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urhoneycombwitch · 29 days

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hold me like water

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie.

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall.

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud.

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously.

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head).

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more.

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks.

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries.

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.”

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips.

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers.

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf.

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore.

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home.

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of.

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends.

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry.

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds.

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh.

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release.

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to.

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap.

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good.

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness.

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths.

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you.

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along.

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it.

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing.

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge.

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity.

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through.

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time.

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops.

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye.

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest.

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is.

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x shy!reader #shy!reader

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pricelessemotion · 8 months

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love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little boy like you) | E.M.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: [2.4k] eddie takes you on that halloween date. it doesn’t go quite like you expected.

warnings: pure fluff, a little awkward date shenanigans, r is described as having frizzy hair and wearing prescription glasses, r also has an (unnamed) sister

a/n: ah! i’ve been dying to write and post a part two for this fic since halloween and i thought there was no better time to post it than now! happy valentine’s day 🖤

masterlist | part one

“There, perfect!” Your sister punctuates the end of her makeover with the snap of her powder compact and the flourish of a makeup brush.

You turn slowly, the pink cushioned stool a little wobbly under your unsteady frame. Your reflection looks comical, all blurred edges and wavy lines. Without your glasses, the bedroom vanity has turned into a funhouse mirror.

“What does it matter if I’m going on a date with him if I can barely see him?”

You don’t need glasses to know that she’s rolling her eyes. Even though you can’t quite see her, you can hear her exasperation in the way she’s loudly chewing her gum. “You’re going to the movies, you’re barely gonna be able to see him anyway. Besides, you’ll be able to see him when he’s close enough to kiss and that’s the whole point.”

You blink each eye one at a time, trying to gauge which one is better. Your left eye is slightly clearer, though the difference is negligible. “I think you’re severely overestimating my eyesight.”

“I think you’re severely underestimating my dating advice.” She blows a bubble, the view of her face becoming a bright pink smudge before it pops and she continues smacking. “Just trust me, it’ll all be fine.”

You do trust her. Even though she has spent the last two hours plucking and primping and preening, you want to take her advice. She’s not doing this to be condescending or controlling. She’s genuinely excited that you have a date, even more so that it’s with a living breathing human boy and not another library book.

You don’t have much experience. With dating, with seeing someone, with kissing someone. What it means to be dating someone versus what it means to be seeing someone. What you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone. I mean, are your lips supposed to be on top of each other or are they supposed to interlock like the teeth of a zipper? Yeesh, you didn’t even wanna think about how teeth and tongues factor into the equation.

These types of questions would usually be the kind that you would ask an older sister. You’ve just never had the bravery to say them out loud. Sure, you’ve watched romance movies and rewound and observed so much that you were afraid the tape in the VHS was going to break. And you’ve read enough romance that Ms. Marissa gives you side-eye when you pass the library’s reception desk. But there’s a difference between fiction and real life. A bridge you’ve yet to cross. You’re sure that you’re going to need all the help you can get.

So, you heed her advice. You let her spray you with enough Aquanet to try to keep the flyaways at bay. You let her paint your lips with a shimmery pink lip gloss that isn’t too sticky and tastes like vanilla. You don’t, however, let her see you sneak the thick frames into your bag for emergencies. If it were up to her, the frames would be set out with Thursday’s garbage and you’d be wearing contacts like everyone else in your age group.

She drops you off at The Hawk with another smack of her bubblegum and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She barely waits for you to close the door of the station wagon before she’s speeding away, her Halloween plans including a keg, a pushup bra, and a slightly inebriated Steve Harrington.

Eddie’s easy to spot. His silhouette sticks out against the brick building, white shirt, black leather, and blue denim against a red background. He lights up when he sees you and it’s the first time you’ve understood the meaning of the phrase. Since you can’t quite see his face clearly, you’re paying extra attention to his body. The way he pushes off the wall to stand tall. The way his shoulders visibly relax. You bet that they could see his smile all way in Indianapolis.

“I know you’re usually supposed to give flowers on dates, but this is the best I could do.”

He presents an origami paper flower in the shape of a rose. It’s made from binder paper, evident by the familiar feel of it in your hands. The folds are a bit unsure. There’s evidence of it being undone and folded again with a cleaner precision, you can feel the wear and tear on the paper with your fingertips. You’re dumbfounded.

“Thank you,” You whisper, twirling the stem between your thumb and forefinger, watching the rosebud spin. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Never?” He gapes at you in apparent disbelief before he schools his expression. “Well then, I’m glad to be the first.” He offers his arm to you like a real gentleman and you take it.

The leather in the crook of his elbow is cold to the touch, but being in such close proximity you can feel the body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s a continuous marathon, so they’re showing movies all night. We can start with any one that you want.” He gestures up to the marquee above the concession stand. When you look up to the sign, the words might as well be written in Cyrillic the way the letters all blur together.

After a trip to the concessions stand, the two of you eventually settle on The Exorcist, which you had decided to cling to after Eddie’s nervous yet adorable rambling about which movie would be better to start with.

Horror movies are even scarier when you can’t tell what’s going on. It didn’t occur to you how much you relied on sight to be able to mentally prepare for jump scares. Eddie must think you’re a total wimp the way you practically leap out of your seat at every flash on the silver screen that accompanies a discordant string of violins.

You jump when you feel a hand brush your bicep, your arms flinging out. It’s much too late when you realize that intimate touch was Eddie trying to figure out if you were alright. The large Coke that Eddie had gotten–two straws because he said he didn’t wanna be presumptuous–the casualty of your fright. The flimsy lid pops off like it has nothing better to do and the dark brown liquid splashes over the arm of the seat right into Eddie’s lap.

Eddie recoils, half-jumping and half-hovering in his seat because he just got a handful of ice-cold soda in his crotch. The people behind you are jeering, grumbling about the disturbance and Eddie half-whispers fucking shit under his breath, in what you’re sure must be a mixture of disdain and disgust.

You pull napkins out of your purse and thrust them in Eddie’s direction before rushing out of the theater, chest heaving and eyes stinging.

It’s a wonder you don’t trip and fall on your way out. You’ve walked these dimly lit halls hundreds of times, so luckily instinct and muscle memory win out and you make it out of the theater mostly unscathed, just with a few bruises on each shoulder. Nothing compared to the mortification of what had happened inside.

Because it’s October in Indiana and you can’t seem to catch a break, it’s raining. Only every so slightly, but enough that you’d be soaked to the bone if you walked home thanks to your sister’s insistence that you dress for fashion and not function. You huddle close to the payphone, pondering if you have enough change to call around and get your sister to pick you back up because no way are you waking up your parents for this.

The doors to the theater creak open behind you and suddenly you’re not alone anymore. The biting cold chills you to the bone but it’s Eddie’s presence behind you that sets you on fire.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last hour and a half in the dark with your nerves on edge, but the tenderness in Eddie’s voice makes your throat constrict.

“I’m sorry,” You blubber. “I’m so embarrassed. I just wanted everything to be perfect and I ruined it.”

“Hey. Hey.” Eddie repeats himself more forcefully when you don’t meet his gaze the first time, “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just a little soda. I’ll live.”

His fingers rub the back of your hands in a soothing motion. Back and forth, thumbs caressing the valleys between your knuckles. He’s close enough that his features are almost in focus. You still have to squint.

“You keep doing that.” He points his fingers toward your furrowed brow before mimicking the action on his own face. The finger is not accusatory, it just seems like Eddie likes to talk with his hands.

You sigh, a resigned and weary sound. “My sister convinced me that I shouldn’t wear my glasses.”

Eddie makes a face that you can’t quite discern in the dark before letting out a soft hmph! “Your sister kinda sounds a little mean.”

“She means well.” You defend, weakly. You love your sister to death but there are times that your differences become much too apparent and that leaves you with nothing to do but suffer the consequences. This is one of those times.

“Did you bring them with you?”

“Yeah,” You reach into your bag, finding the frames folded into one of the inner pockets.

Eddie takes them and puts them on you. “You keep doing that.” You murmur, a repeat of his earlier accusation. Now, though, you both know it’s in reference to him adjusting your glasses not just once but twice.

“It gives me an excuse to be close to you.”

You can see him with unrelenting clarity now. The little crinkles next to his eyes as he smiles warmly down at you. The way the slight breeze has carried the miserable drizzle under the theater awning. The way that drizzle clings to his curly hair like dewdrops on morning grass. You almost robbed yourself of all of this, and for what? Eddie knows what you look like.

“Y’know what I thought when I saw you yesterday?” Yesterday, when you had been wearing a witch hat on top of your frizzy hair and the same Coke bottle glasses that sit on the slope of your nose now. “I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I thought I made a fool outta myself and that you wouldn’t give me the time of day, not in a million years.”

“The whole scaredy cat schtick was quite endearing I must say.”

He nods seriously, just a slight hint of a smirk on his face. “I try my best.”

You look down at the seat of his pants. Sure enough, there’s a dark stain splashed right across his crotch.“Oh god. I'm so sorry. Again”

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“You didn’t say anything about apologizing.”

“Well then, this is me saying something. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“It looks like you pissed yourself,” You wail mournfully.

“Well, that definitely makes me feel better.” Eddie jests before he tugs you into his chest and plants his chin on top of your head.

You nuzzle your face into his sternum, appreciating the soft hiss he lets out when your cold nose touches his warm skin. You inwardly groan because, quite frankly, there’s nothing more embarrassing than running out of a nearly full movie theater the way that you did. The only thing more embarrassing than that, you think, is going back inside after having embarrassed yourself. You tell Eddie as much, with the reassurance that you don’t want the date to end and if he really wants to, you can go back inside and finish the movie. He’s already tugging you toward his van that’s parked on the other side of the street, saying the six words that make your night:

“I own The Exorcist on VHS.”

You spend the entire time back in the trailer park cuddled up having quiet conversation about gory practical effects over a bowl of microwaved popcorn. The closest he gets to kissing you is when you duck into his chest to hide and his lips brush your temple. He could’ve lived off of that single brush for the rest of his life if he had to.

When Eddie pulls up to your house later that night, he really does mean to give you an innocent kiss goodnight. The neighborhood is quiet, seeing as it’s probably been an hour since the children of Hawkins had fallen into their sugar-induced comas. He turns the engine off and shifts towards you, his smile both giddy and shy while he tells you that he had a really good time tonight. You mirror his expression and tell him the same. You both lean forward, chests rising and falling in tandem, noses brushing.

When you finally make it past the front door, your lips are swollen and your glasses are fogged up. You kick off your shoes and pad up the carpeted steps two at a time, racing to your bedroom window. When you turn on your lamp and look out to the tree-lined street, Eddie waves at you, his rings glinting in the streetlight. You wave back, watching the van disappear into the distance.

“Hey,” Your sister is leaning against the doorframe, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“How’d it go?” You’re already slightly aware of the answer since she’s standing in front of you with a freshly washed face and hand-me-down pajamas instead of in an empty house in Loch Nora.

She shrugs noncommittally, “It was a bust.”

You hum in solemn solidarity, trying to tug the grin on your face into a much more situationally appropriate neutral expression. You feel for her and you don’t want to rub it in her face that you had such a good time, despite her advice. Unfortunately, you do not seem to have as much control over your facial muscles as you think you do. Your sister sees right through you, grabbing the purple throw pillow at the foot of the bed and launching it at your face telling you to shut up. You catch it before it has the chance to hit you, huffing with righteous indignation at her before the two of you collapse onto the bed in muffled laughter.

“So, how’d it go?” She whispers in your direction, mindful of your sleeping parents down the hall.

You trace your cupid’s bow, feeling the chapped and swollen skin for the hundredth time that night. You turn your head toward hers, readjusting your glasses when they slide down your nose.

“It was perfect.”

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished 🖤

#eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #mimi wrote ✍️#poltergeists for sidekicks #love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little boy like you)

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mansionofhaunts · 3 months

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Seeing people talking about physical media and Dropout in part because of the pointed "it's bad that corporations own media and won't make physical copies of them," bit from this episode of Never Stop Blowing Up and it's...an interesting thing to think about!

I think there are some shows on Dropout that could potentially make the leap to physical media if they wanted to go down that route, but honestly...it's just kind of hard to see how they'd pull it off? Dimension 20 episodes are gonna fill most of the space on a Blu-Ray, and in order to really justify selling them. You're looking at like...10-20 discs for one season of Fantasy High, which would probably be a Dropout store exclusive, and would probably not sell a huge number of copies. To put that in some perspective: the complete series of Lost on Blu-Ray is 36 discs that retailed for like, $300. Now, that was a special edition with bonus physical objects, but that's something that was mass produced, and was based on a show that had millions of viewers.

Shows like Dimension 20 and Critical Role were developed specifically to be online shows, and they were able to take advantage of that format by, for instance, having episodes be as long as they wanted, because they weren't limited by physical storage restrictions or by things like "we need this to run from 7:30 to 8:00 because we have stuff running before and after this." Movies were an easy fit for home video from the start...but it took until DVDs started hitting for complete seasons for anything other than shows with deeply entrenched fanbases (like Star Trek). They weren't putting every season of Seinfeld on VHS, for instance.

Basically: it'd be extremely sick if Dropout could do physical releases of their shows, but it seems like it'd be extremely difficult to pull that off logistically. I dunno if anyone gives a shit about this, but...it's something that seems interesting, to me! (also I think an under discussed part of how we talk about media, historically, is how the formats available to convey that media shapes the media itself)

#dimension 20 #dropout #never stop blowing up

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 months

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Reindeer

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and you and Javi spent the night preparing for your girls to have the most magical Christmas morning

Word Count: 5.2K

Paring: Dad!Javi x Wife!Reader (No use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f recieving), creampie, praise kink, talk about not using birth control, kind of getting caught (??? Thank Santa's Reindeer I guess), terrible Christmas puns, sweet, sickening Christmas fluff, Javi spoiling the crap out of his little girls because he loves them more than life, idk you guys, this story is just a warm lil Christmas hug 😭

A/N: IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!! Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I have been so excited to write about our adorable lil Peña family and their holiday endeavors 🥹 These two would do anything to give their girls the most magical Christmases ever and my heart is exploding into a million pieces 😭💕🎄

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Mommy, is Santa coming now?”

“No, baby. Not until tomorrow.”

“...Is tomorrow now?” Your 4 year old Harper questioned, plopping herself down on the couch next to Javi, snuggling herself in between her dad and older sisters as you tucked the girls in with a big, fluffy blanket before finding your spot next to your husband.

“No Harper, Santa comes at night. When we go to bed. Remember?” Elliot sassed, letting out a huff of frustration at how many times her younger sister had asked about the long awaited arrival of Christmas morning.

“Elliot! If you’re not nice to Harper, Santa may not come!” Your oldest Lucy gasped, trying to police her younger sisters’ behavior within an inch of her life to ensure that she would wake up with presents under the tree tomorrow.

Elliot’s face went white in fear, immediately reaching over to her younger sister and pulling her in for a long hug. “Sorry, Harper. Santa will be here tomorrow morning… I hope.”

“I don’t think you girls need to worry, I’m sure Santa knows you’ve been pretty darn good all year long.” Javi grinned, leaning over on the couch to wrap the girls up in his broad grasp, making them giggle and squeal as he tickled and peppered them with playful kisses. “Okay, Pollitas (little chickens) what do you say you guys start the movie and Mommy and I go make hot chocolate?” Reaching over to give your thigh a little squeeze, Javi shot you a little wink, tilting over to press a soft kiss into your hair.

“Yay! Hot Chocolate!” The girls screeched in unison, waving their little arms in the air in excitement as they snuggled closer together on the couch. “Thank you!”

“De Nada (you’re welcome).” Javi beamed, letting out a little grunt as he pressed his hands into his knees, rising up off the couch, giving each of the girls one more kiss before making his way to the kitchen.

“Alright cuties, which movie, Rudolph or Frosty?” You smiled, making your way over to the TV to hold up their VHS options.

“Rudolph! Rudolph!” The three chanted, wiggling in excitement in their spots as you pressed the tape into the VCR and hit play on the remote, following Javi’s suit as you gave each of your daughters a quick kiss before making your way into the kitchen where you found Javi with a handful of Christmas mugs and an extra large can of whipped cream.

“Javi…” You sighed, letting out a little laugh as he set down the five mugs on the counter followed by the whipped cream, “I think we probably should go easy on the whipped cream tonight, you already know how hard it is to get them to bed on Christmas Eve, and a sugar high isn’t gonna help.”

“What makes you think I’d give ‘em too much whipped cream?” He smirked, shrugging his shoulders at you as he pulled the box of hot chocolate out of the cabinet, setting it next to everything else before snaking his hand around your waist, pulling you in closer to peck a quick kiss on your lips, staring down at you with his sweet brown eyes.

“Because,” You huffed playfully, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him another peck back between your words, “you spoil these girls rotten. They’ve got you wrapped around their fingers, Jav, each and every one of them.”

“Can you blame me?” He beamed, gesturing towards your daughters all snuggled together, giggling and singing along to the movie. The two of you couldn’t help but admire your beautiful girls, letting out a content sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder, taking a moment to soak in how truly lucky you were- because truth be told, you couldn’t blame Javi one bit.

“No, I can’t. God, they are cute, aren’t they?”

“Cute just like their Momma.” Javi grinned, sneaking his hand just a little further down your waist to grab a handful of your ass, making you let out a little squeal before giving him a playful smack in the chest.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You smirked, making your way over to the fridge to grab your milk, completing your hot chocolate ensemble. “I honestly should be having coffee right now considering how late we’re gonna be up, setting up presents and putting things together.”

“C’mon, we’re pros at this by now.” Javi teased, now getting to work on warming up the hot chocolate ingredients.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to Santa who insisted on getting the girls a brand new hockey net that still needs to be assembled, even after all of their gifts had already been bought.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at Javi as you began pouring the hot chocolate into the girls mugs, sprinkling mini marshmallows on the tops of their cups.

“They’ve been extra good…” Javi pouted, shooting you a guilty look as you handed him over mugs to be topped off with whipped cream.

“Well, I sure hope Santa didn’t lose the instructions to put it together because Mrs. Claus will not be assembling the net at 2 am.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be done before then. Gotta make sure Santa has plenty of time to give you his North Pole before Christmas morning.” Javi chuckled, biting down on his lip to contain his laughter as you gave him another nudge, snickering along with him.

“You are such a dork.”

“What? You’ve been a good girl this year too, you don’t want Santa to stuff your chimney?”

That one made you almost drop the two mugs you had in your hands, letting out an audible snort as you set them down on the counter, burying your face in your hands to try and hold in your laughter.

“You are fucking ridiculous, you know that? Finish up these hot chocolates, you dummy, your daughters are waiting for you.” You smirked, picking back up your mugs as you began to make your way out of the kitchen.

“Like you’re waiting for my balls of holly later?” Javi quietly called out behind you, making you whip your head around to give him the biggest stank face you could muster, unimpressed. “What? That’s a good one.” Javi insisted, still laughing at his own joke.

“Ridiculous, I swear.”

It wasn’t long after your hot chocolates were finished that the girls had passed out on the couch, cuddled in a pile between you and Javi and buried under the blanket that had been spread across the 5 of you. You probably should have woken the girls up to get them off to bed, but you and Javi couldn’t help but relish in the moment of your family snuggled together in the soft glow of your Christmas tree lights, your hearts feeling fuller than any present under your tree could make you.

After the two of you finally agreed you had soaked in enough snuggles, you gently woke up Lucy as Javi slung Elliot and Harper over his shoulders to carry them off to bed, unable to stop yourself from admiring how broad he looked with your two girls and their matching pajamas and sleepy hair hoisted on either side of him.

You helped Lucy and Elliot get settled into their rooms, promising to make your way back to say goodnight after tucking in Harper, still sound asleep in Javi’s arms as he laid her down into bed, gently tucking her into her covers, brushing her tangled curls away from her face and pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. Elliot was next, now half awake after being dropped off in her room, stumbling her way into her own bed, grumbling a half awake “Goodnight Mommy and Daddy” as she snuck into her sheets, nestled between the mountain of stuffed animals piled between her mattress and bedroom wall. You and Javi couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly your little rock was back to being sound asleep as soon as she hit the bed, already inheriting her dad’s obnoxiously loud snoring at the ripe age of 6. Lucy was the last stop on your bedtime train, seeing as she was the most awake and coherent as she had at least been able to walk herself to bed after you and Javi had woken her up.

By the time you and Javi had gotten to her room, she had already settled into bed, pulling her comforter up to her face as she snuggled up with her worn and well loved stuffed penguin, her little face lighting up as the two of you made your way though the door.

“Hi cutie pie.” You cooed, sitting on the edge of her bed, gently stroking her hair as Javi settled down onto the mattress next to you. “You ready for Christmas tomorrow?”

Lucy nodded, a slight look of concern now spreading across her face as her big brown eyes stared back up at you. “Mom… Santa’s gonna come tonight, right? He won’t be mad at Elliot or Harper because sometimes they aren’t always good… Well okay, I guess I’m not always good either, but-”

“Amoricta (Little love),” Javi cooed, reaching over to reassuringly rub her back, cutting her off mid sentence, “You and your sisters are the best daughters that we could ask for. I know for a fact that Santa knows that. And I also know that he knows what a good older sister you are to Elliot and Harper. Don’t worry, Monita (Little Monkey), I’m sure Santa will come.”

“Okay Dad. Te amo (I love you). I love you too, Mommy.” Lucy grinned, snuggling deeper into her sheets with a content sigh, slowly beginning to close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

“We love you too, Lucy.”

“Te amamos mucho, linda (we love you so much, cutie).”

As you and Javi each gave Lucy one last kiss goodnight, pressing gentle kisses in her messy hair, you gently closed the door behind you, the soft click of the last bedroom door knob signaling your success at getting the girls to bed before the real work of Christmas Eve began. You turned around, holding out your hand to give Javi a quiet high-five to celebrate the easiness of your bedtime routine before snaking your hands around Javi’s waist, caging your chest with his as you looked up at him.

“I think that was the quickest we’ve ever gotten them to bed on Christmas Eve.”

“I don’t even think the whipped cream even had anything to do with it.” Javi teased, shaking you playful in his grasp.

“Pendejo (Jerk). C’mon, let’s go get these cuties some presents, Santa.”

After your 8th Christmas with kids, you and Javi had gotten present set up and placement down to a science. After several trips up and down the stairs to the basement, all of the gifts for the girls had been set under the tree as Javi got to work on setting up his inevitable last minute gift that seemed to make its way out of Santa’s Workshop every year, even when all of your agreed upon gifts had already been purchased.

Javi sat cross legged on the floor, directions and hockey net parts spread out in front of him as he grumbled to himself trying to connect two of the pieces together, letting out a frustrated sigh while you set out the plate of cookies the girls had decorated for Santa, laughing at your husband’s current fight with his late gift.

“How’s it goin’, Jav? Need me to call in the elves to ask for help?” You snickered, plopping yourself down next to him, grabbing a few pieces to help with assembling.

“Shut up. I think I’m almost done, I just have to put the net part on. Is everything else set up?”

“Mmmmhmmm. Including the reindeer carrots that are your turn to eat this year.”

“Fuck me…” Javi sighed, shooting you a menacing look, “Do I have to? You know I-”

“Oh believe me, I know how much you hate the carrots.” You giggled, mischievously raising an eyebrow at him, handing over a few of the pieces you had put together to connect to the existing frame of the hockey net. “I did it the past 2 years in a row. You are such a baby, you know that? Your turn for carrots this year, Peña. I made sure they were the biggest ones I could find. You know how hungry those reindeer are.”

Before Javi could respond, he was grabbing you around your side, tickling your stomach as payback as you laughed and squirmed in his grasp, flailing your arms as the two of you rolled over on the ground. Javi pulled you to lay on top of his chest as he rested his back against the floor, wrapping his arms around the small of your back, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. You tried your best to keep your squeals semi-silent to prevent waking up the girls as his mustache brushed against your skin, the smile spread across his lips pressing over your body.

“Don’t think- don’t think your adorable antics are getting you out of carrot duty.” You snickered, cupping your hands around his cheeks, pausing his assault of kisses as his sweet brown eyes stared up at you.

“Me? Trying to get out of eating those terrible ass vegetables? Never. What would make you think that, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, his voice oozing with sarcasm as he shook his head at you, caging you tighter against his chest as his hands slid down the small of your back, now grabbing handfuls of your ass, making you let out a little squeal.

“Javi! You are so bad!” You playfully scolded, trying to pry off the tight grip his palms had on your backside to free yourself. “Presents and carrots first, you know the rules.” Smirking down at him, Javi let out a reluctant sigh, finally releasing you as he sat back up, picking up one of the remaining pieces of the hockey net left to assemble, shaking his head in a sarcastic disappointment at his failed attempt to at least prolong the inevitable.

“You don’t wanna let Santa stuff your stocking early this year, huh?” Javi teased, giving you a little shrug as he chuckled to himself at the terrible Christmas puns he had in stock tonight.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Javi…” You sighed, burying your hand in your face in embarrassment at your husband’s terrible joke, giving him a little shove as you stood up, making your way back to the kitchen to set up the rest of the cookies and carrots before the two of you headed off to bed. “You keep making those terrible puns and I’m gonna make you wrap your present before you give it to me.” You joked, eying the half hard bulge still in Javi’s sweatpants and gesturing your head towards your bedroom where your unopened box of condoms sat untouched in Javi’s nightstand- You had never started taking your birth control again after having Harper, and while you and Javi had agreed that 3 girls was the perfect number of kids, you also hadn’t necessarily been proactively preventing yourself from having a 4th. Javi had bought the box in an effort of good faith a few months ago, but hadn’t seen an ounce of action, despite all of the action that had happened without them.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good, don’t put me on the naughty list yet. Like you’d want my present wrapped anyways…” Javi smirked, snapping together two of the last pieces of the hockey net before pressing his hands to his knees, letting out a grunt as he stood, and pushing the net by the rest of the already arranged presents.

“I swear, I’m sending you back to the North Pole.”

With your living room perfectly arranged for Christmas Morning, you and Javi made your way back to your bedroom, stopping to do a quick peek in on each of the girls as you traveled down the hallway. All 3 lay sound asleep in their beds, quietly snoring away, you and Javi making your way to your bedroom with a quiet high five for Christmas Eve accomplishments- presents assembled, girls asleep, the palpable excitement of the holiday hanging in the air.

“Bets on what time they’re up tomorrow?” You laughed, looking over at Javi, standing in the doorway brushing his teeth as you stripped out of your clothes and into your pajamas. Javi let out a playful huff before stepping back into the bathroom to spit out the rest of his toothpaste, setting his toothbrush next to yours before taking off his shirt and sweatpants and tossing them into the hamper with your freshly shed clothes.

“If it’s anything past 5:30, I’ll be happy.” He chuckled, climbing into bed with you, sneaking his way under the covers and wrapping his arms around your waist, making you giggle as he tugged you closer, pressing ticklish kisses over your neck and face as you playfully swatted at him. “If my girls are happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m sure the girls will be more than happy. Considering how much their Daddy spoils them rotten.” You teased, reaching up to cup Javi’s face, your thumb gently stroking the scratchy stubble of his cheek.

“What? Santa only comes once a year, right? I’d give ‘em everything if I could. They deserve it. Just like their Momma deserves everything too.” Javi gently rasped against the skin of your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point, forcing a breathy moan to escape from your mouth. “God I still don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Hermosa. If you’re the only present for the rest of my life, I’ll die a fucking happy man.”

Letting his hands snake down your sides, Javi’s fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt and pajama bottoms, his fingers sliding towards your heat as your lips met his with a gentle and tender passion. You ran your fingers through the dark curls of his hair as he flipped you onto your back, now pressing languid kisses down your stomach as he carefully tugged your pajama bottoms off your hips, tossing them to the floor. Letting your knees fall open, Javi’s soft kisses met the inside of your thighs, a smile spreading across his lips as you revealed the slick that had been pooling between your legs.

“And this…” Javi smirked, letting his kisses feather closer and closer to your core, leaving your hips to instinctively start to buck towards his face as you waited for his tongue to relieve the dull ache of your already throbbing clit, “This is the best fucking present I could ever ask for.”

Before you could even roll your eyes at Javi’s cheesy remark, a long, broad swipe of his tongue traveled through your folds, the sensation already enough to have you trying your best to stifle your moans to keep from waking the girls just down the hall from you. Javi took his time, letting his tongue work around your clit in a mix of flat, even strokes and circling swirls, his arm draped across your hips to hold you in place while his other free hand reached up to grab yours, your fingers intertwining, palms pressed together.

You bit down on your lip as his nose bumped against your throbbing bundle of nerves, letting his tongue plunge in and out of your cunt, the familiar tingle at the base of your spine beginning to build as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets, Javi’s firm grasp keeping you in place.

Javi had spent years memorizing every tick and twitch that made you writhe under his touch, learning each moan and movement that brought you closer to your end- so it should have been no surprise to you that Javi could sense you were close, yet the sudden switch of his mouth latching around your clit, sweetly sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves, had the coil in your belly on the verge of snapping.

“Javi… Oh, fuck- baby, I’m close, don’t stop, please don’t stop, oh my god.” You whimpered, trying your best to keep your voice hushed, but despite how hard you tried, you could help but let a muffled moan escape from your lips as you squeezed down even harder on Javi’s hand to try and keep from being any louder than you already were. It wasn’t long before you felt your legs begin to tremble, and heat bloom in your core, your orgasm ripping through your body, leaving you panting and breathless as Javi pulled back from between your legs, a boyish grin spread across his shiny face, now covered in your arousal.

You could feel your chest rising and falling, your breathing heavy and labored as Javi crawled his way back up the bed, reaching down to help tug his boxers off his legs, revealing his cock, already painfully hard and dripping with precum as you thumbed at his tip, slowly wrapping your fingers around his length, stroking him as a low groan rumbled in his chest.

As he slotted himself between your legs, you guided his tip towards your entrance, collecting the slick dripping through your folds before caging his chest against yours, pressing into you inch by inch, the sweet stretch of his fullness making you whimper as he bottomed out against your cervix. His lips met yours, his mouth catching your whines as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, like he was savoring every moment buried deep in the warmth and wetness inside you.

“Shhhhh, gotta be quiet for me baby.” He rasped against your skin, nipping at your ear, almost as if he was trying to remind himself as much as he was reminding you, a deep grunt rustling in the back of his throat. You nodded, your eyes meeting the brown pools of his, filled with an equal mix of love and longing as a tender smile lined his lips, whispering a soft “I love you” to one another before your lips were slotted together once again, your tongues swiping in the parted spaces between your mouths, your kisses slow and solicitous as you became more and more tangled in your sheets.

Each thrust of Javi’s hips felt deeper and fuller than the last, the lewd noises of your wetness and muted moans coating the walls of your bedroom only intensified as Javi wrapped his broad hands around the backs of your thighs, pressing your legs to your chest, and making you clench tighter around the sweet sting of his stretch.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, Hermosa. My beautiful fucking wife.” Javi mewled through gritted teeth, snaking his hand between your bodies to rub your clit, still swollen and puffy from your first orgasm. You let out a sharp gasp, so sensitive and worked up, already feeling yourself climbing towards your own high once again as the pads of his fingers circled your mound, and dick punched against your g-spot.

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench tighter around his cock, fighting with everything in you to keep from screaming out his name, fisting at your bedsheets and clamping your eyes shut, trying to hold out for any ounce of composure you had left. “Fuck, Javi, fuck- I feel like I’m gonna cum again, fuck- oh fuck.” You whined, eyes still closed, head tilted back against the pillow.

Suddenly, you felt Javi’s free hand slide under jaw, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks, gently forcing your head back down, making you open your eyes to see the wrecked look also beginning to spread its way across his face. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Just need to see that pretty face for me when you cum. Let go baby, I’ve got you.”

With only a few more thrusts and circles of your clit, you could feel the tingle at the base of your spine beginning to spread through every inch of your body, pleasure rushing through your veins as your orgasm crashed over you. Javi’s hand covered your mouth in just enough time to mute the ragged moans escaping your lips, the feeling of you clamping down around his cock as you came almost enough to take him out right along with you, fighting with everything in him to let you finish riding out your own high before he followed suit.

“Fuck, fuck- I’m not gonna last much longer, Osita. Oh shit- Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Javi grunted, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster with each snap of his hips, the hand covering your mouth now gripping the meat of your thighs, fingertips digging into your skin.

“Inside, please, fuck- I’m not ovulating, please, I need to feel you in me.” You whimpered, your brain barely functioning as you tried to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from your orgasm.

That was all Javi needed to send him over the edge, barely making it halfway through his last thrust before spilling deep inside you, his cock throbbing as warm spend covered your walls, milking himself of every last drop before letting his body slump into yours, your chests rising and falling in sync.

You both lay there for a moment, breathless and blissed out as you tried to compose yourselves, Javi letting out a soft hiss as he pulled out, resting his head against your chest as you ran your fingers through the damp curls of his hair, a satisfied smirk spreading across your face as you quietly giggled to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Javi asked, perking his head up to look at you, his brow scrunched in confusion.

“Your sleigh feelin’ a little lighter? Because I think I did a pretty good job of helping Santa to empty his sack.” You couldn’t help but snort as Javi let out the most exasperated sigh before joining in your laughter, burying his face in his hand before looking back up at you.

“And I'm the ridiculous one....”

“MOMMY, DADDY! WAKE UP, WAKE UP, IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

If your daughters' high pitched shrieks and squeals weren’t enough to have you wide awake at the ripe hours of 5:46 A.M., their tiny bodies flopping onto the bed, squishing you and Javi under your covers most definitely was.

“Mhmmmmm, Merry Christmas, cuties.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, trying to wake yourself up quick enough to keep up with your girls’ boundless energy, giving Javi a stark nudge with your elbow to help wake him up from his log-like slumber. “Jav, wake up, baby.”

“Daddy! It’s Christmas, you gotta wake up!” Elliot insisted, now jumping on top of her dad, making him let out a loud grunt as her body landed on top of his.

“Yup, yup, I’m up, I’m up.” Javi grumbled, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to face the wrath of his energetic daughters. “Merry Christmas, Pollitas.” He smiled, reaching out grab the girls and pull them on top of his chest, making all of them giggle and squeal in delight as the 5 of you snuggled together in your bed.

“Can we see if Santa came? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, her sisters nodding in agreement, bouncing up and down on the bed with excitement as you and Javi inched yourself more and more awake.

“Yup, let’s g-”

“LET’S GO!” The girls screeched, already scampering off the bed and out the door as you and Javi pushed yourselves up off the mattress, groggily following behind your daughters with heavy footsteps trying to wake yourselves up from your lack of sleep the night before.

“Do you think Santa brought us coffee?” Javi mumbled, running his hand through his curls, ruffling the ends of his hair as you curled tighter against the oversized sweatshirt draped over your body, letting out a little half yawn, half laugh.

As the 5 of you finally made it down the stairs, you could hear the girls squealing and pattering around the kitchen, gleefully pointing to the table, where a now practically cleared plate for Santa and his Reindeer sat. “Mommy, look! Santa ate all the cookies!” Harper giggled, grabbing you and Javi by the hand and dragging you across the room to see the lack of sugary treats that had been left behind.

“And the reindeer too! I told you they love the carrots! They must have been really excited because last night, in the middle of the night, I could have sworn I heard the reindeer making happy noises for their treats too! Mom and Dad, I think they must have landed on the roof by your room, because that’s where I heard the noises coming from!” Lucy informed her sisters, leaving you and Javi’s faces both ghost white at the realization you two were 100% the reindeer that your daughter had heard last night.

“Oh wow, Lucy, that’s uh- Yeah, they really must love those carrots.” Javi barely choked out, the both of you grimacing at each other in horror, guilty looks plastered across your faces.

“Let’s go see what’s under the tree!” Elliot squealed, dashing towards the living room, completely oblivious to her dad’s comment, too focused on the gifts sitting under the tree for her and her sisters to care about any reindeer her sister may or may not have heard. Once again, your trio was off, sprinting to the living room, leaving you and Javi practically speechless as you wearily trailed behind them.

“I’ve always worried about them catching us, but never once did I think about the fact they’d mistake us for reindeer.” You quietly snickered, giving Javi a playful nudge, trying to laugh to keep from dying of embarrassment. “Santa’s definitely putting us on the naughty list next year.”

“Mommy! Daddy! Come here! Look what Santa brought us!”

“He got us a new hockey net!”

“Oh my god this is the best Christmas ever!”

“I think Santa will understand.” Javi smiled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest as you watched your girls scamper in joy around your living room, the soft glow of your Christmas tree lighting up their beaming smiles as they began the hunt for their presents. Because the truth was, in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered. Not reindeer noises, lack of sleep, or late nights setting up last minute presents- The only thing that mattered in that moment was the pure love and happiness radiating from every inch of your living room. At the end of the day, you couldn't care how many presents sat under your tree because the best gift you could ever ask for stood right beside you and in front of you, and that was enough to make you feel like the luckiest person on earth. You weren’t sure you’d ever understand what you had done to deserve the world’s most perfect present- Your beautiful family and the life you had built together with them.

“I love you so much, Javi. Merry Christmas.”

“I love you more, Osita. Merry Christmas, mi amor.”

Taglist

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thestoryofella · 4 months

Note

hi ellaaaa !!! :] im here requesting another steve harrington (or fred weasley if u want variety !!) drabble type thing again lol ! i was wondering if u could write smth abt the reader going to visit him at work and they're in an arm sling and he's just generally shocked ? u don't have to of course, i was just curious cause i fractured my elbow yesterday after trying to skateboard and i fell really hard on the concrete 😭 i got an arm sling today and i don't need help but people keep offering it (i appreciate it but i can do things fairly normally !!)

tysm !! -☄️

thank you for requesting; I hope your arm feels better now! <3

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing

steve harrington x reader ✿ 1025 words

You had tried not to fall; you really had. After seeing Max skateboard across town on a beat-up skateboard that never left her side, you decided it would be of utmost convenience to be able to glide in between houses and stores on a similar board. It was only a bonus that you might look cool doing it.

Thus, you find yourself practicing riding a skateboard on a hill entirely too large for your skill level. You had meant to stop at the stop sign, which usually signaled the end of your block, but you found yourself rapidly gaining speed, flying past the stop sign, and then flying down a hill that resembled a mountain–or a children's slide if you were being realistic.

Given your speed, you rapidly hurtled down the hill, and any efforts to stop were futile. You crashed into a storm drain and were quickly thrown backward. Your elbow, unfortunately, took the brunt of the impact. After a tearful phone call to your best friend and a doctor's visit, you found yourself in an arm sling that was entirely too embarrassing to mention to your boyfriend.

Steve was cool, aside from his seeming default dad-like poses, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about your accident or show him, for that matter. You were committed to doing everything yourself and not having to recount your fall.

With your busy college schedule & Steve's job at Family Video, this was easy for a while. You resorted to texting him during the week, praying that your injury would be healed before the weekend came, and you both would undoubtedly want to spend lazy afternoons together to make up for the lost time.

During the week, you buried your head in books, took acetaminophen to reduce the pain, and faithfully elevated your arm to reduce the swelling–which previously made it resemble a turkey leg, the flesh around your elbow ballooning to uncomfortable levels.

It was Thursday when you got a text from Steve that read: You better come into Family Video. The movie we rented on Friday is due for return! At that moment, you knew that your antics had ended. Plus, given your student budget, you couldn't afford late fees.

When you read the message, you sent a silent glare to the VHS that sat woefully unaware, tucked underneath the TV in your college house. If you just had a few more days to heal, you could've been out of the arm sling before Saturday. But no, the VHS return you procrastinated upon injuring yourself the day after your movie night had come to bite you in the ass.

Even worse, morning classes had made it impossible to avoid Steve at Family Video–though deep down, you knew the news would've spread to him through the source of his chatty coworkers. Begrudgingly, you walked to Family Video, mirroring the form of a wounded animal, the VHS tucked into a spare tote bag that sat loosely on your undamaged arm, head hung slightly in defeat.

By the time you reach the store, the only thing keeping you calm is the gentle tweets of birds that flutter in and out of your hearing. You also feel increasingly guilty for keeping this from Steve. It probably wouldn't have done much damage to your reputation in his eyes. However, the thought of his doting getting more excessive made heat creep up your neck and into your ears–which may constitute one reason for your antics.

Walking inside the store, you fight the urge to curse as the bell above your head dings, immediately alerting the workers to your presence. Usually, this was helpful for quick service. But now? You want to crawl into a hole and stay there.

Looking upwards as you walk towards the counter, you meet Steve's face with a sheepish grin. Taking in your form like he usually does before seeing you makes you think all is well until his eyes fall on your arm. Upon seeing your sling, his eyebrows lift incredulously to his forehead, and he develops wrinkles that better suit a man twice his age.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to sputter out, "What happened to you?" It's a tone laced with shock, not anger, but perhaps a twinge of amusement. Although he doesn't find your misfortune funny, he thinks it's characteristic that you have managed to hurt yourself since the last time you saw him.

You laugh at his tone before rubbing your face with your good hand. "Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't laugh because it's really embarrassing." You decide that making a bargain is your best bet and scan his eyes for trust before continuing.

He offers his pinky as if to say: I promise I won't. But, he truthfully doesn't know.

You breathe in before unleashing your story. "So, last weekend–"

He cuts you off, "Last weekend?! You've had your arm in a sling since last weekend?"

You give him a pointed look, a warning to stop interrupting you before telling the rest of your story, including your ambitions to look as cool as Max riding her skateboard–which probably could have been excluded.

Surprisingly, Steve keeps his word and doesn't laugh once as you recall the events. Although a glint of amusement shines in his honeyed eyes, he feels more sad than anything he didn't know sooner. When you've finished, he walks around the counter to pull you into his chest.

"I wish you would've told me sooner; I would've come to your place to care for you." He emphasizes his point by pressing a kiss on your hair and a frown on his lips.

"It was just so embarrassing to have to say out loud," you mutter into his shirt, the cotton material pressing against your cheek.

He pulls away to grab around your shoulders, offering you a stern but kind look. "I would never judge you, even if you didn't successfully learn how to skateboard."

He's so sincere it almost makes you laugh. You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know," you respond, and you're telling the truth.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader hurt/comfort #stranger things #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario

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kxlitz · 1 year

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Hiii! This is my first time doing a request. So this is like a hurt-comfort idea. The reader has been like bullied for being like emo ( kinda in a similar style of bills style ) and when bill and the reader are young they become best friends and now when they are older, she’s a rockstar with Tokio hotel and all the people who used to bully her are jealous. 🤭🤭

✧˖°. Things do get better ✧˖°. Reader & Platonic! Bill Kaulitz

I sure can!! I love this idea actually <3 It’s something I can realistically see happening knowing how tolerance was back then, and tokio hotel themselves being victims of bullying. Let’s just be happy that things are better! Just like they’d be for you in this scenario

- I wrote this for platonic Bill, but if you wish for a romantic one just shoot me a request. I’m more than happy to work on them <3

Bill and you probably met at school and became one another’s safe person to be honest.

It was comforting to you to have someone that not only understood and loved your style, but shared it in some ways.

Also someone that knew how getting insulted, pushed around and harassed at a place that’s supposed to be safe felt like.

He always understood the need to express your true self and emotions through clothes, music, et cetera. You bet that his eyes were hooked on you from the moment he saw you.

Chunky and studded belts, gravity defying or sleek hair, or some amazing curls that reminded him of Nena. No matter how your physical appearance might be, it was the way that you portrayed and carried yourself that drove Bill to you.

He was probably so shy when approaching you !!

Sadly, you can’t always see the world through rose tinted glasses. The situation at school and around town didn’t get much better after befriending Bill..

Two is better than one; you guys were easy targets for people’s cruelty.

It was the late 90s & early 2000s, acceptance was lacking much more than it is today.

Tom was you guys’s main defender.

He might’ve been embarrassed of his brother’s style from time to time back in the day (Bill talked about this in his book) but he would never turn his back on him.

One time the twins found you all roughed up after some kids thought it was funny to charge at you as a group. They took you to their home, cleaned you up and their mom cooked you guys dinner.

You watched some movies on VHS and music videos on VIVA.

Not going to lie, you probably trauma bonded with Bill a lot. It might’ve been harmful in it’s ways but it genuinely helped you guys get some relief.

Whenever someone would make a comment out of place or physically harm you, Tom would go feral. You actually had to hold him back from getting dangerously physical a couple times.

Exciting the school grounds, running for your life along with the twins was no rare occurrence.

Bill was not scared to fight back either (verbally) but it took much more to get it out of him. He genuinely just wished to forget about them and go back to his safe bubble with you, his twin and the band.

Speaking of the band, Bill must definitely took you in rapidly as your style matched “Devilish” so well.

It was a tough road to stardom but you guys rose to fame practically overnight when your first single as “Tokio Hotel” dropped. (Shamelessly promoting my Growing up with Tokio Hotel series)

At first there wasn’t much change when it came to bullying. Outside of school you were the newest star in Germany. A young icon for teenagers that needed someone to look up to. Back at school, you were still a looser for many.

At least they learned to shut their mouths a minute. They just looked.

But their looks changed. It wasn’t pure mockery anymore. Their stares were full of jealousy because they knew they could never achieve what you did, and no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t take that away from you.

It generated even more hatred, as if “why does the social reject become a star when I’m the popular and normal one”

Shortly after, you needed to show up to class with a bodyguard.

It was ironic how the reject everyone hated suddenly became the centre of attention. For the best and worst. Some adored you and wanted your autograph and photo, cornering you in the halls. On the other side, some were there to harm you because they wanted your downfall.

To go in and out of school along with the twins, you needed high security. Which inevitably set you even more aside from the others.

Thank god you got permission to get out of that hell hole called highschool.

Time passed fast and Tokio Hotel rose to fame like a rocket ship exiting the atmosphere. Quickly, explosively and destructively. You were on top of the world.

Tour after tour, receiving award after award.

There were rough times and mistreatment by the label but, it couldn’t compare to everything you went through prior. Tokio Hotel and the stage were your escape and safe place.

Bill was with you at every step. Writing songs, working on new riffs, comforting you when it got hard. You never quit each other’s side through the years.

You can’t begin to describe the satisfaction of looking down to one of your school bullies in the front row as you were on stage, rocking out with Bill.

Approaching him, flawlessly playing your instrument as he sung. Face to face, happily and freely.

The look on your bully’s face was priceless, pure jealousy and hatred, yet they couldn’t resist the song.

Call it petty, but it felt damn good to shove in their face that you’re thriving while they’re forced to look up at the people they stepped and spit on.

You would never forget their faces, but they would stay in your past. What matters is how you managed to get out of there

If you ever have a bad time remembering those times, Bill will be there for you. His idea of friendly therapy to get over it might not be the most practical; as it is getting wasted and party it out- but gosh does it cheer you up. No matter how much time passes, Bill’s antics will be there to help you.

You always admired how he stayed bright and even when the world crumbled around him.

A good decade later you found yourself getting recognized at a coffee shop in Berlin as you were out of rehearsals for your next tour. It was a little girl with coloured hair and glasses. She told you how she found the band through TikTok and your songs helped her through hard times. Just to look up and see that her parent is the same bitch that made your life miserable so many years ago.

You simply smirked, signing an autograph for the girl and allowing her to take a photo with you.

You could’ve shoved this in your bully’s face, but there’s nothing that will bother them more than showing them how happy, and better you are.

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schaefer #tokita #alien #tokio hotel scenarios #tokio hotel imagines #tokio hotel alien

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

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can i request jealous mark (tmc) and a highly oblivious reader oneshot? he’s showing signs he jealous badly and y/n doesn’t seem to notice

Ngl I was heavily debating on whether to have Cesar be human/alive or his alternate, but....I don't see much of human ces so I went with that!

..........

Mark wasn't the most extroverted person, and certainly not experienced in dating whatsoever.

It took him ages to work up the ability to ask you out on a date...and even longer for you to realize he didn't mean that as "a friend". You genuinely thought he wanted to hangout like you did every other day.

But thanks to Cesar's intervention, that confusion was quickly cleared up before the end of the night, sparing you both from feelings of rejection and awkwardness.

Only then you realized "oh shit, we were actually on a date" and reassured him that you genuinely liked him back, offering to take him out next time to make up for your oblivious behavior.

He was a forgiving guy, so he accepted it, and from there on the relationship grew.

Of course, he sometimes struggled to express his emotions. At the end of the day, he still felt like that loner kid who always clung to his notebooks and the cross necklace he never left home without..unsure of what he should be doing now that he had a partner. He'd worry about whether he was doing the right things, so he'd often turn to Cesar for further advice.

You usually initiated most the romantic gestures, which he'd sometimes try to mimic. For instance, you'd write positive messages and his favorite psalms on sticky notes to leave in his locker; and the next day, he left notes in yours.

It was sweet, and you reassured him you appreciated them.

On the weekends, Cesar continued hanging out with you both, often tagging along as a wingman for dates. Obviously you weren't going to keep the two from being best friends, so you didn't mind it at all as long as he didn't feel like a third wheel.

However as time went on, Mark slowly began to notice that the man who helped him confess to you...

Was also the same guy he started becoming jealous of.

He could see how often Cesar's jokes made you laugh, or when his friendly teasing caused you to playfully slap his shoulder, unable to hide the grin on your face.

And for some reason..it stung.

Sure, he was one of the popular kids, the most charismatic, the guy everybody in school wanted to be friends with. This was how he always acted around him and you.

But to Mark, it felt like a thorn was permanently stuck in his side, wishing he was the one who made you laugh and joke around the most.

It was easy for Cesar, yet difficult for him somehow.

Some nights, he'd lie awake wondering what he could do differently...or if you're better off dating him instead.

Of course he wasn't going to tell you this and tried pushing down those envious feelings, thinking they'll go away in their own.

Yet it only got worse after the Alternates became more of a prevalent threat.

Stricter curfews were set in place throughout several counties, and more people were urged to stay inside their homes and keep their television usage down to a minimum.

This meant that you, Mark, and Cesar spent a lot more time together, staying at each other's homes and never leaving a single person alone for too long. If you absolutely had to go out, it'll be as a group.

For tonight, though, you were all spending it at Mark's place, trying to find ways to pass the time.

Cesar, being not too concerned about the Alternates, suggested watching a horror movie, popping the VHS into the cassette player while you got some popcorn before joining him on the sofa. You liked the idea and believed it to be a good escape from reality.

Mark, on the other hand, thought you two lost your minds.

"Did you guys just..forget that entire broadcast?" He bluntly asked when you invited him over. "We shouldn't even be having the TV on..let alone a scary movie. Turn it off."

"Mark, relax. It's fine." Cesar waved his hand, brushing off his friend's concerns. "It's a cheesy monster movie. Nothing's gonna crawl out of the TV and get us."

The brunette just frowned back at him, not liking how close he was to you yet being unable to do anything about it. "You don't know that."

"Just c'mon over here, dude." He sighed, noticing that your gaze was fixated on the screen, watching the monster stalk its first victim. "Who else is gonna protect [y/n] when the scariest part-?"

As if on cue, the shrill scream of the victim and the monster's horrific roars startled you. It made you jump and instinctively cling to the closest person.

Who happened to be Cesar.

Moments later, you realized your mistake and immediately shuffled away, bashful as he laughed at your reaction. "S-Sorry. That just..really got me. I didn't expect that!"

"It's all good. Now Mark, you can-"

However, when you both looked at Mark, you could see he was fuming, as though on the verge of screaming in rage. But then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, before mumbling something under his breath.

"What's up, hun?" You tilted your head, wondering what was wrong.

"I said I'm going to bed. You and Torres can do whatever the hell you want. I'm done trying."

"Wait, we can find another movie!" You tried calling out to him, but your words fell on deaf ears as he stormed out of the living room, disappearing down the corridor.

Seconds later you heard the door slam shut, and Cesar became tense, feeling his heart drop.

He was only trying to help Mark become a more confident boyfriend, but it seems he just made things ten times worse. He never called him by his last name unless he was extremely pissed off.

Maybe he went too far.

"You should go talk to him.."

"About what?" You looked at him, confused. "Is he mad we didn't listen to the broadcast?"

"...I feel like it's more than that."

Although your friend sounded quite vague, you decided to take his advice and leave for Mark's bedroom, telling him that he can keep the movie going.

After you reached your boyfriend's door, you knocked a few times, stepping back as it swung open and revealed an angry-looking Mark. But upon seeing you, his gaze softened. "Why aren't you with Cesar?"

"I was worried about you." You pointed out.

"...really? I'm surprised." He averted his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Can we just talk? I wanna know what I did wrong."

He was silent for a moment, forgetting that you were very dense and didn't see the obvious signs.

But he invited you inside, and after shutting the door you sat down on the bed together. Mark was still quiet as he tried to figure out what to say, wringing his hands together in an anxious manner.

You, on the other hand, decided to list out everything that could've possibly upset him this much. No matter what, you're not leaving until you wrestle the truth out of him.

"If..it's about us not listening to the broadcast-"

"No..no..it's..not that. I want us to stay safe but..that's not why I left. It's a stupid reason, now that I think about it..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did it...have anything to do with Cesar?"

Finally, you hit the nail on the head.

Thank god.

Mark was eventually able to admit how much he disliked the closeness you two shared even though it was Cesar who pushed him to ask you out. It was hard for him not to sound like a possessive asshole, but he felt like that's the impression he was getting when he saw your frown.

Great. Now you're probably gonna argue with him about much he was overreacting and how he didn't need to storm off like a child.

But instead, you hugged him..much to his shock.

"I'm so, so sorry, hun. I..I never even noticed until now." You pulled away and looked at him, feeling guilty that you never realized this. "But you know I'll always choose you over him, right? I'm sure he didn't mean to act that way."

"I know, I know. It's how he is." He sighed, his shoulders slightly relaxing. "I just...I wish I could be as confident as him. I hate being so uptight and paranoid all the time...and when I see him making the better jokes and moves, I.....l-like I said, it's stupid-"

"It's not stupid. I promise." You took one of his hands into yours, squeezing it gently. "I'll admit, it's kinda cute seeing you get jealous. I never thought you had that in you."

A blush formed on his face. "....m-me neither. So..are you sure that-?"

"Mark. I love you, and you alone. Cesar's a funny guy, but you're protective, polite, and honest. And I admire that. You don't have to be like him or anybody else, okay?" Smiling, you kissed him on the cheek. "We can go watch something else if you want, or if you wanna stay here."

"No, I'll..go watch that movie with you. But I'm gonna be the one protecting you from now on." He huffed, gaining some newfound confidence.

You just chuckled softly, taking his hands and pulling him up to his feet.

"Now that's the Mark I know and love."

#clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #mark heathcliff x reader #mark heathcliff #cesar torres

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jgroffdaily · 5 months

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How does it feel to be nominated alongside Daniel and Lindsay after doing Merrily together for nearly two years?

I'd known Lindsay forever; I didn't know Dan. I knew his work, but I didn't really know him personally. And I remember feeling, the first day when we walked into rehearsal, that so much has come for free, like when you go on a good date and the conversation is flowing.

It's really emotional because now, we're actually friends in a deep way. We've seen each other go through so many different things. We were at Lindsay's wedding; Lindsay's pregnant; Dan had a baby with his girlfriend — all in the last two years.

So much life has happened. We've lived the experience of doing the show both personally and as characters. There's so much real feeling that now I don't know where one of us begins and the other one ends. It's such a symbiotic relationship at this point, and to be here celebrating a show like this is phenomenal.

Did you have a connection to Merrily before joining this production?

[Actor] Gideon Glick, who I did Spring Awakening with, texted us all on the Spring Awakening chain years ago and said, "Oh my god, you guys have to see this Merrily documentary. It's us. It's reminding me so much of us."

In 2021, in November, we did a 15-year anniversary reunion concert of Spring Awakening. I invited [production company] Radical Media to come and record the concert and do a documentary that was, in large part, inspired by that Merrily documentary because I wanted to capture us from 15 years before and us now.

A couple months later, I got asked to be a part of this production. I watched Maria's British production of Merrily on YouTube, which is still there. When the character of Frank [...] said, "I've only made one mistake in my life. I made it over and over and over again, and that was saying yes when I meant no," that was the moment where I was like, "I have to play this part." I feel that so deeply.

Is there anything you wish Sondheim could know about this production?

I feel him talking to us every night. A gift that he left our whole community is his work. Between Off-Broadway and Broadway, we've done Merrily over 300 times. As a performer, that's really kicking the tires of the material if you still feel, over 300 performances in, like there's still so much more to learn. In his work, in his music, in his lyrics, honestly, last night — I'm feeling new things that I've never felt before.

Great art, when you get the chance as an actor to perform it, changes you from the inside out. I feel like I'm learning every day. It's like free therapy to do his work because it's so poetic and so thoughtful and so emotional.

What was your first experience with Sondheim's work?

[My] Sondheim gateway was a VHS from Suncoast Video at the Park City Mall of Into the Woods when I was in seventh or eighth grade. I brought it home. I was like, "What is this? I love musicals. I love fairy tales."

I watched it in one sitting and then I rewound it and then watched it all a second time.

What did theatre mean to you when you were younger?

Getting the chance to do theatre in [middle] school was life-changing for me. Same thing in high school.

[I had] the opportunity of being on a stage and getting to express myself as a teenager, and then going to see theatre and [discovering] that's it's so easy to understand the medium because you can perform it at school and then also see it. It's the actor's medium — you see people out there doing it live, and there's a real communion with the audience.

Being closeted when I was in high school — as I look back now, I didn't realize it then, but theatre was where I went to express myself, express joy, express sadness, express love, express myself physically, just even the act of singing. When I look back now, I realized that theatre, as a teenager, completely saved my life.

Do you have a favorite memory associated with the Tony Awards? The annual broadcast is many people's introduction to Broadway.

Oh my God, so many. I would record the Tonys on a VHS, and then I would bring them into school and show them to my fellow students in math class.

I taught a unit on the Tony Awards at York Little Theatre summer camp in 2004 with a bunch of 10-year-olds. It was the year of Wicked and Avenue Q and The Boy From Oz and Caroline, or Change. They all held a vote on who they thought should win Best Actress.

Probably the Tony performance I've watched the most is Sutton Foster doing "Forget About the Boy" [from the musical Thoroughly Modern Millie in 2002]. I was in high school. I saw the show six times. The heat coming off her as [...] she's playing this character of moving to New York and wanting to make her dreams come true — I was just lit on fire by her and that performance.

#jonathan groff #daniel radcliffe #lindsay mendez #merrily we roll along #merrily promo #tony awards #tony awards 2024 #Gideon Glick #spring awakening #sutton foster

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minniesmelody · 2 years

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Boo?

Pairing: Eddie x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sudden murders start to happen all over the small town Hawkins, the killer hasn't been caught and the more time that passes by, more murders happen. Who could have possibly done such a horrible crime such as this?

Warnings: Murder, mentions of blood, cussing, stalker like shit, mentions of stabbing, gore, this is based off the script of scream credit to Kevin Williamson for writing such a masterpiece. I did change a some stuff so please don’t go off like “ohhh that’s not what happened” yeah I know, that was on purpose.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏/???

𝟭𝟯+ 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟯 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗗𝗡𝗜 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

POV: Third person and first person

March 28, 1986 9:12 pm

*Ring ring ring*

"God who can be calling at this time?" Chrissy says to herself before walking into her dad's office and picking up the phone "Hello?"

"Hello?"

"yes?"

"Who is this?"

"Mm who are you trying to reach?"

"What number is this?"

"Well what number are you trying to reach?"

"i don't know"

"well i think you have the wrong number"

"do i?"

"It happens, take it easy" Chrissy says before hanging up, placing the phone down and walking away.

But then it rang again.

*ring ring ring*

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry i guess i dialed the wrong number.”

”So why did you dial it again?”

“To apologize I guess”

“You’re forgiven, bye now-“

“Wait, wait, don't hang up.”

"why shouldn't i?"

"Cause i wanna talk to you"

"They got 900 numbers for that. see ya"

"wait-"

Chrissy quickly hangs up the phone and walks to the kitchen, placing some Jiffy pop on the stove.

ring ring ring

'Jesus now the living room phone' Chrissy thinks to herself. She picked up the phone and raised it to her ear.

"Yes?"

"Oh come on sweetheart, why don't you wanna talk to me?"

"Because i don't know who you are" She says as she walks back into the kitchen where the popcorn starts to pop.

"What's the noise?"

"Just some popcorn i got going on my stove right now"

"hm, i can only enjoy popcorn when i'm at the movies"

"Well i'm about to watch a movie so.."

"Really? What movie?"

"The breakfast club, even though i've watched it more times than i can count, but i'd rather watch that rather than some scary movie or something"

"You don't like scary movies?"

"Not really, they give me nightmares"

"What's you're favorite movie?"

"um...Grease, i think i will have to say Grease"

"Is that one the Musical Romance one? With the blonde girl?"

"Yeah Sandy"

"SANDY! That's right, that's what her name was."

"Yeah i liked her"

"so...you gotta boyfriend?"

"No. Why? You wanna ask me out?"

"You know sweetheart, you never told me you're name"

"Why do you wanna know my name" Chrissy said as she walked back to the living room to place the Grease VHS in.

"Cause i wanna know who i'm looking at"

Chrissy's movement freezes "What did you just say?"

"I said i wanna know who i'm talking to"

"That's not what you said"

"What did you think i said?"

Chrissy quickly jogged up to her front door and clicked on her front porch lights on, she didn't spot a single thing so she turned them back off and walked back to the living room.

"Listen, i gotta go"

"wait- i thought we were gonna go out"

"I don't think so"

"Don't hang up on me"

"Gotta go"

"Don't-"

Chrissy quickly places the phone down and runs to all her doors and locks them. She walks back to the popcorn (which was starting to burn) she takes the popcorn off the stove and places it in the sink to cool off and-

ring ring ring

"Oh my gosh, yes?" Chrissy says, picking up the phone once again.

"I told you not hang up on me"

"What do you want from me?"

"To talk"

"Well dial someone else please"

She hung up the phone again but only for it ring again.

ring ring ring

"Listen-"

"NO! You listen to me you little bitch! If you hang up on me again i'll gut you like a fish, Understand?"

Silence consumes them. He has gotten her full attention.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"more of a game really"

Chrissy's eyes the front door of her house. It's unlocked. 'I could have sworn i locked it' she thinks to herself. She wastes no time bolting it and locking it again.

She looks through the peephole to see if anyone is on the other side of the door, thankfully there is not a single soul.

Chrissy relaxes a bit, relieved.

"i'm two seconds away from calling the police"

"They'd never make it in time"

"What do you want from me?" Chrissy's eyes start to water, fear consumes her.

The person on the other line starts to laugh a little before saying "to see what you're insides look like"

Chrissy wastes no time hanging up and throwing the phone on a side table when-

ding

Her front door bell chimes

"Who's there?" She calls out

ding

Another chimes hits

"I said who's there?"

No answers. Fuck this. 'It's time for the police' Chrissy thinks to herself. She goes to pick up the portable phone once again, just as she picks it up...

ring ring ring

Chrissy almost drops it, losing her breath, starts to panic all the more.

She brings it to her ear with trembling hands, saying nothing...listening...waiting...

"You should never say "who's there?" It's a death wish"

"Look, enough is enough. You had your fun now you better leave or else"

"Or else what?"

Chrissy pauses before speaking up once again.

"My boyfriend will be here any second and he'll be pissed"

"I thought you didn't have a boyfriend"

She starts to let out sobs "I lied, i do have a boyfriend and he'll be here any moment and he is big and he plays basketball and he will beat the shit out of you"

"His name wouldn't be Jason, would it?"

Silence. Chrissy's knees start to buck and shake.

"How do you know his name?"

"Go to the back door and turn on the porch light again"

Chrissy is terrified, she has to force herself to move, walking back to the kitchen and to the glass doors. Her shaky hand finds the light switch, she hits it.

Sitting in a law chair in the middle of the backyard is a man with wide shoulders and a small head of dirty blonde hair, her boyfriend Jason. He is tied and gagged, he has been roughed up, but still breathing.

"Oh god" Chrissy says out loud, covering her mouth as another sob escapes her mouth. Her hand moves to unlock the door-

"I wouldn't do that if i were you"

Chrissy is beyond petrified.

"Where are you?"

"Guess"

Her eyes search the yard. Her eyes wandering over the bushes, trees, He could be hidden anywhere.

"Please don't hurt him"

"That all depends on you"

"Why are you doing this?" She cries out

"I want to play a game"

She sniffles a few times before responding "What kind of game?"

"Turn off the light"

Her hand goes to the switch, Steve tugs and pulls at his straps. his face sweating and full of tears.

His figure disappears in the darkness as she clicks the light off. Chrissy moves herself away from the glass doors and back to the living room, her body shaking in fear.

"Here is how we play. I ask a question, if you get it right, Steve lives, it's easy"

"Please..." She sobs and cries and she starts to crouch down, losing her balance to stand on two feet.

"It's an easy category, movie trivia, i'll even give you a warm up question"

"Don't do this, i can't..."

"Name the two main characters of grease"

"no" She sobs out

"Come on it's your favorite movie remember? The one with the guy and girl meet at the beach and fall in love?"

"No please i don't know"

"Yes you do, come on, Jason's counting on you"

Chrissy pauses for a second to catch her before answering "Sandy, Sandy and Danny"

"YES! Very good. Now for the real question, same category, who played Allison in The Breakfast Club?"

"Molly Ringwald!"

"I'm sorry but that's the wrong answer"

"No it's not, i've watched it more times than i can count"

"Then you should know Molly Ringwald plays Claire, not Allison, Allison was played by Ally Sheedy"

"Please...." Chrissy says, sobs continuing to escape her mouth and tears falling down her face, drenching her rosy pink cheeks.

"Lucky for you, there is a bonus round, but i'm afraid poor little Jason... is out"

This implication sends Chrissy running to the kitchen, she flips the porch lights on just to see Jason, eyes wide, still tied and stilling in the lawn chair, his stomach gaping open, a mass of blood and ripped flesh. His insides lay on the ground between his feet, steam rising.

A scream erupts from the bottom of her soul as Chrissy nearly passes out, her face pale and ghostly white.

"Final question, are you ready?"

She doesn't answer, a long maddening silence. Chrissy reaches and clicks off the porch light, making the body of Jason go away into the darkness "Leave me alone...please"

"answer the question and i will, what door am i at?"

"What?" Chrissy says, confused.

"There are two doors to your house, a front door and a back door. You answer correctly, you live"

Chrissy eyes both of the doors, almost studying them, trying to decide between the two "Don't make me...I can't...i won't"

"Your call"

Chrissy slowly makes her way to the kitchen counter, leaning over it and grabbing a long, sharp knife. Chrissy looks around her, she looks down the hall to the front door, then turns back to the kitchen glass door as it suddenly Shatters to bits, a lawn chair comes flying through it, exploding glass sprays everywhere. Chrissy quickly makes her way to her back door, slowly slipping through it, she peeks through the glass door to see a cloaked figure roaming around her house.

She turns her head to see a car heading towards the house, her parents.

She peeks back to the glass door just to see the cloaked figure now staring at her. They quickly punch through the glass door as if it was nothing. This incites Chrissy like fire, she bolts for it, running through her yard, not even sure where to go just knowing that she needed to run.

It didn't last long though as they eventually caught her, grabbing her and slashing her in the chest with a knife. Chrissy looks down to see her sweater start to blossom red. The knife rises again, the blade comes down but is blocked by the portable phone still in her hand. This gives her a chance to get up and bolt for it, she runs as fast as she can to her parents, who were approaching the front door of the house.

She opens her mouth to scream but no sound resonates.

Her father finds the front door afar, a puzzled look rises on his face, Chrissy right behind them with one arm stretched out. Her parents don't bother to look behind them as they enter their home.

"Chrissy?" her father yells out "Chrissy, honey where are you? Call the police"

"Help...me" Her mother hears her from the phone

"Oh god, i can hear her"

"Get in the car and drive down to the Mackenzie's" Her father says, handing her mother the keys to the car.

Her father moves through the house when a scream erupts from his wife's mouth, he rushes out the door to find his wife, on her knees, bent over, retching. His eyes move beyond to a tree in the front yard as he bares to witness to the single most horrifying sight he'll ever see.

That of his only daughter as she hangs from a big oak tree, strung up, very much dead, her stomach ripped open.

"Oh my god, do you believe this shit?" Jeff said, walking beside me.

"What happened?" i asked

"You don't know? Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver were killed last night"

"Uh yeah nice try, there is no way"

"Yes way, and not just like, Y/n. We are talking splatter movie killed-split open end to end, it's insane"

"Wait- Chrissy Cunningham? As in the queen of Hawkins High?"

"Yup, parents found her hanging from a tree, her insides on the outside"

"Do they know who did it?"

"Fucking clueless, they are interrogating the entire school. Teachers, students, staff, janitors"

"Hey there sweetheart" Eddie says, approaching me, placing a shoulder over me as we walk into school together "Crazy huh?"

"Are you kidding? Murder in the small innocent town that is Hawkins? Who would have thought"

"Yup, they are even bringing the feds into this, this is-"

"Wait- the feds?" Eddie asks, shock written on his face.

"I know right? This is like, insane, who would do such a thing?"

“Remember in JAWS when they caught the wrong shark at first and Richard Dreyfuss cut it open to look for body parts and all they found was a licence plate and all this white milky goo.” Gareth said only for Jeff to lean over and sock Gareth in the arm.

“You heard Eddie, shut the fuck up”

“Whatever man” Gareth said before taking a swing of his chocolate milk that was sitting on his lunch tray.

“Hey Jeff, didn’t you have a crush on Chrissy, or was that Eddie?” Mike asked, joining the conversation.

“I mean yeah, we both did, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I mean, I’m just saying Jeff, when you start falling for someone you start falling hard-“

“So what are you trying to say? That I killed her or something?” Jeff said, obviously offended by Mikes words

“It would certainly improve on you’re high school Q”

“Relax, Jeff was with me last night, I need his help building my newest lego set” Dustin said, backing up for Jeff.

“Oh, before or after he sliced and diced?” Mike questioned.

“Fuck you asshole, where were you last night Mike?” Jeff questioned Mike, pointing a finger at him.

“First off, put your finger down and second, I was helping my sister yesterday for her stupid newspaper so I was busy, I didn’t have time to murder someone, not like I would want to in the first place,, but if you don’t stop I will gut your ass in a second” Mike explained.

“Did you really put her liver in the mailbox? I heard they found her liver in the mailbox”

“Gareth, you goon-fuck, I’m eating here” I said, I didn’t really wanna think of stuff like that when I’m stuffing my face with food.

“Yeah Gareth, she is getting mad. I think you better liver alone” Eddie pitched in and joked, not funny.

"So, tell us, what relationship did you and Miss Cunningham have?" Officer Callahan said, note pad in hand, Officer Daniels and Officer Powell's next to him.

This is stupid, i get it, someone died but why interrogate me? I'm just some loser in high school who very obviously doesn't like the snotty popular circle of peo-......no you know what....i see why they would want answers from me at least. Disliking the Queen of the popular kids and she ends up dead....yeah i see why.

"I didn't really have much of a relationship with Chrissy, it’s not like I hated her. I didn't talk to her much but she hung around all the popular kids and dated that dipshit Jason Carver, i disliked Jason more than Chrissy, like i said, i didn't talk to her much." I explained, shuffling a bit in the uncomfortable school chair that was attached to a wooden desk, sitting in an empty classroom.

"Did you guys ever clash on anything? Any arguments? With Miss Cunningham or Mr Carver?" Officer Daniels asked this time.

"I never fought with Chrissy as i never really talked to her like i said already. Me and Jason fought almost on a daily basis. He would be his prick self and taunt us"

"Us?" Officer Callahan questioned.

"Hellfire? Me, Eddie, Gareth, Dustin, you know...the freaks? Weirdos? The opposite of the popular's?" I said while pointing at my shirt, red devil and dice plastered on top of it.

"Is that the Dungeons and Dice club?"

"It's Dungeons and Dragons"

"Whatever, same thing, did you happen to know if Jason clashed with anyone else other than anyone in Hellfire?" Officer Powell asked, annoyed at my comeback towards Officer Callahan.

I shook my head no "How should i know? I tried to avoid the asshole as much as possible"

"Was there ever a time you wanted him to die? Any time you wanted him...gone?"

I thought for a second before answering since there was a few times.

Like the one time he grabbed me the wrong way while i was waiting for Eddie to be done with his little drug deal, he grabbed my ass and waist and started forcing himself on me, the smell of beer and weed bouncing off of him, i had pushed him off of me and ran back to Eddie as fast as i could.

Or like that one time he had pushed Dustin down the stairs and called him a toothless walrus, i had punched him in face and told him to eat shit, and yeah maybe i told him to go and die but i didn't think back then that he would actually end up getting murdered and end up dying 6 months later from that moment.

"I mean...i've thought about him suffering due to his actions but i never in a million years thought it would actually happen for real"

"And you don't know anyone who would do this? For real, not verbally?"

"No Officer, not at all"

"Sorry, work ran late, i'm on my way" Nancy said from the other line.

Me and Nancy had gotten a bit close, her being the older sister of Mike after all and being of course from being one girl to another, we mostly understood each other for the most part.

She had invited me over for a sleepover, her mom offering to make a bunch of snacks and watch some movies together, but writing and work was always her main focus, no mater what she wouldn't budge to take her focus off whatever project she was focused on before anything else.

"Yeah sure, i will be here waiting"

"Great, by the way i wanna swing by Family Video and get something. I was thinking something with Tom Cruise in it" Oh yeah, she has a Tom Cruise obsession, she has a whole poster of him hanging up on her wall in her bedroom and everything.

"Whatever, just hurry" I said before placing the phone back in it's place and starting to walk away, until-

ring ring ring

Nancy? Did she forget to say something? Did i say something? Was it even Nancy? Only one way to find out. I picked up the phone and raised it to my ear.

"Nancy?"

"Hello Y/N"

I didn't know the voice, i would have known who it is by now, has to be someone who called the wrong number or something.

"Hi, who is this?"

"You tell me"

I'm trying to place his voice but nothing clicks, it sounds a little bit distorted.

"I have no idea"

"Scary night isn't it? With all the murders and all, it's like its all coming right out of a horror movie or something"

"Ah Gareth, you gave yourself away, you are the only person i can think of who speaks about movies at random times, especially horror movies"

"Do you like scary movies?"

"I like that thing you are doing with your voice Gare, i think the ladies will dig it"

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

"Don't start, you know i don't watch that shit"

"And why is that?"

"Because they are all the same, it's always some stupid killer stalking some big breasted girl who always runs upstairs when they should be running out the front door, its ridiculous."

A brief silence passed by.

“Are you alone in the house?”

“That is so unoriginal. You disappoint me, Gareth”

“That’s because I’m not Gareth”

“So who are you then?”

“The question is not who am I, the real question is where am I?”

“So where are you?”

“Your front porch”

I pause, I slowly move towards the window closet to me and pull aside the drapes, I can’t see all of the porch but I don’t see anyone.

“Why would you call me from my front porch?”

“That’s the original part”

"Oh yeah? Well i call your bluff"

Fuck it, i quickly unlock the door and swing it open revealing the front porch, but i see no one.

It's one of the boys pulling a prank on me, it has to be, i can't think of anyone else it could be.

"Can you see me right now?"

"uh-huh"

An idea pops up in my head.

"What am i doing?" i say as i stick my finger to my nose, mimicking i was picking my nose "Good try Gareth, better see you at school, don't need you failing like Eddie, bye now-"

"If you hang up, you'll die just like Chrissy and Jason did….do you wanna die? I know they didn’t…”

My mouth went dry. Mouth agape but no words leaving it. I couldn’t even stop myself from hanging up immediately and dialing one of the only numbers I knew wouldn’t be dead luck…

911.

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