#like I’ve had this conversation with my mom. she told me if she ever has to be like disconnected I have to do it and accept she wants to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corroded-hellfire · 2 years

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Where the Heart Is - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Nancy invites you home to Hawkins for Thanksgiving break after you’ve become best friends at Emerson College. When you spend a “friends-giving” at Steve’s house with all of Nancy’s friends, you make a special connection with a certain metal head.

Note: Huge thanks to @gathered-moss and @munsonquinns for their help when I got stuck!

Warnings: language, mentions of not the best family life, mentions of sex, i think that’s it?

Words: 13.8K

[Part 2 | Where The Heart Is masterlist]

“I really appreciate this, Nancy. Your family really didn’t have to do this.”

“Will you stop?” Nancy huffs a laugh.

The airport is crowded. Grandparents flying across the country to see their children and grandchildren, lifelong best friends getting to see each other for the first time in years, and kids like you and Nancy, flying back from college for Thanksgiving break.

The Wheelers were kind enough to invite you to their home for the holiday. Karen had heard about you for months now, Nancy having told her all about the best friend she’s made away at Emerson. When she’d heard that you didn’t have family to spend the break with, she didn’t hesitate to invite you to Hawkins.

Nancy had bumped into you in the laundry room on the third floor of the dorm building you both lived in. You had bonded over how you both disliked your roommates as you separated your warm from your cold clothes. You’ve been close friends ever since. A long hall separated your room from Nancy’s, but you’d often use the other’s space to get away from your respective roommates. Nancy’s roommate was a total slob, while yours was just an all-around inconsiderate person to occupy the same space with.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Steve,” Nancy says as you take the escalator down to the baggage claim level.

“He’s seemed great every time I’ve talked to him,” you say.

“You mean when you’ve stolen the phone out of my hand so you guys can talk about me?” she asks with a smirk.

“Well, you wouldn’t give it to me willingly! But I like him. And I know from the pictures in your room how cute he is.”

Nancy adjusts the duffle bag on her shoulder as you both step off the escalator. You follow her in, what you assume, is the right direction since you’d never been to Indiana before, let alone the Indianapolis airport. A pretty blonde woman smiles in your direction and waves her hands.

“Oh, there’s my mom,” Nancy says. She closes the distance, and her mom pulls her into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you!” her mother says. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re home. Mrs. Wheeler turns to you and gives you a warm smile. “Hi, dear! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wheeler,” you say as you shake the hand she’s extended to you. “Thank you so much for letting me join your family for Thanksgiving.”

“Please, call me Karen,” she says. “And it’s no trouble at all. We’re glad to have you.”

Luckily, both yours and Nancy’s bags come out quickly on the baggage conveyor belt, and you’re able to get back to the car and on the road for the hour or so journey up to Hawkins. Nancy and her mom chat animatedly in the front seats, bringing you into the conversation every now and then. But you don’t mind just listening to them talk about people and places that you don’t know. Seeing a mother and a daughter get along as well as they do gives you a melancholy feeling. You’re glad Nancy has such a great relationship with her mom, but it makes your heart sink a little that you don’t have that.

“So, who all is going to your thankful friend thing?” Karen asks.

“Friends-giving, Mom,” Nancy says. “It’s all of us.”

“I’m supposed to know who that includes?” Karen says.

“Mike and that gang. Dustin, Will, Lucas, Max, El. Then, Eddie, Robin, and Jonathan,” Nancy says.

“Jonathan?” you can tell by the tone of voice that her mom is surprised that Nancy’s ex is going to an event at her current boyfriend’s house.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve been weird not to invite him,” Nancy says. “He’s back from college too, and Will and El are coming, so we weren’t going to leave their older brother out.”

“That was nice of you guys,” Karen says. Though the comment sounds sincere, you can tell Karen wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not.

“It’s fine, Mom,” Nancy says, picking up on the same edge in her voice that you did.

“Okay, okay,” Karen acquiesces. “Now, Steve is having dinner with us tonight, right?”

“Yes. He and I gotta show the out-of-towner around town this afternoon,” she says, looking over her shoulder at you with a smirk. “Then he’s coming back for dinner.”

“Have you talked to Steve before?” Karen asks, looking at you in the rear-view mirror.

“I have,” you tell her. “He seems great.”

“He is,” Karen agrees as she pulls the car into the driveway of a pretty suburban two story.

You look out the window in awe at the size of the house compared to the small apartment back in New Hampshire that would be called your “home.” Following the Wheeler women out of the car, you pull your suitcase out of the trunk. There’s a high-pitched squeal that comes from behind you and you turn to see a small blonde girl running across the street and flinging herself into Nancy’s arms.

“Holly!” Nancy hugs her little sister so tightly she lifts her off the ground. The girl giggles and squeezes Nancy around the neck until she sets her down.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Holly says. Nancy presses a kiss to the top of her head and tugs on one of her two pigtails.

“Me too,” she tells her. “This is my friend from school I was telling you about. Can you say hi?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Holly,” you tell her.

She smiles shyly at you and hides half of her face behind her big sister’s arm.

“Hi,” she says in her meek voice.

“You can go back over and play with Dana,” Nancy tells her. Holly nods before she runs back across the street.

Nancy grabs her suitcase and Karen leads the two of you into the house.

“Where’s Mike?”

“Oh, the boys are having some dragon dungeon thing today at Lucas’s,” Karen says.

“Of course they are,” Nancy says. “What a perfectly good waste of a day off school. Come on, my room is upstairs.”

You both lug your suitcases up to the second floor and into Nancy’s room. As you slip your backpack off your back, you take in the dainty atmosphere the bedroom gives off. The light furniture and collages that adorn the walls make the room feel cozy and safe, a place to escape the world at the end of the day. The Tom Cruise poster makes you chuckle and the lemon fresh scent in the space is calm and inviting.

“Just dump it anywhere,” Nancy says, gesturing to your suitcase.

She sets hers down near the foot of her bed and you lay yours in the corner of the room, careful to make sure it isn’t in the way. There are pictures tacked to the wall above your suitcase and your eyes search the photos, smiling at the fun it seems Nancy is having in them. Some show a young Nancy with missing teeth, standing next to other small girls, all draped in costume jewelry. There are some of Nancy older, with a redhead with thick glasses.

“That’s Barb,” Nancy says from behind you. There’s a catch in her voice, like she’s trying to compose herself. “She was my best friend. She, um, died when we were sophomores.”

“Oh, Nancy.” You turn to face her, your own face in a frown. “I’m so sorry.”

She gives you a sad smile and nods her head.

“That one is Robin right there,” she says, pointing to another picture of two girls in dark green graduation gowns. Their arms are slung around each other and Nancy’s smile is infectious in the shot. The other girl has short dirty blonde hair with blunt bangs, white teeth on full display as she grins at the camera. “You’ll meet her on Friday.”

“It’s really cool that you’ve got such a large group of friends to get together with,” you say. “I can probably think of two people total from high school that I’d visit if I went home.”

“Yeah,” Nancy says with a sigh. “There were a few really rough years here in Hawkins. We all went through a lot together, which I guess brings people together.”

“The earthquake, right?” you ask, turning from the pictures to look back at Nancy. “And before that, there was that fire?”

Nancy nods and walks back towards her bed. “Yep. A lot happened in this little town.”

“Where’s my beautiful girlfriend?”

At the sound of the voice in the hall, Nancy’s mood makes a one-eighty, and her face lights up in delight. A tall, athletic boy swoops in the door and pulls Nancy into his arms. She laughs as he picks her up and spins her around.

“God, I missed you,” he says. He sets her down and cups her face in his large hands, bending down to press his lips to her. She kisses him back for a few moments before she pulls back, remembering you’re in the room as well. Steve follows her gaze to you and smiles in greeting. His smile alone would’ve told you why all the girls at their high school fell for him.

“I’m really hoping you’re Steve,” you say.

“The one and only,” Nancy says.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make out in front of you,” Steve says. “It’s nice to actually meet you in person.

“No, don’t mind me. I’m third wheeling here. Make out to your heart’s content.” Nancy rolls her eyes playfully at you. You step forward, unsure if you should shake Steve’s hand or if that’s too formal. “Nice to see you too, Steve. Nancy was right. You’re even better looking in person.”

Steve smirks as Nancy blushes. Steve saves you from not being sure how to greet him by wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his side.

“I knew I liked you,” he says.

“Why do I feel like introducing you two was a huge mistake?” Nancy says, her head dropping forward in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until she meets the rest of the gang. You know how many stories we have to swap?” Steve asks her.

“Please no,” Nancy pleads.

“As someone who was invited into your house as a guest, I feel like it’s only polite to take your side,” you say, and Nancy gives you a cautiously optimistic look. “But, as a guest in Steve’s house on Friday, wouldn’t it be polite to then take his side?”

“I’m going back to Boston,” Nancy says as she stalks out of the room.

You and Steve laugh as you watch her leave. He removes his arm from around you and goes to follow her out the door but turns to you right before he crosses the threshold.

“Are there any guys I should be worried about up there?” He asks the question as if he’s kidding, but you can tell there’s a bit of true worry under his casual tone.

“Are you kidding?” you respond. “She talks about you to anyone who will listen. For hours on end.”

The smile that lights up Steve’s face is priceless, and you wish Nancy could have seen how full of love and admiration his expression was.

“We better follow her before she really does head back to Boston,” Steve says.

Nancy made it seem like your tour of Hawkins would be the most boring thing you’ve ever done. On the contrary, you found the small town quaint and quiet. It was a nice change from bustling Boston or your sketchy downtown living in your town in New Hampshire. The leaves were in crisp autumn colors, some trees shedding their coats for the impending winter. The streets were mostly empty, but every now and then there was someone bundled up in a coat and scarf walking down the sidewalk.

Steve drove you past places central to his and Nancy’s growing up there. The high school and middle school right across from it, the now-closed-for-the-season community pool, even a large white clinical looking building that made Steve and Nancy share a disconcerting knowing look. You couldn’t imagine what the gates and barbed wire fences were needed for in a town like this.

You’d already heard all about Mike from your month’s long friendship with Nancy, but from the way Steve talked about another younger boy, Dustin, you thought that he was Steve’s brother until Nancy told you otherwise. The adoring way they both spoke of him made you look forward to meeting him, though. Steve warned you that Robin could ramble on, but you assured him that you could keep up with the best of the ramblers. Eddie, who Steve begrudgingly called one of his best friends, came up in passing, as did a girl named Max. The way both Steve and Nancy talked about their friends filled you with a longing for something you never knew you wanted. You hadn’t been worried about meeting Nancy’s friends before, but now hearing how close they all were and what a tight knit group they formed, you were a little worried that you wouldn’t be accepted into their circle. You told Nancy as much that night as the two of you were getting ready for bed.

“Trust me, you really don’t have to worry,” Nancy assures you. “The hardest one to win over will probably be Max, but she’s really only about as half as mean as she pretends to be.”

“I’m not sure how comforting that is,” you say.

Nancy slides into the covers on one side of the bed, and you slip in on the other. She clicks the lamp off as you pull the covers up to your chin.

“I’ve never once seen you worried about what people will think of you,” Nancy says. “Not even Ben when you had that massive crush on him.”

“I didn’t have enough time to care what he thought of me before I found out he had a girlfriend,” you tell her.

“I still can’t believe he’s the only guy you’ve even been mildly interested in at school,” Nancy says. “How many others have asked you out? Six? Seven?”

“I didn’t give a shit about any of them,” you say with a laugh. “Most of them were assholes who just wanted to get laid. And the others - which were probably like two of them - I only saw as friends.”

“I mean, I’m not mad about it,” Nancy says. “This way I’m not the only one who isn’t going to the clubs on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“You could still go, you know. Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t go out dancing with friends.”

“I know that,” Nancy answers. “But it would feel weird. All those guys are looking for are hookups, like you said. It’s like a meat market in there.”

“So, you see why I don’t go,” you say.

“But you don’t have a boyfriend,” she says.

“And I don’t want one who I’ll meet when he starts grinding on me from behind at some sleazy, disgusting club.”

“Fair enough,” Nancy says with a sigh.

You turn your head on your pillow so that you’re looking at your friend beside you.

“Do you really think I’m too mean to these guys?”

Nancy frowns at the timidity in your voice.

“You haven’t been mean to any of them. I’ve only ever seen you politely decline. Do I think you should give one of them a try every now and then? Yeah. You never know what you could be missing.”

“I know.” You sigh and turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I just haven’t felt anything for any of them. I want to feel something when I look at a guy. Or think about him. But in my mind, the thought of going out with any of them seemed more boring than sitting through ten of Professor Carter’s lectures.”

Nancy chuckles at that.

“Well,” she says. “Damn Ben for having a girlfriend then.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh as you nod along in agreement.

“Damn him.”

It almost seemed impossible to you how conventional and simplistic Thanksgiving was at the Wheeler household. The way that Mike and Holly argued over the remote control, Holly wanting to watch the parade, and Mike - just being a typical annoying big brother, you think - wants to hog the remote to watch what he wants. How the baby of the family gets her way and sits in front of the television, watching the large balloons being escorted down the streets of New York City. That Ted Wheeler falls asleep in his chair before the parade ends and bangs and clinks come from the kitchen as Karen preps for the big dinner. This all only happened in movies, as far as you had been concerned.

Thanksgiving growing up consisted of loud drunk neighbors, the smell of burnt cooking exuding from the apartments around you, and possibly a home cooked dinner of spaghetti if your mom felt like it that year. Normal family traditions were something you never got to experience, and just getting to see them firsthand was enough to make you emotional. Of course, Nancy notices, but she would never say anything. She just tries to include you as much as she can with small, mundane tasks like helping Karen in the kitchen or setting the table with Mike.

Dinner itself was a whole new experience. A family all sitting down together, sharing a meal, and talking to one another while doing so. You could count on one hand the times your mom would talk to you as you both ate frozen dinner entrees that had been heated in the microwave. Karen apologizes more than once about her children bickering back and forth, but you enjoy it more than she could understand. It’s all so odd and appealing to you, this dynamic. A nice suburban house with the white picket fence and family dog barking at the children playing in the yard has always seemed like such a faraway thing that would elude you forever. But seeing it up close and personal, you realize how badly you want this.

After dinner is the first time you really get to spend with Mike, both of you sprawled out in the basement after too much turkey, eyes heavy with sleep from feeling so contented and full. Nancy insisted you had helped plenty and could go downstairs while she finished helping her mom clean up. Mike said he’d show you some of his D&D stuff, which Nancy groaned about and said not to bore you with. But you were honestly intrigued and tried to follow along as Mike explained how the game works. Neither of you could keep focus for long though, both wanting to crash on the comfortable furniture down there as the tryptophan from the turkey kicked in.

Mike tells you about life at Hawkins High, about his friends that you’re meeting tomorrow, and how they’re all considered nerds and geeks. You could relate on some level, as you’d been picked on for not having the best clothes or accessories as you didn’t have as much money as the other families of the students. Nancy comes down to join you and puts some Blondie on the stereo - to Mike’s annoyance - as the three of you let the food comas control your bodies for a while.

Homemade pumpkin and apple pies are served for dessert a few hours later, complete with a scoop of ice cream and a generous helping of whipped cream. The family then all gathered in the living room to watch It’s A Wonderful Life, a tradition Karen tells you that happens every year. She calls it the official end of Thanksgiving and beginning of the Christmas season. You’ve never seen the movie before now, and Nancy notices how happy and relaxed you are as you sit next to Holly on the couch and watch the classic black and white film. Her heart aches as she realizes how she’s taken these holidays for granted her whole life, not thinking about how fortunate she really is.

When you and Nancy get ready for bed that night, bellies full of delicious homemade food and hearts all warm and fuzzy from sharing the things you were thankful for at dinner, she takes a moment to give you a big hug, making sure you realize how thankful she is for you. If it makes you tear up slightly before she pulls away, she can easily pretend not to notice.

Friday afternoon is full of messes and giggles as you and Nancy prepare dishes to bring with you to Steve’s house that evening. Most everyone would be bringing leftovers from their family Thanksgivings the day before, but Nancy knew that once Mike got ahold of the food there wouldn’t be much leftover to bring.

The green bean casserole gets in and out of the oven without issue, but once Mike smells the pumpkin pie you made baking, Nancy has to physically push him out of the kitchen.

“You’re coming later,” Nancy reminds him. “You can eat it then.”

As the two of you get ready for the dinner, you find yourself fidgeting more than normal. The blue sweater you put on is soft and you find yourself rubbing the material through your fingers over and over. The dainty golden heart necklace you wear becomes something to fiddle with as you prepare your makeup. Nancy must notice your nerves, as she offers to do your hair for you.

“Relax,” she tells you as she gives your hair a finishing puff of hairspray. “We’re really all a weird bunch.”

“So, I’ll fit right in,” you say with a small, nervous smirk.

“You really will,” she assures you with a smile.

On the drive to Steve’s house, your nerves somehow dissipate. The ride through the small-town calms you. Seeing children all bundled up and playing with one another in their yards. Neighbors walking their dogs together through the colorful leaves adorning the sidewalks. It’s simple and peaceful, something you’d only ever seen in movies.

The house you pull up to looks larger than the entirety of your apartment building back home. Granted, it’s a small apartment building, but still. The trees surrounding the two-story home give it a sense of mysticism, yet the dark exterior keeps it modern.

There are already a few cars parked out front as Nancy pulls in behind one in the driveway. She kills the engine, and you follow her out of the car and up to the front door. You’ve met Steve, and like him, so there’s no anxiety about seeing him. But you know the other people in there are Nancy’s favorite people in the world, so it puts some unintended pressure on.

Nancy doesn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell, just opens the front door and casually strolls in. It tells a lot about the relationship the two have, and it makes you smile as you follow her over to a small coat closet near the door.

“Hey! Thought I heard your car pulling up.”

Steve smiles as he approaches the two of you. He helps Nancy out of her coat and takes yours as well, maneuvering them onto hangers in the closet. Nancy leans down to unlace her boots, and you bend down to unzip yours.

Voices can be heard coming from the other room, and it sounds like quite a few people are already there. Steve closes the closet door behind you as you struggle with your zipper. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow enter the entryway as you manage to get the zippers down on both of your boots.

“Hey,” you hear Nancy greet the new person in the room.

You stand up straight, ready to kick the unzipped boots off your feet, when you look up and lock eyes with the man standing a few feet in front of you. His dark brown eyes stare right back at you, gazes locked on one another like you’ve both frozen in time. Behind you, Nancy and Steve look at each other from the corner of their eyes, both cracking a smile as you two just continue to stare.

The mysterious boy has a mass of curls that fall to his shoulders, almost as brown as his eyes. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt with a denim vest layered over it, covered in colorful patches. He’s tall and slim, and light glints off the silver rings adorning most of his fingers. One side of his mouth tugs up in a smile, the only motion either of you makes.

“Um,” Steve says once he can’t take it anymore. He steps forward so he’s equidistant between you two. His eyes dart back and forth, not knowing which of you to address first. “Eddie, you remember me telling you about Nancy’s friend?”

Eddie. The name runs through your mind and forces a smile on your lips. It fits him. And suddenly it’s the best name you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, eyes still glued to you.

“And this is Eddie,” Nancy says as she comes up beside you. She places her hand on your arm and nods her head at the curly haired boy. “One of my friends from high school.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you manage to get out.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Nancy says, tugging on your arm gently. “We can all talk in there.” She notices you haven’t finished taking your shoes off yet and knocks her knee against yours to get your attention. Steve joins in her attempts to help break you and Eddie out of your trance and puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a light shove in the direction of the living room.

Reluctantly, your eyes break contact with his as you look down to step out of your shoes. Nancy nudges them over alongside hers before guiding you along behind Steve and Eddie.

The spell that had come over you is broken as loud and rambunctious younger teens shout at one another, some hanging off couches, some sprawled out on the floor, and some moving from place to place. You spot Mike on a couch, arm around who you assume is his girlfriend, as he went to spend time with her earlier in the day.

Your eyes search for Eddie, but you’re startled by a girl coming up to you and giving you a big, toothy grin.

“Hi! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“Robin,” Nancy says with a laugh. “Don’t scare her.”

“Sorry,” Robin says with an apologetic wince.

“No, it’s okay,” you assure her. “Just a lot of new people.”

“Mike, we forgot the food in the car,” Nancy calls to her brother. “Can you go get it?”

“What? Why me?”

“Oh, come on,” another boy says as he hits Mike on the chest.

“Thank you, Will,” Nancy says pointedly.

“So that’s Will,” Robin tells you as the boy walks by. He gives you a kind smile and a wave before he ducks out of the room, Mike right behind him. “That’s El, Mike’s girlfriend. She’s sitting next to Jonathan. And the ones arguing over there are Dustin, Lucas, and Max.”

“Who is who?” you ask, looking at the three kids bickering with one another.

“Dustin’s in the hat,” Nancy says.

“Ginger is Max,” Robin adds.

“Tall one is Lucas,” Nancy finishes.

“Remember all that?” Robin asks.

“Maybe,” you say with a chuckle. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“How do you like Hawkins?” Robin asks.

“It’s cute,” you tell her. “Much different than Boston.”

“Oh yeah,” Nancy agrees.

“Here.” Mike stalks into the room and shoves the container holding the green bean casserole at his sister.

“Such a gentleman,” Robin says.

Nancy accepts the dish from him with an eye roll. Will walks in with the pumpkin pie and you take it from him with a thank you. Nancy leads you into the kitchen and balances the casserole in one hand while opening the oven with the other. She slides it in to heat it up, making room for it next to the other dishes inside.

“You can just put the pie in the fridge,” she tells you.

The refrigerator is fairly full, but you manage to find a place to fit the tin in. Nancy comes over and yanks a bottle out of a cabinet next to the fridge.

“Want a glass?” She holds up the wine bottle to show you as she grabs two glasses.

“Sure,” you say.

Nancy pops the cork out with ease and pours a serving for each of you. The red wine flows like life’s blood and you can practically taste the dry fruitiness already. She hands you a glass and you clink them together before taking a swig.

“Oh,” Nancy says as she lowers the glass from her mouth. “I forgot to ask Steve something. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She sets her glass down as you nod at her. Left alone, you lean back against the counter and take another sip of your wine. It’s a large, white kitchen, decorated in an array of plaid and checkered patterns. There are so many cabinets and shelves you can’t imagine what they all hold.

“Hey, Nance, where can I - oh.” Eddie stops short in the entryway when he sees you standing there alone. A smile lights up his face and you blush at the sight. “You are not Nancy.”

“I am not,” you concur.

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and sidles up next to you. Arms crossing over his chest, he leans against the counter next to you.

“Welcome to the circus,” Eddie says, gesturing to the next room where you can still hear a cacophony of young voices going back and forth.

“It’s cool that you all keep in touch after high school,” you say. “I could tell you where maybe five people are that I went to school with. The rest? I couldn’t give a damn.”

“I feel that way about most of our school,” Eddie says. “These are the few good ones. Course, the kids are still in school. Robin’s going to Hawkins Community College and Steve and I are just working stiffs now.”

“What do you do?” you ask, taking another sip of your wine.

“Work at a garage downtown,” he tells you. “Nothing fancy, but it pays the bills.”

“I know all about that,” you say. “I work at a coffee shop. I come home smelling like hot chocolate every day.”

“There are worse things to smell like,” Eddie says with a smile. “Once I got gasoline on my shoes and I swear, I smelled like it for a week, no matter how much I showered.”

The image of Eddie in the shower invades your thoughts and you take another gulp of wine to hide the flush on your cheeks. The urge to drop your eyes down to his arms and chest is appealing, but you manage to restrain yourself.

“You keep drinking that quickly and your blush is only going to get worse.”

The way you choke on your wine makes you fear that some of it is going to shoot out of your nose. With your hand over your mouth and nose, you cough as some of the wine goes down the wrong way. Eddie reaches over to pat your back a few times, only adding to the heat on your face. You notice he’s smiling at you, but it’s not in a mocking or patronizing way. It’s as if he thinks you’re cute and the thought makes your head buzz more than the wine.

“You okay?” he asks.

“M’good,” you squeak out through a cough.

“Want some water?”

All you can do is nod in response. Eddie turns to grab a cup from a cabinet next to the sink and fills it up halfway. You take it without looking him in the eye and take a couple of swigs.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, throat recovering from the burn. The accursed dirty mind you have makes you think there’s a way I’d like him to make my throat burn.

“Good,” he says.

He opens his mouth to speak again when Nancy comes back into the kitchen. Her eyes go from you, to Eddie, back to you again. She raises an eyebrow and you’re unsure if it’s because of your red face, Eddie’s smirk, or if she can feel the tension in the air.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” Eddie tells her at the same time that you say, “Yep.”

She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press any further.

“Eddie!”

A shorter boy with dark curly hair tucked under a blue and red baseball cap walks into the kitchen, head swiveling to find his friend.

“Right here,” Eddie says.

“There you are,” Dustin, if you recall correctly, says. “Will you come tell Lucas that he’s an idiot?”

“Um, hello,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. “Manners, dude.”

“Oh, shit,” Dustin says with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Dustin.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “You’re the one who Steve’s adopted, right?”

Dustin’s laughter rings out in the kitchen.

“Sometimes it feels like the other way around, but yeah,” he says.

“Steve and Eddie share custody now,” Nancy says.

“Don’t make me his co-parent,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Steve pops his head in the kitchen and rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, you guys.” He walks over and slings his arm over Nancy’s shoulders. “Leave me with them out there.”

“Isn’t Robin out there?” Nancy asks.

“She joined the argument, whatever it’s about!”

“Lucas is saying that in Star Wars-.”

“Nope,” Steve says, cutting Dustin off. “I don’t want to hear about your little nerd wars.”

“Come on,” Dustin whines. “You liked Return of the Jedi.”

“No, he liked Leia in the gold bikini,” Nancy corrects.

“The one with the teddy bear things?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, the Ewoks,” you say.

All heads turn to you and a grin grows on Dustin’s face.

“I didn’t know you liked Star Wars,” Nancy says.

“All we ever do is talk, how did this never come up?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Are you a nerd?” Eddie smirks at you and pokes your arm.

“A little,” you say with a shrug.

“Read The Hobbit?” Eddie asks.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Steve says. He presses a kiss to Nancy’s head and turns to head out of the kitchen. The oven timer dings though, and Steve stops in his tracks.

“Dinner’s ready, Dad,” Dustin says.

“Shut up. Go tell the others to sit at the table.”

“Wait,” Nancy says, and everyone stares at her. “Um, I mean, Dustin and I will get the others. You guys help Steve get the food out.”

“Okay,” Dustin drawls, narrowing his eyes at Nancy.

She nudges Dustin out of the kitchen ahead of her as Steve yanks the oven door open, letting the heat and savory scents of the food waft out into the air. It’s a mishmash of dishes as Steve pulls them out one by one, setting them on the counters around him.

“Okay,” Steve says. He closes the oven and turns it off. Putting his hands on his hips, he spins around and looks at the different foods. “We’ve got vegetables, we’ve got turkey, potatoes, breads.”

“Cranberries?” Eddie asks.

Steve snaps his fingers and nods. “In the fridge.”

“I’ve got it,” you say.

Steve loads up Eddie’s arms with food before piling himself up. You scoop up the dishes that are left and follow the guys into the dining room. Nancy and Dustin had called everyone in to eat, and most of the seats are already taken. All that’s left are the seat at the head of the table, for Steve, and two seats situated between Nancy and Will. The way Nancy avoids your eyes as you set the food down on the table tells you that the two chairs left for you and Eddie aren't just a coincidence.

Eddie makes no secret of his happiness that you’re sitting near one another as he grins brightly and pulls out your chair for you. You slip into it and meet Nancy’s too-innocent eyes as Eddie sits down next to you. If Steve’s wise to the setup, he shows no hint of it while he cuts pieces of turkey to be sent around the table.

“Stuffing?” Eddie offers.

“Yes, please.”

He doles some out on your plate before serving himself, tongue peeking out of his lips the whole time. Bowls are handed across the table, plates passed back and forth from one friend to another, but eventually everyone is settled with their full plate in front of them.

The girl named Max sits across from you and she glances up at you between bites of turkey. You give her a smile that she tentatively returns.

“Well, damn,” Eddie says from next to you. “I knew Red for over a month before I got a smile out of her.”

Max scowls at him as she shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“I have a good sense about people,” she says once she’s swallowed her food. “I like her. I was never sure about you. Still not.”

“Hardy har,” Eddie answers but Max cracks a smile at him.

“Should we do that thing?” Robin asks the whole table. Everyone turns to her, most brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ah yes, Robin,” Steve says. “That thing.”

“You know,” Robin says. She gesticulates with her hands, crumbs of stuffing flying off her fork in the process. “Where we say what we’re thankful for.”

Mike and Lucas groan in tandem as Dustin drops his head into his hands.

“We’re not eighty years old, Robin,” Steve says.

“Oh, come on,” Robin says. She looks pleadingly at everyone, widening her eyes and jutting out her bottom lip.

“Why not?” El asks.

You notice everyone seems to have a harder time saying no to El than they do Robin, and Steve shrugs in reluctant agreement.

“I’ll start,” Robin says, unsurprisingly. “I’m thankful that Steve got promoted to manager at Family video.”

“Why are you thankful for that?” Mike asks.

“Because it means Keith doesn’t work there anymore,” Steve says. “And she won’t get in as much trouble if she clocks in late.”

“Still thankful,” Robin says with a shrug. She leans back in her seat and nods at Jonathan next to her.

“Oh, um,” Jonathan says, shifting in his chair. He looks uncomfortable with all the attention on him. “I’m, uh, I guess I’m thankful that we moved back to Hawkins.”

The game goes around the table until it gets to Eddie.

“Shit, there’s a lot I’m thankful for this year,” Eddie says with a chuckle. There are some murmurs of laughter in agreement around the table and you feel like an outsider for the first time tonight, not being in on some joke or knowledge. Eddie quickly takes notice of this and licks his lips. “I think I’ll go with two things, though. One, finally graduating.” Dustin and the other younger boys break into applause at this, which Eddie halts by waving a dismissive hand at them. “Two, I’m thankful Nancy brought this lovely lady over for dinner.”

Eddie turns to look at you, his smirk and statement making you blush yet again. You weren’t someone who blushed easily, and somehow this adorable metal head had managed to make it happen twice within a single hour.

“Well, you stole my answer,” you tell him with a shy smile.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you. He rests his arm along the back of your chair and leans just slightly into your space.

“Yeah,” you affirm.

You miss the way Max’s eyes go to Nancy, who is grinning at the pair of you, then move to Steve, who shrugs at the redhead and rolls his eyes as if saying what’re you gonna do?

“You’ll just have to give another one then,” Eddie says.

He watches you as you squint one eye closed and pucker your lips together as you think. With your gaze not solely locked on him, you don’t see the way his eyes dart down to your lips. But Nancy does.

“Can I just say I’m thankful for Nancy in general, then? Because I wouldn’t have been able to stand being at school without her. And she was kind enough to bring me home with her to meet her family and all of you.”

There’s a collective “aww” around the table as Nancy leans over and wraps an arm around you, leaning her head against yours.

“Well, I’m thankful you decided to do your laundry in the middle of the night just like I did. Or this might’ve never happened,” Nancy says. “And I’m thankful for being able to make long distance with Steve work so well.”

A smile lights up Steve’s face and you’re struck again with how cute these two are with one another.

“You’re the last one to go, Stevie,” Robin says. “Lay it on us.”

“Well, I’d be in complete trouble if I didn’t say Nancy, right?” he asks, throwing a wink and smirk her way. “I’m just kidding. Well, not about Nancy, about being in trouble for it. Because I am thankful for Nancy.”

“Anticlimactic,” Robin says with a sigh.

“Are we done?” Max asks. “Please?”

“Yeah, that only took up the whole dinner,” Mike adds.

“Oh, please,” Nancy calls down the table to her little brother. “Like you actually paid attention to what a single person said.”

Eddie leans into whisper in your ear. “I’d say we’re not always this crazy, but that’d be a lie.”

“Are you kidding? I would love to have a group of friends like this,” you tell him. “The crazier the better.”

“Oh, well then you’re definitely in the right spot,” he tells you.

Steve begins to gather empty plates from the table, and Eddie is right behind him, sliding yours on top of his as he stands up.

Nancy shoos you from the kitchen, saying that you aren’t allowed to help clean because you’re their special guest. So, you find your way back into Steve’s living room, where those who aren’t helping to clean are spread out around the room, either talking or listening to the music that Eddie’s turned on the radio.

“Queen, hmm?” you say as you walk over to stand near him.

“Yeah, I figured they’re a band everyone would be happy with,” he says as Killer Queen begins over the speakers. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, but they’re pretty good.”

“And who on earth could you possibly hold in higher regard than Queen?”

“Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden,” Eddie starts, but you cut him off.

“So, basically any metal band?”

“Pretty much,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips. “Best type of music, if you ask me. But I do also like Queen.”

“Good,” you say. You plop down on the nearest empty couch and Eddie follows to sit right alongside you.

“I’m guessing Queen is your favorite?” he asks, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

“They are,” you tell him. “Freddie Mercury has one of the greatest voices of all time.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Eddie says. “Who else do you like?”

“A lot, actually. From Queen, to Beatles, to Elvis, to Madonna, to Black Sabbath, to showtunes.”

“Showtunes, huh?” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“I will take no disrespect of Stephen Sondheim,” you warn him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “Mostly because I have no idea who that is.”

You laugh and the sound brings a light to Eddie’s eyes. They crinkle in the corners as he looks at you and it’s enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

Across the room, unbeknownst to you and Eddie off in your own little world, Nancy and Steve walk back into the living room.

“Damn, she and Munson are really hitting it off, aren’t they?” Steve asks, making Nancy giddy with happiness.

“Steve, you don’t get it,” she tells him.

“I know. I never thought I’d see a girl take such a shine to Munson so quickly.”

“No,” Nancy says with a shake of her head. She watches the two of you converse on the couch, him laughing at something you said, before she grabs Steve’s arm and pulls him to the side of the room.

“There have been like, at least twelve guys who have asked her on dates back at school,” Nancy tells him. “Out of those, she probably agreed to three. And from those three dates, I think she had a second date with one of them. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna need more context clues to get me where you want me to go,” Steve says, shrugging in confusion.

“I’ve never seen her actually be interested in a guy. Well, one, but he had a girlfriend, so it didn’t last long. She’s told me besides her one boyfriend in high school, she’s never clicked with or had real feelings for anyone before. But this!” She gestures to you and Eddie in your own little bubble on the couch. “It’s huge! You don’t know her like I do, but trust me, this is huge.”

“Okay,” Steve says, getting the hang of it. “And what about Eddie?”

“I’ve never actually seen him have a crush on someone before. Have you?”

Steve shakes his head and holds his arms out to the sides helplessly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk to a girl that’s not in this room,” he says.

“I think he likes her,” Nancy says with a grin that could only be called devious.

“Hold on, Yente,” Steve says, startling Nancy.

“Was that really a Fiddler on the Roof reference?” she asks.

“I manage a video store. Pretty sure I’ve seen every video in there at least twice. So, yeah. But you’ve got to slow your roll on the matchmaking. She’s going back to Boston with you in two days.”

Nancy sighs and folds her arms over her chest.

“I know,” she admits sadly. “But they’re so cute.”

Steve rests his hands on Nancy’s shoulders and gives them a small massage.

“They are,” he agrees. “I don’t think Eddie would mind if you spent the rest of the semester talking him up to her, though.”

It feels like you’ve only been talking to Eddie for ten minutes, but when the whines from Mike and Max come that they’re hungry and want dessert, it shocks you to find out that it’s been hours since you’d all finished dinner.

Dessert goes much quicker than dinner, and with more efficiency. There was the pumpkin pie that you and Nancy had made, an apple pie that Will and El had baked, some cookies Max made, and cupcakes that Robin says she picked up on clearance on the drive over. Everyone wants to sample a bit of everything, but it’s hard since you’d all had a hardy meal just hours ago. Once you’re one vanilla cupcake and a slice of pumpkin pie deep, Eddie offers to split a piece of apple pie with you. He smothers it in whipped cream and hands you a second fork so the two of you can dig in together. You laugh when Eddie uses his pinky finger to put a dab of a glob of whipped cream on the tip of your nose. You go cross-eyed trying to look at it - which makes Eddie laugh - and try to stretch your tongue up as high as it would go to clean it off. You’re unable to do it though, so settle for wiping it off using your hand with a sigh.

Though you don’t have the room left, you swipe one of the last of Max’s cookies so you can have officially tried one of everything. After your first delicious bite though, you realize there’s no way you’ll be able to finish it. You slump back in your seat with a groan, the waistband on your pants threatening to suffocate you. Tilting your head to the side, you see Eddie in an almost identical position. He eyes the cookie in your hand and opens his mouth.

“Really?” you ask with a laugh.

He just nods, keeping his mouth open. You feed him the rest of your half-eaten cookie. He licks over his lips as he finishes it, then let’s out a groan to match your previous one.

No one feels the urge to talk or move from the table as you’ve all been re-stuffed. The music that’s still playing on the stereo in the living room drifts in over the silence of the dining room, and you smile to yourself as one of your favorite Billy Joel songs plays. It’s a comfortable atmosphere, the silence not awkward, just content as everyone basks in their food comas.

Dustin is the first one to break the silence, which seems to surprise no one.

“We’ve got to do the secret Santa,” he says.

“Shit, where’s the hat with the names in it?” Steve asks, slumped down in his chair.

“I think I saw it in the living room,” Will says. He forces his way out of his seat with a strained groan, and shuffles into the other room. He returns holding an upside-down Santa Claus hat that rustles when he shakes it.

“Oh, um am I..?” you trail off, looking at Nancy.

She nods. “I put your name in there. I figured you could always ship your gift and your gift can get shipped to you if you’re not here for Christmas.”

You haven’t even thought about what your plans would be for Christmas this year. It wasn’t usually a pleasant time of the year for you and college had distracted you from the fact that you’d have to be at home for the holiday. It sounded about as appealing as walking back to Boston from Hawkins, butt naked.

Will sits down with the hat and places it on the table in front of him.

“Should I start?” he asks.

“Might as well,” Dustin says. “Remember the rules. You can’t pick your own name. And you can’t pick a sibling because you’ll probably be forced to buy them something anyway. Oh! Also, no couples,” Dustin says, eyeing Steve and Nancy before Max and Lucas. “We all know you’ll be buying each other things too.”

“We got it, Henderson,” Steve says. He gestures to Will. “Let’s get it going.”

Will draws the first name and smiles to himself. He’s careful not to look at anyone around the table as he slips the small piece of paper in his pocket. He slides the hat over to El, who in turn draws hers. She frowns when she sees the name and replaces it to pick another one. The hat travels along the table, with Mike also having to select a second name, and ends up at Nancy. She selects her rolled up paper and holds it close to her chest so she can read it. She chuckles and holds the paper in her lap as she slides the hat over to you. You reach in and pull out the first scrap of paper your hand touches. Copying Nancy’s movements of holding the paper close, you take a look at who you’ve drawn. “Max” the paper reads. Nodding to yourself, you slide the hat down to Eddie, who has the final pull from the hat.

“Good thing I don’t have the sibling or girlfriend option here since I’m drawing the last one,” Eddie says as he sticks his hand inside. “As long as it’s not me, we’re good.” He peeks inside the little white paper before folding it up and putting it in his jacket pocket. “Not me. We’re good.”

Dessert is also an easier clean up, so Nancy lets you help this time around. It only takes a few minutes, then you’re strolling back into the living room, where your hand is quickly picked up by someone coming up alongside you.

“Hi,” Eddie says with a smile, as if it’s been a while since the two of you spoke.

“Hi yourself,” you respond as you adjust your hand in Eddie’s grip. His hand is strong and warm, and you can feel the gentle rub of calluses. He leads you over to a different part of the living room than where you were before. There’s a small nook towards the back of the room, where someone could sit and look out of a pale stained-glass window into the backyard. Today was so cold though, that the window was frosted over, giving a romantic feel to the small area.

Eddie sits down on the cushioned seat and pulls you down right along next to him. You’re sitting hip to hip, knee to knee and he still hasn’t let go of your hand. The colder air closer to the window is all the excuse you need to lean into Eddie’s side. He also takes the chill in the air as an excuse to wrap his arm around you, tucking you even further against him. You let your cheek rest against his shoulder, and it doesn’t take long until Eddie rests his head against your own. The silence is companionable as Eddie rubs his hand up and down your arm.

After a few minutes of sitting this way together, Eddie dips his head down to press his lips close enough to your ear that you can feel them brush your skin as he whispers to you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, eyes staying closed. From his angle he can’t see the smile you’re fighting to keep off your face.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Moisture instantly gathers behind your closed eyes at his words. You blink a few times to expel them before you tilt your head up to look at him face to face.

“Is that so?” you whisper back.

“Cross my heart,” he replies.

This time the smile doesn’t stay off your face, no matter how hard you try.

“You’re an incorrigible flirt, Eddie Munson.”

“How can I not be? Usually, I’d have to take the time to psych myself up to flirt if I had just seen you around town. But no time for that when you’re leaving soon.”

He pouts adorably at the way his words cause a frown on your face.

“Nancy did tell you that you guys have to go back, right? Or was this really a kidnapping ploy all along?”

You giggle and it brightens Eddie’s whole face. It also gives him the courage to lean down and press his lips softly against yours. You gasp into the kiss, not expecting it, but quickly compose yourself enough to kiss him back. He pulls away just a little and it gives you the opportunity to sit up straighter, giving the two of you a better angle for your next kiss. He delves in and cradles the back of your head with his hand, the other snaking around your waist. One of your hands cups Eddie’s cheek as you kiss him and the other rests firmly on his chest.

Eddie’s tongue swipes across your top lip and you don’t hesitate in opening your mouth to him. His arm around your waist pulls you impossibly closer to him until you’re half on his lap, the kiss getting deeper by the moment. In many ways, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. Not only is Eddie a talented kisser, but you can feel the emotions behind the kiss as well. Eddie slides his hand from the back of your head to cup your jaw, tilting his head to kiss you at a slightly different angle. There’s longing there, it’s melancholy and addictive. He tastes like the pie you shared mixed with cigarettes and taste that could only be explained as Eddie.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, bunching the black material into your hand. The hand that was on his jaw has snaked around to bury itself in the curls at the base of Eddie’s neck. He manages to maneuver both of you so he’s lounging back against the cushions of the seat, and you’re on top of him, chest pressed to chest, and legs tangling together as you let out a soft moan against Eddie’s mouth.

The sound only encourages him, his kisses becoming more impassioned and messier. Not that you mind. You’d be happy if he spit in your mouth, but you figured that wasn’t something he needed to know on day one.

Sense of time is all but gone and you’re only reminded that there are other people in the room - albeit on the other side of it, with you two not directly in view of them - until someone, by the sound of it, Robin, starts speaking at a volume way too high for indoors. She starts to babble on and on, voice raising with every statement she makes. Both you and Eddie find it amusing, as you pull away from one another’s mouths with small laughs commingling in your shared breath.

Eddie reaches up and tucks a piece of hair that’s hanging in your face behind your ear.

“In case you haven’t realized,” Eddie says softly, keeping you two in your own private moment. “I really like you.”

“Well,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “In that case, I hope you’ve noticed that I really like you too.”

The grin on his face makes your labored breaths even quicker as his eyes gaze into yours. You rest your forehead against his and let your eyes fall closed.

“Can I see you again before you leave?” Eddie whispers.

Leaving now sounds like the worst possible thing you could endure. Boston is a great city, and you love almost every aspect of it. The food, the sports, the people, the weather. But it doesn’t have Eddie.

“Yes,” you answer him. “We leave Sunday afternoon. Steve is taking Nancy and I out for breakfast before he takes us to the airport. Would you maybe want to come?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

Loud clapping hands come up behind you and the quiet intimate moment you’ve been having with Eddie dissolves around you.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Robin says. “Time to get a room. Preferably the guest room at the Wheeler house.”

“We don’t have a guest room,” Nancy says. “She’s bunking with me.”

“Sorry, Eddie,” Robin says. “That means there’s no room for you on that bed.”

As everyone says goodbye for the night, you stand a little off to the side. Sure, you’d become one of the gang over the course of the evening, but that still couldn’t touch all the history and familiarity that the others had with one another. You get hugs from most everyone, including an unexpectedly tight one from Max. Will tells you repeatedly that it was so nice to meet you and you understand why Nancy was so excited to be with this group of people. They’re all kind, caring, and most obviously of all, they’re all so dedicated and loyal to one another.

Steve gives you a hug that’s just as tight as he’s given everyone else, and it could bring tears to your eyes how included you feel. You take a deep breath before you give you your final goodbye of the night. Eddie wraps you in his arms and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. His arms feel so secure around you and the warmth that you feel when you nuzzle your head into his neck is enough to make your heart burst.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he asks.

“Soon,” you confirm.

He presses another kiss to your lips before reluctantly letting go.

Mike is crashing at Lucas’s tonight, so it’s just you and Nancy on the drive home. Nancy has barely shut the driver’s side door before she’s turning to you with the look of a cat that’s about to pounce.

“I have never seen you like that!” she gushes at you.

You shrug, glad for the dark night outside to hide your reddened face. She starts the car and pulls out of Steve’s driveway, but the conversation isn’t over.

“You guys were so cute,” Nancy says. “You like him?”

Looking out the passenger window at the dark trees that go past, you smile so Nancy can’t see it.

“I really like him,” you admit.

Nancy coos over your admission as she pulls out onto the main road in Hawkins.

“I could tell!” Nancy gloats. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

“You weren’t very subtle at all, forcing me to sit next to him at dinner,” you tell her.

“Are you complaining?” she asks.

“No,” you admit bashfully.

“I didn’t think so.”

“I asked him if he wanted to come with us to breakfast with Steve on Sunday. Is that okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” she assures you. “He’s a great guy, really.”

Nancy pulls her car into the driveway and you both enter the house quietly; Holly and her parents having already gone to bed. You gather your pajamas out of your suitcase and tell Nancy you’re going to take a shower when the shrill ringing of the phone on her nightstand makes both of you jump. She quickly grabs the receiver before the noise can wake anyone in the house up.

“Who the hell,” she mumbles to herself as she looks at the clock, reading almost one in the morning. “Hello?” she asks. There’s a pause and Nancy rolls her eyes as she listens. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You giggle quietly to yourself as you watch her become exasperated. Clothes clutched to your chest, you gesture down the hall to let her know you’re headed to the bathroom. She nods at you as she listens to the person on the other line.

The hot shower invigorates your skin that had grown dry in the cold autumn air. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you let the warm water run down your skin, relishing in the relaxation and calming aroma of the minty shampoo. As your fingers work through your hair, you recall the feeling of Eddie’s hair in your hands. The soft curls at the base of his neck you toyed with as you kissed. Thoughts begin to churn in your mind of Eddie joining you in the shower, but you don’t want to turn this into a cold shower, so you try not to let your mind wander down that path.

Using the towel to wring the excess water from your hair, you make your way back to Nancy’s room in your pajamas. The oversized t-shirt and plaid bottoms were so comfortable that you could hardly wait to curl up in bed. But when you walk into her room, Nancy hasn’t pulled the blankets down or even changed into her own pajamas. She’s changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, so comfy clothes, but not ones for sleep.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Guess who was on the phone?”

You’re about to admit that you have no clue, but with the way she raises an eyebrow at you, you think you get the idea.

“He didn’t,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, he did. Wanted to know if he could come over,” she tells you.

“What?” you ask, just as there’s a knock on Nancy’s window. It startles you, but Nancy seems to have been expecting it.

“Your Romeo,” Nancy says, her head nodding to the window as she goes over to open it. She slides the glass up and Eddie stumbles in, landing clumsily as he trips over one of his own boots. Nancy shakes her head at him, and he spins around to face you, eyes instantly lighting up and an infectious smile curling his lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his middle, the cold air sticking to his leather jacket making you shiver.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair as he presses kisses to the top of your head. He quickly sheds the jacket, not wanting to make you cold, then retakes you in his arms, the warmth of his red flannel giving you the intended warm effect.

“You saw me an hour ago.” Your face is smooshed up against his chest, but he understands you anyway.

“I know. An hour,” he says. “And you’re leaving soon so I wanted to spend all the time with you I could.”

“He gave me the same speech,” Nancy says from behind him. “He’s lucky I’m a romantic and caved.”

You peek around Eddie to give her a grateful smile, which she returns with a wink.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says. “But I will be back.” She gives a pointed look to Eddie as she heads out the door, closing it behind her.

You hop onto Nancy’s bed and open your arms for him, which he happily falls into. He climbs on the other side of you, kicking his boots off as he goes, and tucks you against his side.

“I like your pajamas,” he says. “They’re cute.”

Burying your face in his chest, you nuzzle your nose against his sternum.

“Didn’t expect company, so I dressed for warmth,” you say.

“Cold?” he asks, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

“Not really,” you say. “But keep holding me like that.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

You tilt your neck up, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. His hand rubs up and down your side and your body fills with a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Can I ask you something?” you whisper against his skin.

“Anything,” he answers.

“What did you mean before?” Your fingers play with the hem of his flannel as you run the tip of your nose up to behind his ear. “At dinner. When you said there’s a lot for you to be thankful for this year.”

His body shifts underneath you and you pull back to look at him. He avoids your eyes as he adjusts his grip around your waist. You rub your hand over his chest, leaning down to press a kiss against his collarbone.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say, sensing his mood change. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. He lets out a sigh and presses his lips against your forehead. “It’s just a long, shitty story.”

“If you want to tell me, I’ll listen,” you assure him.

This makes him smile and he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Okay,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m going to start off by saying I’m innocent though, okay? Just to preface this fucked up tale.”

You nod even though your brow scrunches up in concern. Not that you don’t believe him, but it hurts to hear that he was wrongly accused of something.

“There was this girl at school,” he starts. “Her name was Chrissy. She was a cheerleader, queen of the school. One day she asked to talk to me, which was weird in itself.”

The frown on your face is involuntary as you picture - what you can only assume is a pretty - cheerleader all over Eddie. He notices the look and runs his thumb over your pinched forehead as he lets out a soft laugh.

“Aw, are you jealous, baby? Don’t be. It was nothing like that. I mean, in complete honesty I did have a crush on her in middle school, but that was forever ago.” He presses a kiss to your now relaxed forehead before continuing on. “I used to sell drugs at school, and she wanted some pot. So, I told her when and where I’d meet her for the deal. When the time came, she was all jumpy and seemed paranoid. I tried to calm her, and it worked a bit, but she ended up asking if I had anything stronger. I didn’t with me, because I wasn’t stupid to be busted on school grounds with anything harder than weed. There was a basketball game that night and I had a hellfire meeting - you know, the D&D club I told you about after dinner. Anyway, so I told her I’d take her back to my place afterwards and I’d get her something then.” Eddie chuckles as he feels you tense up in his arms at his last statement. He presses soft and sweet kisses down the side of your face. “Can I just say that I love how you’ve only known me for a few hours and are already jealous at the thought of another girl alone with me?”

You huff playfully and hide your face in his neck. It only causes him to laugh again, and he moves his hand up and down your back reassuringly. He lets out a sigh though, as he goes on to continue his story.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says.

Nancy pushes open the door then and both of you look up as she enters. She gives you a small smile as she creeps back into the room, shutting the door again behind her.

“I’m just telling her about Chrissy,” Eddie explains.

“Oh?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows so high that they meet her wet bangs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it.”

He shrugs and squeezes you in his arms.

“Just going over the important parts anyway,” he says, and a look is shared between them that escapes your notice.

Nancy nods and climbs up on the bed, resting back against her footboard and tucking her legs up underneath her. Eddie continues his story, Nancy interjecting in places that Eddie wasn’t present for, like their friends trying to find where Eddie was hiding. She talks about how she spoke with Eddie’s uncle and how after that moment she had no lingering thoughts whatsoever that Eddie could have murdered their classmate.

“Wait, I’m a little confused,” you say when they’ve finished their story. “So, you guys went to find who the real killer was, Eddie, you got hurt, and Nancy, you knocked the guy out of a window? But he escaped? Then how were you cleared?”

“Um, there wasn’t enough evidence,” Nancy says. She clears her throat before continuing. “They eventually caught the real killer, but we have a friend in the police station. El’s dad, actually. He was able to take a harder look and proved that Eddie couldn’t have done it.”

“So, I was cleared. And healed, thankfully. If Dustin hadn’t gotten my ass to the hospital so quickly, I wouldn’t have made it.”

You squeeze Eddie in your arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, you meant that you were thankful you were okay and that you were cleared?” you ask, bringing it all back to your original question.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “And thankful I had these friends around me to help me out.”

“That’s so scary,” you say. Eddie and Nancy share a look above your head, knowing you don’t know the half of how scary it all actually was.

“But it’s over,” Eddie says as he lays his head on top of yours. Your fingers tighten in his shirt and Eddie feels like he could cry from the relief that rushes through him at the gesture. He hadn’t realized how terrified he was that you would think badly of him after the story, or even worse, think he truly was guilty. His body relaxes against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder, leaving him smiling against your hair.

You bring your hand up to your mouth to cover a yawn and Eddie looks at the clock on Nancy’s nightstand. “Shit, I guess I should let you guys get some sleep. The sun’ll be up any minute now.”

He slips out of your arms and off the bed. You follow behind him as he makes his way over to the window.

“Thanks for letting me come over, Nance.”

She nods her head at him as she slips under the covers. “Don’t make a habit of it,” she says with a playful smile.

He gives her a salute before looking back at you. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them up to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you agree as you raise up on your toes to press your lips against his.

Eddie kisses you softly, letting go of your hands so one can cup your cheek while the other pulls your body closer to his. Too soon, he pulls away and opens Nancy’s window. The frigid air blows in and you pick Eddie’s leather jacket up off the floor, handing it back to him. He slips it on and presses one last kiss to your lips before he ducks outside.

“Bye, beautiful,” he says.

“Bye.” You smile at him as he closes the window behind him and scoots down the slope of the Wheeler’s roof.

Saturday it was planned for the Wheeler family to take a trip a few towns over where there was a big holiday festival happening. The whole town was decked out in red and green, and the chill in the air added to the festive spirit. Mike was initially grumpy about being picked up from hanging out with his friends to spending time with his family, but he ended up happy he came after a video game that he desperately wanted was on sale at the local mall. You and Nancy shopped for some new clothes there as well, and you joined the family for lunch at a cute diner right in the mall’s parking lot. From there, you all visited the outdoor skating rink where you taught Holly how to skate, and she ended up being able to skate faster than either of her older siblings.

Once the sun went down, you grabbed some hot chocolates to go and headed back to Hawkins for a family movie night tucked up in the house. Holly fell asleep before the end of the second movie, her hand clutched in Nancy’s and her head on your shoulder. Mr. Wheeler carried her to bed and Mike broke out a box of gingerbread cookies that Karen had tried to hide from him in the back of the pantry.

It was a fun day, but Eddie had been on your mind for the entirety of it. You pictured modeling the clothes that you had bought for him, or him holding your hand as you skated around the rink. When you and Nancy headed up to bed, she joked that there would be no middle of the night visitors tonight, and you both fell asleep quickly.

Sunday morning you were brimming with excitement to see Eddie, but your heart melted at the tears Karen and Holly shed as they hugged Nancy goodbye. They’d see her in a few weeks for Christmas, but it just showed how much they loved her. Each member of the family hugged you goodbye, even Mike seeming heartfelt as he did so. You’d miss being around this domestic type of setting. The nuclear family wasn’t something you were terribly accustomed to, but you had enjoyed every moment of it.

The doorbell eventually rings, and Steve is ready and waiting there to help you and Nancy get your bags in the car. You notice a certain someone with a curly mop of hair in the passenger seat and a grin splits your face as Eddie climbs out of the car. He scoops you up in his arms and hugs you tightly before assisting Steve with the bags. The guys take you to a cute quaint restaurant on the way to the airport, and Eddie refuses to let go of your hand the moment you both step out of the car. You look through the menu with one hand, not moving your laced fingers from his grip. It proves hard to eat though, with only one hand, so you begrudgingly let go of each other.

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” Steve asks you as he swallows a bite of his blueberry pancakes.

“Probably nothing,” you say with a shrug. “I’ll probably end up driving back to New Hampshire to my mom’s place, but I don’t even know if she’ll be there. Hopefully I’ll get to see my niece, though. She’s my favorite person in the world.”

“How old is she?” Eddie asks.

“Almost eight,” you tell him. “Her and my sister live like an hour away from us.”

“I’m sure she’d love to see you,” Nancy says. She knows the shared love you and the little girl have for one another.

Eddie steals a piece of bacon off your plate and your jaw drops open.

“Excuse you,” you say. “I’m going to need a bite of waffle as repayment, thank you very much.”

Eddie happily obliges and holds up a piece of his waffle speared on his fork to your lips. You bite it off and hum appreciatively as you chew it.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Steve says as he watches the pair of you. “It’s almost insane how you just met.”

It doesn’t seem like you had just met, though. The way you clicked with him so instantaneously was something you’ve never experienced before, and you know Eddie hasn’t either. You moved so naturally with one another it was as if you’d grown up together. Fate wasn’t something you particularly subscribed to, but it was hard to think of this thing with Eddie as anything else. How many things needed to line up just right so you would meet him?

Breakfast doesn’t last long enough, and you feel yourself dragging back to the car when it’s time for the final leg of the journey to the airport. Eddie sits in the backseat with you this time and you rest your backpack in his lap as you rummage through it, looking for a pen. Once you succeed, you pull out a scrap of paper and start scribbling on it.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him. He takes it from you, and you slide the backpack off his lap. “The top one is the number to my dorm room. I have a bitchy roommate, so I apologize in advance if she ever answers when you call. The number underneath it is for my apartment in New Hampshire. I won’t be there until Christmas break, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway.”

Eddie grins as he looks at the paper. He folds it carefully, like it’s a precious artifact and not a scrap from a homework assignment you had earlier in the semester.

“She hides from her roommate in my room, too,” Nancy adds with a smirk. “So, if she’s not in her room, get the number to mine from Steve. But not at one in the morning!”

Steve raises his eyebrows at the look Nancy gives Eddie over her shoulder.

“Wait, what?” he asks.

“You’re not the only one to scale my house anymore,” she tells him.

“You did what?” Steve looks at Eddie in the rear-view mirror with an incredulous expression.

Eddie shrugs innocently as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I had full permission,” he tells Steve.

Steve parks his car along the curb at the airport and none of you are eager to get out. People bustle outside, lugging suitcases here and there, saying tearful goodbyes to loved ones, or rushing to catch a flight they’re running late for. You never thought you’d feel so sad returning to school. You had looked forward to escaping there from home for as long as you could remember that it seemed odd to have a place you’d rather be.

Nancy’s the first one to break the seal, pushing her door open, the rest of you following her lead. Eddie unloads your bags from the trunk and Nancy slings her duffle bag over her shoulder as you slip on your backpack. Steve hugs you goodbye first, and you thank him for the ride and for having you over the other night. He assures you it was his pleasure, and it doesn’t just seem like a polite response; it seems like he means it. Nancy hugs Eddie goodbye as well, before launching herself in her boyfriend’s arms.

“Shit, I’m going to miss you,” Eddie says. His arms slip around your waist, and he pulls you flush up against him.

“Me too,” you say, placing your hands on his chest.

“I don’t think I’ll give you much of a chance to miss me,” he says. “You’re going to get sick of me calling.”

“I can guarantee you that won’t happen,” you say with a smile.

“You underestimate me,” Eddie says, making you laugh. “Fuck, I love your laugh.”

You blush under his gaze, amazed at how he can make it happen so easily. He presses his lips firmly against yours and your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands snake up the back of your coat and it takes all your willpower not to say, “screw school” and get back in the car with him.

Reluctantly needing air, you both pull back and Eddie rests his forehead against your own.

“I’m really glad I met you,” you tell him quietly.

“So am I,” he says. “Have a safe flight, okay?”

You nod and press one last kiss to his lips. You try to memorize the way they feel against your own and how his callused hands feel over your shirt. The scent of cigarettes is not something you ever would have thought you’d enjoy, but now you never want to be without it surrounding you.

“Bye, beautiful.”

The pressure behind your eyes starts and you feel silly for getting so emotional over leaving someone you only met two days ago. No one has ever made you feel the way Eddie does though, so you allow yourself the grace to just feel what you’re feeling.

“Bye, handsome.”

Pulling out of his arms, you pick up your suitcase and head towards the building with Nancy. Both of you stop right as you're about to enter and give one last wave to the guys. Steve blows Nancy a kiss and Eddie winks at you as he waves in return.

With a deep breath, you hike your backpack up higher on your back and follow Nancy into the airport.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #WTHI

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simonrileysfavteacup · 3 months

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Car Accidents

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word count: 600 ish?

Warnings: car accidents, injuries, dad!simon, mom!reader, ambulances

Summary: When your eldest daughter's life is threatened, what will Simon do?

Simon liked James. He treated Emma well. He was polite. He came from a good single mother and he was kind.

The boy was like him.

A teenage boy stood at Simon’s door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. Emma had run down to answer the door the moment the doorbell rang. Simon had himself leaning against the stairs to make himself seem bigger. Even though he’s huge.

“James!” Emma throws her arms around him. Simon tenses. You head over to the door, greeting the young boy.

That's when Simon realises the flowers in his hands for you, not Emma. He softens. James introduces himself, shaking his hand. Simon smiles, “Nice t’ meet ya. Keep ‘er safe. Be home by 10.”

***

Simon woke to his phone, not on silent, playing his basic ringtone. He groans, praying it didn’t wake you. When he feels your hand shove him, he knows it did. He reaches over, seeing James’ name on his screen. He picks it up, “What do ya want at this time of night?”

“Mr. Riley?”

“Kid, I’ve told ya. ‘S Simon.”

“Umm…I…Emma and I were at the movies and we were on our way to get ice cream, but this drunk driver hit us and totalled my car and Emma’s not waking up and I’m stuck in the car and-”

“Kid, kid, slow down. Where are ya?”

“50th ave…”

“Did ya call 911?”

“Yes…before I called you.”

“Okay, stay there. Try no’ to move. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay…please hurry…”

Simon hangs up, getting out of bed. Your hand pulls him back into bed. “What happened?”

“Dove and James got into an accident. I’m gone go take care of them,” he presses a kiss to your cheek before heading into the closet.

“Wait, what? I’m coming with you!”

“No, lovie, you stay here, ‘kay?”

“I”m coming. That’s my daughter too.”

“Lovie…”

“Simon.”

“Fine, get ya clothes on.”

***

Simon pulls over, recognizing one of the cars in the wreck. James’.

The boy sits leaning against it, his head in his hands. You run over, taking him into your arms. “Are you okay? Where’s Em? Is she okay?”

“She woke up a few minutes ago. The ambulance is checking on her. I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Riley.”

“Kid, ya got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Simon says, still looking around to spot Emma.

“I shouldn’t have taken her out so late…”

“KId, listen to me, it’s not ya fault.”

“But-”

“It’s not. Now, what ambulance did they take Dove to?”

James points to the one where she is. Simon walks towards the truck while you take James’ hand. “Did you call your mom?”

“No, she’d kill me if she had to leave work for something this dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. You’re hurt.”

“She won’t come anyways.”

“He can come home with us. Spend the night with Dove,” Simon interrupts, hearing the conversation you two were having.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smile at Simon. He heads over to Emma, where she holds an icepack to her head. Her eyes spot her father and she lights up, falling towards him and into his arms.

James stands behind Simon, a guilty look on his face. “Em?”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” Emma sighs. “This wasn’t your fault. I’m fine. I promise.”

Simon caresses her head, holding her tightly against him. “‘ts nobodys faul’. We’re gone go home. Both o’ ya gonna be fine.”

James looks down at his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Ri-Simon…”

Simon smiles internally.

He won’t ever admit it but he has 3 sons now.

#simon riley #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff

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artist-issues · 10 months

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I Saw Wish

And it was the worst animated Disney movie I’ve ever seen. I have to watch it again before I can get into the nitty gritty details. But I don’t need details to sum it up, because my dad actually said it perfectly as we left the theater:

“It was like someone who didn’t really understand Disney movies tried to make a Disney movie.”

Both the form (the technical arts of filmmaking) and the content (the morals, values, and themes of the movie) were totally horrible.

I don’t know who’s fault it was. Jeremy Spears was in the storyboard room and Mark Henn and Eric Goldberg did some 2D animation. But they must have gotten outvoted, or they must not care anymore.

Because holy cow. Here’s some stuff that’s just off the top of my head.

SPOILERS. Not that it matters, because nothing interesting happens in this movie.

The writing? Terrible. Ninety percent of it feels like the characters are filling time with quirky one-liners that are trying too hard to be appealing, then failing, then taking you out of the movie. The jokes aren’t funny. The characters just respond to each other in conversation to check a one-liner box. The other twenty percent is whole conversations repeating tell-don’t-show exposition that has already been covered, usually twice, in previous scenes. Like if in Tangled, every scene had included some variation of Rapunzel saying to friends and enemies alike, “I have to see the floating lights so I’m sneaking to the castle with this thief who wants a mysterious tiara I hid from him. Don’t tell my mother, she’s a bit overprotective!” Over. And over. And over.

The character motivations are way too broad. Asha? Her dream is just “that everybody around me gets to be happy.” That’s it, in a nutshell. No deeper exploration of that. Nobody asks, “why do you care so much?” Nobody tries to convince her she should look out for herself, and then she proves she was right all along. The King? We are told (not shown) that he doesn’t want anyone else’s dreams to be “destroyed.” But he in no believable way expresses that that motivation is still what’s driving him during the movie—what’s driving him is just a plain old lust for power, no nuance.

By the way, the whole premise of the movie? Undercooked. Half-baked concepts strung together with no definitive meaning. Therefore, it’s not believable. Example: The characters act like the wishes are beautiful—well, actually, no, this movie doesn’t know how to show, so there’s not a lot of meaningful acting—the characters just tell us that wishes are “the most beautiful part of someone,” and that’s why it’s worth going through this adventure to give their wishes back to them. But there’s no proof of that in the movie. In fact, it directly kicks it’s own legs out from under that idea, because it has every character who gives up their wish forget that part of themselves. Asha’s grandfather has forgotten his wish, but that doesn’t make him any less “beautiful.” She, and everyone, still treats him like he’s this wonderful old man who deserves the world, who everyone loves…but why is he so appealing? If he “gave up the most beautiful part of him?” The only character who is changed by their lack-of-wish is the Sleepy-analogue character…who is just sleepy, which is described as “boring.” But nobody else who’s given up their wish in the whole kingdom acts like that. It’s just him. Also, the King acts like it’s so important to protect the wishes from destruction. But what does destroying a wish look like? That actually happens to Asha’s mom. Her wish-bubble is broken, literally, and she just says she feels grief. But like. Why? She never remembered it in the first place; it had been missing from her life for years. Also, what the heck is a wish?! It seems to range from broad concepts like “inspire people” to “fly.” Just “fly,” like a bird. The desire to levitate off the ground is the most important, beautiful essence of one background character. Like, what?! But no character ever has the why behind their wish to make us care.

I could go on and on about that point. Like, think about Disney movies that wrote the book on how to make movies about characters with wishes. If Ariel were in Wish, her bubble would look like “dancing and learning and exploring on the Surface with someone who understands her.” But we believe that that is her real, genuine wish, and that it matters to her, because we are shown why being understood is so important to her. Because it’s missing from her life. There’s a scene where she explores a boat alone, and even her best friend doesn’t get excited about it with her. Her dad won’t listen to her point of view. Her siblings don’t ask her about her life even when they think she’s in love. She wants what she wants because of pieces of her life that we are shown.

We are never shown why Asha’s grandfather is obsessed with inspiring people, so we have no reason to believe it, or care whether he gets it or not. We can’t feel disappointed when his wish is said to “never come true,” like we did when Quasimodo was abused by the people he wished to join. We can’t feel elated when he finally “gets” his wish, like we did when Simba smiles on Pride Rock remembering the same way he used to as a cub and claims the crown with a roar. We don’t have anything to hang on to, nothing to relate to, nothing to grasp and feel with the characters. So we don’t feel, because they didn’t put the work in to help us feel. They just say, “the mom’s feeling grief. Feel grief.” And expect us to do the work ourselves. I have to stop harping on this point and move on.

But The main point of the movie is very broad because of that lazy premise, and it’s barely reinforced by any kind of appealing storytelling. If I had to guess, the point would be “Keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” But the story they told to communicate that meaning was so unimpactful. Asha doesn’t have a dream of her own that’s such hard work to accomplish! (Neither does her grandfather; his wish is “to inspire people.” And at the end, we’re supposed to see him strumming a guitar and believe it’s inspiring? We were never shown how he worked hard to learn how to play the instrument. Or that he carved it with his own hands, or anything like that. So there’s no meaningful demonstration of working hard for it or achieving your wish even if it’s far out of reach.) And nobody except the king is trying to take wishes away from anyone, and he just does it literally, after they voluntarily give them to him, so there’s not even any impactful demonstration of “don’t let anyone tell you your wishes are dumb or unachievable, or stop you from reaching them.” Even when he takes them away, it’s just because they…could, someday, be used to threaten his kingdom in a vague, really unlikely way. There are so many things you could do with “keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” For instance; you could say the main character has always been afraid to dream (wish for more), because maybe when she was a kid something wonderful almost happened but ended in tragedy, so she keeps her head down and doesn’t want much because if you don’t dream you’ll never be disappointed. She takes no risks, and has to learn that sometimes trying and failing is worth more than slogging through life all self-protective. I mean, the pieces were right there. She has this line about her dad, and how she wished he would get better but then he died. She has lines about how nobody should have to live with grief?? Then that’s never addressed again! It’s just a throwaway emotion-moment with no buildup or follow-through to tie it to and support that main theme.

The compositions of too many shots were so terrible. Characters got cut off in weird places. One shot has Asha dead center, with her grandfather on the left side of the table and her mother on the right, having a family dinner with a super exposition-heavy conversation that is meant to be emotionally charged. But despite everything else being perfectly centered, half of her mother’s body is chopped off. The movie’s shot like someone’s mom who doesn’t understand technology tried to take a video with her phone.

The charm of the art “style” wears off basically immediately. I know what they were going for. I see the sketch lines and watercolor textures. This is maybe the first time Disney ever failed to accomplish a visual “look” that turned out good. Everything looks dull. Muted. De-saturated. Slightly out of focus, but not in a cool Spider-Verse way. The sets or backgrounds are lazy; at no point does the scenery look complete; big, empty, boring spaces that do not create any kind of “stage” for impactful moments. The rendering looks unfinished. When Asha’s hair moves during her belting of the “I Make This Wish” song, it’s bad. It’s unnatural. It flops in a way that doesn’t make sense for the weight of her hair. The most impactful visual moments come from the villain, and they’re moments when he looks way too unhinged for the kind of line he’s saying.

There is no interesting character development. Asha goes from believing everyone is basically good and their wishes deserve the chance to come true , to….that, again. That would be fine, she could be a static character, if she proved contrast-characters wrong, in a believable way. But she never does. Because no other characters argue with her except the King. And it goes no deeper than “everyone’s wishes are basically good and they deserve the chance to make them true” vs. “nuh-uh, because I get to decide what makes them deserving.” The King doesn’t have any kind of interesting development, either. They don’t expand on his tragic backstory—it consists of one drawing of him near a broken boat, and a few images of the corner burned off of his family taoestry. They never say “King Magnifico wished for _____ and it was taken away!” They literally never tell you what his wish or dreams were, or what motivated him to create the whole kingdom that the movie’s premise sits on. So there’s no convincing sense of progression, how he got this way, why he’ll keep going “so far.”

The pacing is weird. It undercuts every moment that could have any kind of emotion behind it. One minute Valentino is suavely bouncing around, then he’s given a two-second beat to blubber with badly-animated tears that he’ll miss Star—then he instantly gets to have another funny one-liner so we forget he might’ve been sad a second ago. We’re clearly supposed to believe that the King and his wife are devoted to each other, and his turning evil was such a big betrayal, but there’s no time and no impactful evidence for us to believe either of those things. And even if we did, the moment he’s defeated and trapped in a mirror, and begs to be let free, the Queen kind of shrugs it off, makes a forgettable one-liner, and tells them to throw him in the dungeon. And he doesn’t look remorseful. And we don’t even get to assume he’s embarrassed or emotionally devastated that he’s come to this—because the last thing he says is “nooo, the dungeon is so smellyyy!” Like this is a half-baked LEGO short that can’t get emotionally deeper than what an actual 3 year-old’s parents might be okay with.

And that’s the worst offense: The movie is not genuine. It works hard for nothing, and it has no vulnerability. It just uses old Disney standbys to pretend to be vulnerable. Have the music swell and the characters gasp and the songs drip emotion when characters are meant to be saying or doing something emotional.

But truthfully, think of all the Disney movies you’ve ever seen with the hardest emotional moments. The sheer joy of Genie when he realizes he’s free. The anguish when Elsa thinks Anna’s been frozen forever, or when Anna thinks she’s dead. The trauma when Simba loses Mufasa. The longing and dreaming of Ariel when she reaches up out of her grotto. The sense of foreboding when Mother Gothel says “fine, now I’m the bad guy” or the heartbreak in Rapunzel’s eyes when she thinks Flynn has abandoned her, or the shame on Aladdin’s face when Jafar reveals he’s a street-rat, or the horror of cruelty when the stepsisters rip up Cinderella’s dress, or Kala’s tears when Tarzan leaves her in the treehouse, or Sarabi’s tears when Simba comes back, or Mulan’s father tossing aside the sword and token of the Emperor to embrace Mulan, or heck, even just Lilo pushing Stitch in the woods and telling him “get out of here.” This movie has no moments like that. It has moments you can tell that the filmmakers wanted to hit like that—but they don’t.

Because no work is put into building them up. You know how much Simba loves Mufasa, because you’ve been watching their chemistry more than any other character all the way up till he dies. You know how much Mulan wants to please her family because she spends all of Act I desperately attempting to do that. You know Quasimodo believes the world below is beautiful and wants them to accept him because he has interesting things like—talking to gargoyles, convincing us that he’s lonely; building a scale model of the townspeople, convincing us that he sees them in a beautiful way and wishes he were beautiful in more ways than one like them, too.

Right down to the facial expressions, none of them are as anguished, happy, sad, excited, silly, in any convincing way like all of Disney’s other movies. Asha’s “low moment” when she’s afraid her “wish” hurt everyone else (still vague on what that wish ever was) lasts two seconds, she’s not crying, she’s barely sitting with slumped shoulders, and her family barely spend two seconds comforting her. They basically just say, “aw, no, it’s not y fault, it’s the king’s.” And she’s like, “yeah okay” and that’s that. It’s like the animators we’re afraid to animate really intimate emotions on the characters’ faces. The voice actors, too.

And the whole movie is peppered with Easter eggs to past Disney movies. But all that does, if you really know Disney beyond the visuals, is make you think of how hollow this movie is in comparison. How much you wish you were watching Cinderella or The Little Mermaid or something with depth and vulnerability instead of Wish.

#I’ll talk more in an organized fashion later #wish #disney’s wish #wish Disney #wish 2023 #critique #spoilers

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greynatomy · 1 year

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football or football?

lucy bronze x reader

lucy won the very close poll.

been seeing the whole taylor swift and travis kelce thing on tiktok and got this idea.

this became longer than Iithought it’d be. was supposed to be a ficlet. oh, well.

let me know what you think!

-grey

———

For the past two weeks, you’ve been trending on twitter. At first you don’t know what it’s about, but your publicist caught you up saying how there’s a footballer — American footballer — who keeps mentioning you in interviews and on his podcast. It was honestly getting pretty annoying, not just to you, but also to your very jealous girlfriend.

You’d both decided to keep your relationship private, with you being a popular musician and your girlfriend being a top footballer in the league. Except, the media has been labeling your relationship as friends, best friends who support each other. Never once has there been an article where you both are speculated to be dating.

You’ve both been fun with it, being able to not have to hide anything, but with the whole Travis Kelce using your name to stay relevant to the media, your girlfriend is getting fed up.

“I don’t know why he keeps bringing you up? Not once have you mentioned him on anything. ‘The ball is in your court?’ Like what does that mean?” Lucy rambles.

“Honestly, I’m getting tired of it too. I’ve been so busy with touring that I didn’t even know about it until Sarah told me.” You reply, cuddling up to her on the bed, your head on her chest.

“Did Sarah tell you what you should do?”

“Sarah’s pretty much fed up like the both of us so she said it’s up to me. She doesn’t care if I tell him to fuck off, I’d do it anyway without telling her.”

“Didn’t you say he invited you to a game?”

“Yeah, he did. Why?” You we’re getting skeptical with the way Lucy has a smirk and mischievous look on her face.

“Don’t you think it’s time for us to come out, no?”

“Been together four years. Probably long overdue.”

“Well you better tell him that you’d love to accept that invitation, with a plus one of course.”

“I’m liking the way you think.”

———

Now a week later, you and Lucy were dressed up in red, arriving at Arrowhead Stadium. Lucy had a red England bucket hat on that she took off your head. You were being escorted to the friends and family box by security, running into people who recognized you. One hand holding Lucy’s the other waving to people as you passed.

Walking into the box, you were met with lots of people, Travis’ mom was the one to come and greet you.

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Kelce.”

“Oh, please call me Donna. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your music, been wanting to meet you ever since Travis said that you’d both started talking.”

“That’s so nice of you, thank you, but unfortunately all the conversations your son had with me are one sided. I’ve never once entertained anything he said. The only time I’ve texted back was to tell him I’d love to attend a game. Never been to an American Football game before.”

“Really? My son said you guys were getting along.”

“Unfortunately for him, we haven’t. But I’d like to introduce you to my partner Lucy.”

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you as well Lucy. I’m sorry if my son cause any trouble between the two of you.”

“It’s no worries at all. Excited to watch the game.”

“You’ve got an accent. Where are you from?”

“From England.”

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for accents. But let’s not let the situation get in the way and enjoy this game.”

———

liked by fan1, fan2 and 23,749 others

ynupdates yn seen at the kansas chief’s game

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fan1 NO WAY SHES THERE

fan2 MAMA KELCE IS WITH HER

fan3 is ynvis real?!?!

fan4 is everyone gonna ignore lucy bronze right next to her

———

The game just finished. Everyone is cheering as the Chief’s won a game at home. You and Donna hug each other close, jumping up and down. Lucy was actually awestruck by all the people celebrating their team winning, thinking back to all the times fans of hers and her team celebrated like this.

Moments after, you follow Debby to the hallways, no doubt leading to her son. Travis comes out freshly showered and changed a bit after, going straight to his Mom for a hug. Then he turns to you opening his arms out for a hug, so you give him a side hug, not wanting to be mean. Cameras click nonstop towards the two of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says to you.

“You as well. Great game you played out there.”

“Thank you. Wanna go somewhere more private so we can hear each other better without the prying eyes?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He leads towards the exit, you following behind him, your hand holding Lucy’s tightly, who Travis hadn’t acknowledged at all. Exiting towards the garage where his and your cars are parked, you relax a bit, relieved to be away from the cameras. Lucy walks a bit off to the side to let you two talk, but still close enough to hear, in case he says something he shouldn’t.

“Im glad you accepted my invite.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ve never been to or seen an American Football game.”

“American Football?”

“Well, yeah. The U.S is the only one that plays this sport. Football is played throughout the world.”

“Wow, you’re gonna be like that?” He says, thinking you’re flirting with him by saying his sport isn’t widely played.

“Be like what?”

“Never mind. But I just wanted to ask if you wanna hang out right now? Get to know each other a bit more.” He steps closer towards you, but you step back.

“I’d have to decline. My girlfriend and I have to get back to England. She’s got a couple Football matches coming up.”

“Girlfriend?” Travis is shocked by the information. “I didn’t know you were even with someone.”

“I’m surprised no one knows. They see two girls and automatically think they’re best friends or something. But, no, been with that girl right there four years. It was very obvious.” You wave Lucy over. “Travis this is Lucy Bronze, my girlfriend—”

“—Actually fiancé. Proposed a couple weeks ago, so there’s still some getting used to. It’s nice to meet you mate. Heard you’ve been talking ‘bout my girl pretty often past few weeks.”

The look on Travis’ face is laughable.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, we’re very private people. But now that you’ve met my girl after being all up in her DM’s, you’d stop using her name to stay relevant yeah? ‘Cause it’s making you look desperate.”

You didn’t interfere. You’re stood off to the side, a proud look on your face.

“Yeah, of course. Never again.”

“The last thing you should talk about in that little podcast of yours is a public apology using her name for fame like many men have in the past.”

After a moment of Lucy staring at Travis she speaks up again. It was a bit funny how intimidated he looked at Lucy, seeing as she’s almost a foot shorter than him

“Well, mate, we best be off. I’ve got some Football to be preparing for, my girl by my side always. Best of luck to you. Hope you find someone that isn’t taken.”

With that, she takes a hold of your hand, leading you to the car. You give him a little wave, leaving him speechless in the middle of the parking garage.

———

liked by leahwilliamsonn, lucybronze and 10,375,829 others

yourinstagram Thank you travis for the invite! Had a lot of fun at my first ever American Football game with my Fiancé. Congrats to you and your team on the win! #KansasCityChiefs

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lucybronze very different from football for sure

↳ yourinstagram very different

leahwilliamsonn where was my invite?

↳ yourinstagram you didn’t get one

↳ leahwilliamsonn rude

fan1 SHES ENGAGED

fan2 ynvis isn’t real thank god!

fan3 OHMYGOD ITS LUCY BRONZE ALCJHD

fan4 this is a very polite way of saying ‘keep my name out your fucking mouth’

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader

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phantomrose96 · 1 year

Text

Savit-e

My host mother is a woman with long twirling hair and more floral-patterned sundresses than I’ve seen in my entire life. She throws open the closet each morning to flick each dress along its hanging rail, sharp squeaks. “What can I even wear?” The dresses sway like summer willows. I sneak in behind her and grab a t-shirt and jeans from my tiny pile at the bottom.

She loves earrings that swing and she loves stain-glass windchimes which clink and muse while she pours me the bitterest cup of tea I’ve ever had in my life. I fill it with sugar and she chides me. I remind her of all the spicy dishes I make that she cannot eat, and she says, “Okay, I’ll let it go this one time.” She sips her tea black. The birds titter at her joke. We’ll have the same conversation tomorrow.

My host mother is Jira and I wonder how closely we might be related every time I catch that glimmer in her eyes like my mothers’. Jira is too tall to be my mother and her hair is not quite dark enough, but I like to believe I see it. I like to believe Jira’s country and mine are related, that maybe her great-great-grandparents and mine were friends before the records were scorched and the lines were redrawn. Or maybe our countries bore no relation to each other. Maybe they were friends anyway. Maybe they were enemies. I’ve heard every opinion.

Jira has a worry-face like my mother, but she uses it for different things, like plum prices at the market and rain clouds blundering through like clumsy creatures. It used to surprise me, since my mother reserved her worry-face for only the dourest things in her mind. I saw more and more of it from my mother before I left. “Baby maybe you should spend the summer home. Maybe you can get your money back.” She said she’d been reading things in the news. I told her not to worry. I would be safe in my travels. I feel stares pressing into my back while Jira leans over the plums. I notice Jira receives the stares too.

She hums a tune and busies herself in the kitchen in a dress I’ve never seen. She’s been in a great mood since her daughter came home this morning. I didn’t get a good look at her daughter at first because Jira swallowed her right up in her arms. But I got to see her better when I helped bring her bags in. Savine is lithe, baby-faced and a head shorter than Jira, and her eyes carry the same arch and slope as Jira’s. She has the same dimples and she moves in the same way, tilted forward, as if to let gravity do the work of carrying her momentum.

Savine is napping from her trip, and Jira seems to have forgotten all the slow and patient syllables she usually saves for me. She speaks in her rapid pace and I jog to keep up. Too many words slip through my grasp. One in particular I hear too many times. Savit-e.

“Savit-e?” I ask.

Jira puckers her lips as if to think. Her eyes rove. Footsteps tap gently closer behind me, and Jira’s eyes light up as she looks past me.

“Savit-e!” she says, motioning forward as Savine rounds the counter and pulls her mom into another hug. Savine is only 10. She’s been away almost 6 months for school, according to Jira.

A nickname, I note. Savine wears earrings like windchimes as well.

…

Jira has offered to charge me no rent if I babysit Savine for the summer and cook dinner in the evenings. Savine’s summer classes are early and short, as are mine, so I pick Savine up every day at noon. “This is Reb. She’s my mom’s friend this summer,” Savine tells her school friends. I gather that Jira does something similar every year, taking in an au pair while she works the summer.

There is a park Savine likes in particular, with the tall slides and the cold water fountains and all her friends. It takes me a few days to realize her friends are new to even her. Any child at the park becomes her friend by nature of needing two to play the teeter-totter. I meet parents and I practice my clumsy language with them. They don’t stare strangely at me like the man in the plum aisle.

Three times over the summer, I hear a parent at the park ask me. “Who is Savit-e?” I point to Savine every time. I don’t think too much about it, because they always like the answer, nodding along. Savine’s friends do not use the nickname, but I experiment with it here and there. Savine lights up when I do. “Savit-e,” I call to her from the school lawn, and she squeals and bounds forward to wrap me in the kind of hug she gives her mother.

I pick up a copy of the newspaper from the corner store every day on my way to pick up Savine, and I read what I can of it at the park. The newspaper is not a person, and it does not stilt its vocabulary to be simple and clear the way people do when they notice me struggling with the tongue, so oftentimes I gather just the concepts from articles. It is my fourth week of doing this when one article stops me. I see the spelling of what Jira says out loud so often.

Savit-e.

The article is hard, but I recognize the word for murder, and the words for three men. Three men murdered, and Savit-e. I would ask Savine, but I’m afraid the article may be something upsetting.

I ask Jira that night, after Savine has gone to bed.

“A man killed three others,” Jira says, brow slightly scrunched as she skims the paper and distills its contents to simpler words I know. Her eye creases are deep by the evening lamplight. “He is not charged with a crime, because he was protecting his Savit-e.”

This sinks in slowly, and a red flush of embarrassment makes itself known on my cheeks.

“Savit-e… as in ‘daughter’?”

I use my own word for it, since I don’t know Jira’s word for daughter. Or at least, I did not know, until now.

Jira’s brow scrunch tightens, which she does whenever I’ve used one of my words she doesn’t know.

“Like Savine is to you. Savine is your daughter.”

At this, Jira nods slowly, then more quickly as she lets the meaning sink in. “Yes… Savine is my Savit-e… my daughter.”

I thank Jira for the explanation. I lie awake that night thinking too much about the parents at the park who think Savine is my Savit-e.

…

I start to dislike the newspaper. I’m not sure if it’s the summer heat sewing aggravation, or some deeper unrest, or maybe my own growing vocabulary, but more and more I notice articles that leave me unsettled. I read about the arrest of a man who looks like the man in the plum aisle. Maybe there’s no resemblance at all. Maybe any man with those piercing eyes in a mug shot feels like the man in the plum aisle. There are still many words I don’t know, but country and nation come up often. And Savit-e. More articles of someone acting in protection of their Savit-e.

My mother isn’t here to protect me. I walk more cautiously when I’m alone at night, as a woman, as a Savit-e with no parents here to protect me.

I’m in the kitchen with a knife shunking through the angled cuts of scallion. The pot for the noodles is boiling and I’ve halved the spices as I do every night for Jira and Savine. I don’t even hear the front door kick open.

I do hear Savine scream.

My heart is in my throat and my blood is cold, and I move, because in the moment I have forgotten I am a Savit-e far away from home. All that matters is Savine’s scream.

And my sockless feet are light as I snake through the dining room and round the corner to the living room, entering from the same door as the two men who now stand there, backs to me, both eagerly teasing the handles of a gun. One has Savine in a chokehold, and the men stare at Jira, pressed flat against the wall. I realize Jira does have a worry-face she reserves for the truly awful things.

And the men with their backs to me are plum-men, in ways I understand without knowing what fast and clipped words they’re shouting at Jira. The one holding Savine presses the barrel of his gun against her ear, and the windchime titter of her earrings is drowned under her scream of fear. The plum man barks a demand at Jira, and she watches with moon-plate eyes.

He barks it again.

Jira raises a trembling hand. And her digits curl, and her palm pulls inward, and her earrings clink with the slow stuttering shake of her head. She points her index finger firmly against her own heart, and she declares ‘Savit-e’.

Jira runs out through the second living room door.

“Mooooom! Savit-e!!” Savine screams, and her words choke, and she wriggles under the hold of the man. And suddenly sense returns to my body at the sound of Savine’s screams.

I am still holding the scallion knife.

I don’t remember what I do next, but the knife does.

…

There is a drawl of radio static that seems to dominate my ears. The sirens and flashing lights are background noise to me now. They’ve taken Savine away with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. They’ve assured me I’ll be able to see her, but later, once she’s been looked at, once she’s calmed down, once I’ve been spoken to.

“You are not in trouble,” the detective tells me in my own tongue with a slight accent rounding her words. She’s the only one who speaks my language. They called her in when it became clear I didn’t know enough of theirs to give a report. “You were protecting your Savit-e.”

I flinch, a little bit, somehow still capable of embarrassment with a mind that’s gone completely numb. “Savine isn’t my Savit-e.”

The woman detective frowns. I remember we’re in my own tongue.

“I mean, she’s not my daughter. She’s Jira’s daughter. She’s Jira’s Savit-e.”

The woman’s frown lessens some. “Your daughter, no. Your Savit-e, yes.”

I hold my hands near my face. They still smell of garlic and scallions. “The pot’s gonna boil over. I have to go turn off the stove,” I say, urgently, and unhelpfully, as the thought suddenly strikes and I push myself standing.

The woman’s hand is on my shoulder, and she presses me down. “The pot is not boil. The stove is off. It is okay. Who is Savit-e?”

And the question sits weird. I realize she asks it like those parents at the park.

I don’t answer. The detective chews her lip, and I see her eyes searching for a word she can’t find. “Who is your… The Most? Who is your The Above? Who is your The Most of All?”

“My most what?”

“Who is your Protect Over Everything?”

And from her face I can tell she is frustrated with her own words. There is more she is saying that I cannot know in my own language.

Protect Over Everything. I think about the scream that pulled me from the kitchen.

“I think… Savine… is my Protect Over Everything.”

And this satisfies the woman. And she nods the way the parents at the park do. “You are not in trouble. You always protect Savit-e. You must always. There is no trouble for what you did. Good job, that you protect your Savit-e. You will have her back soon.”

I go stiff.

“Jira needs her back, not me. I go home in a few weeks. I only started—” I falter. “Savine is Jira’s Savit-e.”

The detective shakes her head. “Jira is Jira’s Savit-e. Jira does not come back.”

…

I postpone my flight home. I tell my mother it’s because my studies are going long. I’ll tell her more, later, when I’m ready.

I pick up Savine every day from school as always. She doesn’t smile, and she pulls me into a hug that is too tight and lasts too long. She doesn’t want to go to the park. She comes grocery shopping with me, because it’s better than being left home alone. I look over my shoulder whenever I grab the plums.

I cook dinner and I eat with Savine, and we do this at the counter because when I sit us at the kitchen table, Savine looks too long at Jira’s empty place. I tried calling Jira once, after Savine went to bed. Her phone rang from the next room. I watched it ring until it cut to voicemail.

There’s an article about me in the paper. I can’t read most of it. Or maybe I just don’t try to. I see Jira’s name. I see the plum man words. I see Savit-e written 14 times.

I don’t know what happens to Savine if I leave. I’ve tried asking and I get too many words I do not know, and no one who can explain them better to me. But their expressions stay with me. Like the looks of plum-men and worry-faces and now this new look, which is rooted in something deeper about a country which I know too little about. It’s a sad look. It’s something I can maybe understand without the words attached. I tell my mom I might like to extend my study through the fall.

Savine has started calling me “Savit-e.”

#writing #original writing #i had a thought and it became a thing

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧��𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”

In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.

Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it.

“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”

Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed.

“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”

“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.

“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”

“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”

His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”

“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.

“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”

Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.

But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!

But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross.

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.

“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation.

“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out.

Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”

“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”

“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”

Gareth grimaced.

Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.

The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.

Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock.

Oh, fuck, he’s hard already.

But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-

“Hello?” Oh, shit.

“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!

“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?

He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?”

“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work.

“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”

“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”

“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.”

“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.

“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.

“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.

“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”

“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”

Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked-

Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?

Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers.

But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.

Long gone were the risks of parental interference.

Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight.

Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.

The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far.

But that was all too easy.

And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves.

“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.

You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.

“Huh…?”

“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”

Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.

What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night.

If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.

A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”

Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”

“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!

Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).

In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.

A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity.

“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”

“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes.

“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!

Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.

“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body.

A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.

“It’s okay, baby-”

“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”

There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”

The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.

“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.

And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished.

You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”

“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you?

“American- yeah, yeah, American History.”

“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”

“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches.

“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”

Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”

A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.

And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.

“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.

“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”

“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?”

“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers.

You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot.

“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”

Shit. “Uh…”

“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”

Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”

“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”

Fuck me.

Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.

“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”

“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.

“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”

“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”

Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”

You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.”

“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”

You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”

“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”

Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”

“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”

You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”

His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.”

“Uh…”

“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.”

“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle.

“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence.

Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered.

“Just relaxing? A small break?”

“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised.

Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?

“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.

The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.

And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything.

Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times.

He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked.

“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed.

“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger.

Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal.

But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”

“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.

“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.

He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”

“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.

“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”

“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”

“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”

“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged.

Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”

“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”

“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain.

“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”

You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”

Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.

Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability.

Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”

“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.”

“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”

“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face.

“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring.

“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached.

“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear.

He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”

“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”

“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”

Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible.

You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”

An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”

You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored.

“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion.

“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself?

“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.

“What do you do then, baby?”

Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words.

But you had never acted on impulsion.

And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question.

Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.

“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”

“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression.

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out.

“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.

Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”

“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”

A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off.

“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead.

“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”

Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined.

Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke.

“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”

“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”

“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”

You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”

“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”

“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal.

“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists.

A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”

“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”

Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum.

But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously.

And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command.

“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.

Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”

“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.”

Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body.

“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly. “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”

That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”

And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it.

“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.

His dream girl.

“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh.

A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months.

“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face.

“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness.

“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples.

“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously.

“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”

Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”

“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.”

Eddie Munson was a little weird.

But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel.

“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”

Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight.

“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.

“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand.

“Ow, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you.

“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum.

“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”

You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine.

Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.

“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose.

Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need.

“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”

“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”

“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”

“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him.

“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit.

“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency.

The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!”

Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.

“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion.

You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded.

His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”

The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny.

Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick.

His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.

“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting.

His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.”

“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”

Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.

Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”

While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”

He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years.

“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”

You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny.

His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.

The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs.

Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans.

“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you.

“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”

Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart.

“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.

Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”

“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.

“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-

“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled.

Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!

You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.

“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.

He cooed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson

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fanwarriorfictions · 6 months

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Not Again - Part Seven

Summary: Y/n has figured out how to go home. Azriel is desperately trying to hold on, no matter how much it burns.

Warnings: slight descriptions of burns and wounds, angst

Series Master List

-Part Seven-

Azriel was pissed. He had been told by Rhys that she’d figured it out, that she was setting up the portal, that she was leaving at any moment. Something vicious and sharp had punched him in the gut when his brother had reached out with his mind to say those words and there was this instant anger that over took him.

Azriel had left mid conversation with Cassian, ignoring his confused shouts as Azriel launched into the sky. Flying straight for the house of wind.

She was going to leave, any second and she would be gone, and he didn’t know why there was something screaming in him not to let that happen. He’d promised her that she would go home, that he would do everything he could to get her there, and yet his mind and shadows were screaming, stay, stay, don’t let her go, she can’t leave, stay, stay, don’t leave.

Azriel slams onto the balcony, knees barking in pain but he doesn’t care. He’s running down the hall, following this invisible string that tugs him towards her. He’s barely registering where he’s going, left and right, down the steps, right and left, through the halls, towards her. She’s leaving, she’s leaving and I’ll never see her again.

The door is open, voices fluttering out to meet him and he takes a single second to compose himself. Azriel forces each ugly emotion into a box, locking it away behind the mask of the shadowsinger.

“That was quick,” Rhys smirks as soon as Azriel walks into the empty room.

They’d cleared out the furniture of the spare bedroom, a bucket of black paint in the center of the floor. Kneeling before it is Y/n, a thick brush in her already paint stained hand. Her arm is bandaged, dark red seeping through the white cloth, and suddenly he can smell her blood everywhere. It envelops him, and this primal part of him snarls, eyes searching for the threat, to protect her from whatever dared to harm her. He shoves that down, down, down.

“You’re just in time for the party,” she grins, looking him in the eyes without that hesitation he’d seen last night, and he can see the genuine light in them, the happiness, it’s enough to calm the raging beast inside him, just slightly.

“Why are you bleeding?”

She holds up her arm, “old spells seem to require blood for almost everything. We mixed mine in with the paint to make it easier.”

He so badly wants to tear into her for trying to just leave without a word, slicing her arm halfway open to do it, to yell and yell, and yet he sees that spark in her and he can’t, “you figured it out.”

Feyre holds out a piece of paper to him, a sketch in the center of it, and Azriel examines the strange mark. It almost looks like a doorway, an arch, he’s half tempted to tear it to shreds.

“It should have been obvious,” Y/n says, standing up from the ground, “it’s so simple I’m almost mad I didn’t get it sooner.”

She stands at his side, paint stained hand reaching over his arm to trace over the mark, “It looks almost identical to unlocking, which is one of the first things my mom ever taught me, I looked over it so many times. But it’s so simple, stupidly simple that I overlooked it again and again. Didn’t help that the spell is in this ancient language I’ve never seen or heard, even Amren didn’t recognize it.”

She looks up at him, eyes shining so bright that he can’t help but give her the faintest smile. Her eyes dip to his mouth, grin faltering just barely, a brief look passing through her face, Azriel almost convinces himself that it’s longing. If he was delusional he’d think that maybe she’d think twice about leaving, about leaving him.

“How do you open it?” Rhys asks walking around that archway, “or does it just do it on its own in a few minutes?”

“A little more blood and a spell,” she says, unwrapping the bandage on her arm, “I need to write the name of the place or person I’m trying to see.”

Azriel’s nose flares at the smell of her blood, he can’t even look as she dips her fingers in the wound and starts to draw out the marks on the floor, whispering the name of her home over and over.

You look like you’re ready to scream, Rhys says into his mind, don’t tell me you’ve grown attached so soon.

Mind your own business, Azriel growls back.

It takes her several minutes to draw out the word, meticulously examining every curve and line to make sure it’s absolutely perfect. He wants her to hurry up, to slow down, to stop all together.

“Alright,” Y/n says as she stands, “that should be it.”

She takes the Walking Dead from Feyre, who steps away and into her mate’s side. The High Lady curiously watches, glancing at Azriel like she’s connecting pieces in her mind. He’s half tempted to give her the same warning he’d given her mate.

Y/n starts to speak, voice straining over the foreign words. They sound harsh against her usually soft accent. Her face scrunches, almost as if she’s in pain, and Azriel can feel it in his own throat. She doesn’t sound like herself, the words turning to rasps.

Faint green light starts to flare from the painted gate, and Y/n’s voice cracks on the words. A salty tang hits the air and Azriel sees the tears falling down her face.

“Stop,” he says, taking a single step closer.

She doesn’t, she keeps going and the center of the gate turns green. The room turns unbearably hot, hot wind swirling round and round, and Y/n’s eyes get a glassy far away look. Something was wrong, this wasn’t right, wrong wrong wrong.

“Y/n stop!”

She can’t hear him, she can’t hear Rhys and Feyre shouting on the other side of her. Azriel can’t hear them either he realizes, he’s in a shield of air, trapped inside with no way out. Sweat slides down his skin, his wings tucking against him, his shadows hiding beneath. The air slices through his skin, drawing his blood.

She’s stuck there in the center of it, the words she screams turning to a garbled mess, like her throat was being shredded from the inside out. The book in her hands glows bright green, illuminating her face in the sickly color. The gate is dark, that green light being eaten up from the inside, something lurks on the other side and he’s sure it isn’t the beautiful Terrasen she had told him of.

“Y/n let go!” He pushes towards her, heat blasting his skin, “Let go of the damned book.”

He reaches for her, a brief moment of panic hitting him as he touches her scorching hot skin, burning his already scarred hands. For just a moment he’s transported back to that dark corner his half brothers had found him in, to the feeling of oil coating his hands, to the smell of his burnt flesh in his nose. Everything in him recoils, trying to get away from that heat, but she’s right there, tears running down her face. She’s in so much pain, he can feel it in his own chest, pain, pain, pain.

Azriel screams as he wraps his arms around her, trying to pry that cursed book from her hands but her grip is like iron. Every part of him is burning, begging for him to let her go, let whatever it was on the other side take her. But he won’t, he can’t, he screams and screams and begs her to let go of the book, pulling her to his chest, yanking on that string, pleading with the Mother to let her go.

“Please,” he sobs through his teeth, “let go, just let go, Princess.”

Burning, he was burning alive. He wasn’t sure he’d even survive, and if he did her body would be imprinted into his wherever they touched. Screaming, begging, burning and burning and burning

Princess please, he begs, the words not even making it past his lips as he screams, “let go, please, let it go!”

He yanks harder, holding her burning body to his own, “Where’d you go, Princess? Come back, please just come back to me.”

And like a switch had turned off, her hands relax and that Mother forsaken book falls into the inky darkness below, disappearing as the portal closes around it.

She collapses, body still burning into his. Azriel hears screaming, he can’t tell if it’s his or Feyre’s as that shield of air collapses and lets the High Lady and Lord in. Rhys is yelling something, Azriel thinks it’s his name but he can’t tell. He doesn’t know anything, anything but pain and the female in his arms.

Azriel dreamt of fire. Oily slick all over his skin that lit on the tip of a match, burning and burning, it wouldn’t stop no matter how he screamed or how he begged. It kept burning, the scars on his hand melting away till there was nothing left but bone. He’s reaching, flesh melting away, reaching through the flames towards a female on the other side of the dark room, she’s burning, she’s the match to his skin, but he keeps reaching for her.

Everything hurts, his skin, his throat, his heart. That’s the first thing he registers as he wakes, the second is pure panic.

His eyes fly open and he’s searching, sending out shadows, looking for the burning female. It briefly connects that he’s in his bed in the house of wind, that the sun is peaking through the drawn curtains.

“Relax, brother.”

Azriel’s eyes find Cassian sitting in a chair beside his bed, “Where is she?”

Cassian sighs, leaning forward in his seat to rest his arms over his knees, “Why am I not surprised? She’s okay, she’s sleeping in her room across the hall.”

He feels it then, the tendril of shadow that sneaks through the gap in her door, it finds her, and it wraps around her wrist, a tether between them that he can feel right next to his heart.

“How long have we been out?” Azriel asks, his voice rasping.

Cassian hands him a glass of water off the nightstand, “You’ve been in and out for almost two days now. I got here with Madja after you and Y/n collapsed. You went half feral when I tried to take her out of your arms to let Madja look at you. It took both me and Rhys to hold you down, you were screaming at us to let you go, to not touch her. I think you told Rhys you’d rip his head off if he got near her.”

Azriel didn’t remember any of it, he only remembered the pain and the fear as he’d held her, “How bad was the damage?”

“Not as bad as it should be, with the way you were screaming, Rhys wasn’t sure there’d be anything left of you.” Cassian frowns down at the bedsheets, no doubt imagining just that, “Madja was able to heal most of the burns already, the few on your chest will take longer but she doesn’t think they’ll scar to badly. Rhys has a theory that even when she was possessed by that damned book Y/n was able to put a shield between you two, trying to protect you. I think you’re just a lucky bastard.”

“How is she?”

At that his brother’s eyes shutter, and the panic is back in Azriel’s chest. No, no, she had to be alright, she was there, on the other side of that shadowy tether, breathing, alive. He’s pushing himself up off the bed, ignoring the screaming pain beneath the bandages across his chest.

He snarls, “Cass tell me-“

Cassian holds up his hands, “Just please promise me you won’t freak, okay?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Azriel asks, forcing himself to breathe, to calm the hell down.

“She was burning up, her internal temperature was so high, Madja was scared she would burnout,” Cassian describes slowly, “we had to keep filling up the bath with cold water, it would steam and disappear almost instantly. It took hours for her temperature to drop enough for Madja to even touch her to begin examining her. Physically, she’s mostly fine, there’s some damage to her vocal chords, some burns along her arms and back that will heal in time. But she hasn’t woken up, not once since she collapsed. Rhys and Feyre can’t get past that protection spell on her to check on her mind, they don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

There’s a silent ending to the sentence that his brother won’t say, and Azriel can infer it on his own based on the half broken look Cassian gives him. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s yanking on that tether. She’s there on the other side of it, alive, she’s alive, she’s alive. He repeats it over and over as the panic locks up his whole body, as Cassian’s unspoken words echo through his head.

They don’t know if she’ll wake up.

It was a battle of wills to get up out of his bed. Cassian was about ready to strap Azriel to the gods damned thing when Az had used a shadow to throw his brother away from him.

“That’s not fair!” Cassian struggles against the creature, “Madja said you needed to rest. You’ll go and open up your wounds and end up with a damned infection!”

Azriel grimaces as he stands up, “I don’t care.”

“Az! Damnit,” Cassian groans, “You stubborn bastard, sit the fuck down.”

Azriel ignores him, limping towards the door on unsteady legs, body screaming in pain at each step. He didn’t care, he needs to see her, to see with his own eyes that she was okay, to scream at her to wake the fuck up so he could scream at her again for being so reckless.

“Mother help me I swear,” Cassian breaks away from the shadowy hold, “You’re not even dressed for gods sake.”

He was in his undershorts, upper body wrapped in white bandages. It was good enough.

Cassian swears loudly as Azriel almost falls, wrapping his arms around his brother to keep him upright. Azriel groans when his wounds come into contact with Cassian’s arms. It was agony.

“I told you,” Cassian growls, “Now will you please just lay down.”

“No. Just help me over there,” Azriel snarls, Cassian opens his mouth to argue and Azriel sends him a pleading look, “Please, Cass, I need to see her, I- please.”

His brother searches his face, whatever Cassian sees in his eyes has him sighing, “Fuck, fine, fine. Put your arm over my shoulder.”

Azriel complies, letting Cassian support most of his weight. They struggle through the door and across the hall, her door opens, revealing a irate Mor.

“You couldn’t have put some pants on first?” She opens the door wider to let them in, “You two are loud enough to be heard across the Sidra, fighting like a bunch of dogs.”

Azriel ignores her, finding the sleeping female in the center of the room. She looks small, frail, swallowed whole by the humorously large bed. The only indication that she’s even alive is the slight rise and fall of her chest, the beating heart he can feel from across the room. His shadow is still wrapped around her wrist, caressing the pulse point, counting each beat.

He pulls away from his brother, moving slowly across the room where he basically collapses on the edge of her bed. His scarred hands reach for her, replacing that little shadow. Her hand is so cold between his, a stark contrast to the raging fire she’d been days ago.

“We’ll be in the hall,” Mor says softly behind him, “let us know if you need anything.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t register the door opening and closing behind him, just stares at the beautiful female beside him. Her face is relaxed, no pain, no tears, no sign that anything is wrong. Yet she still sleeps.

She’s dreaming, dreaming, sleeping, she’s dreaming of you, his tendril of shadow whispers in his ear, her heart skips when she hears your voice.

His fingers find that pulse point on her wrist and he whispers, “hey there, princess.”

There’s the smallest flutter beneath his finger tips and he could cry. She could hear him at least, she wasn’t locked away from him.

“I could scream,” he says, keeping his voice low, only for her to hear, “could scream and scream at you for being so reckless, for jumping into the flames head first, for almost getting yourself killed-“

He takes a deep breath to steady himself, “You are not leaving me, not like that, we will get you home safe and sound, but you’re not dying on me, you’re not allowed to do that to me.”

There was something there on the other side of that little string of fate. So he wrapped his hand around it and pulled, ripping it towards him, tying it to his heart.

“Come back,” he begs, “you’ve got to come back.”

He pulls and and pulls and pulls, “Where are you at, princess?”

And there, on the other side of that shadowy string, he feels the faintest tug.

Tag List-

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella

#I’ve had this scene in mind for the last few chapters #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again #a court of thorns and roses

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rwrbmovie · 1 year

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BTS of #RWRBMovie: 'z' in your last name

TZP via HOLA:

Clifton Collins Jr., who plays my father in the film, was amazing. I knew of him. I’d seen his projects, but we’d never crossed paths before. And then we met and we just got along, thick as thieves. And he’s like an OG Mexican from Los Angeles which was so colorful. He made it feel like there was family on set. Same with Matthew being Puerto Rican. Their influences help you get into that vibe, and then you do the scene and it’s wonderful. You really bring that accuracy to it.

There’s a line in the film when Alex and Henry are in Paris, and Henry asks him a question about his mom’s campaign, and Alex starts telling him about his father and his abuela coming to the States. The line is something like “If you’re an immigrant in America and you have a ‘Z’ in your last name, there’s a lot of people in positions of power that don’t look and sound like you. I’ve been given the opportunity to be someone in the world that my father didn’t see when he was growing up.” As someone with two ‘Zs’ in his last name (laughs), that was a tough scene for me because I had to be there as Alex and not as Taylor. It was very emotional to think of my family and what they went through to come to the United States. Even though they came here a long time ago, you still think about all of the people that are coming to America today and about all of their stories. Alex realizes that his father didn’t have any role models growing up and now he’s a congressman. That fuels his fire to be the change. That was so exciting for me.

From NYT:

For both Zakhar Perez and the director, the character Alex’s biracial identity was particularly meaningful. López grew up in Panama City, Fla., with his Puerto Rican father and Polish Russian mother, while Zakhar Perez is of Mexican, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent and was raised in northwest Indiana, where he said there was only one other Mexican family. “Matthew and I talked a lot about the mestizo journey,” Zakhar Perez said in a video call before SAG-AFTRA, the actor’s union, went on strike. “Being part Mexican, part lots of other things, I don’t want to say you’re forgotten, but in today’s world, it’s like, you’re either this or you’re that. There’s nothing in between. I’m kind of a cultural chameleon.” “As a young Latiné queer man, I never read something that centered someone like Alex,” López said, echoing his star. “If I had been presented with this character when I was in my late teens, early 20s, it may have changed how I thought about myself.”

From Windy City Times:

Was the part about having a Z in your last name personal or the book? ML: It was personal. That was about me and Taylor. It came from a conversation that Taylor and I had when making the film.

From Metro Weekly:

Alex has a line about grow ing up in Texas as a kid with a last name that ends with Z, which is I guess something else you can relate to, Florida style. ML: And Taylor Zakhar Perez also. Taylor and I talked about that scene a lot as being something that we both understood. My aunt Priscilla Lopez is a beloved, beloved stage actor. She was in the original cast of A Chorus Line. And there's a story that she tells about Mandy Gonzalez, who was in In the Heights with her, and Mandy once told Priscilla that Priscilla made it okay for her to be someone with a Z in her last name. And that was a thing that Taylor and I spent a lot of time discussing as well. It was important to me that that scene be in the movie. There was never a chance in hell that that scene was ever getting cut.

From Teen Vogue:

TV: One of my favorite parts is when they’re in Paris, and Alex talks about being a young person of color coming up from Texas and not seeing anybody who looked like himself or his dad in politics, and Henry’s response to that simply being: “I’m learning.” I don’t know if you were in the theater for that one, but half the crowd was like, awwwww. ML: Yeah, I was for that. TV: I’m married to a white man, and I was like, that is the perfect thing a white man can say in that situation. ML: I’m married to a white man, too. Speaking as someone who is a person of color married to a white man: that’s like the ultimate thing you ever want your white boyfriend or husband or partner to say. That’s it. “I’m learning.”

ML via THR:

There’s a scene in the movie that is very much me, which I gave Taylor after they’ve had sex for the first time. They’re there in pillow talk mode, and he tells Henry about what it’s like to be the son of an immigrant with a Z in your last name. It was really important to me to talk about growing up with a Z in your last name and even just how our names are pronounced, the spellings of our names sometimes if you have Latin ancestry. To have to answer for your name has always been something for me that I struggled with until I stopped struggling with it. So, I needed to put that into Alex’s story and when it came time to shoot that scene again, it was something I didn’t have to explain to Taylor Zakhar Perez. He got it instantly. The only thing that I did screw him up with is like, “We’re going to do this [scene] as a oner, and we’re going to do it as a top shot that starts in a wide shot and comes all the way down to your face, and we’re not going to leave this scene until you get it right in one.”

#rwrb movie #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #taylor zakhar perez #matthew lopez #alex claremont diaz #tzp #*#rwrb bts #rwrbbts #my stuff

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hannahssimblr · 14 days

Text

Ivy is waiting on the steps when I pull into the driveway. Her face lights up when she sees my car, and raises her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hey!” I say, as she launches herself into my legs, “have you gotten taller?”

“I don’t know. Nobody has measured me.”

“I think you have.”

She grins. “Maybe. You’re really tanned.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, look,” and she holds her arm against mine, which is now a deep, golden brown.

“Yeah, I suppose I didn’t notice.”

“Was it fun?”

“The beach?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, mostly! How about you?”

“My summer?” she says. “I already told you on the phone about five times.”

“I was hoping you’d regale me again so I wouldn’t have to talk about myself.”

She does an eye roll, which is remarkably teenaged. It’s like the first glimpse of the adolescent she’ll eventually become. “Boring, so boring. I hope you never get to hog the beach house all summer again.”

“I highly doubt I will.”

“Mom and dad got you a present, by the way.”

I blink. “What, really?”

“Yeah, something. I can’t tell what it is. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Sounds vaguely ominous, but okay. I follow her as she tears up the steps and from the hallway to the extension, where bright, harsh light spills across the parquet. The house is tidy and smells like bleach, the way it always does after the cleaner has been. By the island, my parents stand side by side, arms crossed, faces stern, as the dishwasher rumbles.

Maybe it is ominous.

“Hello,” I say guardedly.

“Welcome back,” my mother says, in a tone that suggests I am, in fact, not very welcome at all, though she’s always had issues with sincerity.

I look from her, to my father, then back. “Thank you.”

Ivy, already bored with this conversation, dashes out and begins thumping on the piano in the other room.

“I, um, I locked up the beach house and made sure everything was switched off.” I volunteer. “So it should be good for next summer.”

“Good,” says Dad, and my eyes flit to a rectangular white box on the counter.

“What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

“Oh.” I approach it and turn it over in my hands. “It’s one of those phone things.”

The laugh that escapes my mother sounds halfway to a scoff. “I thought you young people knew all about those.”

“Yeah, I know about them. I’ve seen them.” I’ve tapped at the screens in the phone shops and laughed to myself at the idea that a person would ever really need something so excessively high-tech in their pocket, when we all have computers that work perfectly fine. “Is this the new one?”

“Yes,” she says, and I slide the lid off the box.

“Thank you.”

“It was your father’s idea, not mine.”

Dad shifts from one foot to the other, like the suggestion he might be generous by nature makes him uncomfortable. He mutters, “Lorcan, at work, has one. Says they’re excellent. Though he has the three.”

I tip the slim, white phone into my palm, and it lays there, cool metal on my skin. It’s like something from the future. “This is the four.”

“Yes.”

“Um,” I hit the sole button beneath the screen, and nothing happens. “It’s just funny, like, because I don’t really know what I’d use it for.”

“For a myriad of things.” Mom’s voice is barbed. “Look at the booklet. You can go on the internet, look at live maps, contact people abroad with no need to pay all of those roaming charges.”

“Yeah, all good things, I suppose.”

We lapse into silence as Ivy launches into double handed scales on the grand piano, and I stare at this piece of unnecessary tech, the black mirror screen fogging from the heat of my palm.

“I’m just saying my old phone was fine, too. It had everything I needed.”

To this, mom tuts and rolls her eyes. “Is it really so difficult for you to be grateful, for once? It’s a generous gift.”

“Yeah, it’s really generous. I appreciate it. I’m just surprised, is all, because it’s not like I’ve ever been a tech person, or whatever, but I’m sure I’ll realise it’s useful once I… use it.”

“There’s the attitude,” dad says, and I turn to him with a blink.

“Excuse me?”

“See, Colette, this is the way he always is when you do him a kindness. It was this way with the car, too. Non-appreciative, shrugging it off. Then there was letting him use the beach house all summer, and what thanks do we get for that?”

“Seriously?” I cut in. “Thank you. Thank you for the house. Jesus, you didn’t even give me a chance to-”

Dad swipes something else off the counter, a sheet of paper with text and numbers on it, all looking so dull and so official that my eyes glaze over, even skimming it. “What’s that?”

“A bill.” He snips. “€1700 for a two-month gas bill! Are you kidding me?”

Heat rises to my face as Ivy starts pounding out rising arpeggios in a chromatic sequence in the next room. “Um.”

“Did you have the hot water on twenty-four seven? How is this even possible? I’ve never seen a bill like this in my life, Jude.”

“Dad, c’mon,” I abandon my new phone on a stool and take the bill from him, as though I can prove he has made some obvious mistake, but no, it’s clear as day, in a bold text for idiots like me to understand. €1700. “You know I can’t figure this bill stuff out. How was I supposed to know it’d cost that much? I have no reference for this kind of thing.”

“Anybody else would know. Every other child on the planet knows that gas costs money, and even if, by some stretch of the imagination, you did not, then I told you explicitly to turn the gas off at the boiler when you weren’t using it.”

I open my mouth and close it again. “I-” A scoff. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to turn it on again, did I?”

“Apparently not!”

“Jude, that’s ridiculous.” Mom says in a more even, but no less scathing, tone. “Use your common sense.”

“Well… It’s not like it’s a big deal, is it? You can just pay for that.”

“That’s not the point!” Dad cries. “It’s your careless attitude towards money. I sent you another thousand over the summer, and what did you do with it? I know you didn’t spend it on groceries.”

“I just spent it, I don’t know.”

“Those are new shoes.” Mom points out, and really, she doesn’t have to rat me out like that. We’ve never been friends, but we’ve at least had a common enemy. I can see a new line forming, and for the first time in my memory, they are united against me.

“I got sick on my other ones.”

“Why were you sick?”

I hesitate.

“Jude. Do you have a substance abuse problem?”

“What? Why have you jumped to that conclusion? That’s-”

“Because you’re spending all of this money, and now you’ve been sick on your shoes. How do you think-”

“Oh. Me being sick on my shoes automatically means I’m an addict? You realise what a massive leap in logic that is, Mom?”

“I don’t know what else to think. You think we never noticed all of those late nights you had during school? What would-”

“Oh, my God, Ivy!” I yell, “Please stop playing the piano, for like, five minutes!”

“I’m practising!” she chirps back, and bangs out some increasingly complicated Bach study from the book I bought her last Christmas.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Christ, mom, have you sat with her during her piano practise even once this summer? Gotten her to go through those exercises? They sound worse than they did in June.”

“Now you’re avoiding the subject,” she snaps. “How much are you drinking per week? Are you using drugs?”

I toss my hands in frustration. “I don’t fucking do drugs!”

“Language!” both my parents yell, and I roll my eyes.

“This is besides the point, anyway. The fact is that you only gave me €500 to spend for the entire summer at first, Dad. How was that supposed to last me, anyway? It feels like you set me up to fail.”

“I set you up with a modest budget to learn about how to handle your finances whilst living on your own.”

“Well, then, you set up a test without telling me it was a test. That’s hardly fair.”

“It was very obvious.”

“Who was it obvious to?”

“It would be obvious to anybody who knew how to think.” He says, prodding a finger against the side of his head. “Think critically. Employ a bit of sense. That’s who. But look at you. Incapable of even that. I should have suspected.”

“Why are you so dramatic all the time? Huh? It doesn’t have to be this way. I didn’t do so badly this summer. I did all the things you asked in that email. The place is clean, sheets changed, towels washed and dried and put away. I broke a single plate, and that was it.”

“That was your basic responsibility.”

“Nothing is good enough for you, is it?”

Mom’s mouth flattens. “You’re twisting things, Jude.”

“Look, this is about the bill. I get it. I’m sorry. If it’s such an enormous deal to you, then fine. I’ll pay it. When I sell my car, I’ll use some of the money on this. Does that seem fair?”

“We already expected as much.”

“Then, fine. It’s all sorted. I’ll do that. Lesson learned.”

They just look at me, faces unreadable, but their body language makes me itchy, like they’re hiding some infinitely worse piece of information.

“What?”

Beginning // Prev // Next

I've gotta thank the wonderful @sirianasims for pitching some ideas for this particular section of the story! I've had such a good time running with them

#lucky boy 2010 #spoiled brat summer #love some of his angry lil faces lmao

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bellarkeselection · 8 months

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can you do a cole walter x y/n in the rain storm scene.

cole and y/n get into a fight and y/n get out of the car in the pouring rain and cole comes out too to try and solve the issue and they argue and then kiss at the end??

Rainy Night Confessions

The car ride was the most silent it had ever been in my whole life of knowing the Walter family. Even though it was just me and Cole it was still strange as hell. Normally he would talk about something, make a teasing joke to try and get on my nerves. But in this moment there has been nothing said. Shifting in the passenger seat I did my best to face him. “So are you going to talk to me or are we just going to drive in silence?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk with me after you stormed out of the cafeteria at school today.” He pointed out keeping his eyes on the road.

Shifting my gaze to the front of the road I recalled what he was talking about. I had stormed out of the room after seeing him and Jackie spending time together. I got mad because I have basically had a crush on him for years but never had the guts to tell him. “I just didn't want to talk right then.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened now? I mean I can do a quiet drive but as your friend I thought you knew you could talk to me about something that upset you.” Cole glanced over at me and I could hear the hurt in his voice.

Tapping my fingers on my legs I started to say something to him but decided not to. “Cole, there's something I should have told you a long time ago. I have…forget it.” I grabbed the door handle and jumped out of the truck where he had to slam on the brakes so he didn’t nearly run me over.

“What the hell!” Cole cursed under his breath watching me standing out in the pouring rain. He gets out of the truck standing in front of the headlights. “You wanna explain why the hell you just jumped out of a moving vehicle on me.”

Wrapping my arms around myself I was now soaked from head to toe. It was likely I’ve even caught a cold out here but I couldn’t take being in a confined space with him. “I don’t wanna talk right now, Cole. Just leave me alone please.”

“I can’t do that. You’ll get a cold out here. So can we have this conversation inside the truck otherwise my mom will have my ass if you get sick.” He offered an alternative, not understanding why.

I throw my head back growling in his face. “You know everyone talks about the Cole Effect and how you are such a people person. But I don’t understand it because you clearly can’t see how I feel about you.”

“How I feel about you. Are you telling me that you have feelings for me?” He asked me slowly, walking towards me.

Slapping my hands over my eyes I growled kicking up some gravel with my shoes. “God, how blind can you be? Of course I have a massive crush on you, you idiot!” Stomping towards him I didn’t give him the chance to respond when I crashed my lips up onto his since he was taller than me.

Cole paused in his actions taken back by how forward you were in the moment. He was usually the one with girls to make the first move while they fell all over him but you were never that person. He put one hand on my waist and his other rested against my cheek kissing me back.

I gripped his jacket in my fingers leaning up on my toes deepening the kiss. Cole moaned into the kiss when one of my hands threaded into his dirty golden locks. He pressed his body up against mine where we searched for a way to be closer but couldn’t seem to find another way and sadly we needed air so we had to break both staring at the other heavily panting. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you just saw me as a friend.”

“So then why was Erin so upset the other day after school. I saw you two talking before she slapped you the other day.” I asked him resting my hands on the material of his jacket, while the rain was still pouring down on us.

Cole looked up at the sky dragging me back toward the truck opening my door quickly. I climbed back into my seat and he got in on his side shutting the door before he ever said something back. “I broke up with her for good this time. I finally realized the only person I wanted to be with is you.”

“I can’t believe you actually like me. And I’m sorry that I had to confess my feelings out here in the pouring rain.” I apologize to my friend and now boyfriend you can say to me with such joy.

Cole draped his arm over my shoulder and started turning the engine back on so we could go home and not get stuck out in the storm. “It's okay, darling. But please don’t do it again or my mother will have both our asses if we come to her house sick.” He kisses my forehead feeling me snuggling my head against his chest.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

#cole walter x reader #cole walter #my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #noah lalonde #rainyday #rainyweather #confession in the rain #comments really appreciated

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y0urm4m · 5 months

Text

No time to die ch.1

Warnings: smoking, swearing, arranged marriage, alcohol consumption, weapons, blood, arguing, possible smut, fighting.(This includes all parts!!)

Summary: What will happen when two strangers with awful backstories are forced into an arranged marriage but one is seeking revenge.

┏━━━ 🀥 ━━━┓

There I sat cross legged, on my father’s plush leather couch in his office. Cigarette in hand. His little ‘body guards’ standing by the door. “So why did you call me in here?” I asked, exhaling the smoke. “Would you put that stupid thing out, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” He sighed, motioning towards the cigarette. I rolled my eyes, putting it out in his ashtray. “You’re a bit hypocritical, I’m not a little girl any more.” I said, crossing my arms. “Anyways, I called you in here as we need to have a serious conversation.” He said, nodding at the men letting them leave. I never really cared about getting to know their names as it would be different men by next week. “Carry on.” I replied, completely uninterested. “Well you know how much danger you can be in once you turn twenty-one and I couldn’t let that happen, so the last time I was in a meeting I had a chat with a few people and sorted something out.” He explained, sipping on his whiskey. “I don’t get your point.” I snorted, raising my eyebrow slightly. “My point is, you’ll be getting married next week as we needed it to be as soon as possible,” He responded, smiling. “I’ve met him and you would both be a perfect match.” He added, re-filling his glass.

There was no way he was forcing me to get married to a man I’d never met in my life.

“Wait, that’s unfair. I’ve never even met him and we’re getting married in a week.” I explained, standing up to walk out. “Don’t be like that y/n, you know I’m only trying to protect you.” He remarked also arising from his seat. “If you really wanted to protect me you wouldn’t have done any of the things you’ve done and mom would still be here!” I shouted, opening his office door. As the door opened I saw my dad give the men a look and with that the two of them were gripping onto my wrists. “Get off of me.” I screamed, kicking my legs slightly. “I’m sorry sweetheart, everything I’ve ever done has been for you.” He sighed emphasising the ‘for you’. “You haven’t done shit for me, if I was ever in danger it would be because of you,” I disagreed, my face shining with disgust. “I. Fucking. Hate. You.” I spat, and with that I felt myself being dragged to my bedroom, the door being slammed shut behind me.

How could he do this to me, after everything he has put me through these past 13 years. I was forced to grow up, because of him. My mom died, because of him.

Flash back:

I was awoken to a loud crashing noise from downstairs, I slowly slid out of my bed, tiptoeing down the creaky steps. There my mother stood screaming in my father’s face. “I told you to not bring that shit in my house.” She shouted, pushing him back. “I never wanted to but I had to for yours and y/n safety!” He shouted back, looking behind him. I was just to far up the stairs to the point where I couldn’t see who he was looking at.

The next thing I knew, there my mom was, her limp body on the floor. Pools of blood surround her. “Mom!” I screamed, running down the stairs hugging her lifeless body. “Y/n?!” My dad gasped, pulling me away from her. “Daddy what did you do to mom?” I asked, my breathing patterns speeding up rapidly. “Nothing baby, don’t worry about it. Go back upstairs please, I’ll be up in a second.” He told me, ushering me up the stairs.

End of flash back:

That was the last I saw of my mom, he told me she went to live with my aunt and obviously with my youthful and young mind I wouldn’t have understood until recently.

I sighed, sliding down the side of my door. How could he do this especially behind my back, I was supposed to be ‘his little princess’ although I know for a fact I wasn’t, the only reason I’m still alive is because I’m ‘blood’.

Which was one of the biggest lies I’d ever heard. Blood only ever makes you related. Trust, love and loyalty makes you family.

— I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, not even leaving to eat. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about yesterday and all the events that had occurred, but I just have to get through all this. I was brought out of thought by someone knocking on my door. “Y/n?” My dad called out through the door. “What do you want?” I asked, sitting up from where I laid. “You’ll be meeting some of the your fiancé’s family today.” He said softly, my eyes widened. “I don’t even know his name.” I shouted back, standing up and heading straight for my bedroom door. “You’ll soon find out, now get ready.” He told me, leaving me confused as he walked down the hallway back to his office.

I rushed over to my closet, picking out the most presentable but comfortable clothes I could, shoving them on.

I just had to get married and make my dad happy.

“You can do this.” I whispered to myself as I walked out of my room towards where my dad stood. He was on the phone, as per usual. “I’m ready, I’ll be downstairs.” I whispered in his ear, heading towards the stairs. He turned to look at me nodding as I walked downstairs.

I was immediately greeted by one of my fathers ‘big bad bodyguards’, who was pointing towards the car. I slid into the backseat, patiently waiting for my dad to make his way to the car. After roughly 15 minutes he had finally got into the car. The car immediately started, as we made our way to the restaurant. “Put your foot on it Darren, we’re going to be late.” My dad told the man driving us, he almost immediately sped up swerving through traffic.

I stared out the window, looking at all the shops and buildings we passed. “Where are we actually going?” I asked, looking slightly at my dad. “Just a restaurant, we’re almost there anyways.” He replied, looking down at his phone. I rolled my eyes, his phone was practically glued to his hand you’d think he was a teenage girl by the way he doesn’t leave the house without it.

As we continued passing people, buildings and other cars, two people caught my eye. It was a man and a little girl. They were walking down the street eating ice cream, they both looked so happy.

Why couldn’t me and my dad have that bond together?

— We slowly approached a small restaurant, which was filled with people; mainly middle aged men and women. “Come on then we’re already late as it is.” My dad said, patting my shoulder as he got out of the car. I slid out the car door, walking next to him as we entered the restaurant. “Can I know his name now?” I asked, looking at my dad. “I guess so,” He sighed. “His name is Chris and I expect you to show him and his family the most utter respect, okay.” He smiled, as I nodded.

“Good afternoon, have you guys got a reservation?” The waiter asked, looking down at the paper placed in front of them. “Yes, yes we have. The last name should be sturniolo.” He replied, looking at his watch. “Great, everyone else is already here so follow me and I’ll grab you guys some more menus.” The waiter said, leading us over to the table.

As we made our way to the table I was greeted with, 5 people. 3 in which all looked very similar in age and looks. An older lady immediately stood up walking towards me. “You must be y/n, I’ve heard so much about you.” She said, kissing my cheeks. I smiled, as the others greeted me and my dad. One boy in particular kept his gaze on mine. “If you couldn’t tell we’re triplets,” One of the boys said. “I’m Nick.” He added, bumping the one who sat on his left’s shoulder. “Oh uh I’m Matt.” The other chimed in, smiling. “And that’s Chris, anyways feel free to sit down.” Nick said, pointing towards a chair. I sat on the chair, looking at my dad who was already deep into a conversation. “So why don’t you tell us more about yourself.” The lady said, sipping from her drink. I bit my cheek slightly, looking at Chris and back down. “Why don’t I start, I’m Nick, I’m 20, I’m a triplet obviously and I really enjoy photography!” He said, smiling at me. “Uh well, I’m y/n and I.” I started speaking, when my dad ;who was now staring holes into my face, caught my attention.

“Why don’t we talk about the wedding.” My dad said abruptly changing the subject as he turned to look at Chris. “Right yes the wedding, aren’t you excited!” Nick said, giddily. “She is indeed, we’ve been discussing it a lot recently.” My dad butted in before I could begin to speak. I sighed, looking down at the water in front of me. “Chris are you happy?” Matt asked, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “What- oh- uh yes I am and it’s been wonderful meeting my wife to be.” He said, fake smiling. I could tell by the rest of his body language that he wasn’t genuinely happy or interested in the current conversation. “Well i was hoping we could go shopping and look at dresses tomorrow, but only if you’d like to.” The lady asked, grinning at me. “I’m sure she’d love to. Wouldn’t you?” My dad replied, looking at me. I nodded my head. “Yes, of course I would.” Just then my dad’s phone started ringing, who looked down at who was calling. “I’m sorry this is important, I’ll be back in a second.” He said, walking outside of the restaurant. “So what kind of dresses do you plan on looking at,” Nick asked. “Oh before you say, we wouldn’t want to spoil anything for Chris you’ll just have to tell us tomorrow.” He added, smiling at Chris who’s attention was now on his phone.

I sat talking with them and eating the food we had ordered whilst I waited patiently for my dad to return from his ‘important call’. “y/n!” Someone beckoned out to me, I turned to look. It was my dad and he wasn’t happy. “We need to leave now, something happened it’s important.” He told me, as I shot up grabbing my stuff. “It was nice meeting you all, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said waving as I left the restaurant. “What was that about?” I asked, frowning at my dad. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. We just urgently need to get home,” He replied, getting back into the car as I also slid into the car. “Oh Nick asked me to give you his number by the way.” “Okay, I’ll message him now.” I replied, pulling out my phone.

Hi my dad said you wanted me to have your number

Yes I wanted to talk about what time your going wedding shopping tomorrow

I honestly don’t know but i’d love if you’d come with me

I was hoping you’d ask me that

I giggled earning a frown from my dad. “What are you giggling about?” He asked, looking at my phone. “I was just talking to Nick about tomorrow.” I replied, looking back down at my phone. “Oh right, well I’ll get Darren to drop and pick you up tomorrow.” He said, Darren nodding in response as he focused on driving us home.

— We finally made it home, my dad heading straight to his office whereas I headed straight to my room to message Nick.

Me and Nick ended up talking for hours on end about anything and everything. It was as if we’d known each other for years. The connection me and Nick already had was all my 8 year old self would have dreamed for after all I’d never had a best friend because my dad had insisted for me to get homeschooled meaning I never got the chance to meet people.

Maybe this whole ‘arranged marriage’ wasn’t going to be so bad after all. I just had to get to know Chris and Matt more.

┗━━━ 🀥 ━━━┛

A/N: how we feeling about this so far, took me forever to write even though it’s short but this is just the start!!

Tag list: @junnniiieee07 @patscorner @mattyb4dominicans @watercolorskyy @brooklynn0103 @imwetforyourmom

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multiwreckedmess · 6 months

Text

February Filth Fest Day 28

Prompt: Mommy Pairing: Neighbor!Wooyoung x older!reader WC: 4k Summary: To Wooyoung, you were everything. You didn’t even know he existed. Older and audacity turned to maximum, he’s determined to make you never forget.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. By clicking the “Read More” you agree that you are of age to interact with my works.

TW//CW: TBH THIS IS MOSTLY PROLOGUE. Reader called ‘mommy’ and doesn’t like it at first, wooyoung is desperate, age gap undefined (it’s not suggested that it’s HUGE but it’s there). oral (fem receiving). CLIFFHANGER END

“You remember Wooyoung right? Youngie?” Your mom tugs you over to a young man, black hair half back in a ponytail, orange shirt just slightly too unbuttoned, kicking back a beer. “Aw mom! I can see in her eyes she doesn’t!” Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle as he extends his hand to you. Your eyebrows raise. Mom? Grabbing his hand you shake it tentatively. Strong muscular fingers grip back, fitting your hand fully in his warm palm. Your mother doesn’t let the silence linger long, mercifully. “Our Wooyoungie has been taking such good care of us while you’ve been off making your own little homestead on the coast!” “Now you’re speaking far too highly of me. You feed me just as good as well. It’s an exchange of labor for services.” He gloats, swatting lightly at the air in front of himself as if the words praising him still hung there. “You eat so well it's always a joy to share, besides, it helps me get through the leftovers.” She lightly ribs you, trying to get you to join into the conversation.

To be honest, you felt guilty. The only child setting out into the world by moving as far away as you could while staying within the continental United States. You’d intended to see your parents more but the realities of limited vacation time and cost of travel hit quickly. The pandemic years certainly hadn’t helped. If anything they prevented you from establishing a normal visiting schedule and left you floundering to fit them in between projects and personal days. You’d finally been able to decide on the yearly block party, held every summer, to make your grand return. Calling up old friends and arranging it this way ensured you’d see most if not all the folks on your obligations list. However, seeing your mom smiling so fondly at this kid, almost more proud of him than she seemed of you, made your stomach turn. The beast of jealousy churning a pot inside of you. You barely track the rest of their pleasantries, simply watching their borderline flirtatious body language as you nurse your beer.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up! I swear Wooyoungie has told me so many cute stories of you, I can’t believe you don’t remember him.” Elbowing your arm gently your mom hisses, “play nice, he’s a gem!” Wooyoung tilts his chin up and out, craning to receive a kiss on the cheek from her as you stare. “So, you and my parents are close,” your lips curl, tiptoeing slowly into the shallow end of the conversation. “Oh yeah! Well, I started shoveling their walk in the winters and salting the sidewalk which they seemed to really appreciate. So, Mom invited me to dinner after one particularly bad snowfall and I’ve been keeping them company when I can ever since.” “Mhm,” you hum shortly, suspicious of him. “Well you haven’t murdered them yet.” Wooyoung cackles, “do I really look like a killer?” “Isn’t that what all the witnesses in crime series say? That the murderer didn’t seem like the kind of person to do it.” His eyes flit down from your head to your toes. Wooyoung had always been a cute kid. Charming, sweet, a little spicy, but his good nature charmed the neighborhood. Or at least the adults of the neighborhood. He always got along better with adults. The kids of the neighborhood were less enchanted. They called him a suck up, kiss ass, brat, annoying, and worse all in the name of envy. Envy for how the adults loved him and took care of him. So many neighborhood nights out ended in tears for him, maybe it was good you didn’t recall those days. He shook his head with a smile. “Still I’m a little upset you don’t remember me.”

***********

“Hey, some of the ‘big kids’ are heading up to the local bar!” A girl named Gina tugs at your sleeve. The street lights flickering on and only the young and unaccompanied left at the party it was a natural progression of the night. A quick four block walk from your home you shrugged, it wasn’t like you held any particular affection for anyone in particular but it also wasn’t an arduous trek. Besides, this is what you came home for, right? Socialize with the ones who knew you before you knew yourself.

That's how you ended up drinking a gin and tonic at the back of the bar, letting the wash of noise and alcohol blur your nerves. You’d selected gin and tonic out of habit more than anything, the tap list overwhelming and no cocktail menu to be found. A safe bet, difficult to fuck up too badly. Laughing congenially along to the stories retold by friends, you feel lost in the crowd. Stories that went like “oh remember when Ricky did this” or “Cassy has a funny story about when Hunter lost his tooth” which you didn't remember, why would you? Not to say you shared no memories, just that most of them were the aftermath rather than the incident. Always too buried in your books to notice the hijinx happening. Now burying your nose in your glass you nod along to save face. Yes, you were there but somehow also not.

“So you remember all of this but not me?” Wooyoung slides along your side. Some form of brownish liquor in his hand. “No, it’s called being politely interested.” “Ahhh,” he grins and sips his drink. “I’ll note that, the politely bit. I’m already interested so I think I’m good there...” You roll your eyes, “interested in my mom.” “Your mother is a beautiful lady. And smart. And kind. Why shouldn’t I be interested?” He knows he’s being cheeky but part of it is payback for your memory lapse. “Don’t you love your mommy?” The word mommy hits you like a truck. Rolling up your spine and crashing through your skull with the force of a brick to the back of the head. “Wooyoung? Oh my god. Wooyoung.” You mutter, shocked, dismayed. It’s him. It’s definitely him alright. Wooyoung grins like a jackal in front of you, gnawing on the small plastic swizzler straw in his drink. “I know you.” “Do you?”

Thirteen. That’s how old you were when you went to your last neighborhood block party. It was the last summer you spent preoccupied with fictional boys instead of real ones. There was already a change in the air, all the neighborhood kids seemed just so much younger than despite the difference being only a couple of years. Watching them rough house and play from afar you’d been set out with ‘eldest’ duties so that the parents could absolve themselves of direct supervisory responsibilities. Which was fine to you, you’d be tipped generously at the end of the night by the parents without needing to do too much. Suddenly two small arms encircled your legs, an equally small face buried in your pant leg, absolutely wailing for mommy. Tapping on the black mop of hair, red eyes and a runny nose looked back up at you and upon seeing your face cried harder. Prying your legs from his arms you lean down to meet his eye level, “can we go find her? Your mom?” He sniffs and nods, lower lip quivering. “Jung Wooyoung,” his small voice tremors. Taking his small fist in your hand, you lead him farther into the party. It doesn’t take long to find her, gathered in a small circle of moms, laughing jovially. Her smile fades as she sees you toting her son, face red and puffy. “Should he be in trouble or someone else be in trouble?” She’s very brief in her assessment, half exasperated half sympathetic. “I’m sorry I’m not sure Mrs. Jung. He just ran up to me like this asking for you.” Squatting next to her son you notice, she has the exact same wash of jeans as you. “Jung Wooyoung, can you tell me what happened?” The boy glances up at you, eyes wide, sitting on the pavement with a hard plop. “Jung. Woo. Young. Your mom is asking a question.” He notices you notice him staring and he hides his eyes. “I’m so sorry miss, I can take care of him from here. He really likes pretty girls but gets so shy around them. You can go!” Mrs. Jung looks apologetically at you, scooping Wooyoung up onto her hip. Smiling you look him in the eye and wave, watching as he smiles back shyly and buries his face.

“You were such a cute kid!” You coo. “Is that really all you remember about me? Cute little kid? Damn.” This was not exactly the reaction he was looking for. Wooyoung wanted the gasp and the dramatic reveal, of course, but being called cute was not the highest adjective on his list. And only one fleeting memory of his mother calling you a pretty girl. His mother was incorrect though, you weren’t just a pretty girl to him, you were an angel. He was immediately obsessed, watching you silently with flutters in his stomach listening as the adults talked about your achievements. Not only kind and beautiful but smart and self sufficient and bold and fierce. He remembered one of your summers back from college, reading on the front lawn in a bikini, waiting for the sun to slowly turn you a pleasant golden shade. Only briefly passing by on his bike the image seared itself into his mind, fueling his late nights as he flipped through your instagram. “I really thought the world of you,” he muses. “And what about now?” You ask with a laugh and a grimace. Wooyoung looks you up and down. “I could ask the same to you, you said I was a cute kid. What about now?” “Oh come on, you have to know this is a touchy subject for me…you can’t just say that you thought the world of a person in the past tense like that. What, I must be some washed up hag, desperate in her neighborhood bar.” Wooyoung hums, smirking, “well now i don’t agree with the hag part but I like the desperate, desperate i can work with.” He gently takes your drink and swills the dregs. “Another of the same?” “I want whatever you got. Order me that.” His eyebrows shoot up, “oh come on. You’re the older one, you should treat me.” He smiles sweetly and bats his lashes. “I’ll come with you so you know what to order next time.” You roll your eyes. He’s really too cute for his own good. Your heart sinks a little. He’s really too cute to be hanging around you like he is. But you take his glass with yours and slide them across the wood top bar. “Two whiskeys, on the rocks!” Wooyoung flashes his winning smile, “on her tab please.” He finishes with a head tilt in your direction and a wink. “You’re such a baby.” “Only for you mommy.” He bunts the top of his head into your arm as you blanch at the sudden endearment.

You hate it on instinct. You’re not his mommy, yes you’re older but you're not his mommy. You’re not anyone’s mommy. You don’t want to mother anyone for any reason. You wanted that care and attention. Still, you don’t correct him and let him continue to press his side to yours. The pressure of contact from another person is nice, even momentarily.

“So,” Wooyoung sips gingerly at his drink, “tell me what you think of me now. I can’t settle for being a formerly cute baby. I won’t.” He pouts, lilting his head. With a heavy sigh you look him up and down, simple fitted black t-shirt, tight black pants, and moto-boots. “If I were closer to your age-” “EH!” He shushes you abruptly, finger to your lips. “It’s not about you. Tell me about me.” “Fine. You want to hear you’re attractive? You’re attractive,” you give him an exasperated glance. The heat of the alcohol warms the sides of your face, making you feel giggly. The whiskey goes down shockingly easily, loosening your inhibitions. “What about me? I’m the one in distress.” Wooyoung steadies you, bringing awareness to your swaying, letting you lean back against the wall slowly with the support of his hand. “I think you’re the first woman I ever worshipped and now I want to make good on that.” “Wooyoung, are you coming onto me?” You as incredulously, eyebrows almost launching themselves from your face with the speed they raise at. “I’d very much like to if you’d let me.” “You’d like to what exactly?” “Cum on you. Or in you. Whichever you’ll let me.” His forwardness leaves you gagging on unspoken words. You think for a second you ought to slap him as you see red around his smug smile. “Wooyoung do you hear yourself?” Wooyoung slides his hand up, leaning into you on his elbow. He smells like earth and spice and alcohol. “I think you’d like it too. Not to brag but, I think I’m better than spending the rest of the night in your old twin bed with your decade old back massager.” Stunned by his too all too accurate prediction of your plans your brain barely processes the way you lean into his light kiss on the cheek. Your face feels warm, he is warm. And soft, so soft. His brashness has you melting a little bit, there is no halfway here. No room for interpretation. He wants you, and it makes your stomach flutter and legs turn to jelly. “So, wanna get out of here?” Wooyoung says with a small smirk, eyes downcast sheepishly. “If we get to my place and you wanna back out I’ll happily sleep on the couch with the cat. I just don’t want either of us to be alone tonight.” Tender heartstrings plucked expertly by a master songsmith, you sigh. Foolish. Stupid. Irresponsible. What would your parents think when you didn’t come home? Your head shakes as you type out a short text to your mother, a sentence excuse about staying the night with Gina. Or was it Gia? The keyboard swims under your thumb. The rest of you melts and lets the younger man wrap his arm around your waist to guide you safely to a cab. Again you marvel at how warm he is, how his fingers splay casually in the divot of your waist. Cheeks burning you duck your head out of the bar, as though it would be shameful to be seen with him.

Wooyoung kisses with the desperation of a starved man, drinking in as much of you as he possibly can before coming up for air. The electric lock on the door has barely even finished latching when his arms snake around your waist, lips attaching to the nape of your neck. “You smell so good,” his face is smashed into your shoulder, the both of you stumble and struggle to remove shoes as he further tangles himself in you. The second you're free of them he’s turning you, pressing your back into the wall as his leg slots easily between your thighs. Winding your hips together you teeter on your tip toe as he kisses you, teeth tugging at your bottom lip lightly. “Ooh mommy, I’m going to make you remember me-” he moans into your open mouth. A burst of air comes through your nose as you suppress part of an awkward laugh, “Mommy?” “Yeah, your baby’s gonna take good care of you.” His mouth stretches into a grin against your cheek, nose bumping against you until your head falls to the side, granting access to your throat. “Right mommy? I’m taking good care of you right?” Teeth nibbling a searing trail to your shoulder, you can’t help but moan. You don’t hate it. Your mind hates it but your body loves it. His insistent desperation for approval from you is almost as intoxicating as the drinks you’d shared. “This mommy shit is weird Wooyoungie.” Wooyoung sucks a bruising spot into your collarbone, skin immediately flushing, meant to leave a mark. Shivering you moan again, letting your head fall to your opposite shoulder, grinding your hips against him. “That’s not a nice thing to say mommy,” his grip on your ass tightens. His hands pull you down to him, pressure in your gut building. “Fuck! Oh baby-” the phrase slides from your lips before you can pause and overthink what this might say about you. “Yeah, is your baby making you feel good?” He tenderly kisses over the growing bruise. “Wanna be mommy now?” “Fuck-Wooyoungie-you’re fucking incorrigible,” you groan. Between the alcohol and the pounding in your gut, you really don’t mind it. Silencing the small critic and setting that voice in time out, you slide to his bedroom, stripping bear besides your undergarments.

“Damn mommy, you’re a walking wet dream,” Wooyoung looks at you from under his bangs, making a home for himself at your feet, waiting for the word to dive in. Eyes traveling up your legs to the crevice between them, he can barely wait longer. He’s been waiting since puberty. The hunger to prove himself to make you his, growing all the more as your life proceeded without him. His gaze heats you from your core, anticipatory buzz gripping your gut. “Yeah baby?” You practically whisper, throat taut. Slowly but surely his hands travel the tops of your legs, large and warm on your skin. Everything is burning and tingling and on a knife's edge as they stop at your hips, resting his full weight on you. His face comes barely a foot from yours. “Can you tell me how much you want this?” He smiles, Cheshire-like. “I’m fucking aching baby,” you plead maybe just a bit too desperately. “Can you help mommy out?” You can barely finish the sentence before his plush lips are on yours with a bruising amount of force. Eagerly his hands slide between your thighs, tracing the edges of your panties. “Mommy,” he gasps into your open mouth, “are you already this wet?” He teases a thumb over the growing damp spot. Nodding, your legs slide easily for him. “Yeah baby, all for you.” Pressing against your clit more earnestly he rubs in small circles. Your head goes back into the pillows immediately, pressure deliciously building in your core. The skin of his shoulders is cool as he nudges your thighs even wider, his lips replacing his hands. A shock of electricity runs up your spine as you realize he’s pulling your hips down against his face, bridge of his nose nudging you through your panties. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Wooyoung mutters barely loud enough for you to make out. Fingers slipping between your panties and your skin he can barely breathe as he tugs the fabric over your hips. Caught between a fixated stare and a shyly glancing away he pulls down even more, practically cumming in his own underwear as your cunt is finally revealed. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” “That’s not even the pretty part of me,” you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up the side of your neck. Wooyoung looks up at you from between your knees, frowning incredulously. “Every part of my mommy is pretty, especially her cute little cunt.” He says before unceremoniously burying his face in your folds. Licking and slurping like a starved man, you don’t even register the auditory assault, squealing so loudly yourself your head rushes. “Wooyoung! Oh shit! Oh FUCK!” You scream and fist the sheets, fighting your urge to snap your legs around his head. The pleasure twists in your gut as his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, a finger teasing your hole. “Grab my hair-” Wooyoung gasps, “pull my hair. I’m not fragile.” It doesn’t take any more convincing as you tug at his black locks. His lips buzz with moans of approval as you ride his face. His finger crooks inside of you, just enough to press against the top of your walls, right into the squishy spot that blurs your vision and has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His face presses more insistently against you, practically drowning himself in your sex. If he was going to die young he’d want to die like this, nestled in your heat. “Do it.” Coating his chin in release your eyes flutter closed. Clamping down around the slight resistance his finger gives. He’s right. Much better than your vibrator. You release him from your grasp as he comes up for air, both of your eyes are hazy with lust as you look at each other.

“Can I suck your tits?” Wooyoung’s blunt tone does nothing to disturb your post orgasmic cloud. “C’mere baby boy,” you say as you slide your bra straps off your shoulders, unclasping the band without a second thought. Wooyoungs eyes bulge as you so easily and carelessly reveal your breasts, half reclined back in his bed, like he’d imagined all those years ago. It’s nothing to you but everything to him. You see them every day and he’d only seen them in his fantasies. He swipes lazily at the arousal still clinging to his lips and chin, transfixed by your tits. Almost reverently he reaches for them both, fingers fanning out over the pair and squishing into them. “Oh mommy,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of one, “they’re perfect.” “Wooyoungie-” you’re nearly dying of embarrassment, heat flashing through your body as he interrupts you. “They’re just like I imagined.” “Shut up and suck before I regret this,” you laugh, masking your tension beneath brusque humor. Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind. In fact his eyes practically sparkle as you demand he follow through on his request. Lips encircling your nipple he kisses tenderly at first, hand resting on the opposite breast to make sure it was also attended to. Soft skin in his palm and on his lips, Wooyoung hips move autonomously, rutting against whatever warmth his cock can find. His tongue flicks over your hardened nipple, fingers pinching the other lightly and listening for your moans of approval. Again, he flicks harder, pinches harder, and feels you respond louder and harder as he’d hoped. He keeps escalating until it feels like his heart is going to burst from excitement, leaning into you as he nips at your flesh. Yelping you swat at him playfully, “don’t be a brat!” “Sorry mommy, i just love you so much,” he smiles and nips again. Truthfully the pain feels good, stinging only for a moment before the buzz of endorphins rushes through your spine. “S’okay baby,” you purr and coax him between your thighs, tugging at his underwear. “You’ve made a real mess of these.” “All for you,” he’s breathless as he tosses the ruined pair casually across the room. Leaning close to you again, he kisses you as he rummages under the pillows. You can feel him smile against your mouth as he finds his prize. Pulling away he brandishes a gold foil packet proudly. “A boyscout is always prepared.” “Goddamn, is this just a normal thing for you?” Your heart drops just a little bit disappointed that you might not be special to him. He’s just so smooth, every action carefully planned. “No,” he tears the foil packet with his teeth before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I heard you were going to be in town and I wasn’t going to lose you again.” “You sound obsessed,” you giggle, hands tracing the veins of his lower abdomen as you watch him roll the latex over his length. “Yeah and I’m going to make you just as obsessed about me.”

Sorry, i just don’t know that i wanted to write more of this. I just do NAWT know how to write a mommy kink, it’s not something i’m particularly into which usually doesn’t really stop me when writing but IDK. I liked the beginning but then the mommy stuff felt shoehorned in.

#February Filth Fest #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung smut #atz smut #kpop smut

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