When Will You Upload Something? I'm Anxious To Read Something From You:((

In love with both your writing and him

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard. 

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

Pushing It (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist   Part 2

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Eddie is surprised when popular cheerleader Y/N comes up to him with a favour to ask; pretend to be her boyfriend

Y/N notes: shorter than Eddie

Got a quiet reader request from an anon so I came up with this!

DM me if you wanna be on the Eddie tag list!:)

Afficher davantage

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

OMG you should do a gareth x reader and like you join the hellfire club and he has crush on you and he ends up telling you and you like him back!

Idk why it took me so long to write this. Characterizing Gareth should not have been as difficult as it was lmao. But y'know what it took to finish this? Sitting upside down. In a chair.

Like, y'know in big hero 6 when Tadashi holds Hiro upside down or whatever to get him to think and it worked? Yeah. That was me.

But I hope you enjoy this, it definitely got away from me lol. It wasn't supposed to be this long and the ending was definitely a little rushed. But whatever.

(Also, somewhere in an alternate universe, Gareth does turn out to be an axe murderer)

---

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Gareth Emerson x Reader

Warnings: underage drinking, swearing, mentioned drug use

Request Here

---

Eddie strutted down the hall with you at his side, excitement putting an extra bounce in his steps. He looked like a child, the pins on his jacket rattling.

You smiled faintly. A few weeks ago he asked you to play D&D with him. The two of you had gotten together to get high once or twice, you bought all your shit from him. And you mentioned how you used to play back in middle school.

That spurred the conversation of the Hellfire Club, which you'd heard a lot about. Mostly bad things if you were being honest, but hey. That was highschool.

It took him a while to convince you to join his club, and then bring you up to speed on all the rules and remind you how to play.

But now here you were, joining your first campaign with the Hellfire Club. You were pretty excited, you couldn't lie.

Not like you'd tell Eddie that. He'd be even more bouncy than he was right now.

Eddie kicked the door to their 'club room' with a loud crash, "hey nerds!" He called with an obnoxious grin.

You followed him into the room, which used to be the old theatre, but considering a new and bigger theater had just been built, this one was given to Eddie's club. It was really the only room they could spare.

Plus, it was pretty on brand; playing a fantasy game where drama had taken place.

They were backstage and all the lights seemed to be on. They were very colorful too, lighting the room up beautifully. There was also discarded sets and other junk pushed towards the walls and out of the way.

You went to look at the table where the other members sat, leaving the throne at the head of the table empty. You guessed that was Eddie's seat. His place at the table was already all set up, there were even candles lit on either side.

The rest of the table was occupied by the club members. A handful of them were underclassmen. You could tell by their baby faces. "Henderson! Drumroll!" He pointed to the table as he got closer.

A boy with brown curls obediently began to drum his fingers against the table, muttering, "why doesn't the drummer do the drumroll?"

"Shut it," Eddie said, pointing at him again. He got close enough to step right up onto the table. And then he bowed low, hand extended to where you stood with an amused smile.

"Please welcome the newest member of Hellfire! Y/N L/N!" He cheered as he rose back up, to which received several greetings ranging in enthusiasm.

Eddie grinned and hopped down from the table. He stepped forward and walked behind you, guiding you forward. "Curly is Dustin Henderson," he said, pointing him out once again. "His friends, Michael Wheeler, and Lucas Sinclair," he said, pointing to each of them.

You smiled and waved to the three younger boys. They looked like babies, they were so young. You wanted to squeeze their cheeks.

"That's Jeff. And finally, there's Gareth. He's a pain, ignore him more than you ignore the others," he instructed you very seriously.

Your eyes lingered on Gareth. He had the fluffiest hair you'd ever seen and you could imagine how soft it would feel beneath your fingers. He wore the same shirt as the others, white and black with the Hellfire logo. He also layered on a red and black flannel with the sleeves cut off.

Gareth fixed his annoyed look on Eddie. "And why should they ignore me?" He asked, his voice higher than you thought but beautiful to listen to.

"Because you're a pain," Eddie repeated with a 'duh' tone. But unfortunately for him, the only free spot they had was beside Gareth. He glared at Gareth like it was his fault once he realized.

You clapped Eddie on the shoulder with a laugh,"I deal with you everyday. I'm sure I can handle Gareth," you assured with a grin, going and sitting next to Gareth.

Eddie smiled before he understood, and when he did his expression grew annoyed. "Ha ha, very funny," he droned, sitting on his throne. "Now everybody shut up and let's get started!"

---

As soon as the session was over, Dustin cornered you while you waited for Eddie to pack up. He eagerly chatting your ear off about just about everything. You found it endearing how enthusiastic he was. His friend Mike, looked apologetic though as he awkwardly stood at his side.

"So how do you know Eddie?" Dustin asked, adjusting his cap. "Are you guys friends?"

"Oh, he's my de…uh, detention partner," you quickly altered your sentence. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tell the kid Eddie was your dealer. Plus it wasn't like you were lying, Eddie had been your detention partner a couple of times.

"Really?" Dustin asked, ignoring Mike's urging warning that they were going to be late. "How long have you been playing D&D?"

"Since eighth grade," you answered honestly. "Gave me something to do after school."

"Why did you just now join Hellfire?" Mike finally gave in and asked a question. You knew he was curious too, after all you were a new face.

"Because I was too busy before," you shrugged, glancing to see if Eddie had packed up all his things yet. You looked back at the boys. "And I never had a ride."

"Do you need a ride?" Gareth asked, swinging his bag over his shoulder and stopping next to you. The way he looked you up and down wasn't as subtle as he thought it was.

"Nah, Eddie—"

"Gareth, you take 'em home," Eddie cut you off. "I forgot, I have to take Henderson and Wheeler. Their ride is busy so of course, the burden falls to me," he said with a shake of his head.

Dustin swung his head around to stare at Eddie. "What!?" He yelped. "What happened to Steve? Why didn't you say anything sooner!" He shouted, storming over to Eddie.

Gareth tilted his head towards the door and you nodded, walking out of the theater with him. It was silent for a few moments before you broke it.

"So you're a drummer?" You asked.

Gareth looked over at you and nodded, "yeah, for our band. Eddie tell you?"

You shook your head. "You're in a band? Eddie's in a band and he didn't tell me? That ass," you scoffed.

"I'm surprised you've gone this long without knowing," Gareth replied earnestly. "He's your dealer, right? I think he's mentioned you a few times."

"Didn't want to say it in front of the kids," you nodded, "but yeah. That's how I originally met him."

"So you've been 'round his? I know you've seen his guitar," Gareth held the door open for you. "He uses it for gigs only. It's his prized possession."

You suddenly remembered the name of the band. Eddie invited you out one day but you'd been too busy to attend. Now you had a reason to attend one of their shows. "Corroded Coffin, right?" You asked with a proud grin at remembering.

Gareth smiled at you. And wow was his smile beautiful. He nodded. "So ya do know our band," he mused. "Yes, I'm our drummer."

"Well considering that Dustin kid was asked to drumroll and not you, I'm gonna assume you're not—"

"Hey," Gareth said, affronted, turning to point a finger at you, "I'll let you walk home," he threatened.

"I didn't say it," you held your hands up in surrender. "I said nothing. What you use to fill in the blanks is entirely your—"

"Oh shut up," Gareth elbowed you in the side.

You jumped away from him with a scowl on your face, rubbing your injured side. "I'm not feelin' the love here, Gareth," you huffed. "I think I will walk home," you said, making a 90° turn and walking off.

"Hey!" Gareth shouted, grabbing your arm before you could get too far and pulled you back against his side. He casually tossed an arm around your side to prevent a repeat. "Eddie would murder me with my own sticks if I let you walk home."

"Maybe then you’ll learn some manners,” came your snarky reply but you let him guide you. You tried to ignore how his touch made you feel.

“Look who's talking,” Gareth replied, unfortunately releasing you. He walked around to the driver's seat and unlocked the doors.

You grinned and got in the car. “So, besides playing D&D and playing the drums, what do you do?” You asked, a pathetic attempt to keep the conversation going as you clicked your seatbelt on.

Gareth ignored his own seatbelt and put his arm behind your seat as he twisted to look behind him as he reversed out of his parking spot. “Really?” He asked, making eye contact briefly. “Small talk?”

Warmth coursed through your body as you rolled your eyes, trying to pretend like the small action didn't fluster you. You were rapidly developing a crush on him. You were unable to decide if it was surface level attraction or if it'd maybe have a chance to develop into something real. “Are you really judging me, drummer boy?” You mocked.

“Oh wonderful, I haven’t ever been called that before,” he said flatly, turning and removing his hand from behind your seat. “Ask me something worthwhile.”

You took a moment to think about an ‘interesting’ question. “Okay, what’s the weirdest thing you have been called?” You asked.

Gareth paused to actually think about it. "Freak," he answered honestly. "That's what just about most of the school calls me. Us. Hellfire," he clarified.

You had to admit, you felt your heart squeeze at the sympathy you felt for him. You despised the words especially when it was used so maliciously. You pursed your lips, "that was supposed to be a light hearted question, sorry."

Gareth only laughed. "Hey, well, you asked," he replied, tapping the steering wheel. "Better get used to it. I did. Easier that way."

"No thanks," you shook your head for emphasis. "The second anyone calls me that, they're getting my fist."

"That's fair," Gareth conceded. "Hey, where am I going anyways?" He asked with a frown, slowing slightly to give you time to answer..

"Oh you missed the turn about a mile ago," you confessed, looking up at him. "But I figured it was too late to tell you."

Gareth was silent for a few seconds before he exploded. "What!?" He loudly demanded. "I am never driving you anywhere ever again!" He exclaimed. "Why didn't you say anything!"

"Sorry!" You shouted back. "I'm sorry! I just…I don't know, don't yell!"

"You're yelling too!" Gareth screeched, making a wild U-turn. You heard several things rattle and roll in his car.

"Hey—hey! Cool it with the crazy driving!" You continued to shout, holding onto what you dubbed the 'oh shit' handle on the roof. He was worse than Eddie, which was saying a lot.

"Just tell me where I'm going!" Gareth turned to look at you, a crazy grin on his face as he continued to shout.

You realized he wasn't upset, but rather having fun. You grinned. "Just drive!" You managed between laughter. "You don't have anywhere to be, do you?"

Gareth shook his head no and joined in your laughter. "I like you!" He shouted.

"Then why are you yelling!?"

Gareth's smile never died as he repeated, in a much more respectable volume, "I like you."

You grinned, "thank you," you responded. "You're not so bad, for a drummer," you added belatedly.

Gareth's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in very obvious, and deep offense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

Gareth scowled, "you got a problem with drummers?"

"Well, the last drummer I dated was crazy. I find the guitarist to be much more sane—"

"Uh, in what world is the guitarist more sane than the drummer!?" Gareth wildly demanded. "No way is Eddie more sane than I am!"

"Hey I'm just telling you my past experiences!" You defended, "I didn't say I like Eddie more than you—well, actually—"

"I'm giving you a ride home." Gareth sounded deeply offended again as he turned to stare at you.

"Eddie gives me drugs."

"That you buy. I'm doing this for free and in my own time."

You paused. You didn't have a response for that because he did have a point. "Fine," you conceded. "Fine, fine. Sorry for insulting you, drummer boy."

Gareth's victorious grin twisted into a scowl. "Can't you come up with a different nickname?"

"No."

Gareth sighed as he took a right turn. "I need a nickname for you now. It's only fair," he stated.

"No," you turned down, you knew this could only end in an embarrassing or terrible nickname. You had a reputation to maintain, you couldn't let him give you a nickname that would likely stick and catch on.

"You're a nerd but that just…doesn't fit," Gareth murmured to himself, staring out at the road.

You were concerned about the spaced out look on his face and thought maybe it wasn't a smart idea to let him drive you around.

"...I'll think of it," he finally shrugged. "But you need a new name other than drummer boy," he said, pointing a finger at you.

"Thumper," you replied.

"Will you be the Bunny to my Thumper?" Gareth wasted no time in asking.

You paused. "You've seen Bambi?" You asked in surprise. He didn't seem the type to sit through that kind of movie.

"I have a younger sister," Gareth offered in explanation, glancing over at you, "we've seen it a million times. Even my older sister's made me watch it."

You wanted to tease him, but you thought it was so sweet he watched it with her so many times. You smiled instead, "that's cute."

"Don't tease me," Gareth warned seriously.

"I'm not," you said quickly, "swear on my life. I'm not teasing you. I think it's cute that you watch movies with them."

Gareth tapped the steering wheel again to an imaginary beat and nodded, accepting that answer. "Do you need to be home soon?"

"I don't have a curfew," you answered, which…wasn't completely honest but he didn't need to know that. You wanted to spend more time with him though, he was interesting. And cute.

"Good. I was gonna take a ride out to the drive-in. I hope you like horror," he looked over at you again.

"The drive-in is in the next city," you stated the obvious.

"Yep," Gareth agreed.

"Okay," you said. This would be fun. You hoped. You had just met him, but he didn't strike you as an axe murderer or something.

---

Gareth was in fact, not an axe murderer. The two of you went to the drive in together and saw a horror movie that you honestly lost the plot of, too distracted by him.

He was very engrossed by the movie. He laughed at parts he definitely shouldn't have, popcorn in hand. He made snide little comments about the actors or the movie in general.

His commentary made you crack up and you couldn't focus with him murmuring some smartass comment in your ear every few minutes.

You wouldn't have changed a thing about the night.

Well. You'd change one thing.

Gareth walked you up to your door with the excuse of, "you never know where a murderer might be lurking."

You doubted they'd lurk in the few feet from the street to your door, but you decided to humor him.

So you walked with him, arms brushing together with every step. Neither of you made an attempt to stop the contact. Neither of you attempted more contact

When you arrived at your door, he stopped you from opening it with a hand on your arm. "Hey," he began, shifting his weight and dropping his hand.

You turned to him, the faint light of your neighbor's porch light illuminated his face enough for you to see his shifting gaze. "Hi," you warmly replied, smiling at him.

"Hi," he laughed, looking away. He cleared his throat and tucked his hands into his jean pockets. He rocked forward on his toes as he spoke. "You should come to our show."

You were nodding before you even comprehended the suggestion. But once you did, you smiled. "You want me to come to your show?"

Gareth looked away again and shrugged, "yeah. Thought you'd like it. I'll prove I am a good drummer despite what some people think," he pointedly said.

Your smile grew. "I'll be there," you promised. You found yourself wishing for a kiss. Hell, even a brush of his lips against your cheek would sate you. But of course, nothing happened.

Gareth took a step back and nodded at you. "Night, bunny," he said, turning around and heading back to his car.

"Night, thumper," you murmured, your voice lost to the night. You stared at his back for a second longer before finally turning and heading inside.

---

You informed Eddie of your plans and Gareth's invitation and he would not leave you alone. You regretted telling him.

"Wait, wait. I explicitly told you to stay away from Gareth and you went on a date with him!?" He screeched, his voice disappearing into the forest surrounding you two. Thankfully, you decided to have this conversation outside of school.

"It wasn't a date," you denied, waving a hand. You sat up on the picnic table and stared down at where he was sitting on the bench. "It was just a movie."

"No, it was a movie at the drive-in," Eddie replied, putting more emphasis on the words like a weirdo. "You know what happens at drive-ins? Sex!" He shouted. Like a weirdo.

You grimaced, "what? No, stop. I didn't sleep with your best friend. Calm down," you huffed. "Jeez, Eddie. It was just a movie."

"Oh really? How do I know you didn't have sex in the backseat?" Eddie pressed.

You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting," you stated.

"That's hateful," Eddie replied. "How come you never come to my shows when I invite you? Why is Gareth so special?" He complained.

He was right to complain. He invited you to his shows a couple of times, but you'd always declined. Either you were too busy or you weren't particularly interested.

That had been before you met the cute drummer.

"He's not special. I'm just not busy this week," you lied. "If you would have asked me, I would have said yes." You probably wouldn't have. No offense to Eddie.

"Mhm," Eddie hummed, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Fine. I'll believe you," he said. "I'll give you a ride. I guess."

You grinned.

---

Eddie picked you up as promised. Once you were inside, he left you at the bar as he went to go set up.

Fuck did he undersell his band. There were already people gathering and more coming inside as time passed. You were impressed.

And by the time their set started, a crowd had gathered around the stage, dancing to the music and hyping up the band with their support.

You didn't join the crowd and instead stayed at the bar and watched. You had a good view of the whole band from where you were. And by that, you meant you had a good view of Gareth.

And sure, Eddie was absolutely killing it on stage, his voice was perfect for his songs and his playing was unparalleled. But your eyes were glued to Gareth, who was enthusiastically slamming his sticks against the drum kit. Head bopping to his own music with an infectious smile.

You got into the music quickly, but your eyes never strayed from Gareth for too long. He was too captivating to look away from.

But when the show ended and the band packed their things up, you finally turned away from the stage.

"How'd you like the show?"

You looked over and nearly fell out of your chair. "King Steve?" You couldn’t stop the old title from tumbling from your lips, you were that surprised at seeing him. "Holy shit! What are you—this doesn't seem like your type of scene." Granted, you didn’t know much about Steve Harrington nowadays. You hadn't seen him in two years.

Steve awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not," he agreed, "Eddie invited me." He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Ah," you said slowly, nodding in understanding. "Eddie invited you."

Steve rolled his eyes, "it's not like that."

"Sure," you answered. "But it's fine if it is," you offered. "Gareth invited me."

"Steve," Gareth said, startling you as he materialized behind you. "Eddie didn't say he invited you." He gave him little more than a glance though before looking at you. "Hi."

You smiled, "hi," you responded. "You were amazing."

Gareth grinned, obviously pleased by the compliment. He ruffled the hair behind his ears, "thanks," he said. “So? I’m a good drummer, right?”

You playfully tilted your head as if pretending to think about it. He shoved you over and you shook with laughter, “yes, yes. You’re a good drummer. Best I’ve heard, but don’t let it go to your head,” you complimented with sincerity.

Gareth turned away with a bashful smile playing at his lips. “No promises,” he murmured, “I wasn’t uh, I wasn’t sure if you were gonna show,” he continued, drumming his fingers against the bartop.

“Ouch,” you deadpanned, holding your chest, “so little confidence, Emerson.”

“Oh, it’s Emerson now?” Gareth scoffed, arching a brow. “And I was just about to offer you a ride home.”

"Oh no, whatever shall I do?" You dramatically asked, "thank god Eddie is my actual ride."

"Is that a no?" Gareth asked impatiently.

"Let me buy you a drink," you offered instead of answering. "You really were amazing tonight."

"I gotta drive," Gareth pointed out.

"You won't get drunk off one drink, will you?" You asked, before shrugging. "If you want….you could come over. Have a drink or—or something. I dunno," you said, sounding way less confident than you would have preferred.

Gareth was silent, deliberating the idea as his eyes scanned the bar, eventually he nodded. "Okay," he agreed, "are you providing dinner as well or are you just trying to get me drunk?" He asked with a teasing smirk.

"Depends if you get us there in one piece," you replied, tucking your hands into your pockets and following him as he walked outside.

"All this slander on my driving from the person who can't drive," Gareth deadpanned, giving you an amused look. "Would you like to drive?"

"I would, actually," you answered, much to his surprise. "I can drive, y'know. I just don't have a car. Or a license," you shrugged, Eddie let you drive his van once or twice. In addition to stealing your parents cars, that's how you learned.

Gareth tossed his keys at you without saying anything and you barely caught them before they smacked into your face. You had half a mind to chuck them at his face.

You decided against it though, and followed him out to his car. You climbed into the driver's seat with a grin. "If I crash, it's not my fault," you stated, sticking the keys in the ignition.

"What happened to knowing how to drive?" Gareth asked, clicking his seatbelt on with a skeptical look.

"I never said I did it well," you cheekily answered as you pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.

You took a detour and got some food for the two of you (which Gareth was very happy about) before driving home.

You were proud to say you got both of you there in one piece. You didn't run any red lights or stop signs either, which you were very proud of.

Gareth didn't think it was so amusing.

"How is it an accomplishment, Y/N? That's the law," he pointed out, holding the food as he climbed out of his car.

You held the six pack you bought with your trusty fake ID, since you technically had promised him a drink. You tossed his keys over the hood of his car, "this is coming from someone who said, and I quote, speed limits are just suggestions," you snarked.

"Yeah, but I don't make a habit of running red lights," he sniped, catching the keys and pushing them into his pocket.

You pulled your own keys out as you walked up to your front door, correcting over your shoulder, "I don't make a habit of it, it's only happened once or twice. But in my defense, the light turned red right when I got to the intersection so I couldn't stop." You slid your keys in the lock and opened it, stepping to the side to let him in first.

"My parents are out of town, so don't worry," you said when you noticed his hesitation, stepping inside behind him and shutting the door.

"Starting to think you have ulterior motives," he called from where he set the food down on the coffee table. He sat himself down on the floor back against the couch.

"It's nothing like that," you promised. You took two beers out of the black and put the rest in the sink. You joined him on the ground, handing off a beer.

"You sure it's nothing like that?" He asked, eyes searching your face.

You nodded and turned away from his gaze before you could blush or say something stupid. You got up quickly to look for a movie to put on.

And with a smirk, you put Bambi on.

"Seriously?" Gareth deadpanned, staring at the screen as the opening played. "You're so funny, bunny."

"I try," you said with a mocking bow. You straightened up and joined him on the floor once again and began to eat.

Just like at the drive-in, he made snarky, sarcastics comments under his breath and kept a running commentary going. And just like at the drive-in, you didn't mind one bit. You discovered you loved hearing his voice.

"Thumper is so cute," you said with feeling, staring at the screen with a smile. The little bunny just melted your heart, he was adorable. You watched as he tried to get Bambi on the ice.

"Eddie can be Bambi," Gareth said thoughtfully. "He's as clueless as him. Besides Bambi looks almost high in some scenes—"

"Don't say that!" You chided with a laugh, "he doesn't not. He's a baby deer. He's supposed to be clueless. And Eddie isn't as spacey as a baby deer."

"Oh please, I've known him for years," Garqeth dismissed. He pointed at the screen where Bambi was struggling on the ice. "That's exactly what he gets like on skates. Haven't managed to convince him to ice skate though," he said with a dejected sigh.

"I'll skate with you," you volunteered, just to watch him light up. You smiled at how happy it seemed to make him. God he was just precious. Just like Thumper.

Gareth didn't say anything as his eyes returned to the TV screen, but he did settle back into the couch. His arms crossed and he looked pleased.

You took a drink from your half empty bottle. But just as you tipped it back, swallowing a mouthful of the bitter liquid, Gareth decided to speak.

"I like you. A lot. Romantically," he said, turning to look at you.

You choked, immediately setting the glass down on the table, coughing harshly, trying to dispel the liquid you accidentally inhaled. "Jesus Christ," you croaked between coughs.

Gareth reached over to pat and rub your back. "Interesting reaction," he said, his shoulders shaking with ill-concealed amusement.

"Shut up," you scowled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "You're an ass, Gareth Emerson. I could have died!"

"And that would've been a shame," Gareth said mournfully. "So?" He asked.

"I'm starting to rethink my feelings about you," you said sourly, rubbing your chest.

Gareth shoved you.

"Wha—Gareth! Not helping your case right now," you exclaimed, sitting up from where you dramatically fell over. "You have a crush on me?"

Gareth nodded.

You grinned. "Okay, well, good. Because I have a massive crush on you too," you said happily. "Probably from when I first saw you. Y'know, I think the hair is what sold me. And then your personality. Is that shallo—"

Gareth leaned over to claim your lips with his. You eagerly pressed forward, kissing him back without hesitation.

You groaned into the kiss as he licked into your mouth, lips parting with no resistance. You reached out to touch him, your hand buried in his hair, tugging gently.

Gareth pulled away soon after that, a lazy smile on his face, his cheeks red. "My new favorite hobby might be kissing you now," he breathlessly confessed.

"Yeah," you agreed, feeling drunk off his kiss alone. "Yeah—we should, uh, we should definitely do that again."

Gareth grinned, "take me out to dinner first."

You gestured to the food between the two of you, "excuse me, what would you call this? Technically, if anything, this is our second date," you pointed out.

Gareth seemed to have no wiseass comment for that and he instead kissed you again.

---

Like all good things, the night eventually came to an end. Gareth drove home (you two decided it was fine since he only had a beer) and that was the end of the night.

You went to bed dreaming about him, because that's how hard you'd fallen for him. And now you had him. You were now dating Gareth Emerson and honestly? You could not have been happier.

The next morning, you were woken up by a blaring horn. You very nearly fell out of bed, half asleep as you got up.

You jumped when the horn honked again and you groaned, muttering swears under your breath at being so rudely awoken.

You got to the door and threw it open, still in your pajamas and glared at the car. You realized it was Gareth's. "What the fuck!?"

"Hey, bunny," he called out of his open window with a delighted cackle. "come on, come on. Let's go," he urged, "we have places to be!"

"Why are you so excited to go to school?" You asked, crossing your arms. "I'm not even dressed!"

"Who said anything about school?" Gareth smirked. "Hurry and get dressed. We have places to be," he repeated, enunciating his words with another obnoxious beep of his horn.

"Fine, fine! Stop honking, my neighbors already hate me!" You exclaimed, whirling around and heading back inside. But before you closed the door, Gareth loudly honked one last time.

You rolled your eyes and went to get dressed. A little embarrassed at being seen in your pajamas, but you got over it quickly.

You headed out of your house dressed for whatever it was Gareth was up to. You got in the car, and were greeted with a sweet kiss. And when he pulled away, he was smiling. "You look good," he said and stepped on the gas.

You lurched forward and scrambled to get your seatbelt on. "Where are we going?" You asked, staring at him expectantly.

"Surprise," he replied. After a few moments, he gave in. "We're going on a date. Double date. I told Eddie, sorry," he said, glancing over at you, tapping the steering wheel again.

"No, don't apologize," you said quickly, "it's fine. But uh, last I checked, Eddie was single. Painfully so," he said.

Gareth began to smile, "well it seems like we're not the only one who got serious last night," he said, "Eddie and Steve are a thing. But it's supposed to be a secret."

"How is it a secret if we're going on a date with them?" You couldn't help but ask.

"It's a secret date," he answered. "Eddie was looking for a new spot to deal after he almost got busted, and found a good place for a picnic," he explained.

You wondered just how long the two of them spent on the phone last night. It was an amusing thought to picture them gossiping over the phone.

"Okay," you said, satisfied with the answers you'd gotten and glad to know he hadn't spontaneously decided to murder you with an axe out in the woods.

The drive was mostly quiet, with metal music playing through the speakers.

Eddie and Steve were already there when the two of you arrived. You had to take a little hike through the woods to get to them though, which didn't really help your axe murderer theory.

But you eventually found Eddie and Steve in a small clearing. They were sitting on opposite tree stumps, a large one between them. That's where they had the food set up.

"You're late," Steve called when he laid eyes on you both.

You smirked when you seen him and sent a knowing look between him and Eddie. "What'd I say?" You asked.

"Y/N wasn't even awake when I went to get them," Gareth threw you under the bus, sitting right on the ground and reaching for the food.

"Traitor," you muttered, sitting opposite of him on the ground, internally grimacing about having to get the dirt out of your clothes later. "He was being obnoxious and kept honking!"

"I told you to stay away from him," Eddie said around a mouthful of food. "But does anyone listen? No," he said.

"Nothing new," Steve replied.

Eddie glared.

You reached for your own food with a smile. You could get used to this. This was so much better than being stuck in class all day.

And hey, you even got a very pretty looking rock from Gareth at the end of the date. He had disappeared for about half an hour and returned soaking wet, but with two rocks in his pockets that he waded through a creek for.

He gave you one, and kept the other.

You never got rid of the rock. It stayed with you always, even when others joined your collection. That first rock held so much more significance to you.

Even years later, that rock remained your most prized possession.

Ethan masturbating smut?? 😴😴

"Touch me..i need you to touch me..please." he sighed, definitely desperate. he rolled his hips against yours sighing hotly against your neck, he couldn't take it anymore. You were making out in the bedroom, this boy was getting hard just kissing you. His cock felt cramped, he just wanted to sink into you and fuck you for hours.

"So tell me, have you ever touched yourself thinking about me?" You teased him as your fingers played With his cock, through his jogging.

"Yes... yes all the time.." he confessed before closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.

"Show me." He straightened his face at you, a few unkempt strands hiding his eyes. "What?" "Touch you, in front of me." A smile formed at the corners of your lips as the boy bit his lip, his rough hand working its way to the elastic of his jogging pants, which he pulled down his thighs.

His boxers were buckled by his now stiff thick cock, his palm pressed against its tip panting as you didn't miss a beat of the show. He slowly stroked himself over the fabric before letting his cock breathe, it was bouncing a little against his chest, he grabbed it, running his thumb over the top, his tip already leaking.

"Touch yourself like you do at night thinking about me, you pervert." You teased him and the back of his head sank into the cushion as his hand moved gently back and forth around his penis, letting a wheeze come out of his mouth as the heat between your thighs intensified. His hand tightened and his movements quickened, while your name left his lips several times in a row.

you caressed your breasts lightly watching him touch himself, it was exciting to see. He thrust his hips into the air to intensify his pleasure, the sounds of the friction he was inflicting on his wet cock could be heard. Then his free hand came up to grab yours and squeeze it in his as he grunted with pleasure, you leaned down to lightly kiss his upper torso, then your tongue slid against his skin.

He ended up cumming in his hand with a long moan of pleasure, and you purred against him, leaving teeth marks and some marks on it.

"My little pervert is so cute when he jerks off." You laughed and he shook his head slightly, his cheeks a little pink. He had loved it after all, having to touch himself in front of you.

Hope u like it <3

🏷️ @igotmajordaddyissues @netey6m

DYING RN

pls universe I am on my knees

They killed the olive trees. They killed the little children. They killed the unborn. They killed the father. They killed the mother. They killed the journalist. They killed the journalists entire family. They killed all the aunts and uncles. They killed the doctors. They killed the soul of his soul. They killed the groom. They killed the bride. They killed the cats. They killed the elderly people older than their apartheid state. They killed the thousands of memories painted on the walls. They killed 30,000+ Palestinians that we will never get back. [@/ missfalsteenia on X. 01/07/24.]

Damn

Thank you so much for commenting !!! You don't know how much that mean for me! A few people seems to really like it as well so I'll see for a part 2! Thank you so much for reading and supporting me ! I'm happy you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Thanks to your encouraging words I'm sure I'll pass that damn test today <33

Patience is the key to success (2)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, depressed reader(but really), suicidal thoughts

i'm trying to post this quick because I crave attention, whatever its insults, compliments, likes or repost, idc. I want ppl to know i'm existing. i have a big oral test tomorrow and im really bad at speaking before someone (hence why im writing instead) so i just need to know im not totally useless in the society and that im, at the very least, making people enjoy my things. sorry for the rant, i have a big headhache, probably gonna die ✌️😚

the smut is really bad btw but like really but im bad at writing them but i need to to improve (26/06/2023) (5226 words)

"Let's just finish watching the movie now." you say and Ethan doesn't make you repeat as he goes straight to the couch.

You felt much better after that little talk. Ethan did not say much but in his words, there was a lot more. He was planning to be with you a long time. He does not want to ruin things. It made you so happy. Every fiber in you was warm thinking of it. You were at peace.

Ethan was calm after that, albeit moving uncomfortably sometimes. (maybe because of his boner?) He was just as cuddly as when you arrived. His head laid flat on your chest, rising up and down with each one of your breath. Your fingers brush his curl slowly as you hear his breathing slacken. You were giddy thinking about him being at peace with you, too.

His arms were closed tightly around your body, never letting you go. The movie was really advanced by now, the end was coming soon. It probably was something towards 11AM. Usually, you would have gone knock at your friend's house but there was no need now as you already saw her earlier.

When the movie fatefully ended, the credits start to roll but none of you moved an inch. Ethan rubs his cheeks against your chest before sighing happily. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep ? No, certainly not. He loves horror movie. He wouldn't fall asleep when one is ongoing.

He was cute here. You were delighted to think he trusted you enough to let his guards down and sleep with you. You were his safeplace. And he was yours. Your fingers trail down on his back where you draw small patterns dreamily. You write things, that cross your mind. You simply scratch him. His sudden speaking startle you. Your hand stopping evey movements.

"Are you sleeping far from here, today ? Every movements of his jaw hitting slightly on your chest. 'today' because he knew about your frequent change of home.

Relaxing, you continue to caress his back lovingly.

-No, not really. But I don't sleep there anymore.

The hotel too was starting to worry you. Like the building was shrieking on you. You don't know what was scarier, to be alone or to never be. And now that you found such a warm place, you don't want to leave. Ever.

-Why ?

-Scare me, s'all.

-You can sleep here tonight, if you want.

-Why ? Your decision was already made; you'd sleep here. You knew it the second he offered you to stay the night. But you wanted to see his arguments to convince you.

"Let me be with you." his sentence made a shiver run down your back.

Did that stalker fucked you up so hard you had chill even thinking about them? It was just a damn sentence. Everyone can say it. For god's sake, it's Ethan saying it of all people. Even if he awoke this uneasy feeling back, you couldn't blame him. He didn't know about the sign the criminal had shown you. You didn't tell him that much detail, only saying they had indeed brought creepy signs but omitting what was written on it. And Ethan said it so prettily, too. Yes, of course you'd be with him.

He told you you never slept here before and that you'd be safe anyway since he's here and don't plan on leaving you. So you accepted. It was really early in the day but the both of you were getting sleepy because of the calm and comfort of the situation. He offered you to go to his room which you accepted. After guiding you to there, he tells you he has to go grab something and that he'd be back really quick.

And he did, in fact, came back really quick.

By then, you were already sprawled out on his bed. You had time to see the mess he had scattered everywhere. The carboard, the books, the drawings, some letters, too. And you even found out about his second phone. The lockscreen was a generic one, the one you have by default, as if he just got it recently. But the phone wasn't new, it seems in contrary really old as it was broken at some area.

Ethan arrives in the room with a small plastic blue square packaging, you don't have time to see what it was that he throws it under the bed. You don't pay it too much attention. Playing mindlessly with his other phone in hand, you take off and put back the phone case of it to entertain yourself.

"You got two phones ? you ask even though you kind of knew the answer already.

-Oh, yes. One is for games only, the other is the one I'm really using. Did you went on it ?

-No, don't worry, I won't frisk into your secret criminal life."

He smiles before taking the phone out of your hand. He places it in the drawer of his nightstand. Ethan falls on top of you, taking your breath away for a moment. You laugh and hit his back for him to get away from you and he just laugh heartly before letting himself fall beside you.

He lays down, setting his head on his arm, looking up at you with stars in eyes. Sometimes, he's so pretty it hurt physically to look at him. Starting to get embarrassed by his insistent look, you find something to say.

-Why do you have so much pieces of cardboard anyway ?

-I make placards out of them.

With a fond smile, Ethan stares straight at your eyes. As if waiting for you to say something. You would have ask questions about his 'placards ' if not for the sudden interest he was displaying in you, which, instead, made you change subject without really noticing it. A nervous laugh escaping you.

-Why are you looking at me like that ? Is there an undertone ? Am I supposed to understand something ?"

He shakes his head negatively, displaying a small mischievous smile. He could be such a goblin at times ! Wanting to make him swallow his pride, you lean towards him and kiss his lips. Ethan smiles and moves his lips with yours.

Your arm set down on his waist and soon the kiss get heated. Ethan's body is burning, his breath is too. You don't let each other breath, as soon as you separate from each other, you plunge back in. Physically needing the contact.

You rise on your knee, arching your back to kiss him still laying flat on the bed. Soon, he joins you by rising as well. Both of you on your knees, face to face, eating each other's face. Ethan's hand are mahandling you to sit on his thights. Then, with his surprising strenght, he starts sliding you on them. Your heating pussy rubbing directly on the fabric of his pant. Your hand instinctivly goes to rub the growing tent in his trousers. The area was hot, when you slide your fingers on it, it would budge.

Ethan whimpers, thrusting his hips against yours. You straddle him completly, framing his his body with your legs. You rub his tent against your clit for some frictions. It was aching and growing more desperate by seconds.

"I... I wanna have sex with you." Ethan says softly.

You kiss his cheek, going for his neck. You answer with a meek 'me too' before sucking the skin of his neck. Ethan backs his head, already out of breath. He gives you full access to his body, still rutting desperatly his hips into yours.

But you were growing impatient. You lift your body from him, making him whine at the contact loss, before sliding your fingers behind the elastic of his pants. You slip it down to his knees before you start salivating at the sight of his hard cock already drooling for you.

He didn't have any underwear. That's why you could feel him so close to your core.

Your hand touch his thight, caressing gently his body. Making sure to avoid the area he need you the most. Ethan try to touch himself, tired of your teasing, but you slap his hand away. He whines and looks up at you with teary eyes. Silently begging you to do something. It was impossible for you to resist him.

Your hand grabs his cock in one motion, you could feel it pulse and its warmth propagate in your hand. It was already so so wet because of all his precum, your hand was sliding so easily you could have thought he came multiple times already. Gently, you start to move your hand on all its lenght slowly. The boy props himself on his elbows and look at the scene before him. Ethan sighs happily, eyes closing and head backing. He's in heaven, he thinks. But not entirely, as he looks at you still clothed.

"Want to... Want to finger you..." he pleas.

In front of a boy so desperate, and being incredibly horny, you slide your pant down, making sure your underwear went with it. Ethan lose every one of his braincells when he sees your bare pussy glistening with your love juice. He wanted to lick it bad. That's the only one fanstam he ever had that help him getting off so hard he can't move for a whole minute. He wants to drown himself in your juice. But you have others projects.

You guide his pointer finger to your lips. Ethan starts caressing it and smear your juice everywhere. His lift up another finger and start passing both of them on your lips.

"Here, you have to touch here." you say, pointing to your clit.

You move briefly to bring your genitals closer. You could feel each other's warmth emanating from your core. Seeing him try to touch you was so hot. He was listening to everything you said.

Soon getting the hang of it, he starts circling your clit, applying different pressure on it to see which one were you reacting the most to. Slowly, you quicken your pace on his hard cock. As if to reward him for being such a good boy. He was in a trance, eyes closing and opening. And when they opened, they were staring with a utmost care at your moving breast throught your shirt. Your nipples were hard and were poking through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to it. Understanding his want, you lift your shirt above your collarbone with your free hand. Ethan can't seem to take off his eyes of you. They're probably the first pair of breasts he sees in real life after all.

"Fuck... You're so pretty, love." you speed up on his shaft at his praise. "Fuck, fuck...

-You can touch baby.

-I can?"

He stops all movements to your pussy, your frown but let him discover his needs. It was his first time, you needed to let him have a little fun. His free hand touch one of your breast, massaging it then weighten it in the palm of his hand. He smiles like an idiot, an idiot so cute you let him do what he wants with you. His other, wet, hand pinch lightly your sensitive bud.

Your free hand slap his arm to make him understand he did it too hard. He sends you an apologatic smile.

"They're like stress ball."

Amused by the weird comparison, your chuckle. Still impatient to come, you guide your hand higher on his cock to caress his tip and rub it. His face contorts in pleasure, browns frows and mouth ajar. His forehead fall on your shoulder while his fingers go back down near your entrance. His hips were thrusting into nothing but your hand. Obscene wet noises were resulted. You were hot, terrribly hot but so was he.

Ethan's small puff of breath sends chill in your body. His whimpers couldn't be replaced with anyone else. Your hand was all wet and sticky, as was his. Ethan decides to enter once again two of his digits in you. Your head falls back and you sigh happily at finally scratching that itch in you.

"Curl your fingers, E." you whisper.

He hums and do as told. Curling his fingers in you, he starts to thrust them in and out at a slow pace, adopting the same sensuality you used to jerk him off. You accelerate, your hand no longer lingering on the entire shaft. Sometimes, you'd stop completly to hear him whine. Your thumb caressing his cock's veins.

"Baby please..." he pleas.

Ethan starts kissing sloppily your shoulder, your neck. You, on the other hand, take his hand to guide the thrust of his fingers, angling them correctly for them to touch that spongy spot inside. His fingers were long and thin, that was a part of him you absolutly loved. You always had a thing for pretty hands and his were beautiful.

"What do you want, love? you ask tenderly.

-Tell me you love me..."

You nudge his hair with your nose and he looks up. Staring at his eyes, you see them wet with tears. You kiss him instantly. Playing with his tongue with yours, your hand moving faster and faster. You stop the kiss to tell him you love him and he bites his lips, eyes closing.

His breath is jerky, uneven. You press his palm against your clit, rubbing it while you push his fingers inside you again. You feel a knot tighten. You won't last long.

"Tell me you love me.

-I love you E, you're doing so good.

-Again..."

You said it as many times as he needed to feel better. His hips stuttters, his cock quivers. His words are slurred to each other, resulting in incomprehensible blabbering. You don't lose the rythm, keeping the same pace until he'd eventually come.

-Love you so..." he whines.

His body tense, his breath stops. You can only hear the wet sounds your hand is producing. He doesn't utter a sound until spurts of cum smear on your hand and belly. Feeling at ease, he moans a last time from relief and breath again.

You're not far behind. Ethan being pratically knocked out, you grind on his hand. You close your thighs around it, ensuring it stay inside. Your legs are shaking, wave of hot and cold invade you. You plunge his fingers inside but, to your surprise, Ethan regains control and start pounding into you to get you to your end.

He kisses your neck while you finally come on his fingers, sweaty and disvesheled. You swear one last time when he withdraws his fingers. You stay here for a while, just hugging , breathing and basking in each other's presence.

After some minutes, you decide to go shower together. You end up finally getting a good night of sleep, cuddled in his strong arms.

The next day, Ethan and you had a stupid satisfied smile on your face. Both happy to be here. You kissed and confessed your love to each other all morning until eventually he had to leave for work. Sadly, you had things to do, too. Ethan offered you to stay and sleep here for a few nights because he wanted to stay close to you.

You liked this idea. Of course you liked it, you love Ethan. And to convince you further, he told you his roomate wouldn't mind. So naturally you accepted. You were embarassed at the idea of bothering his roomate but you decided you would just sleep here, and the day, you'd let the apartment free. It was his too, after all. Not only Ethan's. There is no way you'd let someone feel excluded in their own house.

Grabbing your phone, you click on your friend's number. You call her, the ringing echoes three times and no one answer. Somehow begrudgingly, you resume yourself at simply sending a text. Just for you to instantly forgetting your sorrow as she answers. The discussion was quite simple, she was telling you she was at her grandma right now. She was bored and wanted to know how you were doing.

'I'm going back to my dear haunted apartment, probably gonna die. Wish me luck.' you texted. She put a little more time answering this one. It's possible it triggered something in her. After everything she endured. 'nobody will hurt you as long as i'm alive' she said. She simply changed subjects after that. Asking you about the cute guy you told her about in the letters. And so you explained everything. Every time you tried to offer to call her, she'd decline. You were still sad she didn't want to talk to you but you were telling yourself you needed to be patient.

On a happier note, you decided to leave the place to go to your own apartment.

To one point, you should have known better than be too happy about your improving situation. Of course, it was well too soon for you to consider everything better. But you were probably stupid because the fall hit you much harder than you could've prepared yourself for. Oh, the pain you felt when reality had finally caught you. You thought you were going to die when you came back home to simply grab some clothes. (Ethan told you to do so.)

Your door was ajar. But it wasn't your doing. No, of course it wasn't you. Your apartement terrified you, why would you come here more ofthen than needed ? You felt your body freeze but you quickly overcame the feeling. That's it. You needed it to end. This fucking stalker had ruined you. You and your life. You sent a text to Ethan, telling him that if you do not call him after twenty minutes, he needed to call the cops. He didn't answer. He was at work. It was well past eleven by now.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to collapse on the ground, and you with it. Slowly, aware of every sound around you, you push the door. Your livingroom was as messy as you had left it. At one difference, the wall. Every frame you had put up on the walls were thrown away. Most of them on the ground and broken, with shattered glasses everywhere.

Why would the creep empty the walls ? To write on it. Of course they would write on it. You laugh bitterly for yourself. You couldn't see their stupids fucking signs anymore, so they had to improve. To force you to read their creepy obsessive text. You hear the crushing of a broken piece of glass, as if someone had stepped on it. But it wasn't you.

You're on alert. Every one of your senses on crisis. Was your mind playing tricks on you ? It was possible in this hellish house who did nothing but give you nightmares recently. You don't realize how you stopped breathing. Only calming when three long minutes had gone without another sound to be heard.

Nothing is here. You're alone, you think. Everything is good. You'll just grab your stuff and leave. Regaining your breath, you bring your attention back on the wall. Words were written on it in deep crimson red. Is that blood ? No, it can't be. Probably paint to give a creepy look that'll catch your attention. You approach the wall to better understand the message.

'She's not here anymore'

The need to throw up almost won. A dark feeling in your guts was telling you 'she' was your friend. But you didn't know. She responded to you, after all. You talked to her. So she had to be okay. She had to. You put your hand on your belly to soothe that want to vomit. You take big breath before finally leaving the livingroom. You quickly make your way to your room where you meet your bare bed. Where are your sheets ? What the hell ? But you don't want to stay longer so you throw clothes in your bag in a hurry.

The front door slam shut. And you know it's the end.

You already feel the tears drowning your sight. Trying to stay silent, you hide in your closet almost empty with how many times you came here to grab clothes. Your hand clasp against your mouth to avoid doing any noise.

Slow footsteps can be heard in the empty apartment. With your shaky hands, you fail to unlock your phone. Your vision is blurry, you can't touch the correct keys. The worst is that you can't see where the creep is. If they stay silent, they can enter the room you're in without you even noticing. And this idea is horrifying. But on another side, you'd preferred them to kill you by surprise so you don't have to affront them.

Your cries intensify, in your despair, you drop your phone straight on the ground. The footsteps stops abrutly. Three distincts knocks are echoing on the corridor's wall. They are coming toward you. You're fucked. They're coming ! What do you do ? What did you do ? Why is this happening ?

Kneeling like you could in the closed space, you reach your hand to grab your phone. As soon as your finger grazes it, the phone vibrate and your ringtone start playing for the whole building to hear. No, no, no, no, no ! Ethan. Ethan is calling you. You pick up despite everything but as soon as you do so, the call is cut short. Fuck E, why would you do that !

The criminal's footsteps are louder, quicker, heavier. They're running. They're running here ! You hold the closet door shut with your both hands, praying for your life. You only have knives in your kitchen, but it's too late now. If you go out, they'll see you. You realized at that moment that whatever you were doing, you couldn't win. That you never even stood a chance against them.

Everything was illusion.

Nothing was improving, you knew it, in fact. You were lying to yourself, searching comfort in a man that don't even understand the dept of the problem. Of your problem. And your friend ? You don't want to talk about her. You don't want to open your eyes just yet. You just want to live in your nice little lies you made up for yourself. You're nice with them, in fact, you like them. Nobody wanted to help you anyway. They could have saved you, you and her, but nobody listened.

Now, it's too late.

The closet start to shake. Widening your eyes, you realize that the creep had start to punch it with their bare fist. You don't give a fuck about being heard anymore, you're bailing your eyes out. Begging for them to let you go, screaming, yelling, calling for help. Holding the door for dear life as if it was going to save you, because in your head it was. But the door didn't last long.

A hole is quickly created in the door. You thought you'd see someone's face, wether it be a man, a woman, whatever. But you saw a white plastic mask instead.

Ghostface.

Why was a damn Ghostface chasing after you? Was it all a sick joke from the start ? You swear you were seeing his eyes boring into yours through the mask. You swore you already saw them somewhere. Ghostface tilts their face to the side, as if mocking you. They were telling you that you were stuck, that it was the end. You hoped they'd kill you.

You couldn't live like this anymore.

In the hole of the closet, Ghostface pass his gloved hand. The latter lay on your shaky face, on your cheek to be exact. You feel the fabric against your skin and think of biting his fingers off. No, you'll angry him. If he's going to kill you, that it be in the least painful way.

"Ethan, right ? Does he treat you so well you forgot about me?" his changed voice said. A weird and creepy robotic voice, one you knew you'd never forget.

You were moving your head left to right. You didn't know why. Probably to tell you didn't want to die, probably to avoid looking into his eyes. He laughs, sounding like a rumbling.

"Ending things right now would be such a waste."

No ! You thought you were finally free ! Why would he chases you down for so long without acting on it !? His gloved hand retract and the door slowly open in an acute creaking. The man is finally revealed before you. He was wearing the whole outfit, the big black robe and the hood.

"It was fun. I give you a gift to reward you for these beautiful screams."

And the knife.

He had a knife in hand. And it was tinged red. Something in you told you it was her. Suddenly, the red writings on your wall had a different meaning.

"I hope you like it, I woked extra hard for it."

Out of nowhere, Ghostface takes your hand, force it open, and lay in it something before forcing it closed. He laughs deeply. One of his hand pat your head mockingly before moving up.

"See you later." he said, swinging his knife in a playful manner.

You were absolutely paralyzed. You didn't know what happened. You stayed up without moving for whoever say how long. When your legs finally stopped shaking, you decided to look what the killer had gave you. Slowly opening your hand, your knee buckle and you fall to the ground crying silently at the sight of a nip of your friend's hair.

You curled up on yourself before completly laying down on the ground, tightening the hairs in your hand close to your heart. She was not here anymore. You wanted to fucking die.

Ever since, Ethan was forgotten. He had tried to call you so many times you had blocked his number. You spent the rest of the day crying in your hotel's room. You resented him. So hard. He didn't answer, he was the one calling and giving your position to a fucking criminal, to a murderer! And he didn't answer. He didn't help, like everyone else.

One day later, neighbors complained about a smell coming from an apartment. You didn't cry when they found your friend's dead body. You didn't cry when cops came to interrogate you. The caretaker having told them about you. Your eyes contained so much hatred in them when looking at him the cops had to let him leave to get him away from you. You didn't cry telling the cops how many times you went to see them to ask for help, nor how many times did they reject you. You didn't cry when they told you she was dead for at least a week, and that her boyfriend was missing. You had no tears left in you. It had simply ended you.

All your lies, every single one of them, destroyed. But you needed them. Of course you weren't talking to her by text, you never did. And fuck, you don't even want to know who was answering instead of her. It was so obvious how she never wanted to call, how she was never leaving her house. But the eye you saw at the peephole. The fucking eye...

You don't want to think about it.

Ethan tried to talk to you. He went to your hotel and found you. You didn't bother to move this time as you were done with your life. He fell to his knee and started begging and crying for your forgivness. Did you even love him ? Or were you, are you, just lonely ? Unfortunately, you decided to forgot the anger you had against him when you realized he was the only thing you had. Your only support. The only one knowing you were a victim. You spent the days crying in his arms.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, love. It's okay." he reassured you, again.

It was a routine, now. You'd sleep the days away and when you'd wake up, you'd find yourself crying inconsolably. Everything was your fault, you kept repeating in your head. She's fucking dead because of you.

You wanted to end it all but Ethan wanted you alive at every cost. He was brushing your hair, feeding, washing and changing you. You were a lifeless doll. Sometimes, his roomate would come and talk to you. Most of the times, you don't even realize he's talking to you, too lost in your thought to proceed his presence.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Ethan hugs you firmly. Kissing your hairline. His t-shirt was damped. Your eyes were burning. Every time you closed them, the picture of your friend would come and haunt you, a new nightmare coming. You weren't able to think about something else anymore. But it was your fault. You put her in danger, you got her killed. It was you Ghostface wanted, not her. You got her killed.

"I want to leave..." you whispered in a voice so hoarse, so weak, it didn't sound like yours. His hand goes on the back of your head to pull you towards him.

"No, no my love. It's okay. I'll protect you. You won't be alone anymore." his leg goes over yours and crushes them to prevents you from moving.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone in your life ? No, he was here all along. He was watching you all along. You never were truly alone. He had your adress, your friend's adress, your number and even Ethan's name. No, he's always here. Lurking.

"Just... Stay with me, I'll protect you. Please, don't leave me." he begs.

He looked calm, surprisingly calm being given the situation. But you needed it, in a way. If he doesn't freak out, you don't need to. (you coudn't, even if you wanted to) He probably know what to do. It was too late for you but he could do something. Maybe. His behaviour was slightly comforting. It was dangerous, mostly for him. He probably didn't even know what he was doing, he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into, in fact.

But once, just for once, you wanted to be helped. You wanted someone to listen to your pleas. He was going to die, it was a fact. And yeah, maybe you were selfish, you were condamning him after all.

"I feel like I'm using you. Like I manipulated you. you say, mostly for your own conscience than for his safety.

-Use me, love. I don't care. Manipulate me, whatever. I swore I'd help you. And if I have to risk my life doing it, I'll do it. I love you. You don't know the things I'd do for you.

-Now, you're the one manipulating me...

It was true. He was forcing you to think you had a chance in getting out of this situation when you knew there were none.

-Oh baby, you have no idea how manipulative I can be to obtain what I want.

-If you say so." you whisper, drifting to sleep once again, knowing you'd wake up hours later in the same position, in the same problem and knowing you killed your friend.