The conference room is bursting with activity so early in the morning, packed like sardines now with new KorTac friends. It's meant to be an indefinite stay, the one-four-one allying with a handful of KorTac mercenaries. It had been a few weeks now, and they had proven themselves quickly, powerful allies both in the field and behind closed doors. No one had any reason to object the new additions thus far.
Price had chosen well, taking your suggestions on his pickings much to your pleasure. Years ago, before your own recruitment into the task force, you had spent a few months as a freelance medic under the French Parliament. You had worked closely then with a few squadrons in your time, but mostly under their Colonel before Price had hand picked you for the one-four-one.
You recall greeting the quiet Colonel with open arms on the helipad, a long overdue reunion. Price hadn't questioned your eagerness for the Colonel when you volunteered him, assuming naturally from your time freelance that you harbored some lasting bonds. Little did your captain know until after your input, how deep you bond truly ran with the Colonel.
Now, arms laden with a precarious tower of hot to go cups, you bustle towards that busy conference room. You were running late this morning, held up in the med-bay with an injury that was too stubborn to heal properly on a newer recruit.
Unaware of the conversation behind the thick wooden doors before you, and too focused on your leaning tower of caffeine to listen in, you kick open the door none the wiser to the towering Colonel's paper thin patience. You call into the room cheerfully, “Hello! Bonjour soldiers! Another beautiful day today, yes?”
A cacophony of laughter greets you, filling your ears and cementing you in the doorway. The door falls against you with a soft thud, though you hardly register the feeling of the stacked cups shifting precariously in your arms. Even Ghost is laughing, you notice, balaclava puffing with each quiet chuckle.
"Oh?" You breathe, lost for words with the sheer absurdity of the moment. Something had happened, something said that you had just barely missed. König, with his back to you just a heartbeat before, now stares at you in horror. You don't need to see his full face to notice, and you stare back just as shocked and confused as the laughter continues to swell in the room. Soap wheezes, folded over his propped knee.
Crossing the conference room in three swift strides, König is at your side, shock still prevalent in the dilation of his pupils. Tilting your head up to meet him, your greeting comes out more like a question than a fond hello.
“Bonjour, mon ange de la mort.” Had you done something? Had you put yourself at the butt of some shitty joke? Had you somehow ruined a moment that you couldn't possibly have prepared for?
"Hello-" König clears his throat, trying to cover the straining nerves in his voice. “Vögelchen. Guten morgen.”
His accent had faded a bit throughout the years, though it always came back more prevalent when his nerves got the best of him. You had teased him over the years, whenever you found a moment when your time zones lined up for a phone call, that he was speaking too much English. That you could tell when something was on his mind in the way his accent betrayed him.
He really was nervous. What in the hell happened before you got there?
Brushing against you, König takes the brunt of the door away from your shoulders, one hand hovering beside the tower of drinks stacked in your arms. He ushers you fully into the room with his other hand pressed gently against the small of your spine.
Your questions remaining unanswered, König hovers cautiously over your shoulder all the way to the head of the conference table. You dont miss the slicing stares he throws about the room as he all but curls around you. He had always been careful to remind himself of your size difference, but now the endearment only made more questions buzz through your mind.
“I brought coffee…” You offer, the laughter finally dying away. “And tea, of course, just how you like it, LT.”
“Much obliged.” Ghost grunts his thanks, his tone back to the level coolness you were familiar with. You attempt to catch the colonel’s eyes with each drink you pass, to no luck. You feel it boring into the back of your neck when you turn away, but darting away to glare at someone else the moment you turn to him.
“Are you lot well and done?” Price barks, brusquely marching through the conference room to take his place at the head of the table, without so much as a proper hello. He accepts the coffee set in his spot with a nod and quickly delves into the debriefing as the task force starts to take their seats.
With each drink now with their respective soldier, you find yourself settling between the visibly tense König and Gaz as Price drones on about this new case load. The report had already been brought to your desk the night before, König as well, and the two of you had studied up the night before in your office.
You wonder suddenly if something had been said: if the usually daunting and terrifying colonel had been caught creeping from your room in the early hours of the morning. If they had seen through the façade of his late night escape and decided to grill your lover like a group of school girls afterwards.
It was none of their business, and you find yourself rolling your eyes at the childish antics these adult men seemed to still hold so dearly to themselves. However, you still silently hope that nobody had been awake late enough to hear what you had done after the two of you overviewed today's mission. It had been many months since you two had seen one another, felt another. You weren't going to waste any spare moment you had together.
You half listen as Price catches the rest of the task force up to speed, trying to shoo the memories away from showing across your cheeks.
+++
“You never filled me in on the gossip this morning, Colonel.” Dropping the load of bags at your feet, you let your hands rest on your hips. Busy preparing his own gear, with the helicopter's blades slicing through the air as it rumbles to life, you worry that König hadn't heard you.
König flashes you a glance. You watch him pointedly, going as far as to dramatically cross your arms and tap your foot against the asphalt as you wait. He had kept as much distance as possible from you after the debriefing, and even now he takes his sweet time adjusting and readjusting each of his straps before looking in your direction again.
Like hell if you were going to let him get away from this without explaining.
"König."
“Oh.. that. Yes, of course..”
Stepping over your dropped cargo, you plant yourself as close to König as possible, practically stepping on the toes of his boots. You press a hand gently to his sternum, and follow his eyes as they trace up from your wrist over your chest, neck, and face, but never quite reaching your eyes.
"Need I remind you, schnecke, that I will be the one tending to your wounds, should you get any? Do you really want to avoid me?"
“No Vogelchen..” He sighs, his eyes dark and squinting against the wind whipping around the two of you. “I might… fuck... ich hätte vielleicht scherzhaft gedroht, die nächste person, die ich sah, zu schlagen, und diese person warst du.”
It takes a moment for your brain to unscramble the translation, but you can't stop the dumb smile from creeping across your cheeks as it comes to you. You laugh, clutching at your sides as the laughter pulses through you. König watches you warily, unsure if he was in the clear now or not.
“Mon ange,” You chuckle warmly, setting a hand over his heart. With you other you cup his chin, guiding his face to align with yours. All of this anxiety and confusion for a poorly timed joke. You feel the tension ebb away under your touch.
"You wouldn't dare," You add cheekily, dragging his face closer. His eyes glitter with a smile you know lies hidden beneath his mask as he bends to rest the crest of his helmet against your forehead. You stand there for many moments, lost in the beat of the helicopter blades and each other.
When he straightens, König stands a little bit taller now that the tension had dissolved between you. Brushing a gloved thumb over your lips, you relish in the faux kiss and smile.
Beyond the sculpted bulk of König's arm, as you lean to retrieve your supplies, you catch Gaz in the distance passing what you can only assume is cold hard cash over to Soap, who celebrates excitedly. You rolls your eyes, the hope you had at keeping your relationship under wraps now gone with the wind.
You make a mental note to beat Soap's ass after you return from this takedown, even more so as he feigns innocent confusion as you and König close the distance.
“Bonne chance, mon amour. Être bien.”
Translations:
Bonjour, mon ange de la mort - Good morning, my angel of death
Vögelchen. Guten morgen - Little bird. Good morning.
Schnecke - Snail (a term of endearment for a loved one, usually reminding them to come out their shell)
Ich hätte vielleicht scherzhaft gedroht, die nächste person, die ich sah, zu schlagen, und diese person warst du. - I might have jokingly threatened to beat the next person i saw and that person was you
Mon ange - my angel
Bonne chance, mon amour. Être bien. - Good luck my love, be well
im so sorry if google translate did me dirty with any of these translations, a girl is trying her hardest out here.
Description: reader is from France and lived there until he was 11/12 and then moved to america and his first language is french. He also has a little bit of an accent. Basically reader is new to the team and it is their first late night back home on the jet with him. And basically they learn that when hes tired he reverts back to his mother tongue.
CW: possible swearing, I can't think of anything else
A/N: I'm thinking of making a series about this, like just funny scenarios related to the reader being French, if y'all have any ideas let me know! Also reader is gonna be loosely based off me when im rly tired cus i get kinda giggly/floppy/goofy. ( also sry it's short)
French, translation
3rd person POV:
after a hard, and long case the team was very ready to go home. They had found a 9 yr old girl and rescued her from a man holding her in his basement to torture her. And even though it took the profilers almost 3 full days with almost no sleep to find her. To say they were tired was understatement. It was almost 2 am when they trudged onto the plane, all tired physically and emotionally. Y/N was the last on the plane and decided to take the couch to get some sleep. Just as he was sitting down Reid plopped down next to him. (Y/N and Reid liked to sit next to each other so they could read together)
“Désolé reid, je veux lire avec toi, mais je suis trop fatigué pour ça” (sorry reid, i wanna read with you but im too tired for that) you said to him, slightly slurring your words. “Huh?” Spencer looked up at you with a small crease between his eyebrows. The switch in language caught the rest the rest of the team off guard as well (evidently by the looks on their faces) you peered at them just as perplexed and asked “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” (Whats wrong?).
“Dont worry guys I’ll talk to him” said spencer with a little giggle at his new friends antics. Morgan gave spencer a little knowing look and eyebrow wiggle at his conversation with Y/N, despite having no idea what they were saying. “Mon biche, tu parle français maintenant, pas anglais.” (Darling, you’re speaking french right now, not english) says spencers with a small smile. a look of understanding dawned your features and you said “je suis?! Oh c'est pas grave, Oh, tu n'as besoin que de me comprendre de toute façon.” (I am?! Thats okay, you’re the only one who needs to understand me anyways) you say with a wink ad a giggle. Spencers cheeks went red and emily gave him a questioning look. “Y/N, tu fais quoi?” (y/n, what are you doing?). you just gave him a mischievous look before putting your head on his shoulder and snuggling into him to fall asleep. The rest of the team got bored of making fun of the pair and began their own conversations or trying to sleep. But after a minute or two the team heard and hushed but strict “shhhhh!” coming from their resident genius. “You guys are so loud! hes asleep!” said spencer’s while he gestured vicariously to the sleeping figure drooped over his left side. “hush up pretty boy, your little boyfriend over theres out cold dont worry about it.” said derek with a teasing smile. spencers cheeks turned even more red than before if hat was even possible and started stuttering about the sleep man not being his boyfriend. “okay, okay, hes not your boyfriend,” said derek with his hands up in surrender after spencer kept spluttering on about y/n not being his boyfriend.
(small time skip)
As the plane landed people began packing up their things and getting ready to get off the plane. But y/n and Spencer had moved and when the team looked over they found the two agents passed out on top of each other and snoring lightly.
pairing; Chris sturniolo x fem!singer!french!character (doesn’t really matter the character is a singer or French it’s just mentioned once)
synopsis; Chris finds out his gf used to date one of their mutual friends and he has to make sure his gf prefers him
Authors note; this used to be a Nick fic but I thought that would flop so I made it a Chris one so I’m sorry if I didn’t fix it completely 😞
lowercase intended , not proof-read at all , x character , 940 words (my longest fic yet 😛)
"What’s an embarrassing crush story you have?”
Nick read the question from his phone. Him, his two brothers, Chris and Matt, and Chris’ girlfriend, Kassi, were answering questions from a q&a on instagram for a YouTube video.
“You know, I really think god put me on this earth to be a singer,”
Kassi started, but she was slightly interrupted by a fit of giggles from the triplets. She started again.
“Like when I was fourteen I wrote a series of poems for a boy I liked,”
The three boys whipped their heads around shocked at the boy.
“Wait, Who was it?”
“Did he like you back?”
Matt, the boy sitting in the drivers seat asked, interrupting Chris’ ‘who was it’ question, but Kassi seemed to ignore Matt’s.
“It was Carter,”
That answer surprised and slightly angered Chris, which was visible by the scrunch of his eyebrows. Carter was a friend of both of theirs, and Kassi was his girlfriend—neither of them had ever mentioned having had dated.
“Did he like you back?”
Matt repeated his question, still smiling from the shock and laughter he felt previously.
“…yeah,”
matt, nick, and Kassi irrupted into a fit of laughter, while Chris sat consumed in his own angry thoughts. once it died down, Chris began to speak.
“You never told me you dated Carter,”
“It never came up, and it doesn’t matter it was when we were like fourteen.”
Kassi chuckled again, justifying her action. Chris rolled his eyes and began to speak.
“Okay, usually when you date someone and you used to date one of their friends, you kind of have to tell them that,”
Chris said with sarcastic undertones.
“Okay, sorry? I didn’t think it was that serious it was for like three months when we were fourteen, babe.“
“Okay,okay! Let’s talk about something else— the next question is do you know any other languages?”
Nick, the boy in the back seat of the car interrupted the couple to brighten the mood.
“Okay well, three months is a long time to date someone and never tell anyone about it.”
Chris said while not looking at Kassi and sulking.
“Chris, are you serious? It was twelve weeks—“
“Kassi is French! Tell ‘em Kass,”
Matt mentions, as a second attempt to interrupt the couples argument but the car remains silent minus nicks stifled giggles.
“I’m barely French, my parents are American.”
The rest of the video was mildly awkward, Chris only entertaining conversations when Kassi wasn’t a part of them, and Nick and Matt became their own sense of comedy while Kassi and Chris sat miserably in in silence.
—
Kassi had to stay with the triplets as her friend, alex couldn’t pick her up until an hour—because he was busy. Kassi laid on Chris’ bed, scrolling on TikTok.
Chris walks in and sees Kassi on his bed and groans, but ignores her and walks over to his desk anyway.
“What, I’m not allowed to lay on my boyfriend’s bed because I slept with someone who wasn’t you?”
“You— you’re an idiot.”
Chris goes to ask what she meant by that, but he decides he doesn’t want to know and doesn’t want to speak to her. Kassi hops off Chris’ bed to confront him about the insult.
“Why are you so upset anyway? You usually let me call every man I see hot and sexy— why are you so mad I dated someone who wasn’t you?”
Chris looked down at Kassi and rolled his eyes for the thousandth time that night. He sighed and then began to explain.
“It’s just— Carter is so cool,”
“Not cooler than you.”
“Fuck off.”
Chris giggled at his girlfriend’s interruption. He started explaining again.
“Like he’s in college, he’s super good looking, and you’re super hot too and, I just feel like a downgrade. I already feel like when people see us together they’re like ‘what the hell is she doing with him’, so knowing you’ve dated that son of a bitch just makes that feeling worse.”
Chris felt his eyes well up with tears as Kassi grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in to a deep hug.
“Chris you’re so handsome, I would pick you over Carter a thousand times, even if I was a random person walking down the street. I love your eyes,”
Kassi pulled away and kissed nicks eye. Chris giggled and tried (not very hard because truly he didn’t want her to stop) to push her away.
“And I love you nose, and hair, and lips,”
Kassi began to kiss each of Chris’ features while Chris half-assed a plead for her to stop. She finally did (to Chris’ dismay) and they crawled to the head of Chris bed and held each other.
“Thank you baby, sorry I called you an idiot.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve been called worse.”
Chris chuckled. Kassi lifted her head from Chris’ chest and looked up at him through her eyelashes.
“God—you’re so pretty,”
“Thanks.”
Chris smiled and planted a deep kiss on Kassi’s lips.
Note; I could have asked a mute for translation but I wanted it to be more to a surprise! hehehehe
Imagine cuddling in bed with Noah and he just outta no where says
"ma jolie princesse" and it's while you're just snuggled into him and he's just stroking your back and kissing your head every now and then
"hein ? que viens-tu de dire?" he already knew what this one means!
So this sly man goes "J'ai dit, tu es ma belle, jolie, belle princesse"
You BLUSH, the next thing you know you're suddenly awake and you're straddling him and pinned his arms to the bed
"Uh babe?"
"J'espère que tu es prêt, parce que tu ne quitteras pas ce lit avant un moment"
"Uh, babe I don't know that one yet....why do you have that look in your eye???" he may have intended for this to happen but he didn't think it would happen so quickly.
hii idk if requests were open or not but i was wondering if you could possibly do slashers with a french s/o ??
Slashers with French S/O
Michael Myers
You were in America for a cousins wedding and you were staying in a local motel
Michael had not killed anyone in a week so he decided to go into the motel to make up for lost time
You were just coming out of the shower and you were covered with a towel when you walked into your room and found a random man in you room
Cue angry French sounds
“qu'est-ce que tu fous tu ne peux pas être ici imbécile” (what are you doing in here you can’t be in here you fool)
He was intrigued but found himself annoyed when you shoved him outside of the room and locked the door yet he could still hear you yelling
You come back in clothes and in attempt to get an apology but Michael just picks you up and takes you back the Myers house
And that kids is how I met your mother
You started dating after a while and you drive him insane
Whenever your in an argument you shout at him in French which he obviously can’t understand so he just walks out the door
Does find it funny when you mistake an English word for French
Bo Sinclair
You were touring America with a group of other French people
When you reached Ambrose Bo saw you all as sitting ducks so he offered to give you a tour
He made comments about how the French should “speak a less confusing language” to which you responded
“les américains stupides pensent toujours qu'ils savent mieux que les gens de notre pays” (stupid Americans think they know better than the people actually from our country)
He didn’t understand what you said but judging from the others laughs he knew it wasn’t good
So when he kills off the rest of your group he gives you the excuse that they left you in Ambrose
You both eventually grow closer after a lot of arguments so he decided to keep you around for a while
While dating him you try and teach him some French but it turned out like in friends when phoebe tries to teach joey French
He won’t admit it but he actually enjoys watching the French romances you out on, with subtitles obviously
Vincent Sinclair
You were an art major and you wanted to explore America and see all of its art
When you reach the house of wax Vincent is watching you and when you meet him you say one thing to him
“êtes-vous l'artiste? tes figures de cire sont une oeuvre d'art” (are you the artist? Your wax figures are a work of art)
You quickly repeat in English and he blushes under his mask
You quickly bond over your love of art
When he finds out you paint as well it becomes the hobby you do together
Your art is displayed in the house of wax no matter if it’s amazing or terrible
After you start dating he makes a figure that looks exactly like a girl you saw come into the town a few days ago so you wanted Vincent to make a figure of you as well
He quickly refused and just told you that he doesn’t want to insult you if the works bad, definitely not because the process would put you in extreme pain and kill you
Thomas Hewitt
Your car broke down in front of the Hewitts home so you knocked on the door and asked for help
Luda may was already charmed by your accent and called it “beautiful”
When you met Thomas Luda may asked to say something in French to him
So you said
“tu es très beau et fort” (you are very handsome and strong)
When you explain what you said to Luda may she’s practically planning the wedding
You spend the night with the Hewitts and you and Thomas quickly bond
He adores when you cook food from you country for the family dinners
Granted he’ll never tell you what kind of meat is in the freezer
Asa Emory
He was your college professor after you moved to America to get a better education in your chosen field
There was a small language barrier between you and your classmates which always left you feeling isolated
But asa actually spoke French so you saw him as your escape
His need to take you stemmed from one thing you said to him
“au moins les rumeurs sont vraies sur l'Amérique. tous les professeurs sont beaux” (al least the rumours about America are true. All the teachers are handsome)
This prompted asa to take you, not to torture you but to treat you like pet
You develop Stockholm syndrome pretty quickly after you already trusted the man
He tries to teach you more English but understands if you feel more comfortable speaking in French
Tiffany valentine
You had met while Tiffany was in doll form, she was accidentally shipped to France because she resembles an old doll brand
You bought her at the antique store and she quickly became obsessed with you
So when she snuck off and transferred her soul into Jennifer tillys body she quickly returned for you
She asked you on a date and you excepted
She resembled a doll you had lost so you called her “ma petite poupée” (my little dolly)
She would adore if you baked for her and made traditional French dishes for here
You show her French fashion and teach her some French so she understands basic phrases and some swear words
She even moves to France to be with you and wants to get to know the French lifestyle a lot more
Hopefully that ginger doll fucker won’t find her in France
Jason voorhees
You had gotten lost when you were looking for a different campsite but ended up at Jason’s
He was going to originally kill you off but after hearing your accent he would remember those French films his mother would watch and you brought some nostalgia back for him
But when you said this phrase that’s when he fell in love with you
“ce camping est très beau comme vous” (this campsite is very beautiful just like you)
He loves listening to you talk, even if he can’t understand it
He just finds your voice and accent so soothing for him and he will sit there for hours on end reacting to a story he doesn’t actually understand
Baby firefly
You met when you were studying abroad, you were studying American fashion and origins of traditional wear
She found you in some seedy bar and the first thing you said to her was
“Es-tu un ange” (are you an angel)
You found her stunning and she found you to be the most intoxicating sound in the world
She took you on a date and you quickly bonded over your love for fashion
She wants to know everything about French fashion and asks you every question in the book
She’ll sometimes use phrases you’ve said to drive Otis up the wall
Otis driftwood
You met in a run down bar after you were thrown out for being “too aggressive”
You weren’t being aggressive the bar owner just didn’t like that you were French
Otis thought you would be an easy victim so he started talking to you
You said to him “éloigne toi sale pervers” (get away you dirty pervert)
He kidnaps you but you quickly fall head over heels for each other after a heavy make out session that came from an aggressive argument
Want to drive him crazy in bed? Start speaking French he finds it so sexy
Any other scenario it just annoys him
You would constantly swear at him in French
This and your asthma earned you the nickname “my French bulldog) which he only gave you to piss you off
❦ 1/8
☙ tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, abuse, broken families, 18+, minors DNI ❧
When reader moves to Hawkins from a small town in France after having been kicked out to live with their extended family, they lean on unhealthy coping skills. Rumours spread quickly and soon they are known as the town harlot, sleeping around to deal with their unfortunate circumstances.The Prowler, Eddie Munson, always around in some capacity, doesn't bat an eye at what people are saying, after all, he is the devil incarnate himself....[Based on Iron Maiden's self titled album]
Chapter One: The Prowler
“They’ll charge you a fiver for the main course, but you might even get some for free!” The roar of laughter drowned your thoughts, pressure filling your ears as you tried to ignore the sea of teenagers pointing their fingers at nobody else but you.
❦
The muddy boot connected with your trailer door, a sepulchral thunk echoing through the room amidst the rhythmic plunks of the pouring rain against the tin roof. It couldn’t be anybody but the Prowler. You’d spotted his head of hair in the halls of the hellhole that was known as Hawkins High. As much as you loather to admit it, he was quite the attractive character, but you couldn’t allow yourself those thoughts or feelings, no, it was best not to have them.
❦
The cruel smoke wafted from the cigarette that hung between their lips, a sigh of ecstasy, a moment of relief. Their « fix » having just left, leaving them in a ratty shirt, panties bunched on the floor of the trailer, and the ashtray on the floor. To say that the sex was anything but atrocious would have been a lie, but it was a coping strategy and one that was hard to give up. Sure cigarettes took the edge off, but they didn’t make you feel wanted and warm the way a body might, and that’s exactly the way in which (y/n) coped. Cigarettes, booze, and sex. In these moments of deep frustration, (y/n) ran a hand through their shock of dyed hair as they exhaled the poison, silently wishing the cancer sticks they smoked were menthols instead.
Not even a month passed and rumours of (y/n)’s afterschool activities were flying, and accusations were thrown left and right. Of course, only half of them were true. What was this cunning yet elusive figure from hell doing in such a dump as Hawkins? To be honest, there wasn’t an answer to be given, not even one that could have used to try to justify this choice to themselves. They might as well have tossed a dart at a map with their eyes closed, but they didn’t. It was actually more like extended family that did. After (y/n)’s ridiculously haute classe parents kicked them out to go abroad and live with their impoverished uncle, they didn’t really have much of a choice, however; there was a charm to the quietude the town provided in comparison to the rowdy home. Even despite proving to be a rumour mill, there was rare peace that settled upon the town which provided a becoming charm.
Fucking bastard, (Y/N) internally hissed before pushing themselves off of the creaky bed. Coincidentally, that same thought blew through the head of someone a few doors down from their trailer.
“Fucking bastard ,” Eddie gritted through his teeth as he tried to bandage the cut on his forearm, cooly dangling a cigarette from his lips. He worked away at bandaging himself up, the sting of the antiseptic solution burning his fresh wound. The poor man hadn’t had much luck, not just with his grades, but with being considered anything close to remotely human. Eddie “The Freak” Munson they all called him and just about anyone sane knew that he didn’t deserve it, but he was, of course, a metalhead, a Dungeon Master, in the middle of the oh-so-incredible “Satanic Panic”. Naming his club Hellfire sure didn’t feel like the smartest of moves at the moment. If he were honest with himself, it was huge reasoning for the big red target on his chest, and no, not just the snarling demon that adorned his old shirt.
After bandaging himself up, Eddie threw himself onto the bed, finishing up his cigarette and exhaling out the cancerous cloud, the very same that surrounded (y/n) in their trailer a few doors down.
Hawkins High, the hellhole, the place where all souls go to die… The place where after nights of debauchery rumours would spread like a wildfire in a drought. To say the stories and tall tales of (y/n)’s extracurricular didn’t get around was a lie, after all, it was of their own volition that they decided to bed the popular kid but this wasn’t to be expected. The rumours started as soon as they had stepped foot through the door. Some were gracious such as being a freak like that Munson kid, others were downright cruel, the most nefarious being that you were a harlot. To say that was definitely over the line, and it wasn’t like (y/n) solicited sex or anything, but being such a cherry bomb, it made it easy to get what they wanted and when they wanted it. How were they supposed to know that it would end in that prick spreading false accusations of solicitation? (Y/n) found themselves grinding their teeth together. If living in a small town in France had taught them anything, is that being an eyesore, a femme presenting person, who didn’t fit in in the least, put a target on their back, and it looked like it did about the same thing in Hawkins, Indiana. Well, all except for one person.
Eddie Munson, The Prowler, caught (y/n)’s attention on day one. Sharp canines, addictive smile, stupid fucking I don’t give a shit attitude, yeah, just their type, but this is what they aimed to avoid A person they were genuinely interested in? What could possibly go fucking wrong? They didn’t send (y/n) to Hawkins to fall in love with some metal head, Hawkins was supposed to be a punishment and not the place they found true love. Love, what even the fuck was love but an emotion that brought weakness? (Y/n) shook their head before sticking their headphones in and turning up their music as loud as the walkman would allow them to. Love was a weakness, there was more comfort in a fleeting moment than in an emotion that wields the power to rip the happiness from your heart and leave a black hole in its place, sucking all light into it.
When was this god-forsaken day to be over?
❦
The tangled bodies, the sweat, and the moans filled the tiny trailer.
“Fuck yeah baby, oh yes, yes, yes!” The man groaned out as (y/n) lay mostly still. It was almost a nightly ritual at this point. The man, or woman, would buy the booze, (y/n) would take them back to theirs, offer the smokes, and then put on their dominatrix act, but that didn’t always last long. Men liked to take control, tug and yank at their hair, liked to assert dominance over “the whore”. That’s what they were right? Nothing but a cheap whore for a night of fun. Sometimes men would throw in a fiver because they genuinely believed that’s what the agreement was, other times there wasn’t even so much as a goodbye. The nicest person by far had been a man who was clearly trying to have his first time but backed out after (y/n) talked him out of it.
“What are you doing fucking a nobody for the first time? Don’t you want it to be with someone you love?”
“ I don’t know that anybody would love me.”
“ That’s bullshit, look at you. You didn’t try to pay me, you treated me like a human, bought me flowers, whole nine yards, for what? A lay?” They scoffed. “Come on, I’m not gonna take your virginity, but I’ll let you hang out and have a drink.” The man nodded and thus began a night of philosophical conversation and literary analysis.
“Okay sweetheart, I’m done here.” The prick (y/n) took home declared, pulling out, tossing the condom into a corner of the room, and shimmying his pants back on. “Maybe we can do this again sometime, huh?” He offered them a tenner before throwing it at them like a cheap whore when he realised they weren’t taking it.
“I’m not a prostitute.” They called after him as he was leaving and with the clank of the door they let out a “ bitch.” Under their breath. Pulling themselves off the bed, (y/n) decided to light one up and make themselves a coffee before picking up their guitar and flinging themselves onto the worn couch.
Two doors down, Eddie had gotten up from the comfort of his bed and was grabbing his head, pacing back and forth, oblivious to the scandalous acts that had just taken place next door. He couldn’t place his finger on what exactly his Dungeons and Dragons campaign was missing, but it was something rather significant. No, no, they went through the Vecna storyline, he made it nearly impossible for the kids to get themselves out of that one, but they managed. A damsel in distress? To classic. Eddie wanted to scream. He had never had this much trouble in his goddamn life when it came to coming up with ideas for his campaign. A sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through the lion's mane that was his hair. Time to light up I guess , he thought to himself before pulling out a cigarette from behind his ear and marching to the trailer door. He ripped it open in frustration and plopped himself down on the first step, pulling the lighter from his pocket at the same time.
If he didn’t make this the best damn campaign, he’d be fucked. The pupils held him in high regard with expectations that blew through the roof. After all, it was Eddie, the theatrical and dramatic freak. He couldn’t revisit Vecna, could he bring back Kas? He shook his head and scrapped the idea quickly, taking a hit from his cigarette. As soon as the smoke hit his lungs he felt the buzz of nicotine and the gears started turning. He’d have the kids leave the clutches of Vecna’s realm, maybe face a few monsters, and he’d have to introduce a new threat, and interdimensional threat possibly. New monsters, new threats. Transition the kids to a new region? After Vecna wreaked Havoc, he had to introduce new characters, not like he had a choice. Once your character was dead, they were dead… well, Eddie could have included the option to have them unconscious for one to six turns… God, if death-saving rolls were a thing… He cursed at himself and tried to think, wishing he had pulled out his notebook. Could be interesting to force em to go through Bloodstone pass or even the Bloodstone Mines. There was a highly anticipated chapter coming up down the line and so it would give all the more meat to the storyline or he could introduce the forgotten realms, and involve more magic as opposed to total war.
His thoughts were interrupted by the delightful sound of a guitar playing in the background. Snapping his head towards the sound, he wondered how come he’d never heard this before, and he wondered just how sorrowful the person behind the playing must be.
(Y/N) strummed the gloomy chords, letting the heavy emotions fill the air with tension. Of course, making use of the Locrian mode was essential to them, especially since they played doom, haunting the ears of those who bothered to listen. The harrowing tale of their past sorrows, their current misfortunes, and the dark twisted tales of the occult filled what would otherwise be silence. They closed their eyes and lost themselves in the music they were writing, oblivious to the outside world. Music had become a sort of escapism ever since their parents had decided that they weren’t meeting their standards and (y/n) was good . They didn’t leave room for a single doubt on that front. Even those who would diminish them, their accomplishments and their peculiar choices were forced to admit they had a natural talent. It was as if it was an extension of themselves and it never went unnoticed.
(Y/n) played well into the night and eventually tired themselves out completely, having nearly shot their sorrowful voice. Gently, almost lovingly, they placed their guitar in the corner by the bed and tossed any soiled clothing to the ground before turning the light off and crawling under the warm sheets, the smell of sex lingering evermore.
It was lucky for (y/n) that despite waking up late the following day, it was no matter seeing as it was a Saturday. The birds chirping, the sound of those stupid fucking neighbours flowing into the trailer, but no sun beaming through the windows. With a groan, (y/n) pulled themselves up, rubbing their eyes and smearing whatever liner was leftover from the previous night before swinging their legs over the side of their bed and padding over to the kitchen to brew themselves a coffee. They liked their coffee strong and slightly bitter, without sugar or milk, and certainly without the sound of their neighbours having a row. As their coffee brewed, they reached into their cabinet for a mug before slamming the door shut in annoyance. Do they not shut the fuck up?! It wasn’t like the fighting was new, it had been going on for quite some time and if it hadn’t become a daily part of (y/n)’s routine, they didn’t know what had. Usually, the fight would die down by the afternoon, the husband would start his Chevy Citation II, rev the engine and speed off. Sometimes he came back at 4 am, other times he’d leave for days. Rinse and repeat.
Eddie nearly tore his hair out every time the neighbours would argue, he would regularly drown them out with music or his own playing. Sometimes he too would leave, but today was different. They had started fighting as soon as he had talked himself up to leaving his trailer to go talk to (y/n). He had seen them around school, in the music rooms, alone in the lunch room, and he knew their car as soon as it pulled into the trailer park but one thing he hadn’t seen up until last night was (y/n) singing. He found their voice soothing yet haunting, the memory of sitting in the night, smoking, and listening following him to the dawn and compelled him to try to approach. He knew of their reputation but that didn’t matter, hell, even he had a reputation as some kind of cult leader due to his little school club. Hellfire wasn’t satanic, it was far from it. It was just a group of teenagers indulging in a tabletop roleplaying game. Truth be told, it was a fantastic creative outlet for everyone involved and it had brought the gang much closer together, but that didn’t matter to anyone else.
As soon as he heard the screeching of tires and the engine of the Chevy roar, he decided he would make his way over to (y/n)’s trailer. He threw on his Hellfire shirt, and his tattered jeans, before jogging over.
(Y/n) heard a knock on their trailer door and rolled their eyes, could they get a fucking moment of peace? Absolutely not apparently. They grabbed their mug, knuckled turning white, and unintentionally stomped over to the trailer door, ripping it open just before another knock landed. They didn’t give a shit that they were still in a t-shirt and underwear, they didn’t care that their hair was matted or that the remnants of their makeup were smudged across their eyes.
“What do you want?” (Y/n) hissed before being able to process who exactly was standing in front of them.
“My apologies,” The Prowler spoke, eyes wide as saucers, “I didn’t mean to bother you, I can uh…” He turned his head to look back at his trailer. (Y/n)’s eyes flicked over to where he was looking before a grim expression crossed their face. How he knew they lived here was obvious, but didn’t make it any less strange for (y/n). “Listen, I’ll get out of your hair, but I wanted to let you know that I heard you last night,” and with that, the grim expression turned to anger, (y/n) thinking he’d heard them hooking up, “and you sounded really good, I just- yeah.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.
“Excuse me?” (y/n) asked in shock. “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking Prowler.” They growled, baring their teeth, and body began to shake. The intensity of the venom in their voice shook Eddie to the core. Nobody had ever called him a Prowler, that was certainly a new name to add to the books. Eyes wide, he started stuttering, unsure of what (y/n) thought he was referring to, imagining that their wires got crossed somewhere.
“No no no!” He tried to backtrack quickly. “Your voice, your singing,” he tried quickly, bringing (y/n)’s anger down a few notches, They stared intently at Eddie, letting out a huff while pursing their lips in thought. So it wasn’t what they had initially thought. The white-hot anger began to subside and they fought the urge to snap back a nasty retort.
“Thanks.” The reply was curt, almost bitter but the venom softened up and the anger subsided. “Is that all you want?” (Y/n) asked, wondering when this waking nightmare would be over.
“I- well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his usual cocky demeanor fading quickly when around (y/n). He didn’t understand why they had this effect on him, but they did, “you’re new to Hawkins right?” He asked, earning a slow nod from the other, eyes squinting slightly and jaw tightening. “Look, I- I’ve seen how people have treated you, I’ve heard the rumours.” He bit his lip and looked away, fearing he’d be subject to (y/n)’s anger once again. Their demeanor, however, softened a bit. Maybe they should be giving a chance to The Prowler despite that he may have heard about their x-rated activities. “If you need someone, a friend, a shoulder to lean on, just… My trailers right over there.” He pointed his thumb behind him.
(Y/n) couldn’t help but take a better look at Eddie, the curly head of hair, the wide yet soft brown eyes, the crow's feet by his eyes, they could see this becoming dangerous, but was it more dangerous than sleeping around without care? Probably not. They sighed.
“I’ve been a dick.” They state before gently looking away and adding, “I appreciate the gesture, I know you probably think I can’t take care of myself, but I can.” They say, running a hand through their hair, thoughts racing. It would be easier to be a dick, and push Eddie away, but what if… no. No, they wouldn’t allow themselves the luxury.
“It’s not that I don’t think you can, it’s just that we’re freaks, you know? And us freaks, we have each other.” Eddie conceded, he wanted to include those who were cast out, to be there, give them a space to be themselves, and (y/n) was no exception. “Anyway, I came here to tell you that I love your voice, you’ve got a good one for the doom-like songs you're writing.” With that, Eddie turned back and started walking back home.
❦
Over the next few weeks, (y/n) avoided Eddie. He was too kind, and all they could think of was how he would probably be a golden retriever boyfriend. He tried to invite (y/n) to lunch, or even offer them a ride home from time to time. He’d somehow always be around and that made their blood boil and so they decided that it was time to push him away in any way that they could, which so happened to be inviting someone back to their trailer to fuck the desire out.
It was a Tuesday and (y/n) was having a drink at The Hideout, unbeknownst to them, Corroded Coffin, Eddie’s band, was playing. A groan left their lips and they ordered another round, trying to forget about the dashing smile and soft gaze that the metal head shot their way. They needed to get him out of their head and they thought that maybe if they filled their bed with someone else, it would do the trick. Luckily, or rather, unluckily, a tall and handsome man slid into the seat next to (y/n).
“Hey, sugar,” He purred causing them to gag, “can I buy you a drink?” (y/n) looked him up and down, he was built, but his get-up left much to be desired. A tight white t-shirt and blue jeans, nothing special, and yet it would do. His green eyes were piercing and his sandy blonde hair flopped in front of them. He needs a haircut.
“Depends what you’re offering.” (Y/n) retorted with a little wink before taking a swig of their beer. This is fucking exhausting. What they didn’t realise from this interaction is that Eddie was watching them. To say he didn’t have a soft spot for (y/n) would be a lie, though he tried to justify it by telling himself it’s just physical attraction the more he learned about them, the more drawn to them he became, and it was pretty easy given they were neighbors. He’d often poke his head out the window to see them feeding the birds, watering the little garden they had planted, petting the dogs, and playing with them, and he’d even seen them take in a stray cat. That’s not even touching on their haunting voice.
He was so distracted that he barely registered Jeff talking to him until he snapped his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. Only then did he tear his eyes from the sight he was fixated on - the man dragging (y/n) out by the hand.
“Dude, let’s go, we’re on in a minute.” With his eyes glued to the door, Eddie nodded slowly. When he managed to tear his eyes from the door he made his way to his guitar and picked it up violently before setting everything up, making sure all his pedals were where they belonged on the pedal board and that nothing was loose. He took one look at the guys, then trailed them back to the door, grip tightening on the neck of his guitar.
“Hey everyone, we’re Corroded Coffin, hope you enjoy.” And with that, he let the first chord ring out before throwing himself into a violent performance. To say the guys had seen something like this come from Eddie would be a lie. They hadn’t seen this much rage and passion in a long time. It had to be one of their best sets to date.
❦
“Are you enjoying yourself, sugar?” The man inquired as he went down on (y/n) and all they could do in response was moan. What else were they supposed to do? The man was going at them like a fucking dog licking peanut butter off a spoon. Has he ever even eaten someone out before? “Mmm yeah let me hear you moan baby.” He hummed. God, he spoke way too much.
“Just fuck me already.” They breathed out through half-gritted teeth, waiting for this hell to be over, why they expected any one-night stand to go well was beyond them.
“So fucking needy… Mmm, I like that.” The stranger growled. “You don’t mind if I don’t use a condom right?” With that, (y/n) shot up. “It just feels be-” The man got cut off and pushed away by (y/n)’s foot connecting to his shoulder.
“Get out.” Disbelief was plastered to his face. He went to protest but was promptly and swiftly cut off. “I don’t want your excuses, get up, get dressed, and get out, now! ” they roared before getting up and pulling their panties back on. The man did as instructed while cursing.
“Don’t need to be such a frigid ass bitch. Can’t believe people say you’re an easy lay.” With that, rage flooded (y/n) and they picked up the man’s belongings and swiftly opened the window, throwing them into the mud.
“Get the fuck out, get out of my sight, and so help me god, if you call me a frigid ass bitch again…” They started to shove the man towards the door. “I will cut your fucking dick off. Don’t come back.” And with that pointed threat, they shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face. (Y/n) locked the door before pressing their back to it and sighing, reaching around for a t-shirt before sinking down to the ground. They heard the man cursing as he picked up his clothes and walked off. The relief flooded them slowly but was almost immediately replaced with a feeling of guilt and regret. They felt dirty. For the first time since sleeping around, they felt dirty .
A knock came at their trailer door soon after – or so it seemed – honestly, (y/n) had lost track of time, dipping in and out of full consciousness. They had picked up a cigarette at some point and had started to smoke yet there was no recollection of it at all. Slowly, they got up and peeled the door open only to find Eddie in front and a dumbfounded look on his face.
“What the fuck? ” Eddie let out, eyes softening as he saw you. “Are you okay? He just spat something about you being frigid” Anger overtook him, he had somehow become protective of (y/n) despite the fact that they were avoiding him like the plague. He avoided mentioning that the thick-headed jock spat something or the other about fucking the town freak right after.
“Wha-” (y/n) began but couldn’t put two and two together. In fact, they didn’t understand why the man who was at their door just a couple of weeks ago and hadn’t been there since was so worried., “Eddie… I- Come in.” They tried before moving over to let the man through.
“What did he do? Did he hurt you, (y/n)?” That was the first time he’d used your name and it struck a chord. (Y/n)’s eyes almost softened up, almost , tears brimming their eyes and threatening to spill over. They took a minute, blood roaring through their ears like a river, it was similar to when you’d put a conch shell to your ear, and the pressure in their head was becoming too much.
“I’m… I’m tired.” They broke down, the river of tears spilling over and flowing down their cheeks. “He- No, no, I’m not okay.” And with that Eddie took them into his strong arms, tangling a hand in their hair and the other around their waist. (Y/n) stiffened with shock before gently relaxing into The Prowler, Eddie Munson, the man who seemed to be everywhere they went. He smelled of tobacco, oud, and something a little woodsy, and (y/n) could safely say it was addicting and it scared them how much it made them feel at home with this man.
“It’s okay…” Eddie muttered into (y/n)’s hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He just hoped that you couldn’t feel his heart hammering in his chest. This was the closest he’d been to you and he was so afraid to fuck it up.
HEAR ME OUT; FRENCH READER X A RANDOM COBRA KAI CHARACTER!!! (IF YALL HAVEN'T FIGURED IT OUT YET, IM OBSESSED WITH CK)
AND THE READER SPEAKS IN BROKEN ENGLISH AND USED TO DO SAVATE. AND LIKE SAVATE IS FRENCH KICK BOXING (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Savate) AND THE READER WAS FROM AN ELITE FRENCH BOARDING SCHOOL IN PARIS. AND HER PARENTS ARE BAKERS (marinette dupain-cheng vibes) SO THEY MAKE THE BEST CROISSANTS. #CROISSANTS
I MAY WRITE BUT IM NOT SURE. AND JUST TAG ME IF YOU END UP WRITING IT!
