of robbers break into the house, Loki is focused on the movie in a way you haven't seen him focused on anything so far. His eyes fill with tension as he watches Kevin set up his home alone booby traps, his brow furrowing in concern. When he looks away from the screen, he is visibly anxious in a way you haven't seen from him before. 

He turns to you but can't seem to ask any questions, his lips twitching slightly as his nerves get the better of him. "You... you think this kid needs help? Normal kids would never do this" he asks nervously. 

"It's exaggerated, Loki," you grinned with a shake of your head before you went quiet, watching the scene where Marv and Harry try to break in, laughing at all of the ways that they get hurt then when they get arrested, you looked over at him and whispered, "definitely took notes from your mischief, Mischief!" 

"You still gave him a run for his money, Loki, best believe you grew from your mistakes!" you whispered before you became transfixed with the screen again, watching Kevin reunite with his mother and you see Loki stiffen before a tear formed in his eye. You knew why. He missed his mother. He missed his family. You took that moment to snuggle in close to him and feel his heart beating beneath your ear, in this moment you were the only thing that existed to him. 

As you cuddle up against him and put an arm around the God, he leans his head against your shoulder with his eyes still glued to the screen. There has been plenty of times when you've known that Loki can act like a child, but this is something new altogether. You feel him lean against you more, and that tear still rests in his eyes as he's clearly reliving some memories. There is a sadness to the God as he remembers his home and family, and he rests his head against your chest, hoping to find some comfort in your embrace. 

You sat up, looking Loki in the eye before wiping the tear gently and whispering, “your mother waits for you in Asgard, Loki. When you have fulfilled your servitude here, she will be allowed to see you. It is only a matter of time.” 

With a gentle smile, Loki leaned into your touch and gazed up into your eyes while whispering, “merry Christmas, Y/N.” 

His words kept ringing in your mind, how sorrowful and lonely he felt. You knew that as long as he remained here on Earth, he would never truly be happy. 

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” you responded softly, feeling him shudder against you with sadness, pressing a kiss to the God’s forehead, “you’ll be able to show me Asgard soon.” 

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #mcu loki #reblog please #tom hiddleston character x reader #loki hurt/comfort #loki x you #hot loki #FictiveSlothSecretSanta #Camilles Secret Santa #Secret Santa 2023

[wheels-of-despair]

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) Masterlist

Welcome to my Eddieverse, which I'm affectionately referring to as Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me. These are snippets of a playful, prank-filled relationship that begins in 1984, starring Eddie Munson and a female reader I call Evil Woman.

These stories were originally designed to be standalones that could be read in any order, but as this world grows, a little organization might help. The original list below, with descriptions, is the order in which they were posted. There's also a list in chronological order. You can still pick and choose and read in any order you want. Both lists will be updated as I post new stuff.

If you are a blank or ageless blog who interacts with a fic that contains as Do Not Interact (DNI) warning, you will be blocked.

🧡 - Regularly scheduled light-hearted fun. 🖤 - Shit just got real. 💛 - IDK man, this one just kind of wrote itself. 💖 - Wait, there's romance now?

Wrapping Paper 🎅🧡 Eddie thinks he's here to hang out while you wrap presents, but you have something else in mind.

Fucking Fireworks 🎇🖤 Eddie doesn't like fireworks anymore. (New Year's Eve angst, AU where the events of S4 weren't prevented by the fic below)

The Fastest Fix-It (Or: How a Jealous Girlfriend Shut That Shit Down and Saved Eddie Before the Bell Rang) 🧡 In which a jealous girlfriend completely de-rails season 4, but Eddie's fine, so it's all good. (Fix-It, via the path of least resistance)

Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie 🧡 Inspired by Titanic, Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster.

Eddie Munson and the Worst Valentine's Day Ever 💝🖤 An 8-year-old Eddie Munson has an experience that changes his feelings on Valentine's Day forever. (will make you cry)

Eddie Munson and the Best Anti-Valentine's Day Ever 💝🧡 In a sequel to the story above, Eddie discovers that Valentine's Day isn't so bad when you have someone to hate it with. (2.8k of me trying to make amends for what I did to him in the prequel)

Involuntary Secretary and the Dream Escape 💛 People won't leave you the hell alone, so Eddie comes to the rescue like the hero he is.

Classy Girl and the Scruffy Boy 🧡 Eddie's girl invites him over for a romantic dinner and a movie. It's... not exactly what he expected.

Wake-Up Call 🧡 Eddie doesn't want to get up. Sucks to be him.

The Case of the Missing Eddie 🖤🧡 Eddie disappears, and you freak the hell out.

Pinch Proof 🍀🧡 Eddie forgot to wear green on St. Patrick's Day, but you have an easy solution.

The Nerd King Cops a Feel 🧡 Eddie learns something about bras: He hates them.

Revenge of the Freaks 🧡 The Hellfire Club does April Fool's Day a little differently than you might expect.

It's the Easter Dragon, Eddie Munson 🐣🧡 Just a big scary metalhead doing cute Easter-y things with Evil Woman and her family for the first time, nothing to see here.

Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me 🧡 The story of how Evil Woman got her name.

The Ups and Downs of Dating a Trash Panda 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman's first date doesn't go exactly as planned… but everything works out in the end. Obviously.

It's Okay If You Are 🧡 Evil Woman and Eddie have a talk about The Dreaded V-Word.

Smoke Break 💖 Hellfire is holed up in your basement on prom night, but you can't sleep. Might as well drag Eddie outside for a smoke break.

I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You 🖤🧡 Some dickhead stuck a wad of gum in Eddie's hair, and you get the honor of removing it.

The Fuck Did You Just Say to Me? 💛💖 Eddie tests the degradation waters. Evil Woman boils him in it.

Who's Your Fucking Daddy? 💛💖 Eddie tries out the "daddy" thing. EW has an unexpected reaction.

You're the Fucking Worst 💛💖 Eddie tries talking dirty. Evil Woman is not a fan.

The First and Last Breakup of Eddie Munson and Evil Woman 🖤 Once upon a time, two stupid teenagers fell in love. And then they broke up for a stupid reason and spent a whole week doing stupid things because they're stupid teenagers. (angst with a happy ending)

Werewolf Children 🧡 The first time Eddie spent the night with Evil Woman, it was kind of an accident…

Sweet New Tatty 🧡 Eddie has a new tattoo, and it's driving Evil Woman crazy.

A Very Important Date 🎂🧡 Evil Woman doesn't want to make a big deal out of her birthday. However, she's dating Eddie Munson, sooo…

Clown Around and Find Out 🤡💛 Eddie decides to play a prank on Evil Woman, and quickly finds out just how dangerous that is.

The Little Air Conditioner That Could 🔥🧡 Eddie's girl is having a love affair with his air conditioner.

Secret Weapons 🧡 Eddie's mad at Evil Woman (over something dumb, don't worry, doesn't matter), but she knows how to win him back.

This Is Better 🧡 Eddie's lady love is down with The Curse, but his cuddly nature and massive paws come to the rescue.

Fangs for the Mammaries 🧡💖 Eddie wants to try a sexy new toy into the bedroom. Evil Woman wants a divorce. (unhinged Halloween-adjacent fluff)

Don't Move 💖 Eddie looks really good waiting for your snacks to come out of the microwave. So good that you'd rather eat him instead.

Eddie Munson Is My Babydaddy 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman are responsible for a Flour Sack Baby for a week. Shenanigans ensue.

Flying Monkeys Couldn't Drag Me Away 🍂🧡 Evil Woman invites Eddie over for a fun fall night of makin' treats and watchin' a movie with the family.

What If Real Life Is the Nightmare? 🖤 Evil Woman has a dream about finding Eddie's broken body in a dark and awful place full of slimy monsters and red lightning… but it's just a dream, right? RIGHT? (dark but has a happy ending, I promise)

Bonus Blurb: What If Real Life Is Good? 🧡 Evil Woman comes home after What If Real Life Is the Nightmare and has A Heartfelt Moment with Baby Bro. (brotherly fluff, not much Eddie)

The Last First Day 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman have a dramatic reunion on his last first day at Hawkins High. Class of '86, baby!

The First Lazy Thanksgiving 🧡🦃 Eddie comes to stay with Evil Woman during Thanksgiving Break '85 for a lazy and turkey-filled few days… but do holiday plans ever actually turn out the way they're supposed to?

I Hate Mondays 🧡 Like his beloved Garfield, Eddie hates Mondays. Evil Woman decides to give him a reason to look forward to them.

The Family Holiday 🖤🎅 It's December of 1985, and Evil Woman is ready to spend her first real Christmas with Eddie… why is he being weird about it?

I Promise 🧡🎅 Eddie gives Evil Woman something special during a quiet moment together on Christmas Morning '85.

A Slightly Late Munson Christmas 🧡🎅 Eddie spent Christmas '85 with Evil Woman, but it's time to go home and celebrate with Wayne… what if he brings her along?

The First Countdown 🧡🎇 Eddie and Evil Woman go to Reefer Rick's on New Year's Eve to say goodbye to 1985… and hello to a new favorite tradition.

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent 🧡 In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later.

The Devil's Trip 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman embark on an epic spring break road trip… in which everything goes wrong.

Evil Woman's Tit-Warming Service 🧡 Eddie's cold, and there's only one acceptable solution to this very perky problem.

The Freak and His Evil Woman Do Valentine's Day 🧡💘 Last year's anti-Valentine's Day date was a success… but what if Eddie and Evil Woman tried normal romantic stuff in 1986?

Three Days 🖤🧡 Three days after Eddie and Evil Woman met for the very first time… there was a jock encounter they'll never forget.

Have You Ever Choked a Chicken? 🧡 Evil Woman decides to pop in and surprise Eddie with some morning cuddles… but, uh, he's a little busy.

A Situation 🧡🍍 There's only one thing in the world that could make Eddie turn Evil Woman Action down… and it's down there.

Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands 🧡 Eddie's on the phone talking to a nerd, and not in bed pleasuring his beloved like he should be. Evil Woman finds a way to make him focus on the important things.

Boys Are Idiots 🖤 Evil Woman gets partnered up with Steve Harrington for a science project. Which means she has to TALK to him? And be NEAR him? Eddie Munson is NOT a fan.

The Breakfast Club 🧡 It's 1985, and it seems like the entirety of Hawkins High is obsessed with The Breakfast Club. Evil Woman drags Eddie to the theater to see what all the fuss is about.

Evil Woman Sees (Big) Red 🖤👊 Remember in I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You, when Evil Woman had to get gum out of Eddie's hair? Again? Well… what if she found the person responsible?

The Long Con 🧡 Evil Woman brings Eddie a thoughtful gift… but there are some springs attached.

Can't Take You Anywhere 🧡 Eddie is super bored in the BMV and Evil Woman needs to find something for him to do, stat!

Want to read the Eddie x Evil Woman stories in chronological order instead? Click here!

Blurbs Based on Emojis 🔪 - Worst Baby-Sitter in the World 🥺 - Ugh, Fine! 🧝‍♀️ - Yes, My Queen 🐈 - Eddie's Familiar 🎢 - Traveling Death Trap

...and sometimes I write for Other People's Eddies. funsonmunson-again's birthday game oneforthemunny's summer game oneforthemunny's one-derful year

#writings of despair #masterlist #eddie munson #eddie munson x evil woman

[simp4wom3n]

Silent Scream

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request

Summary: Y/n appreciates horror movies but they also scare the sh*t out of her. When it's her girlfriend Jenna's pick for their movie night, Y/n attempts to hold in her fear in order to not embarrass herself ~ Word Count: 1.001k ~ Warnings: mentions + vague descriptions of gore - otherwise fluffy af

A/N: Hi!! two fics in one day?!? crazy. Anyways this one is kinda short but it was hella fun to write so hopefully you guys enjoy it. I'm hoping to maybe get another fic out before Christmas but no promises <3

"Y/n?!? What do you want to watch?" "I don't mind it's your turn to pick" you respond as you walk into your shared bedroom with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. Jenna was sat on the bed in an oversized t-shirt scrolling through basically every streaming service available. You let out a small chuckle as you watch her aimlessly scroll, "Just pick anything I'll watch whatever you want" you suggest, placing the popcorn down next to Jenna before you walk into your closet to change. "Mmm ok"

You change into an oversized shirt and some baggy shorts before exiting your closet and glancing at the TV to see if she had picked anything. 'It' was open and ready to play. "Ok anything but that" you blurt out pointing at the screen as Jenna shoots you an incredulous look. "Really?. I finally pick something and you refuse to watch it" she pouts at you, already making you feel bad. "Are you scared or?". See, you didn't hate horror movies. You admired the concept of them and loved the idea of them, but if you were being completely honest with yourself, they also scared the shit out of you. You liked watching movies for the purpose of relaxing and horror movies did the exact opposite. You were constantly tense and/or sitting on the edge of your seat knowing that there would be a jump scare, or something else terrifying about to happen. Were you going to admit that to Jenna though... No.

"It's not that I'm scared" you start, making your way over to the bed. "I just... I don't know I just like to feel like I got something out of the movie we watch and this one... I don't know I feel like there are better horror movies." you ramble as Jenna looks at you with a slight smirk and raised brow. "Such as?" she asks. "I don't know... Like one your in. That way I at least get to watch my girlfriend right? Seems pretty rewarding to me." "Fine cutie... we can watch Scream 5 instead." she chuckles as you smirk and get into bed next to her, thrilled that you somehow managed to convince her not to watch 'It'. Were you still watching a horror movie... yes, but you weren't lying when you said you found watching Jenna rewarding so that was a plus... right?

Your knuckles were already white due to how hard you are gripping the blanket and it's only the first scene. You really tried to just distract yourself with Jenna but it's very difficult to do when she is crying and screaming bloody murder whilst being stabbed by a psycho in a ghost suit. "What the fuuuuuck!" you mumbled in disgust as her character is stabbed in the hand, the knife going cleanly through and poking out the other side. "Ok fuck that" you slap your hand over your mouth as you turn your head to the side trying to get it out of your vision, meanwhile Jenna is just laughing and having the time of her life.

Basically every time ghost face is on screen or you suspect him to make an entrance at some point, you heart starts pounding with how scared you were. Despite you obviously knowing it wasn't real, a mantra you repeated many times in your head, you were still scared shitless and the gore definitely didn't help either. Every murder that happened made you scoot closer to your girlfriend, eventually grasping her hand in yours when her character is attacked in the hospital. "Fucking hell... why do you have to be such a good actor" you complain as tears begin to well in your eyes. "Oh my god Y/n are you crying?" Jenna asked sympathetically with a small chuckle. "Well yeah" you state whilst giggling as if it was obvious. "I mean I know it's not you but it looks like my girlfriend is being murdered" "Awww it's ok" Jenna pulls you into a small hug which leads to the two of you cuddling in bed. 'About time' you thought, finally able to find complete comfort.

The rest of the movie doesn't necessarily fly by, but it certainly goes faster than the first part. Every time you got scared or saw something disgusting, you would either squeeze Jenna tighter or hide your face in the crook of her neck. At this point you had given up trying to hide the fact that you were a bit of a pussy because you weren't going to deprive yourself of your girlfriends comfort for the sake of your ego. By the time 'act 3' came around, you weren't as scared as you expected yourself to be - except for the fact that you thought Jenna's character was dead for a hot minute which broke your heart. The gunshot makes you jump slightly but as soon as the camera pans to Jenna's character, probably the first smile of the movie makes it to your face. "Badass" you mutter causing Jenna to chuckle softly.

The movie had finally finished and you didn't hate it as much as you were expecting. Did you cry? yes. Did you jump? absolutely. But did you enjoy yourself? oddly kind of. Was it purely because Jenna was in it? possibly but who knows. "I didn't know you were such a chicken" Jenna laughs as the credits roll. "I am not!" you retort very defensively as she just gives you a knowing look, your defensive stance slipping immediately. "Ok maybe a little bit but I've seen worse". you turn your back to her as Jenna giggles, before she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you back into her. "It's ok. Your cute when your scared" "Oh so my pain is funny to you?" you laugh turning your head around to face her, barely any space between the two. "A little" she giggles again as she covers your face in small kisses. "So mean"

Tag-list: @nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega request #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #scream 5 #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfic #imagine #simp4wom3n

[zsakuva]

How do you come up with so many intricate plots and characters? They seem so… human? I’m very surprised you don’t read much! I guess what I’m asking is, what’s your creative process? Do you take inspiration from aspects of yourself, or is it more of a form of escapism? When you write your plots, do you imagine yourself as the character, the audience, or both? 

Another thing that truly amazes me and makes your channel stand out a lot is the way you give the listener a voice. It feels like each listener is so different and unique, and *actually* interacts with the character. It also feels like you’re never spoon feeding us information? All the questions do get answered, but it’s different style imo. Usually, in most ASMR RPs I’ve heard, the speaker will repeat what you said verbatim, (eg. “You think XXX?”, or “You want me to XXX?”), and the frequency at which these types of phrases are used makes it *seem* like a RP. Of course, it’s a challenging medium - the audience needs to know whats going on somehow, but you manage to achieve the same in a much more subtle way. It makes me wonder how long you spend planning out your content haha.

Final question, do you prefer to type or handwrite your plans, scripts, etc? I’ve always preferred planning on paper, even though it’s a bit impractical haha. Also, would you mind showing us your handwriting? I think it says a lot about a person! There’s the stereotype that people usually have a certain handwriting that corresponds to their major/occupation, and if I remember correctly, I think you studied film? I’m just curious hehe. No pressure, of course!

Sorry for sending you an essay, I hope you have a restful and comfy Friday! 

Thank you!

Honestly, I don't know how I do it myself considering my memory is absolute shit! Though I don't read much, I learn about characters through other mediums such as television shows and movies. I'll try and break this down for ease of reading!

~My Creative Process~

When making a character or series, it all depends on where my initial inspiration began. For example, with Niall, I wanted to create an M4M series exploring a character who carries trauma of being forcibly outed, betrayed by someone he confided in, and how those events affected him through his adult life. The core of Niall's story was confronting fears that manifested due to the Listener's actions in school, and finding that there was a way to heal, albeit slowly, and a hope to love despite external animosity. Niall exists because I wanted to tell a particular story.

With Zaros, he first came about because of The Noble Trials plot. I knew that he would be different from other characters, so I'm using this series as a means of testing my skill with a new editing style, story format, and new world setting. Although it's more work, I have the most fun with The Noble Trials and making its lore (though I'm always a sucker for that)!

I go into creating characters with the belief that they are all extremely flawed. Whether that be by nature or nurture, there will inevitably be some slew of events in their pasts that shaped the way they act in the current timeline. This also extends to the Listeners so they aren't rigid, boring, and an empty shell. Characters can clash, but they can also change with and for each other. A good example is Isaac's story. He was scarred by his past, and was willing to confine Pickle in the house if it meant not losing someone he cared for again. Pickle was also scarred with abandonment and instability, wondering if they would ever find a home. Isaac gave them a place to belong, and Pickle gave him consolation and courage to face the unknown.

When I write, the character's actions must reflect the backstory in which they were crafted, so I always need to dive into their heads.

~Listener Dialogue~

This requires much more thought to make interactions seem authentic, but there's a fine line between repeating words verbatim and not alluding to any sort of context. I dislike repeating the Listener's words so I try to indirectly insinuate what they were saying whenever possible. If I can do so with SFX alone, that's a bonus! But when scenes contain heavy dialogue, it can be difficult to get the message across without being heavy-handed with repetition, unless that's the purpose of a specific moment.

~Handwriting vs Typing~

I always handwrite my outlines! On some occasions, I can start and finish a script without the help of one, but my workflow tends to include writing an outline of some kind, and it has to be done on paper! I feel like the ideas manifest quicker that way.

However, I always type my scripts. It's much easier to edit, share with other voice actors, and there's a level of professionalism in formatting that motivates me to write more!

Here is an example of my writing. This screenshot was part of a Twitch stream!

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