#the long walk (1979) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greenandsorrow · 2 months ago

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IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> I decided to write this more like a casual narration, for the storytelling vibes. Also, I might have tried to pull a "going back and forth in time like I'm S.King", so not everything will be crystal clear from the get-go. Hope you enjoy and feel free to interact!!!

-> I tried to keep the reader gender neutral, but the fem pov came more naturally to me, so I apologise if it takes away from the story for some of you.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Five Years by David Bowie

~ 1 ~

1979 Derry, Maine

A family of three moved to Derry, for the father's work. Maine has its fair share of factories and the average person here doesn't mind getting their hands dirty, if it means paying the bills.

You were twelve when your family settled in an amiable house in Witchham St.

You may be seventeen now and you may have embraced the Losers' Club almost like a parental figure... But that wasn't the case five years ago.

When you first moved to Derry, you were twelve.

It was that same year you attended the annual Derry Funfair -Pennywise's favorite time to wake up. How could it not be, with so many kids out after dark... The Derry Funfair. The perfect hunting ground for the entity. That fateful night, you saw him for the first time. You call IT a 'he' because in the form of a clown, IT feels like a 'he'.

The air at the funfair was thick with the smell of popcorn, sugar... and something faintly metallic. As you walked through the crowd, laughter rang out around you, along with the loud music coming from the speakers far above your head.

You spotted the Ferris Wheel turning slowly against the darkening sky, each of its blinking lights reflecting in the deepening puddles scattered along the path. The Carousel line was snaking on that very path. You always loved how the painted horses glistened under the soft glow of the carnival lights...

Fed up with a group of cocky twenty-somethings, you slipped away from the fair, eventually finding yourself by the bridge for a moment of peace. You liked the breeze and the faint smell of night-blooming flowers. You still do.

It was quiet, until you suddenly heard a distinct sort of giggling. You also spotted a single, shiny red balloon floating toward you, bobbing against the wind. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Chills ran down your arms. Instinct warned you that something was very wrong.

That night, in your rush to escape and flee back to the fair, you left your hairbow at the bridge.

Later, as you looked out the window of your father's car on the ride home, you looked back and saw him -an enormous figure in a dusty, faded clown suit, watching you, waving slowly at you. His face was ghostly pale, almost like porcelain, with eyes that gleamed a strange and unsettling shade of amber. Those eyes seemed knowing, as if they could peel back every thought and fear inside you. A painted smile stretched across his mouth, far too wide and framed by rows of teeth that looked far too many, like something out of a nightmare. Wisps of reddish-orange hair framed his face, stiff and wild. The ruffles around his neck were yellowed with age, their edges fraying.

The suit itself was old, streaked with grime. Large, oversized pom-poms lined the front in an even row. And yet, despite his faded, worn appearance, there was something disturbingly vibrant about him. It was as if he wasn't really standing but rather waiting -waiting for you to wave back at him.

Even from the safety of the car, a chill had crept through you, and somehow you knew that he was still watching long after the car had turned, his gaze following you all the way home.

That night, when you woke up thirsty from all the popcorn you'd had at the fair, you wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. There, neatly placed beside the sink, was your lost hairbow -the same one you'd bitterly cried over after realizing it was missing.

Two days later, you returned to the fair with your parents. You felt happy. You were carefree. You were stupid. You couldn't resist looking for the clown who had waved at you... You had a strange feeling that the balloon belonged to him... It was the shame shade as his painted lips. You also had another, even odder feeling that he had somehow been the one who returned your hair ribbon.

Eventually you found him. The clown waved again and this time, you waved back, even managing a smile. But when he extended an unnaturally long arm, gesturing you to come closer, you were smart enough to keep your distance. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his voice, soft and coaxing, whispered your name.

Strangely, your parents didn't seem to notice him, neither that day nor the first time you'd seen him...

It was July. You didn't see the clown again until early autumn, right around the time you started feeling nervous about your new school.

That summer, he haunted your dreams night after night. They'd start innocently enough, not like full blown nightmares -you'd find yourself back at the fair, wandering through empty stalls. The colors were brighter -somehow too bright- and the air too thick. Then, he would appear. A clown in the distance, his wide smile aimed straight at you. You'd try to move, to turn away, but somehow, your feet kept inching closer.

In those dreams, he told you his name -Pennywise-, his favorite color -red- and his favorite food -cotton candy-. You remember telling him that you knew he was lying, that he wasn't just any clown. After that, the dreams stopped.

1984 Derry, Maine

You think back to all that as you blankly stare at the pages of your math book, you think back to what belongs in the past, but your mind drifting off to five years ago is more than justified.

People in town are noticing things these days, though no one says it out loud. There are hushed conversations about kids going missing -George Denbrough included-, strange sightings near the sewers, and that eerie feeling you get walking through Derry alone.

The old-timers say things aren't right this time, that it feels different somehow. You overhear a few whispers that maybe this time, it's sticking around longer. And the worst part is that you know why. You know why even better than your younger friends do...

Since last autumn, you've gotten close to Bev Marsh. She sees you as the older sister she never had. Bill lives right across the street. You babysat him and his little brother, Georgie, over the summer. But since Georgie's death in the Fall, you and Bill have drifted apart. Stanley… well, he may or may not have a crush on you. You know him through Bill -he's a good kid. Eddie Kaspbrak, same way, also through Bill. Thank God he gets some fresh air with his friends -you've heard his mom isn't the easiest. Then there's Ben, your reading buddy from the library. Richie Tozier? You two got into a fight once, over which Led Zeppelin song is the best. And Hanlon, he nearly knocked you over with his bike the first time you met.

Another remarkable mention? Henry Bowers. He is a year younger than you. Sure, the guy's a bully, but oddly enough he and his friends never caused you any trouble. And I say 'oddly enough', in the same way Derry's misfortunes oddly enough never seem to touch you. The bad luck that hangs over this town, the accidents, the disappearances, even the craziness... it's as if you've been given an unspoken pass, a quiet immunity no one else seems to have. Even when trouble looms close, you remain untouched, like some silent pact with the shadows in this place.

However, it's not just the gossiping ladies at the grocery store, or the old wise granddads who enjoy sitting on their porches, that made your mind wander to the past with their words.

As of late, your dad started locking the doors at night without explanation and your mom seems anxious, checking the windows like she expects something -or someone- to be watching. They'd never talk about it, but you can tell they sense it too... The whole town feels off, like there's something lurking beneath the surface. Sometimes, you catch a flash of red in the distance or hear a faint giggle that seems to echo from nowhere. It happens often enough that it feels like more than coincidence.

You've started wondering if he's ever really gone at all.

Even your dreams are different now.

More vivid.

In them, you're back at that same funfair... but it feels hollow, like something out of a faded photo. Every creak of the Ferris Wheel, every rustle of the trees ...sounds wrong. Sometimes, you see him waiting by the bridge, his head tilted in that unnatural way. His smile is sharper and more dangerous, as if he's been waiting all this time, keeping a part of you trapped there. You always wake up shaking, heart pounding in your ears.

The worst part is that the closer you get to waking, the darker the dreams grow.

In last night's one, Pennywise had held his gloved hand out to you, as if inviting you closer. You had felt the weight of his gaze, pulling you in despite everything inside you screaming to run. You started to remember that he's taken kids before, that he leaves things behind as markers -ribbons, scraps, things no one else notices... And then had woken up gasping for air.

No matter how much you try to shake it off, the feeling lingers, leaving you wondering if he's still out there, watching you, just as he was five years ago.

For you, fear twisted into something almost exhilarating five years ago... thanks to all those fleeting moments of intimacy when he would whisper secrets, just for you. It was wrong and you know that, but there was a thrill in the danger he represented. You think about the stories the others tell, how they shudder at the thought of him -of IT- while your heart races at the memories of the laughter, of the games. It's a longing that gnaws at you, even as you wrestle with the dread of his return.

It was easier to just forget before, but now the thought of him returns like a shadow. As you flip the pages of your stupid math book, you wonder if he's standing outside your house right now, waiting for you to come back to him, just as you've secretly wished for him to do all these years. Because, it's true, there's a twisted part of you that misses him.

When the Losers share with you Bill's and Ben's theories about IT and how IT came to be, you can't help but recall how Penny would laugh, a sound that echoed like a melody in the chaos of your childhood, dancing on the edge of terror. His voice, with its playful cadence, would weave stories that made the mundane feel magical. You remember how you'd lean in, drawn by an irresistible urge, despite the way your heart raced and your instincts screamed to flee.

Even the memories of those long, shadowy nights away from the comfort of your bed, punctuated by the pulse of adrenaline, stir something within you -an inexplicable yearning for the connection you shared, however dark it was.

You close the book since there's no way you can concentrate on your homework now and instead, you settle on washing the dishes.

Despite everything, beneath that longing lies the heavy weight of guilt and sorrow. 'Penny' killed Georgie and that truth looms over every fond memory you have with him. This is the part you feel compelled to remind yourself: he's a killer, a predator.

To any onlooker, all they would see is a broken girl, haunted by a lost childhood and a shadowy figure that once made her feel alive and seen. You know better than anyone that the line between fear and fascination is a thin one, and that's a truth you'll have to grapple with...

...in the chapters to come.

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wasawattpadkid · 2 years ago

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Housewife

Part - 4

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, hinting masturbation

Part 1

"This is my favorite outfit so far." Tatum clapped as you spun around. The outfit in question was a checkered skirt matched with a sleeveless mock turtleneck top. Thankfully the stockings you bought yesterday had yet to fail. You kicked up your white go go boot striking a pose for a laugh. "This whole style choice of yours is dick repellent." Randy said, opening up his granola bar. You snatched it from him taking a bite. "You'll have to give me some tips then because I'm pretty sure you get more dick than all of us combined. And that's including Stu so that says something." Stu pointed at you surprised at the sudden dig. "How'd you know?" He said making the group laugh harder. Randy grabbed his granola bar back not caring you had just eaten part of it. You laid down on the concrete resting your head on Randy's lap.

"Since when did you two get so close?" Stu asked knowing about how hostile yesterday was. "Since I found out she's a lesbian." Randy joked. Billy looked at you seemingly to give the idea some thought. "She can do whatever she wants to it's a free country, as long as she invites me to watch." Stu said and Tatum shook her head. "Me and Randall here made up in 2nd period. He's not so bad when he's not babbling on about shitty horror movies."

Randy stands up knocking your head forward. "Okay which is better Texas Chainsaw Massacre the 1974 original or Aliens the 1979 original?" Billy scrunched up his nose like that was even a question. "Texas Chainsaw Massacre no contest." Billy spoke and Stu echoed his answer. Even Tatum put her two cents in. "Leather face is in Texas Chainsaw Massacre right?" Stu nodded. "Oh then that movie." Everyone looked at Sydney to give the last answer. "Don't look at me I haven't seen either of them." Billy laid back down mimicking your position.

"Aliens is by far a better choice because-" Stu started throwing grapes at him not missing a single shot. "Booooo!" You laughed at Stu happy to know the crowd agreed with you. "Told ya." You chimed as Randy sat back down. "What are you two doing tonight?" Sydney asked Stu and Billy. "Probably chill at my place, watch some movies. Why you wanna come?" She shook her head. "I was just curious." Sydney said picking at her nails. "Welp I'm going to split. If I don't see ya have a good weekend." You waved them off as you went back into the school. Walking the halls you headed towards the nearest bathroom.

You propped your purse up on the sink pulling a compact out. Funny enough the bags under your eyes seemed softer than they've been in months. "You sure are in a good mood today." Billy said as Stu locked the door. You jumped at his voice clutching imaginary pearls. "Did we scare you?" Stu asked leaning on Billy. "What gave it away Sherlock?" You closed the compact sliding it back in your purse. "You two shouldn't be in here." Stu bent down to check under the stalls. "Relax we're the only ones here." He said standing back up. "Still, being a girl in a bathroom with two guys that have girlfriends isn't really a good look for me."

"It's not like we're going to have our way with you." Billy watched your body tense up at Stu's words. "Unless you'd want that of course." You were uncomfortable. You'd like to say you trusted them but you'd only known them for 3 days. "Lay off man." Billy shrugged his friend arm off his shoulder before talking again. "We just came in here to ask about tonight. I'm running by the video store after school, what movie do you want to watch?" You calmed down just a little seeing Stu smile at you. It was genuine not one with two meanings behind it.

"Any movie? Or are you wanting horror movies?" Stu hopped up sitting on the sink. "We're watching Christine first." Billy looked at him then back to you. "Whatever you want to watch." It was a risk. He wouldn't sit though some boring ass chick flick. Not even for you. He's seen one too many with Sydney. "Have you seen Ferris Bueller's day off?" Both the boys shook thier head. "Are you being serious? It's one of the best movies ever." You said shocked. They highly doubted that but they let you have your moment.

You and the boys made plans for tonight. Billy would stop by the video store to pick up Christine, Ferris Bueller's day off, and he refused to tell you what he picked out. Saying "it's a surprise." You volunteered to cook dinner. They argued saying they could live off popcorn but you wouldn't allow it. Anyone staying at your house would be having a home cooked meal. Stu was simply bringing himself and a deck of cards.

The bell rang and you quickly shoved your school supplies in your locker leaving them for the Monday to come. "Are you ready to have your mind blown?" Stu's hands blew away from his head as he stuck his tongue out faking an explosion. "I doubt your little movie is that good. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." Stu tried to hold hands with you which you quickly shut down. "If you're worried about Tatum and Syd they're both already gone. Dewy picked them up." You were worried about them. You were also worried about that giddy feeling crawling back up your chest. "I'm not worried I'm appalled. I'm not some cheap whore you know?" You walked backwards for a second to catch his reaction.

"I'm well aware of that Ms. Crocker." The two of you cracked jokes and had playful banter as you made it to your car. "Do I get to pick music this time?" With the puppy like expression on his face he already knew your answer. "Sure but you're not going to like the options." You both slid into the car, Stu going straight for the glove box. "Elvis, Beatles, Boston, the Bee Gees? Really?" You looked at him with a smile. "Don't shit on the Bee Gees." You said holding back a laugh. The car pulled out of the parking lot heading straight to your place. "I care about you but we've got to do something about this." He held up a Carpenters tape with a look of shame on his face. "Most of these aren't even mine okay?" He simply hummed with doubt.

"Whatever you say Betty." He grabbed one tape pushing it into the tape deck. "This, I can get behind." He said confident in his selection. "What'd you pick-" Stu's finger rested on your lips. "Shh let it play." You swatted his hand away with a smile. Space Oddity began playing to your surprise. "I learn something new about you everyday." You said as he began singing the words as horribly as he could. He might be a little on the annoying side but he sure could make you laugh. At some point you chimed in. You both sang the songs together laughing at each other back and forth. Stu wasn't so bad.

"Put the tape back where you got it." He said "yes ma'am" as he slid it back into the glove compartment. You clicked the garage door open and slowly pulled your car in. The car became quiet once you pulled out the key. You closed the garage door, you and Stu hopping out at the same time. "Make sure to take your shoes off before you go in." You slipped off your boots carrying them inside. "Just bring your shoes up to my room." Stu didn't want to fuck this up but you made it too easy for him to make jokes. "You're taking me to your bedroom?" He said as cheesey as humanly possible. Before you could come up with a snarky response he pushed you out of the way.

"Holy shit this place is ugly!" Your face dropped as you closed the garage door. "I love it!" He exclaimed walking to the kitchen. "Is that a compliment?" You asked genuinely confused. Stu paused for a moment sniffing the air. "What is that smell?" You chuckled at his concern. "It's the pot roast." Confusion painted his face. "You started cooking this morning?" You smiled sheepishly. "Well yeah I knew you two were coming over." He might've just fell in love with you. "Come on let's put our shoes up and get dinner done before Billy gets here."

Stu looked all around not being able to look at one thing for too long. "Woah this is your room?" He admired the posters on your wall first. "The one and only." You grabbed his shoes sitting them up on the rack next to yours. "You like these movies?" He asked like you had them up there just to start conversations. "Of course I like them. That's kinda why I bought the posters."

Stu had to revaluate everything he thought about you. "You know your place reminds me of Dazed and Confused." You lit up at the name. "Oh my God I love that movie!" Stu took a second to really look at you. He thought you were hot from the second he saw you. That feeling hasn't changed any but there's definitely more to it. "I saw it in theaters like 4 times. You know you don't have such bad taste after all." You fake gasped. "I have amazing taste you just wait."

"Speaking of taste I've got to get started on dinner." He followed you to the kitchen with a question. "Isn't it already done?" He must not cook a lot. "The roast is yes but I've got to make mashed potatoes to go with it. Oh and do you want Macaroni and cheese or green beans?" He was definitely in love with you. "Why are you doing all this?" He asked his voice kind of sad. Stu really hadn't been a priority or even cared for, for a very long time. "Because you and Billy are my guests and I'll be damned if you leave here without having a good meal. Now Mac and cheese or green beans?"

Billy pulled into the driveway slowly as to not attract attention. It would be his ass if Sydney and Tatum saw his car over at your house. Before he could knock he stopped to listen to the sound of your laughter paired with Stu's. It was a pleasant sound but he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. His knuckles made contact with the wood alerting you and Stu both. "I'll get it. Keep stirring the mashed potatoes so they don't stick." Billy knocked once more. He wasn't very patient. "I'm coming!" You opened the door waving Billy inside. "Where's your coat it's freezing out there?" It was then he realized he left his jacket in the car. There was no way that unbuttoned flannel and white t-shirt was providing him any warmth.

"Hey buddy!" Stu waved from the kitchen. "I need you to open the garage so I can pull my car in." You made a stirring motion to Stu noticing he stopped. "Yeah give me one sec." You said to Billy as you opened the door to the garage. Clicking the button on the wall the door slowly lifted up. "Thanks babe." He said as he walked to his car. "Babe?" You whispered as your chest grew tight. "Betty help it's bubbling!" Stu shouted your nickname. You shook your head walking back into the house. "The heats too high." Slowly you turned the knob and the bubbling stopped. "Have you tried some yet?"

"No." He said but the small dot of mashed potatoes on his nose said other wise. Your thumb swiped off the food from his face and he knew he'd been caught. You wiped your hands on your apron. "Was it good?" He dipped his finger in the pot pointing it towards you. "Try it." He tried to smear it on your face but you wouldn't let him. "No!" You shouted with a laugh running around the kitchen. Stu chased you around the table laughing as much as you were. "What is going on? I can hear you all outside." Billy asked as he shut the door to the garage. "You really wanna know?" Stu asked.

It was too late. Now Stu chased Billy leaving you to laugh at both of them. "Get near me and I'll bite your fucking finger off Macher I mean it." You were belly laughing at this point. "Okay guys calm down the foods done. Billy, the plates are up there can you set the table?" Without a response he grabbed the plates. "Stu can you get the silverware? It's in that drawer." You pointed to the wood cabinet. "On it." Stu grabbed one of everything sitting them on the placemats next to the plates Billy sat down. You were busy moving the mac and cheese into a pyrex dish. "Someone sit this on the table." Billy and Stu both jumped to help nearly knocking the hot food out of your hands.

You awkwardly laughed at the silence. "Don't worry I've got another one." You handed Billy the glassware, quickly filling another one up with mashed potatoes to give to Stu. "I've got iced tea, lemonade, soda and water." You opened the fridge showing them what you had. "I'll have Dr. Pepper." Stu said and you handed him the glass bottle. "Billy for you?" Both the boys looked flushed. "What's that at the bottom shelf?" Stu pointed. You bent down seeing a bottle of Coke.

Unbeknownst to you every time you bent over the tops of your thigh high stockings were on display. Billy's eyes followed the black line from your ankles all the way to the little black bow at the top. Stu looked over at Billy trying to read his mind. "It's Coke. Did you want this instead?" You asked. "I'll take that." Billy grabbed it from your hand. "Let me get you two the bottle opener." You pulled out the drawer grabbing the opener and tossing it to Billy. "Where's your bathroom?" Stu asked politely. "Down the hall and to the left." With speed he left the Dr. Pepper on the table and practically sprinted to the bathroom.

"What's his problem?" You asked Billy. He only shrugged. Although he knew exactly what his problem was. It was the same problem he was starting to have. Billy sat down at the dinner table popping the lid off of his bottle. "Thank you." His was quiet but not silent. "You're welcome. It's the best I can do. Do you want your roast on top of your mashed potatoes or separate?" He thought about it for a second. "Separate is fine." You nodded grabbing his plate from the table. You put a good amount of roast and vegetables on his plate before sitting it back down in front of him. "Smells good."

"Let's just hope it tastes good." You laughed. "But thank you. Stu helped quite a lot actually." That was surprising. Living with Stu, he got take out 5 days a week and the other days they barley ate at all. Neither Billy or Stu cooked. Not for lack of trying on Billy's end. You placed a spoon in the mashed potatoes and in the Mac and cheese before fixing you a glass of water. You sat it down on the table picking up Stu's plate. Once he had a good amount you put his plate back where you got it.

"Is he coming?" The question almost made Billy laugh. With the Coke bottle up to his lips he said "Probably." The joke went clear over your head. In the meantime you hung your apron up and sat the salt and pepper down on the table. "There you are. I thought you fell in." You smiled and he returned it. Billy's eyes found Stu's having a silent shameful conversation. The last thing you did before sitting down was fix your own plate. While you put food on your plate Stu went ahead and grabbed his fork. Before he could eat Billy kicked him under the table. "Ow!"

"The bowl's hot." Billy made an excuse for his friends outburst. You went back to what you were doing as the two had a conversation. "Wait for her." Billy mouthed. Stu's lips formed an 'o' as he understood what he meant. You finally sat down with them finishing putting food on your plate. They both waited patiently for you to take the first bite. "Do you think I poisoned it?" You asked wondering about their odd behavior. "No but you cooked it so you should get to eat first." There it was again that giddy feeling. "Oh..." You said with a smile.

You had never seen two people eat so much. It made you think they'd never had food in their lives. Both bowls were completely empty and the poor crockpot looked like it'd seen hell before. "That was the best damn food I've ever had." Stu exclaimed. "Thank you, Y/n." He said grabbing your hand on the table. "You're welcome. If there's one thing I can do it's cook." Billy's head laid on his crossed arms on top of the table. "Is he dead?" You whispered to Stu. Your hand rubbed Billy's back slowly hoping he wasn't sick. "You alright?"

"I can't move." He mumbled against the table cloth. You bit your lip trying not to laugh. Billy sat up his head falling back over the kitchen chair. A moan left his lips from how much he ate. Stu saw the way you straightened up in your chair. Your eyes raked over Billy's exposed neck. His adams apple on prominent display. "Damn." Billy sat up looking at you. "What's wrong?

"Huh?" You asked furrowing your brows. "You said 'Damn' like something was wrong." Stu really couldn't help but laugh. "What's funny shit face?" He asked his giggly friend. "Oh nothing. Leave the dishes I'll clean them up." Billy rolled his eyes. In all his years being friends with him he had never once seen Stu clean a dish. "You don't have to do that I'll do them later after you guys go home."

Home? That thought never crossed either of their minds. They didn't want to go "home." "Listen I love hanging out with you both but I seriously can't have two grown men in my house staying the night that I barley know. What if you robbed the place?" That was your concern. Billy smiled at the innocent worry. "Then you'd get what we stole back monday at school. Don't you have a guest room we could stay in?" You did but it was used as a junk room now. There's no way you could clean it out tonight. They could stay in your dad's room but considering that's were the guns are you'd rather not. "Do you even have something to change into if you were to spend the night?"

Stu jumped from the table going to grab his bag. "I brought mine and Billy's clothes." You put your head in your hands as you groaned. "Fine but you're both sleeping on my bedroom floor." If that's what the rules were then so be it but they knew how easily they could bend them.

Taglist: @katie-tibo @danodoll21 @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n

Part 5

A/N: I haven't proofread this yet so I apologize from any misspellings. I'll be going through it again tonight. Hope everyone's enjoying it so far!

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rocketqueen1989x · 3 months ago

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Broken home

AxlRoseXreader

warnings : mention of axl’s stepfather and childhood , sadness , dysfunctional household ,fluff and arguments

📍: Lafayette,Indiana

⏰: 10:00pm

1979

***

"I wish them fucking birds would shut up " my boyfriend bill grumpily said as he sat next to me on the park bench smoking away on his cigarette. The big chunks of smoke trialed out of his mouth as he talked

it looked pretty cool to be honest.

Well his real name is William but i call him by his nickname, bill . it’s short for William .

i chuckled looking up at him as my head laid there on his chest . His long pale arm was around my shoulder and my fingers intertwined with his hand that was dangling off my shoulder

"stop being so moody " I nudged him playfully and he huffed out blowing the smoke .i watched as the smoked swirled into the warm night air. it was so quite and peaceful tonight. no breeze at all.

the sounds the cars behind us going past filled my ears and grabbed my attention. i turned watching some cars driving by and I felt a cold hand grab my hand turning my gaze back. my eyes met bill’s and he just looked at me.

I could tell he was thinking about something but I didn’t know what. i reached my hand up to the side of my cheek and I planted a small kiss on his lips. His arm that was around my shoulder brought me closer to his chest now deepening the kiss.

I pulled back just looking into his blue eyes. The look he gave me was different. I knew he wanted to say something but the words weren’t coming out but I didn’t question him on it. I gave him a little smile which he soft returned to me.

His smile brought me so much comfort , love and happiness. I’ve knew bill for around 4 years now and we’ve been dating for 2. my parents know about us but his parents know nothing about us.

A car beeping caught our attention again which made our heads snap to the right. as I looked i noticed the time on my watch on my wrist and it was 10 o'clock .

fuck ,it was way past his curfew. He’s normally supposed to be home at 9. Shit .

"shit it's ten " I say and bill threw his head back groaning at the words coming from my mouth. He hated going back home. we've been here for hours talking and it doesn't even feel like hours

it honestly felt like a few minutes

"do you think he'll be pissed ? " I asked and Bill looked up at me nodding rolling his eyes at the thought of going home to his ‘father’. well his step father . nor his real father as he found out just a couple of weeks ago. He’s supposed to be staying at his grandmothers right now but he decided to go back to his home.

i don’t know why though. He didn’t tell me .Bill groaned standing up and I stood up with him

"when's he's not pissed ? " Bill rolled his eyes in a annoying way referring to his step father ,Stephen Bailey.

let's just say he was a strict and hot headed prick. i hated him after the stories I've heard and what I've seen.

Me and my boyfriend started to walk down the path and I could see our street not far from us. We lived across from each other which was good.

"I don't wanna go back " bill said sighing and flicking away his cigarette and looked at his shoes as he walked. he watched as he took each step after another.

i grabbed his hand and intertwined our hands and I stroked his knuckles . His hands were so cold. The weather in Lafayette lately has been so shit. We really need some sun.

"well if he acts like an asshole just come to my house for a night or two" I said with a smile but he just shook his head making his ginger hair shake as he did so

"Your parents will be getting sick of seeing me " bill said with a chuckle. I knew he was trying to lighten the mood. but I could tell he did not want to go back to that house. he hated it there. With each step we took bill seemed to get more sad and uncomfortable

"Bill how many times ? My parents don’t mind you sleeping over" I chuckled now stopping just 3 houses away from his house.

I looked past William’s shoulder and I could see that the living room light was on so Stephen must be still up waiting for him. I hated that man with a passion.He’s disgusting

“The lights on ?” Bill knew by my expression the light was on and I just nodded now looking up at him .bill went quite and didn't even look at me now. He was looking again down back at his black shoes. it looked like he was thinking of something

I went on my tip toes and moved his hair from his face . “promise you’ll give me a call in the morning ? “ I smiled and he just nodded with a light smile. i tilted my head and he looked at me for a moment before leaning down giving my lips a peck

"I’ll leave my window open " I whispered his lips and he just gave a nod before kissing my lips again but this time more deeper making me smile. His kisses were always perfect.

we pulled away and stared at each other for a little bit but that’s until we heard a door open then slam. It both startled up and we both whipped our heads to the loud bang. i looked behind him and it was his mother , Sharon walking to her car and getting something out of the trunk.

She must of noticed us because a big smile came to her lips. William definitely had her smile. “Oh ,hi y/n” she gave me a light smile and I nodded with a little wave. I’ve only speak to his mother but I’m the 4 years I’ve known William I’ve never spoke to step father and to be honest. i don’t want to talk to him.

“hi mrs Bailey “ I replied and she just asked a couple questions like how I was , how’s my parents , how school is going for me just things like that. But my mood changed when the front door opened and there stood his step father.

He was tall and a skinny and I could just tell by the way he was stood and looking over at us three he was already pissed off about something. Like William said ,when’s he not pissed off about something.

“William “ was all he said making a come here motion with his finger and William gave me a look and turned away walking Into the house , his mother said her goodbyes to me and I sighed just staring at the house

i hated leaving him and watching him go into that horror house

the door slammed and immediately it went quite. i sighed pulling my hood up on my jacket. Actually it wasn’t mine it was William’s. it began to get a little more breezy out and i before I took a step forward to walk on home I heard shouting.

the voice of his stepfather

"what time do you fucking call this " I heard him shout but it was muffled.

"Fuck off " I mumbled to my self and walked off trying to calm myself down

I knew bill would stick up for himself and say something back. He always did. He told me he never used to because he was scared but now that he’s gotten older he’s found his voice and he’s starting to stick up for himself. i was there to witness it at one point. they both were in each other's faces.

i made my way home and walked in my front door to be greeted by my dog . He was a British bulldog.He jumped up at me all happily with his tongue sticking out at the side

"hi my baby boy " I bent down stroking his head and down his back

i heard the tv on in the living room and it was blasting this action movie which I didn't even care to look .i just saw the back of my father head. He was asleep and his arm was slumped over the arm of the chair.

i closed the front door quietly and walked off up stairs and my dog followed me. I saw the lights were off in my mothers room and I peeked my head in to see her asleep all snuggled up in bed .i smiled lightly and my dog ran up before jumping on the bed laying at her feet

"goodnight baby " I whispered to dog and he put his head down on the covers. i finally made it to my room and flicked on my light putting down my pack of cigarettes and lighter.

I really need to find a spot for them to hide. God if my parents found out it would be like world war three .i took my shoes and clothes off

i was left in my underwear and I walked around to my dressing table grabbing my tv remote and the movie 'Texas chainsaw massacre' was playing

i loved this movie.such a good movie

i changed my underwear and quickly put shirt on and I just kept my underwear off for tonight. i sighed laying down in my bed .it felt so nice just to lay down and feel warmth for once.

i groaned when I realised I haven't even brushed my teeth , my hair , done my bag for school or even tidied my room like my mom asked me before I went out with William

i could feel my eyes getting heavier and I got even more sleepy. then suddenly my mind flicked away and I thought of my boyfriend came to me for some reason

i just hope he's okay.

I hated when he had to go home to that monster

i wished we lived together. I could see him everyday , kiss him when I want or where I want , hug him in front of whoever and it wouldn't cause any arguments but obviously his father being very strict and religious . he found that type of stuff 'not for his kids to know about ' apparently

bill once told me he remembers being around 10 and he looked at a couple kissing on the tv and he got a slap around the head and yelled yet .

the tv got put in the trash that day .

i just cant wrap my head around that type of stuff. Like why hit your kid and especially when they have done nothing wrong. It will always confuse me. It’s just wrong in my eyes .i remembered that my window was locked . I need to unlock it for bill

sometimes if he's bored , has a bad day or had a big argument with his father to the point we're he's loosing control he comes to my house and climbs through my window. there's been times were I'll be asleep and he will climb through during the night and when I wake up out of my slumber he's there with me sleeping behind me or he's either up just staring up at my ceiling

i lazily got up from out of my now warm double bed and I unlocked the lock on my window , walking over to my door and locking it. i trailed back over to my bed and laid down , turning out my light and grabbed the tv remote and switched it off

i was so tired.

the second my head it the pillow I was asleep.

2 hours later

it's nearly half 1 and i woke up having the urge to pee but something caught my attention . I felt little breaths in my neck and a full body weight on me

My eyes fluttered a little bit trying to realise what was going on and I looked down as I laid on my side and saw a big shadow of hair . I instantly knew it was my bill just by the way he was laid . he was on his side too , my leg was over his torso and his arm was around my waist tightly and protectively holding me close to him .almost like he was too afraid to even let go of me

even in his sleep

i smiled sadly but happily at the same time. I was half happy because I'm glad he's here with me and he trusts me enough the can actually comes here but On the other hand , i was sad because i knew why he was here

his soft little breaths brushed against my skin while his face was buried deeply into the crook of my neck .

i noticed he came through the window because my curtains were opened and a little mangled at the bottom. i felt the sudden urge to pee again . I sighed looking down a little and I tapped bill’s shoulder but nothing . He didn't wake up.

"baby" I whispered and stroked his soft hair . i felt him stir his legs but that's about it

"bill wake up " I rubbed up his back and stroked the back of his head. His hair was so soft and silky.

"mmhm " he mumbled pulling me in more tightly and shuffled his head in my neck a couple times

"I need a pee" I said and I heard him groan out in annoyance still half asleep as I tried to get away from his strong grip that he had around my waist. i eventually got out of his grip ,stood up from the bed and I felt a little slap on my ass as I walked away.

i gasped and turned around and saw bills shadow sitting up a little as he resting on his elbow. I heard his little giggle from the darkness as I walked away .i went into the bathroom and I could still hear the tv on downstairs .

I finished what I had to do and made my way back to my bedroom. My eyes snapped straight to my boyfriend. He was all snuggled in and my bed covers were wrapped around his body. I could hear his little snores making me smile.

the moon light that was slipping through the curtain and it shined on his hair. I could only see his face a little bit.i walked back over to the bed and slipped back into the warm soft covers and his eyes fluttered open immediately as he felt me next to him.

he opened his eyes and looked up at me giving me a light smile his smile was everything to me. How can anybody hurt him ? Bill wrapped his arm around me ,pulling me to his warm chest. He was so warm and comfy. I was drowning in his body heat.

"you okay ? " I whispered and he nodded slowly putting his head on pillow ,looking down at me. i just stared looking up at him in his eyes and my eyes scanned over his face. his nose was like a button , his eyes were a little puffy from just sleeping , his lips looked so soft and plumped

His cheekbones looked a little sunken in and his fluffy ginger hair was covering his forehead and was just above his eye brows.i smiled as I put my hand gently on his cheek and stroked his skin with the pad of my thumb. I leaned up kissing his lips and he kissed back . this kiss was different. he pulled me closer and depended the kiss like his life was dependent on it.

I just want to keep him safe and with me. he doesn’t deserve all this shit.

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silverskye13 · 8 months ago

Note

Silver I know next to nothing about the alien franchise and movie, I am giving you full permission to use this ask as an opportunity to spread propaganda to get me (and anyone else) to finally watch it

So it's, so like, the thing is, right. I'm not a movie tech kinda person [though it is technically impressive, the funny little tricks they did, like not having the budget for a Big Space Ship Derelict so they are a scaled down model that the director's kids in space suits walked up to so it would look bigger, and it was shown to the audience on a shitty CCTV because they didn't do a big matte painting of the set they filmed the tiny one, projected it onto a wall, and then filmed that.] So my rant isn't going to be about how technologically cool the movie was for 1979 on a less than optimal budget. But what I do like, what I excel at, is breaking down themes and tropes. And my god. My god. Just. Ugh. [Flails my arms.]

So a basic rundown for the movie, spoilers ahead, and my analysis of how fucking cool it is:

Basic gist of the movie: The crew of the commercial mining vessel Nostromo are awoken halfway through their trip back to earth by a mysterious signal, calling for help on a far away planet. Upon going down to investigate, one of their crew members is attacked by a strange alien parasite which attaches to his face. This kicks off a tale of increasing horror as the new alien kills off the crew one by one, culminating in Ripley [the main character] blowing up the ship and fleeing in an escape pod, not sure if she'll ever be picked up in the vastness of space -- with the ships cat, who miraculously also survives. [We all know Jonesy is the real main character 💜.] Along the way a plot by the Weyland-Utani corporation is revealed, one of the crew is discovered to be an android, and there is a lot of alien screeching.

Now! The themes that I go absolutely feral over can commence.

The horror of the movie, the reason why the alien is scary, and lethal to humans specifically, is it is a creature built for efficient survival, and this is a trait that Ash, the ship's science officer [and resident hiding android] highly praises in the critter. He describes it as beautiful, elegant, pure in its efficiency. The perfect organism. Efficient.

Humans, by comparison, aren't efficient. We are social. And efficiency preys on social needs. For example:

The xenomorph eggs can survive for ages [in the derelict they're found on, the dead alien who drove the ship is described as fossilized. These eggs have been here for thousands of years. But they activate immediately when a curious human pokes around them. It isn't a fast process. Kane is poking around for a few minutes, looking at the movements of the creatures in their eggs, making observations. Curious. Curiosity is an inefficient trait -- he would have survived if he had climbed out of the hole the eggs were in and left, or even waited for the rest of his team to enact quarantine and investigation procedures.

Speaking of quarantine! When Dallas and Lambert bring Kane, newly infected by an alien parasite, back to the ship, Ripley locks them in the airlock. There are quarantine procedures. We can't risk the whole crew. But they are scared for Kane's safety. He might die without help. They break quarantine. If they hadn't broken quarantine, the baby alien would've been born in the airlock, where it would get spaced the moment it was born.

When the face hugger parasite dies and Kane seems to return to normal, what they should have done to attempt to reinstate quarantine was put him in hyper sleep. His body would have been frozen in a stasis which might have frozen the parasite or, if it hadn't, would have left the new baby alien trapped in a stasis pod. But Kane, haggard and scared from his ordeal, asks can we please have one more meal together before I go to sleep? And that one meal is long enough for the new xenomorph to be born, and release terror on the ship.

There is more. Parker would have lived if he hadn't gone to find the cat by himself, leaving the safety of his group. Dallas would have lived if he let Ripley go through the vents, but he was the captain and he didn't want to risk someone else's life so he went instead. Brett would have lived if he'd left Lambert behind when she was being attacked, or if he'd hit the xenomorph with the flamethrower instead of insisting Lambert get out of the way first. And Lambert would have lived if she'd run instead of being paralyzed in fear by the creature killing her friends. And the xenomorph? Wasn't even eating it's kills. No gore. Little blood. It was killing them because it knew they would kill it, and it was neutralizing threats. Efficient.

The xenomorph is very clearly engineered for survival, and it's survival depends on killing the inefficient organisms around it. Even it's acid blood is described as a survival mechanism, not an offensive mechanism.

Okay Skye, we hear you talking about how scary the critter is because it's not a social creature. That's an interesting observation, but it's still just a monster story, right?

Well, let me tell you an alternative story. Just a little to the left of the original, but one I would argue is still very very canon.

You are an android built by Weyland-Utani, a company which is jealously hunting alien tech to use for its many space programs. You are placed on the Nostromo because there is a known anomaly in the area, and they want to find it. Your job is to get a specimen back to the company, all other protocols expended.

You are programmed to be efficient, so you get to work.

You wake the crew when you find the signal. You give them only the information they need to investigate: it is a signal that repeats every 12 seconds. You let them make the conclusion it is an SOS. Humans are social creatures. They want to help other social creatures in need. There is some arguing about whether they should go, but in the end an extra push from you sends them. Ripley, one of the more efficient members of the crew, keeps asking you why you haven't decoded the message.

"Mother [the super computer running the ship] is still working on it." This is true. She has only translated part of the signal. By the time Ripley realizes it's a warning, the crew is already on the way to the derelict. You tell her if she walks out there, they will have already figured out if it's a warning or not by the time she makes it to them. She agrees.

When they return with a specimen, Ripley [efficient, following protocol] doesn't want to let them on. But Ripley doesn't know you're an android, so when you break quarantine, and you tell her you just wanted Kane to be safe, she begrudgingly believes you.

When the alien is loose, it is easy for you to keep them from killing it. Humans are social, inefficient creatures, and you feel no empathy for their deaths. You do pity them though. Between you and the alien, their chances of survival are slim.

If only they were more efficient.

The horror in Alien is not the xenomorph. The horror in Alien is when anything, primal creatures, androids, a particularly greedy corporation, preys on human social needs in order to get what it wants. There is significance in that Ripley, despite everything, chose to save the cat. She needed companionship. All humans do. She needed to save that cat. A cat that was cantankerous and mean, and hissed whenever it was held, was better than the cold efficiency of empty space.

Any system that prioritizes absolute efficiency will be inhospitable to human life.

#spazzcat barks #alien 1979 #xenomorph #i could go on actually #the entire second movie Aliens is about a colony falling prey #about families torn apart #about a little girl who survived because she was quiet and saved by her brother #about how a thousand times they should have left that child behind to save themselves but they didnt #and how an android not powered by the company helps them survive #i just..... the movies are about corporate greed #wait it was about the dangers of capitalism all along? always has been

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kookygranger · 11 months ago

Text

Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Steve Harrington falls for you a little harder every time he meets you. Now you're free to live your life and he's ready to make a move on the girl he thinks about every day.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut-ish (allusions to sex), secondary character death, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2k

Author's note: This story is inspired by a trippy and vividly detailed dream I had, minus the lovechild because that's not my vibe but good for dream me I guess.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One: When Under Ether

1979

The first time Steve Harrington saw you was on a brisk fall night. Brown leaves lifted in small whirlpools down the street as children’s laughter and sugar-induced screams permeated the air. It was Halloween.

Steve wanted to dress up as Robin Hood, his outfit complete with feathered cap and fox tail sitting on his navy-blue bedspread at home, but his friends thought trying was lame now – so he settled for a ripped shirt and a half-assed green face paint job. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to be a zombie or Frankenstein’s monster.

He’d done that a lot lately. Changed things about himself that others his age suddenly found uncool or only suitable behaviour for babies. He may not have known as much as the kids that sat up the front of class, but he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want to be thought of as a baby.

Maybe that’s why he was stood in front of the rotting wooden gate that led up to the house at the end of Maple Street, so far away from the rest of the neighbours that it could only barely be counted. Unless it was to get its own street name entirely, which right now Steve felt like it could, as far away from safety as possible to his small legs.

See, the old Ravenwood house was only spoken about in whispers, its history revealed in rumours perpetuated by ghost story obsessed children for as long as anyone can even remember the house being occupied. And with its peeling paint, overgrown and weed-riddled front yard, and creaking front porch, it was a ripe opportunity for a young boy to prove that he was no scaredy cat on All Hallows’ Eve.

Steve walked up the sunken stone path with his two friends in tow. Tommy, the boy who’d suggested the dare earlier in the night brought up the rear of the small group, knobbly knees knocking together.

Steve was wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans when a flurry of bats, unnative to this part of the world, flew into their path, screeching only slightly higher than the two boys behind him who ran straight back through the front gate. His heart battered against his ribcage as he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath like his grandma had taught him to when he’d get mad or upset, and when he opened his eyes he saw you.

Watching curiously through the second-floor window, where you sat perched inside, a warm glow framing your small body. Steve thought you looked to be the same age as him, but he’d never seen you before. He smiled that charming Harrington grin he’d been told he possessed, then waved – you, more shyly returned the gesture. Then he’d heard his name called somewhere back beyond the threshold of this strange house, and he’d returned to his friends. Brushing off the ill attempt at machismo with talks of scoring candy.

When Steve’s head hit his pillow that night, veins pumping with sugar, he thought of you. He would never forget about the girl in the window. A beacon of light that dissolved his fears.

***

1986

The second time Steve saw you everything faded away into the background.

He’d been swapping occupational war stories with Robin at the bar in town, the one that didn’t refuse service based on age but based on your likeability according to the bartender. He’d made his way up to the bar through the lively post-work week crowd to order another round when he saw you. Through the far from sober bodies, tucked away on a barstool up against the wall, your hands playing with a sodden beer mat as your eyes wandered, people watching, Steve Harrington swore he saw the face of an angel.

Although time had changed you both, bodies growing up and through awkward stages, arms and chests filling out to be hugged now by the scratchy material of Steve’s striped polo and the soft cotton of your dress, your legs strong enough to bring a grown man to his knees (as far as Steve was concerned), the glint of a thin silver chain on the wrist that supported his big hands enough to capture the attention of almost all the girls in town – Steve had still known. It was you. By looks alone, you may have been a far cry from the little girl in the window, but he knew.

Inexplicably, for he could not cite the hairs on his toned arms raising at the sight of your eyes gazing back at his, or the warm, tight feeling in his chest he’d only ever felt once before as proper methods of identification. But your shy smile and hitched breathing as he drew near only confirmed it for him.

And before he knew it, his lips oh so close to yours, shining after his tongue had poked out to wet them were asking if you wanted to get out of there.

“Yes.”

Robin would later get more than her fair share of making up for his total abandonment of her without so much as a goodbye, but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

How he could taste the bitterness of your perfume on your skin when he kissed your bare shoulder, how you sounded when he sucked on the skin under your ear and the vibrations you made together when he swallowed your moans, how you squeezed his hand that held yours beside your head laying on the pillow that wouldn’t be rid of your scent for a week after, and how you kissed him deeply after the seventh time he’d asked if you were still okay, if you still wanted this as much as he did.

When you left him, asleep with kissed lips parted in soft snores and hair mussed, the marks he’d left on your neck and thighs would serve you as a sweet reminder. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla followed you as you snuck back into your house through the back door, the quiet creak masked by the singing cicadas. Your uncle exactly where you'd left him, still sleeping off the extra spoonful of valerian extract and dried chamomile you’d steeped with his tea to buy yourself a little more time out there.

Where magic was forbidden. Where children threw cruel comments and the adults they’d overheard them from ushered them across the other side of the street. Out there where people would never be understanding of you, and boys who could trick you into giving up your power ran rampant.

You’d thought – hoped, dreamed – that maybe on your eighteenth birthday you could get a kiss. A moment of normalcy outside of your life stuck in this house but what you got was so much better.

What you got was imprinted on your skin with the lingering feeling of his lips.

***

1993

The third time you meet Steve, you breathe in your first taste of free air.

Steve had volunteered to take a ride with the EMT to transport a body to the morgue, on an otherwise slow shift at the firehouse. The only other one in town had called in sick and the nearest hospital was a town over.

When the bus turned down Maple Street, Steve immediately felt off. A sense of dread washed over him and only increased when the car continued off the main street and down the dirt road that led to the Ravenwood house. As the vehicle kicked up stones and a cloud of dust in its wake he’d been hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu, remembering dreams that felt as real as memories of walking up this path only to find himself back at the start over and over again.

When the bus finally came to a stop in the driveway Steve barrelled out, running up to the front door in a panic, his raised fist ready to knock it down before it abruptly opened. Exhaling quickly at the site of you, the sinking feeling in his stomach alleviated as he took you in for the first time in years.

You’re dressed for mourning. A soft black dress and scuffed boots, hair pulled back to reveal a bare face that Steve had the sudden urge to kiss.

“H-Hi.” He managed to stammer out a greeting as his colleague finally caught up to him, walking up the creaking steps to your front porch.

“He’s in the bedroom.” You held open the front door, moving aside to let them in. Voice small, smelling of lemon, cedarwood and white musk and Steve had to physically keep himself moving as he brushed past you.

Your uncle laid stiff on a double bed, on top of the covers and dressed in a tattered corduroy suit as if ready for viewing, his body now an empty vessel left only for a ceremonial send-off. A white handkerchief covered his face, a small bundle of dried cypress and sweet cicely perched on his forehead. A breeze from the open window across the room swayed the hem of your skirt as you stared at him.

Steve pointed to the handkerchief, asking you if they could move it but stopped his movements right away when you tensed. His colleague tells you it’ll have to come off during the autopsy and you fold, asking if it can at least go back on afterwards.

“Once we drop him off he’s out of our hands ma’am.”

“I’ll make sure it does,” Steve placates you and you offer him a small nod in thanks. He barely remembers to breathe.

You followed the stretcher out to the bus, a rumbling of thunder catching the two men’s gaze up to the sky when the back doors thud shut. The view was clear when they entered the house, no forecast for rain on this mild summer’s day. Now fat drops began to hit the ground with the rolling in of grey clouds. Steve looked down and noticed a small smile on your face.

You took a deep breath in with eyes softly shut. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” You took off down the front path, stopping at the front gate when Steve called after you, asking if you were sure as the rain only intensified.

You just turn and smile at him, waving with a fixed mind. “It’s cleansing.” Only to disappear into the tall grass fields across from your house in a blur of black. Walking away, a free woman.

The front door creaked closed, making Steve’s companion jump.

“Freaky.”

After that day Steve hears of regular sightings of the girl who grew up in that house. Gossip of blooming, bright lavender and bluebells, buzzing bees – life where there once was nothing but rot and death. A fixed white picket fence and carefully laid stone-path that led up to a now bright and welcoming looking house at the end of Maple Street. But this was still a small town and generational rumours took more than a fresh coat of paint to cover up. The witch who lived at the old Ravenwood house was still feared among small minds.

***

The fourth time Steve Harrington saw you he was dropping Robin’s overdue books off at the library on his way to work. Navy blue t-shirt hugging his biceps, tucked neatly into his uniform pants, the stomp of his steel-capped boots muffled by the scratchy charcoal carpet.

Robin had sent him in the hopes that he could get her late fees waived. He’d spritzed an extra spray of his cologne on before leaving their shared apartment, Harrington charm plastered on his face as he prepared to win over an elderly lady who was reminded of her husband when they first met. Only, the person behind the counter wasn’t wearing a blouse with a frilly collar or sporting a purple rinse quaff.

The person who greeted Steve was wearing a well-loved PJ Harvey shirt, with long braids running down her back, flashing a timid smile that ripped through his chest.

“Hi, Steve.”

End note: If you want dedicatedly researched, heart-wrenching witch core you should go read @storiesbyrhi's Eddie fic Burning Yarrow. I'd also recommend @rosewaterandivy's S.H. x witch!reader story, which is just blow me down gorgeous. Their words probably inspired the dream that inspired this story ✨

Thank you for reading! x

Steve edit by @/vasguett on pinterest

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #firefighter!steve harrington #witch!reader #she writes

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londonfog-chan · 7 months ago

Text

Eddie Munson x Reader: Ulterior Motives

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+. Mentions of smutty things and pot. Also mentions of being high if that doesn’t sit right with you. Please use your better judgment and be safe out there with edibles y’all.

I fucking told you all this shit would happen one day. I told you I was working on that Ulterior Motives fic. Here it is babes.

***

It was the sexy beat of the drums that probably caught you off guard.

“Baby…”

The wet sound of his tongue against your neck intermingled with the sinful sounds blaring on the television. You tasted like Betty Crocker chocolate.

And then the keyboard came… Maybe a Yamaha or Lowrey.

The sexy percussions…

“Baby…?”

He couldn’t hear you, fumbling for the fly of his jeans as your underwear went sailing over the couch. An unintelligible groan rippled through his throat as the actress on the flick began to sound off, and then the vocalist came on…

“-ing in yo… yes make me realize...”

“Eddie get off I can’t hear!”

You pushed Eddie Munson off you abruptly and his head smacked hard into the coffee table, making him yelp in pain.

Clutching the aching part of his skull and ruffling the messy waves of his brown locks, he looked indignant to see you crawling out from under him on all fours. Your pathway was clear ahead: straight for the glow of the television that beckoned in the dark room like a forbidden idol against the teal carpet and wood panels of your family’s home. The haze of pain sadly didn’t allow him to admire the curvaceous view he currently had of your behind as you crawled on hands and knees. Which was a shame, because you were clad in nothing but his Black Sabbath shirt, and the view from the back was spectacular.

But for you to push him off that quickly… Maybe he did something wrong?

“I’m sorry!” he began quickly apologizing, pulling up his underwear and zipping the fly of distressed Levis quickly as though someone had just walked in, “Sorry! I guess I just got carried away and I thought you wanted…”

“Shhh!”

Eddie froze. His face contorted further into worry. He thought you were going to tell him you heard the characteristic car door slam of your mother’s 1979 Dodge Aspen from the adjacent garage. Evidently the last thing on your mind was hearing anything except for the television. You were pressed against the speaker, trying to listen in to something, although he doubted it was the wet noises or the groaning currently playing out.

Guilt and dread filled his chest. It was all going to shit. This had all been his idea and the whole experience had been one long string of bad luck altogether.

Originally it was a simple plan concocted after you finally passed Mr. Mundy’s remedial math final with a C. Weeks of struggling through understanding your homework and your boyfriend’s high proficiency help finally paid off. Eddie had taken you out to Palace Arcade to spoil the shit out of you with as much time as you wanted on the new Elvira pinball machine, but he felt that treat was just too tame in comparison to achieving such a big goal. Considering Mundy was the last obstacle standing in your way for graduation with him, Eddie thought of something more enticing to welcome you into the ranks of those who would walk for their diploma.

He'd proposed the idea when you called him to tell him your mother had to leave for a few days on business. A different scenario was pictured then: a fun night in with a sleepover at your place with some greasy burgers and crinkle cut fries from Big Top, homemade Munson Special Treats, and a suspiciously obtained copy of one of his favorite porno flicks, Angels of Passion, for the evening’s viewing pleasure. Concluding the evening with a stoner’s nightcap and eating everything the two of you could get your grubby hands on afterwards.

It had been going well up until you flipped out on the shitty music.

“Baby… are you ok?” Eddie asked, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up.

He got scared when you didn’t respond at all. Hardly acknowledging he was there.

“Oh fuck me Freddy… Green out babe? You’re not having a bad one are you?!” He asked, his heart racing with fear. “Was it too strong for you? I told you to tell me if you started feeling-…”

“SHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

You turned around with a scowl, putting your finger to your lips as you shushed him harshly. Whether it was Eddie’s ‘special treats’ working their magic or it was the actual shitty pop that Eddie hated, you were simply unmovable. The tune wasn’t Eddie’s style at all, then again if he was watching an adult film he wasn’t really paying attention to whatever out of tune noise the director chose for music. But you seemed fascinated.

You hummed softly along to it, and when the scene ended, you immediately rewound the tape.

“Woah… ok, what are we doing here baby? What are you listening for?” he asked, crawling over to sit next to you as you worked the Betamax.

“What is this melody?!” you asked, using a mocking British accent that you often took on for your rogue character during Hellfire’s current Battle for Baldur’s Gate Campaign.

“… the shittiest stock music known to man?” Eddie responded, and it took him a while to formulate a coherent answer that was both kind and not outright laughing at you, “It’s porno music babe. If it ain’t metal it means nothing to us.”

“Holy fuck…” you hissed through your teeth, “This song… it… it’s really fucking awesome?!”

Okay… Now what the fuck else were you eating besides badly made pot brownies from Uncle Wayne’s tiny kitchen?!

“… You’re kidding, right? Baby… it’s a POP song! Since when do we listen to pop?! Bad pop at that, some of the shittiest music imaginable and you’re here acting like it’s Mr. Crowley.”

Eddie was flailing his arms, almost hurt with you for turning against his strict metal only code in his presence. Normally you had varied tastes, and he tolerated it to a point; the only rule was nonmetal did not exist in your shared van, but anything goes on your Walkman where you could plug in your headphones and Eddie could blast something else on the cassette deck of his 1971 Chevy Van.

“Yeah that’s it… you’ve had way too much.” Eddie said, beginning to try and pull you away from the television, “No way would you find this crap enjoyable if you weren’t completely baked and tone deaf.”

“Eddie no, you don’t understand this is… how the fuck is a porno song this good???” you hissed to yourself.

It had to be the brownies… Had to be… What the hell else could it have been?! Pulling at his hair, Eddie reasoned you had to have eaten too much against his advice. Admittedly he’d bitten off a little more than he could chew today as well, and he could feel it settle in the longer he tried to pull you away from the tv. He usually could pull off pregaming a joint before a treat and still maintain some modicum of law and order of the two of you, but you’d never done this before. You had insisted earlier you would be fine, but he suspected you had bitten off more than you could chew. Definitely on the verge of a green out if your taste in music was declining this badly.

“Eddie this is so good… how the hell did they get like actual musicians to perform for a porn?” you asked, almost desperate. “I wish I could hear the rest of it… if this stupid bitch wasn’t moaning her little bimbo head off…”

“Sweetheart, that’s the whole point of the flick…” Eddie said, holding you against him as he looked deeply into your eyes. “It’s just something to have on in the background while the lead gets plowed like a cornfield. Doesn’t have any other kind of special meaning beyond that.”

You weren’t even paying attention. Completely transfixed, possessed even, as you began to hum along with the song, shaking your backside slightly with the beat. When you began to sing, Eddie had a moment where his brain began to short circuit. You had quite a captivating voice, deep and contralto, although he could never convince you to sing for him beyond screaming along to Rainbow in the Dark while parked out at Lover’s Lake.

“… everyone knows that… ulterior motives… what the hell did he say…?” You muttered, trying to follow along with the lyrics.

You rewound the video at least eight times, each time ignoring Eddie complaining and trying to get you to stop. The music was so bad, he didn’t even notice that after a while, he started feeling like maybe he’d also had a little too much. Shit! He definitely fucked up and pregamed a little too much in anticipation of your sleepover. He should have been paying attention. There was a point where he’d thought he’d rolled tobacco and not the reefer, and cautiously ate a little more of the brownies when after an hour he hadn’t felt the high, but he certainly could have just checked better and stayed with eating only half.

Each time you rewound the tape, you learned a little more of the song, until you perfectly memorized the lyrics that you were able to hear.

“Oh my god Eddie…” you said, completely out of your mind. “Holy shit… I think this is the best song ever written?”

“Jesus H. honey… What, are you a little preppie cheerleader that listens to Madonna now? You a jock?!” There wasn’t much lyrical genius that he could make out above the obnoxious moaning of the actress currently being engaging in the illicit acts. “Listen babe, let’s forgo the porno, okay? I’ll put on our album instead and we’ll listen to real music. You want that baby? I know you love Holy Diver?”

“Eddie just… Just trust me… ha… haha…” you suddenly had a fit of giggles, excited and tickled that you were able to learn the lyrics so quickly. You could hardly talk. And Eddie could hardly even get himself together enough to just shut the damn tv off.

But what happened next suddenly changed everything: you stood up quickly, and began swaying.

“Oh good God above now you’re dancing, babe, come back here…!”

At first Eddie scrambled to his feet, he was afraid the love of his life was going to fall and crash into the entertainment center, but you seemed to really be dancing, following the rhythm fairly well for being baked out of your mind. Your dance was sloppy, wild and reckless, you gyrated your hips mostly, dancing like you were the only one in the room.

Eddie froze. He was almost transfixed, more so on the way you danced rather than the fact that you were transfixed on the song still.

“Eddie watch just… just listen to it again…” you stopped to have a fit of laughter.

“I don’t like this...!” he said, more cautious than curious at this point.

“Eddie! Just trust me! Let me listen to it again, one more time…! Please?”

He hesitated. Every fiber of his being screaming about the dangers that having both of you out of your minds could cause. The logical part of his brain screamed danger, saw it lurking in the sharp corners, odds and ends and angles of the room. He should get you both to bed before one of you got hurt. He should be the responsible one for once in his goddamned life instead of being the bad influence…

“God dammit…” he growled, wiping the final remnants of shame from his face. “Fine. One more time, and then we’re shutting shit down.”

You couldn’t press rewind fast enough. The scene began all over again with the drums, a soft ‘oh yeah’ from the blonde star being worked over by some stud, honestly at this point Eddie had seen the blonde get railed under the giant Coca Cola poster so many times and was getting so high as time marched on he couldn’t even find it in himself to get hard. He was utterly desensitized to the scene, until he saw you begin to dance again, and you were looking at him like you were starving.

“Something in your eyes makes me realize… how strained this feels...” your voice was smooth, a low alto so unlike anything he’d heard in his life. Although you weren’t practiced, and still very high, something about the way you seemed to just be enjoying yourself, letting loose… through the floating giddy feeling creeping up on him, Eddie was just completely captivated watching his beautiful lover have unabashed fun dancing to terrible music.

You reached out to Eddie, fingers beckoning him to dance with you, hips swaying as you continued to sing along.

Now how could he resist you like that? All hot and bothered, needy for him, beckoning him in for a dance…

He moved automatically in, moving slightly to the beat as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressed against him while singing the chorus, sweet little voice softening when you sang ‘tell me the truth’ in a cadence that lilted up at the end, as if you were trying to flirt with him. It was actually very endearing… and Eddie was finding the longer the song went on, he didn’t actually mind the song so long as it was you singing to him.

The longer you danced together, closely pressed against one another, the greater the intensity of the passion was as the raw sexual tension built up. You slowly slid your hands down Eddie’s body, massaging and teasing him as you then slipped your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. You gave him a firm, loving squeeze. Your eyes were watery, squinting up at him in the dark, but to him you looked like an angel.

It had to be the sounds from the television getting to you both on some subconscious level, because the next thing he knew Eddie was being pulled backwards until you both hit the couch, Eddie pinning you to the cushions as you continued to dance, swaying and moving against one another. He didn’t know when it started happening, just knew that at some point the Levis were pooled at his ankles and there you were. Surrounding every sense all at once. Buried in warmth. He was so consumed by a passion that burned hot and heavy, following a rhythmic pattern of give and take, soft and wet, hot and heavy all at the same time, the once terrible music becoming a symphonic masterpiece as you and he made music of your own.

When he pulled away from you, after the most earth shattering peak of enticement, he noticed you were staring at him with stars sparkling in your eyes.

“Best song ever written, right?” you asked, mouth hanging open as you both panted in the aftermath of love.

“Yeah…” he breathed, trying desperately to catch his breath as you took it away with your beauty. “Best song ever written babe…”

#reader insert #eddie munson #stranger things #reader insert fiction #eddie munson x reader #ulterior motives #song fic #stranger things x reader #minors dni #minors do not interact

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quiet-admirer · 7 months ago

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Devotion

As promised, here is a little excerpt from Chapter 3 of my current work-in-progress, an enemies-to-lovers M/M queer weight gain kink and feedist story, Devotion, about 2 hardcore punks in 1979 :) Enjoy!

The walk home from the 7-Eleven was tantalizingly, excruciatingly long at first, but once Ira threw out a “How d’you think that bassist tonight got tone like that?” they got to talking shop, and it was like Diego blinked and they were at his apartment door.

Diego flopped onto the futon with the box of SusyQs on his lap and unwrapped his third of the night while Ira unlaced his boots across the room.

“Want a drink? There’s beer in the fridge.”

Ira slid off one boot then the other and stood them neatly by the door. “I don’t drink. Or smoke,” he said with unrestrained disdain. “I don’t do anything. I’m not going to waste time and money poisoning my body and my mind. I want to actually experience my life.”

God, Ira being not only totally straight but also a self-righteous snob about it made so much sense that Diego didn’t know why he’d even thought to offer him a beer in the first place.

“I don’t. Grab me some mind poison, will ya?” Truthfully, he was more in the mood for a Dr. Pepper, but giving Ira a hard time was more satisfying.

Ira pulled a face. “Get it yourself.” He sunk into the couch next to Diego and nudged the box of snack cakes with his foot. “Keep eating, SuzyQ. When you get through this box I’ll order the pizza.”

Diego had never before met anyone who gave him a truly carnal desire to throttle them and yet at the same time kiss them to within an inch of their life. It was as if this one shorter-than-average man single-handedly generated so much irritation that it flooded Diego’s brain and had nowhere to go but to overflow directly to his dick. And somehow he’d also enjoyed every minute he’d spent with Ira in the days since they’d made up. Only Meena could’ve made Diego smile more than he had in the past few hours.

With so many opposing emotions flooding his veins, all Diego could manage was to stuff the cake into his mouth pointedly before retrieving both a beer and a Dr. Pepper for himself, and knocked into Ira maybe a little more than was necessary when he returned to the futon. It took him two more SuzyQs to feel levelheaded enough to resume his questioning.

“So, how does this eating part usually work? Do you handcuff me to the chair and make me eat? Blindfold me? Spoon-feed me like a baby? Am I supposed to act like I don’t like it – is making someone eat how you discipline them – or are you more of a praise guy? Or do you just jerk off while you watch?”

“Hm, well… Any of those, I guess. There isn’t one way to do it, everyone’s different. Just depends on what gets ya hard – and gets you eating, you know?” He looked at Diego thoughtfully. “You’re kind of creative, when it comes to weird sex stuff.”

“Thanks for specifying that the creativity is for weird sex stuff in case I got confused and thought you meant I was a creative person generally, or as, say, a musician.”

“You’re welcome,” Ira said with a nasty sarcastic smile. “With the guys I’ve been with, a couple of them did want me to tie them up and act like I’m forcing them to eat. That’s fine, I don’t mind that. My favorite is probably just feeding someone, though. So, basically I keep giving them food until they physically can’t eat anymore.”

“Huh, okay.” Diego was no stranger to that feeling, and it sure wasn’t a bad one by any means. He mulled the logistics over in his head. “Let’s try that. So, you’ll just keep handing me slices of pizza until I tap out?”

“Yep. And if you’re too full to keep feeding them to yourself but you want to keep eating, I’ll feed them to you,” Ira explained.

“Too full to keep feeding myself but want to keep eating…” Oof. Okay, this was sounding more and more like Diego’s kind of sex. “You know, I can really put it away under the right conditions, but… you’ve been with some serious eaters, huh?”

Ira laughed. “You could definitely say that.”

“And is there any roleplay or anything? Are there certain things you want me to say or things you want to say?”

He shook his head. “No roleplay the first time. Especially since you’re new to all this. I want you to get a feel for what it’s like eating that much. It can be a lot for some people.” Ira reached over Diego’s lap and retrieved the Dr. Pepper, and Diego let him even though it had definitely been for himself. Ira cracked open the can with a hiss and took a long gulp. “And you don’t just want to eat: you want to put your 30 pounds back on. But the thing about gaining a lot of weight is that it’s not like other pervert stuff where you can just put on a costume when you’re feeling horny; it’s not something you do here and there. You have to eat more on a regular basis.” Ira stood and paced halfway across the room before turning back again.

“Not everyone likes doing it this way – the eating a lot at once way. Some people prefer eating a little more at meals and snacking throughout the day,” he gestured in the air with his can of Dr. Pepper like he was a professor giving a lecture. “So, tonight we’re just seeing if you’re into this kind of eating. I’m going to be responsible for your weight gain, and– well, you already know putting weight on and keeping it on isn’t as easy as it looks, so I like to play to a guy’s strengths to get that to happen. That’s why I want to see what your real reactions are when we start out. We can add the fun stuff as we go.”

It sounded surprisingly sweet when Ira talked about it in a practical way and not just in a heat-of-the-moment ‘I’m going to be the one to put all this weight on you,’ cue evil laugh, kind of way. He was dominant in the sense that he was looking out for Diego; taking care of him. Not just fattening him up, but helping him gain weight. A dictator maybe, but a benevolent one, which on Ira was ridiculously endearing.

“I think I get it,” Diego smiled. “‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

Ira looked at him with distaste. “Is that from the bible or something?”

Diego snorted. He grabbed the phone off the upturned milk crate beside the futon and shoved it into Ira’s chest. “Just order the damn pizza.”

Diego finished the first box of SuzyQs and they’d moved to necking on the couch by the time two large pizzas arrived.

Ira opened the first box but paused halfway through reaching for the first slice.

“Oh, you said you were into leather, right? Do you have gear, or– anything you wanna wear while we do this?”

“Oh. No,” Diego scrunched his nose. “It’s all too big for me right now.”

“That sucks,” Ira said, with actual sympathy. He picked up the first slice of pizza, pepperoni, and offered it to Diego. “Maybe I can help you out with that.”

Diego took as big of a bite of pizza as he could fit in his mouth before taking the slice from Ira. “Please do,” Diego said through a full mouth.

“You should try them on for me so I can see what we’re starting with.”

“Sure.” He crammed in the rest of the slice and stood, kicking a box out from under the futon. Still chewing, he dug in the back of the closet for his jacket and pants.

They weren’t anything fancy, no bells or whistles, just a pair of black leather pants and a simple leather jacket; vintage, but he took a sense of pride in them all the same.

Diego stripped, then pulled on the pants without bothering to unbutton them. Kneeling, he removed the lid from the box.

“Boots. Harness,” he pointed. He slipped the harness on, then the jacket, and stood again. He had to widen his stance a little to keep the pants from sliding down.

Ira had another slice of pizza in hand as he joined Diego in the center of the room. Same as the first slice, Diego took a bite as Ira held it up for him before taking it for himself.

Ira circled Diego like he was inspecting him, appraising him. It sent a little thrill through Diego’s stomach knowing that as fat as he already was, it was clear from some of the things Ira had been saying that he still thought of Diego as pretty small.

Good. Diego never wanted to be this size again. Ira had better get a good look now.

After a final turn, Ira hooked a finger in Diego’s waistband and tugged a little, exposing about an inch gap between the leather and Diego’s skin. He did the same with the harness: a hand-me-down from a guy who probably had about a hundred pounds on Diego, so Diego had already been on the smallest holes of the buckled straps before he lost the weight. It would be easy to have a bootblack add in another set of holes, but that thought always made this size seem long-term, permanent.

So here he was: harness hanging limp off his chest, leather pants loose through the thighs, shoulders and biceps not quite filling out his jacket. But he couldn’t bring himself to be self-conscious. Ira’s hungry gaze roaming over him, and the quickly vanishing second slice of pizza infused the buzz of potential into the air. The space between himself and his leather wasn’t feeling quite so large tonight.

Ira was smiling as Diego finished slice number two. “You look hot. I’ve never really been that much of a leather guy, but… you might’ve sold me.”

“You should see me when they actually fit.” He brought his hands to his hips and gave Ira a cocky smile. “My ass looks really great in leather.”

“Already does.” Ira stepped in. His hands slipped past Diego’s jacket, fingers ghosting along Diego’s sides. “I can’t wait to get you filling these out again. C’mere.” He dropped back down next to the pizza box and beckoned.

Diego shed his gear. He didn’t bother with a shirt but pulled on a pair of well-worn, comfy sweats – a larger pair; tonight was calling for eating pants.

He settled on the couch next to Ira, making himself comfortable.

“I see somebody knows what he’s doing,” Ira poked at Diego’s elastic waistband.

With a smile, Diego reached for the next slice.

#wg kink #wg text #wg fiction #queer feedism #feedism fiction #((I tend to reread my writing probably like a dozen times before posting so this may end up changing by the time the full story comes out))#Maybe this doesn't have the sickest intro hook but whatever.... It's the middle of the chapter

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emyyxy · 15 days ago

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drunk antics

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

billy and stu deal with a drunk reader

mentions of alcohol, being drunk

the party was loud, music blasting all over the house to the point you could feel the beat shaking in your bones. stu, of course, the ringleader to this chaos. he jumps from guest to guest, wearing his dad’s long red silk robe, beer in his hand. he finally makes his way to you, slumped on the couch, hammered out of your mind.

your hair was a mess, blushed up cheeks and your shirt was riding up a little. holding a red solo cup filled with a concoction of multiple alcoholic drinks, having slurred conversations with random drunks on the couch. you didn’t mean to get this drunk, it wasn’t your fault. you only promised billy you’d would have a couple shots just to loosen up. you had more than just a couple. a lot more.

“y/n! what are you drinking?” stu plops down onto the couch next to you, looking into your cup to see the mixed beers. “i…” you look down at your cup. “i.. doo not..know!” it took you a couple of seconds to form a sentence. “right on!” he cheers and chugs his beer, slamming it on the coffee table. you follow his actions and power down the drink. after that you squish the cup in your hand and throw it onto the ground, cheering and celebrating with stu.

“what are you doing?” billy emerged from the shadows. it kind of scared you. he had been watching you all night and was pissed to say the least. “having fuuuuuuunnnn!!” you throw your arm around stu’s neck and sway. “y/n’s drunk as hell! this is great!” stu laughs. that pissed billy off even more. his jaw clenched.

“you’re wasted.” his eye contact pierces into your soul. “am not.” you laugh harder, it was a genuine, straight from the belly kind of laugh. billy’s eyes flickered from you to stu. “dude, you should’ve seen them like a half hour ago- watching them trying to walk! they faceplanted-”

“enough.” billy towers over you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. “how much did you have? what did you have?” your gaze meets his. “uuuuuuhhhh…like a couple shots…and then lots of red cups…i dunnooo” you struggled to form your sentences now..the alcohol is really starting to set in.

billy sighs frustratedly. “you’re a mess.” stu chimes in. “they’re just tipsy.!” he awkwardly laughs, knowing billy will not loosen up. “they can barely sit up.” billy’s cold glare meets stu’s. you’re starting to slouch over now, the alcohol is making you feel all warm and fuzzy, just a little sleepy. “loosen up a little!” stu rolls his eyes. you follow stu’s lead, taunting billy for being so lame. “yah! loosen up a little, billy!” your random burst of energy caught them both off surprise. you laugh, sticking your tongue out.

“alright that’s enough.” billy has been done but that outburst was his last straw. “get their things, they’re done here.” he tries to help you up, stu protests. “oh cmon man! party’s just getting started!” billy’s grip on your arm tightened. “i couldn’t give two shits, stu. get their things and let’s go.” he tugs you off the couch and towards the door, stu immediately follows.

the drive home was quiet, billy driving while stu sits with you in the back of the car, giving you something to rest your head on. the only noises in the car was your drunk mumbles and the radio, specifically, 1979 by the smashing pumpkins, billy’s favorite song. stu would occasionally gently kiss your forehead and had his arm draped around your body in a protective way. he would hold you extra tight every time there was a bump in the road.

“i’ll bring them inside, you stay here.” billy hops out of the truck and gently pulls your drunken body out. he holds your waist leading you to your front door, even unlocking it for you. “ya know…you’re cute when you’re mad” that caught him off guard. “what do you mean?” he asks as he lays you down onto your bed. “you’re cute” you pull him into a clumsy kiss on the cheek. after you pulled away, he walked down your staircase, holding his cheek in the very same spot you kissed it in.

#billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #ghostface #headcanon #horror #imagine #poly!ghostface x reader #popular #scream #slashers #gender neutral reader #drunk #stu matcher x reader #stu macher #y/n #get me drunk #party #stuilly

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 2 months ago

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hey silly question maybe. do you know why cars are so boring now? like im on the wikipedia page for the cadillac eldorado for Reasons and it's a really visually interesting car through all the generations up until like. the tenth in 1979 when it just kinda looks like. every other car (if a bit more square) is this just like, the Capitalism Thing of shit getting more and more boring and samey over the years? or is there like a reason. idk much about cars but this has always annoyed and confused me, i miss interesting looking cars :(

Well, it should be noted that the tenth generation Eldorado's case is a peculiar one. As I've gone over, old American cars tended to be refreshed every other year, and the Eldorado, meant to represent the top of the top of that uniquely American idea of opulence, was perhaps the car most supposed to do so. Hence, as you'll have found, its ninth generation launched in 1971, just 18 years after the first - thats' how long the only generation of Italy's best selling car at the time, the Fiat 500, was sold for.

You wouldn't have expected that generation to stick around for more than four years - no other generation did, and almost all lasted half that. However, 1973 had other plans. Namely, the fuel crisis that completely eviscerated demand for mastodonic fuel guzzlers.

Sales would decline the following years, with little tweaks here and there but no major update, which would have been money down the drain as existing owners could barely afford to fill up the damn things, let alone upgrade, and what were potential customers before couldn't afford to fill up the damn things full stop. So when the new model finally came, this big aspirational car was shrunken down to get on with times of shrinking aspirations.

Nigh on 5.20 meters (for yankees, that's roughly 4/207ths of a Titanic) will hardly seem short to European sensibilities, but let's remember, that's coming from 5.70. You could walk between two walls that far apart. The width, too, decreased by a whole 20cm (for yankees, that's roughly half a rabbit), which in car width terms is massive - like, it's the difference between a Mini and a Mustang.

This to say, the tenth generation Eldorado is oft maligned as a fall from grace, one of the most popular examples of why the malaise moniker stuck to this era of American cars - so not exactly the fairest assessment of how cars changed with time. How about, then, we start our analysis by looking at a car with a much better received update, shall we?

Of course, the Mk1 Volkswagen Golf (for yankees, that's roughly a Rabbit) was a smash hit the world over, so much so that in Mexico it remained on sale as the Citi Golf as recently as 2009(!), and if I didn't think it the best looking Golf that ever was I probably wouldn't own one...

...but unless the only kink you're into is the Hofmeister, I don't see how the second generation's styling is such a downgrade as to bemoan the state of things. And frankly...

...maybe it's just the boiled frog syndrome, but I can't spot a point in which anything 'went wrong', so to speak. Which leads to the all-important question:

You say you miss interesting looking cars, but I do have to ask - when did they ever leave?

Have a browse of my pride post (no, really, go read it, I think it's one of my best ever) and point me to the boring cars within it, because me, I don't see any. And I suspect the reasons are similar to why you see older cars as more interesting.

For one, given the point of the post, all the cars shown are some flashy color, and each is different from every other. This, however, is increasingly becoming an anomaly as greyscale gobbles up an ever increasing share of the market, meaning on average, modern cars are less colorful, and thus less visually interesting. I've written about cause and effect of the greyscalification of cars, and suffice to say I'm not a fan of it - but I feel like that is a discussion separate from car design itself.

Then, of course, there's that those in the post are all cars that I like, so that selection was curated (albeit only by my personal taste). But that is also the case when we look back at older cars: what you see around and what you hear about is what people cared enough about to preserve and to discuss - not just in terms of models but of versions, specs and even colors. If you look at car shows like Radwood or Oblivion, which celebrate 80s and 90s cars, the very time period you referred to as the beginning of the end for interesting design looks like its heyday!

Yes, that trailer is factory.

Unfortunately, it must be said that unique and interesting cars have become fewer and fewer, as the ever increasing regulations make it even more expensive than it already was for smaller brands to emerge and the economic status of things makes it increasingly harder to justify a funky, daring picks for the biggest purchase of the average person's life - let alone the purchase of a second car, which tends to be what more extreme offerings were bought as. A brighter future seems to be ahead, though, with Toyota's incredible GR Corolla/Yaris and 86 apparently about to be joined by yet more spicy goodness and Mazda teasing a return of the rotary engined sportscar. For the twentieth time, sure, but after having seen the Motocompo revival actually happen, I am ready to kick that football.

(because you knew about the new electric Motocompacto, right?)

But there's another thing that post's selection had going for it: variety. Pretty much every car in it was in a wholly different category from all the others, and that is bound to make each car within it seem a lot more interesting than if it had been surrounded by cars of its same segment.

The survivorship bias outlined above also results in far more variety than you would find in normal traffic: even setting aside the halo car dynamic whereby the most special -and therefore most interesting- cars are usually niche offerings with very low sales figures, people tend to remember, discuss and seek out cars that represent some extreme - be it the fastest, the most expensive, the greatest, but also the slowest, the cheapest, the worst... and the tallest, the lowest, the biggest, the smallest, and so on. In short, the cars you'll find the least interest for are the everyday, quietly competent cars that make up the bulk of vehicles on the road.

Although, going far enough back in time, even those appear interesting to us, because their context's norm was so different from ours that even the cars that most adhered to it seem exotic to our sensibilities.

But when actually viewed in their own context...

...that impression tends to be stifled.

Unfortunately, it seems to me as though variety is also being stifled nowadays, with a growing share of body styles on sale becoming SUV/crossovers, and the increase in platform sharing reducing automotive outliers (for better and for worse).

And I should note: as for the other industry shifts I mentioned, the driving force isn't Big Capital or The Evil Economic System or what have you. It's the consumers. Sure, we can blame manufacturers for turning every model into a more profitable SUV, but they couldn't do this if they didn't sell, and they wouldn't do this if people didn't see them as more prestigious vehicles worth paying more for. We can blame manufacturers for killing weird car projects, but usually they get axed because people don't buy the things. Dealerships still order grey cars because no one digs their heels about having theirs yellow. So on.

So in short, old cars have always looked more interesting, because time alters our perception of them in ways that make them seem as much - and it also happens that lately the car industry has gone in the opposite direction to those alterations, causing new cars to seem less interesting. So, in short, the problem is the comparison just isn't apples to apples.

I think this is why that Golf evolution does not show any trend towards boring or away from interesting in my eyes - because it mostly strips those factors away. Here's a bunch of generations of the same car, all silver, all presented with no context bar the version before or after, all in the same body style which, for its entire history, was a common sight pretty much anywhere. (Also helps, of course, that the Golf's evolution had no wacky twists and always nailed the zeitgeist.)

This not to say that I can't complain about modern car designs - but for that, don't compare apple to apple... compare it to Microsoft.

See, I can think of many modern designs I find bland and devoid of personality, not because of a lack of styling effort but precisely due to an overabundance of it: so keen were the designers to put a crease here and a fold there and a kink somewhere to make the brand's seventh SUV set itself apart from the other six that the design became too overburdened with details to have a clear message - like a story with too many events for them to express a cohesive point.

Or, indeed, like this parody of Microsoft packaging in which their design principles are applied to the iconic, nay, legendary packaging of the original iPod.

youtube

This is an actual Microsoft video btw. This was made internally by Microsoft's marketing department.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

#hope this answers the question to a satisfactory degree #as per usual excuse the large delay #and as per usual this was meant to be 4x shorter than it eventually ended up being and isn't even longer only thanks to great self-restrain #car design #cadillac eldorado #fiat 500 #mini cooper #ford mustang #volkswagen golf #honda motocompo #honda motocompacto #also GOD ACTUAL FUCKING DAMMIT SCREW YOU SLIDING READ MORE ANNGHGHGHGH #(when you edit posts on desktop the Read More slides down a block and if you forget to move it back as I did your post will look idiotic)

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ghostbeam · 1 year ago

Text

empty til she fills | fuyumi todoroki x reader

You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.

Notes: Hiiiii everyone!!! This is the first installment of vampire empire and it’s all about fuyumi!!! It’s much shorter than I thought, but when it was done it was done u know? I love her I think she should be allowed to go apeshit and drink blood and not hold back if she wants to!!!!!!! Let her fuck!!!!!! Anyways yeah thanks for reading!! (title from vampire empire by big thief) u can listen to the playlist for the whole anthology here! Also I made a Pinterest board!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f! reader, explicit content, dark content, angst for like the briefest moment, violence, vampires, detailed descriptions of blood and gore (on both reader and another person), murder (u kill someone! It’s offscreen tho), blood kink, biting, drinking blood (fuyumi drinks from reader, u both drink from the dead man), biting and drinking from already open wounds, fingering, oral (reader eats fuyumi out!!! Yay!!!) (bloody), bloody sex, reader is sort of a masochist, soooo many commas, a line completely stolen from fascination (1979) cause I had to ajsjsjsjs, perspective changes between u and fuyumi like a lot idk I’m sorry she spoke to me<3

words: 4.3k

Fuyumi has always been a little unsure of what to do with her hands. When she sits, when she walks, when she kisses, while she waits. Where does she put them? Where do they go?

It’s the same, squeezing porcelain clay through her fingers, molding and shaping and running a wire through the middle and cursing when it doesn’t topple over. She’s bad with her hands, but she loves it, lumpy mugs and all.

And her mugs are lumpy, most of them break in the kiln, but whatever she’s proud of, she sends to her brothers.

She’s never been much of an artist, and all the years she’s lived (many, many years), none of it ever interested her. But when you’ve done everything, there’s no harm in trying. And so even though her pots and bowls end up twisted and misshapen on the wheel, she tries and tries until they’re at least a little bit useful.

The truth is that there, in the studio, surrounded by people who do all the same things that she does, mess up and try again, break things when they don’t turn out, or smash fragile wet clay held together by careful hands, Fuyumi feels human. She makes mistakes. She screws up. It’s something she’s never been allowed to do before.

Plus, you’re there.

The anatomy class pays you to model. Sometimes, she sees you run around in your long robe, buying snacks from the vending machines or remembering something you left in your car. She’s completely enamored with you, with your humanity, how free you seem. She’s envious, in a way, but really she just likes you, wants you—wants to bite you. Which is dangerous for Fuyumi because she stopped feeding from humans ages ago.

You collide on a Saturday night, left alone in the studio, separated by one wall. Fuyumi works late because she doesn’t sleep, and one of the owners of the building had given her a set of keys to lock up when she leaves. When she opens the door to the pottery studio, you’re out in the hallway, slapping your palm against the door next door and murmuring soft no’s as you peak through the glass. You have half a mind to just bust the thing down, except now you’re not alone in the hallway.

Fuyumi. The pretty vampire with streaks of scarlet through her ivory hair, cute glasses perched on her nose, and hands you think about way more often than you should steps out of the pottery studio. You’ve caught her staring at you before, and you can’t tell if it’s because she knows of the similar condition you have in common, or if she’s as interested in you as you are in her.

You both pause, caught staring at one another. The only thing on Fuyumi’s mind is that you’re probably completely naked under your robe.

“I—um, got locked out.” You say, finally, blowing air you have no need for out of your throat like a breath. It must be nerves. “My clothes are in there. My everything is in there.”

“Oh!” She shakes her head free of the thoughts of your bare body. Then a realization, “I have a key!”

You move out of her way and let her unlock the door, jiggling the key in the lock and pushing it open. You grin, press your hands into her shoulders and let out a squeal of delight. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem.” She speaks, willing herself not to melt at the feeling of your fingers digging into her flesh for a moment. She turns to leave, satisfied with the interaction, enough to hold her over for a lifetime, maybe. Your hands on her shoulders, your robe against your skin, your neck.

“Fuyumi!” You call, and she feels like maybe she’s dreaming, or maybe she’s hearing things. But when she turns around, you’re looking at her expectantly. “Would you wait for me? I don’t really wanna walk to my car alone at night.”

It’s a good excuse, you think. Fuyumi’s got that bleeding heart (or lack of one). She won’t leave you alone.

“‘Course! Yeah, I’ve gotta lock the front, anyways, so—yeah, I’ll wait.” She nods, stepping back into the room and letting the door fall shut behind her. She watches you untie you’re robe at the middle, and she spins on her heel, facing the door again. She hears you chuckle, and it makes her feel a little silly. You’re naked for, like, four hours every day. It’s not like you would care if she watched.

But Fuyumi cares, because she doesn’t want to see you naked for the first time like that. She doesn’t want to see you naked and know she won’t be able to touch you.

“Okay, you can turn around, now.” You speak now that you’re dressed. She turns and you walk toward her, locking elbows. She leads you outside, locks the door with your hand against her arm like she’s yours, and walks you to your car.

“Guess I’ll see you next week.” She tells you, pulling away from you to walk to her bike. You call her name and it’s deja vu.

“Do you want to go get coffee?” You ask, stopping Fuyumi in her tracks yet again. She turns.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” Fuyumi says like an idiot.

“I just—I wanna keep…hanging out.” You say, and well, so does Fuyumi. Of course, she does. “Your bike’ll fit in the trunk. I’ll drive you home after.”

So, she says yes, stuffs her bike into your trunk with the back seats folded down, and ducks into your car.

You drive like a maniac, and you listen to your music way too loud, and Fuyumi hopes she doesn’t look as terrified as she feels despite knowing she can’t die in a car accident. But you can, she thinks, so yea, she’s terrified. And you drive like this all the time?

But you both make it in one piece, skirting into the parking lot of a diner with a yellowing neon sign out front. Everyone knows you inside, greeting you with happy smiles and asking you questions about your life, details Fuyumi hopes to know after tonight.

You take her to a booth in the corner, sliding in next to her instead of across, thighs pressed up against each other as a waitress brings you both a mug of hot coffee. You order apple pie with ice cream, and Fuyumi envies the fact that you’re even able to eat it. Since becoming a vampire, she’s lost any appetite for anything that isn’t blood.

“So, when were you turned?” You speak, licking vanilla ice cream off the back of your spoon, head resting on you fist as you stare at her. If Fuyumi had a working heart it would be beating out of her chest right now. “I don’t think you’re all that old. You actually seem pretty young. Tell me, maybe in the mid nineties, early two-thousands?”

Fuyumi opens then closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. How could you have possibly known (besides the fact that you got the decade way off)?

“I was turned in ’87 by an old boyfriend who couldn’t control himself.” You shrug, revealing the information like you hadn’t just told her that you, the little human she’s been so fascinated by lately, are a vampire.

“You’re a vampire.” She says—a statement—not a question, because of course, you’re a vampire.

“You didn’t know?” You ask, softer. She shakes her head, stares at the booth in front of her. She feels your fingers underneath her chin, and she’s not sure how she never noticed it before, but you’re hands are freezing. She lets you guide her to look at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did I freak you out?”

And it’s not that you’re a vampire. It’s not even that you’re a vampire that she was convinced was human. It’s that she wanted to bite you, wanted to feel that pop and gush, drink from you what’s not actually even being pumped through your body anymore, blood that’s lying dormant in your veins. And the thing is, she still wants to.

“I think I’m just shocked.” She speaks, willing herself to calm down, accept the situation, adapt. “I haven’t met another one of us here in town. It’s new, but it’s…good. I’m actually a little excited about it.”

“You don’t sound excited.” You observe, letting your hand fall to her thigh.

“I am—no really. I am.” She grins, leaning toward you. “How come you can eat real food?”

You think maybe she still hasn’t processed everything yet, the smile on her face a little unnerving. And there’s something in her eyes, raw, dangerous, hungry. It makes you shiver. “I never lost the appetite.”

“It tastes good to you?”

“So good.” You nod, unknowingly moving a little closer. Two girls pressed up against each other in a booth in a dark corner. Two vampires. Two monsters.

You’re there later than either of you expected to be, fingers intertwined, hands brushing away stray hairs, and words whispered against ears, tucking your face into her neck when you laugh at something inappropriate.

When you leave, Fuyumi tugs on your hand, interlocks two fingers as you walk to your car. You drive just as bad, but she doesn’t think she minds it this time. To die by your side, and all that.

When you drop her off at home, you scribble your number on her wrist with a green glitter gel pen and resist the urge to do something drastic like kiss her or invite yourself in.

Fuyumi realizes she’s left her bike in your trunk, her only mode of transportation to the studio besides walking. She eyes the green glitter on her skin and opens her phone.

left my bike in ur car:/ pick me up to go to the studio tmrrw? Read 2:22am

be there at 10 sent 2:24am

u can sit in on my class sent 2:25am

…

She does sit in on your class the next morning. You hold her hand and show her where to sit, a view of both the artist’s sketches of you and the actual you draped over a couch. It’s probably inappropriate to sit there all horny in the middle of this art class, but you won’t stop looking at her. You know exactly what your doing, mimicking the rise and fall of your chest like you’re breathing when she knows you’re not.

When the class ends, Fuyumi leaves to make more misshapen mugs, taking a few out of the kiln she thinks she’ll give to you. As the sun sets, both of you get ready to leave, and you’re at the door to the pottery studio by the time Fuyumi is done cleaning her space. You’re a little disappointed you missed watching her on the wheel, her pretty hands shaping the clay like you’ve seen her do many times before. You knock on the door frame, and she looks up at you, grins. Her hair is tied up, pieces of hair falling over her face, her cardigan falling down and exposing her right shoulder. You can’t get over how pretty she is, a little messy.

“Hi.” You speak.

“Hey. You ready?” She asks, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking towards you. You always want to watch her walk towards you—never away.

“I’m ready.” You nod, intertwining your fingers with hers when she makes her way towards you. You drive Fuyumi to your house, your arm over the console and your hand on her thigh.

Your place is small, really just big enough for you. The walls are a mauve color that Fuyumi decides she likes, tiny star shaped twinkle lights hang over each window instead of curtains, a bundle of violets stuffed inside a beer bottle sit on your coffee table, books and dvd’s and records all stacked against one another with what seems to be no sense of organization in your bookcases. It’s really not much for a vampire.

She sets her tote bag carefully on the counter, red and white checkered, pulling two of her signature misshapen mugs from inside. One painted blue with tiny yellow stars and the other lined with terribly drawn strawberries.

“These are for you.” She tells you, turning to face you as you’re bent over your stereo, looking for a station you like. Bits from the past stick with you like a refrigerator magnet. Fuyumi wants to remember the look on your face when you turn around and see her gift for the rest of her life.

“I love them!” You gush, rushing over to pick both of them up. “They’re perfect. One for me, and one for you. We’ll drink blood from them with our pinkies up and cheers to LeFanu.”

Fuyumi laughs, says nothing about the blood. “I’m glad you like them.”

You turn around, opening one of your cabinets open with a finger, setting the mugs down on the counter and moving two snoopy holiday mugs on one shelf towards the back. You set the gift down in their place and wave a hand over it like your presenting them on a gameshow, “I’ve replaced the snoopy mugs with them. That’s a big deal, you know.”

“I’m honored.” Fuyumi grins, moving around the counter to stand near you.

“You should be.” You lean a little closer to her, let her hand brush against your hip, hook her fingers in your belt loops. You nudge your nose against hers, and she takes that as a sign to kiss you.

Chapped lips meet yours, hungrier than you expected, much less soft than the girl before you. There’s a burning in your gut, her hands, those hands you’ve payed so much attention to, pressing into your hips, pulling you flush against her front. You let out a moan when she swipes her tongue against your lip, your bodies pressing closer and closer like you’ll become one person. She moves her leg in between your thighs, pressed up against you, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, one she wastes no time taking advantage of, all tongue and teeth, all her, her, her.

The two of you end up on your couch, unable to make it to the bed. If you had to wait any longer, you think maybe you’d both explode. She eats you out, there in your living room, makes you come three times in a row, familiar hungry eyes never stray from your own.

…

She doesn’t talk about the vampire thing. Ever. She goes quiet when you bring it up, busying herself with something else like washing the dishes in your sink or trying to find something to watch on tv. You mostly let it go because you know Fuyumi. You know how fascinated she is by humans, how she envies them, how that envy and fascination is the very reason you’re together now.

And maybe it should hurt you, the fact that believing you were human was the one reason she’d been so interested. But you know her, bleeding unbeating heart and all, she loves you. She loves you and your monster, she just doesn’t love her’s.

It’s difficult to drag the body through your house alone, vampire strength being something you hadn’t been blessed with once you’d turned all those years ago. Fuyumi sent you a message that she’d be at the studio late and would probably just end up going home instead of coming over. You figure you have time to drain this guy of all he’s worth, pack him up into little tupperwares in your fridge and be done with him by morning.

You’ve done this a million times before, dragged a body out to your back yard, fed from it until your satisfied before saving the rest. It’s enough to last you a couple of weeks. It’s a good system.

You don’t hear the sliding door open, you just hear Fuyumi say your name. You look up at her, blood on your mouth, your neck, your hands, fangs poking out underneath your top lip. You’re sure you look terrifying, but it’s the look on her face that scares you.

It’s disgust, and betrayal, and anger. It’s tears welling up in her pretty, gray eyes and her mouth falling open and closed at the sight of you.

But Fuyumi, well, Fuyumi wants to join you. It’s taking everything in her not to fall to her knees and sink her teeth into the neck of this possibly innocent man. She wants to drink and kiss you, and drink, and touch you, and then drink some more, this time from your neck. But Fuyumi doesn’t kill for blood, and she thought that neither did you.

“I can’t believe you.” Her words are quiet. If you both hadn’t been outside on a completely silent night, you don’t think you would have even heard her.

“Fuyumi…” You begin, standing up from where you’d previously crouched down, blood on your hands falling against the concrete in sticky splatters. She takes a step back like she’s scared of you.

“You killed him.”

“Fuyumi,” another step.

“Stay there.” You stop. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to love you. She does love you. You have to tell yourself that.

“I’m a vampire. What did you expect? This is who we are.” You try to explain.

“It’s not—it’s not who I am.” She shakes her head, flashes of red appear behind her eyes, the teeth of her brothers, her hands covered in blood the same way yours are now. Laughing, hollering, arms tangled together, the last time they’d all been with each other, the last time they were happy.

“It is. It is who you are. Fuyumi, you’re starving.” Your words seem to do something to her, her mouth falls closed. A decision is made, and her feet take her closer and closer to you and the body on the floor.

She wraps her hand around the back of your neck, thumbs through the blood you’re covered in and kisses you. She licks the blood on your lips, moaning from either your tongue or taste, you’re unsure. You pull her close, blood smearing against her white t-shirt. She pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw and your neck, poking her tongue out to lick up the mess. You place your hands on her cheeks, pulling her back to look at you.

“Come here.” You whisper, pulling her down as you crouch to the ground. “I want you to drink—I want to share.”

She lets you pull her down, taking your hand in hers, slippery, slick. You move away from his neck, leaving it open for her, urging her. This is what she wants. There’s something about drinking from your bite in the man’s neck. You’ve been here, you’re bite is her bite is her blood.

And, god, is it delicious. She drinks, lets it fall down her throat in large gulps, dripping down her chin and neck. A sound escapes her throat, guttural, everything she’s deprived herself of having, here in between her teeth. She watches you while she drinks, eyes looking up through white lashes, reaching a hand out to hold you by the wrist, grounded. She pulls away, heaving, even though she has no need for breath. Her lips, saturated in red, begging to be tasted.

“You’re beautiful like that,” You speak, squeezing her hand, “with his blood on your mouth.”

She kisses you, all tongue, her fangs catching on your bottom lip. She pulls away and pushes you down, lets you bite the other side of the dead man’s neck, pets your hair as you drink. It goes on like this for a while, kissing, drinking, touching, whispers of please and oh, god and both of your names over and over until you’re a jumbled mess of words and sounds and blood and guts.

You stumble, half naked through the door, Fuyumi’s hands and lips all over you. You don’t make it to the bed, a habit the two of you have seemed to form, falling down on the hardwood, limbs all tangled. With her shirt already discarded outside, you thumb the hooks of her bra open, throwing it to the side. Blood has dripped from her throat down between the valley of her breasts, and you lick it up, feeling her back arch as she hovers above you.

She kisses your neck, almost frantic. Her fangs brush against your skin like she might sink into you, but she doesn’t, just kisses you so sweetly.

“Can I bite you, please?” She moans. “I need to—I’ve wanted to—”

“Yes.” You interrupt her, throwing your head back against the floor and baring your neck to her. She wastes no time sinking her fangs into your flesh, blood pouring into her mouth. Coppery and sweet, a hint of licorice and cherry—Fuyumi thinks she can’t get enough. You gasp, hands grabbing at her waist, fingers digging into her sides enough to leave a mark. You’ve never felt pain like this, all agony and bliss.

She smiles at you, bloody, when she pulls away. A part of you is her’s now, nestled between her ribs, living in her stomach. You taste yourself on her lips, hands pulling at her jeans, your leg moving between her thighs to grind against her cunt.

You flip her onto her back, sucking on her neck, venturing down her body. You pull her jeans from her legs, along with her underwear, spreading her legs. She’s so wet, thighs sticky with arousal as you run a finger through her folds. A whine escapes her lips as you thumb over her clit. With your eyes on her, you press your tongue to her entrance, watching how her face contorts in pleasure. It reminds you of the way she’d stared at you while drinking from the man, hand clutched to your wrist, not once daring to look away, With one hand, you reach up to do the same, bloody fingers circling her wrist as you devour her.

She writhes, arching her back and grinding against your face, a mess of slick and blood pooling in your mouth as you bring her closer and closer to orgasm.

“Please!” She cries, “please! Oh my god!”

Her moans only spur you on as you speed up the movement of your tongue, squeezing her wrist as you let her move her hips against your mouth. She comes with a strangled cry of your name, legs shaking around your head, falling limp against the floor as you lick at her swollen clit. You pull away, rising from your place in between her thighs to hover over her.

“Like that?” You ask her, placing soft kisses against her jaw. She manages a soft mhm before moving her face to kiss you.You run your hands up and down the sides of her body, “so pretty…”

“Let me touch you.” She begs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. You nod, letting her maneuver you so you’re on your back again. She kisses you again, swirling her tongue against yours, tasting herself. In a way, part of her is yours now, too.

She slips her hand into your underwear, gasping at the feeling of how wet you are. You take the opportunity to lick into her mouth, moaning against her lips as she slips two fingers inside of you. She pulls away from your mouth and eyes the open wound on your neck. You lock eyes with her, nodding in approval, allowing her to bite you again.

She bites and curls her fingers inside you at the same time. A choked scream escapes your throat at both sensations. You move your hips as she pumps her fingers in and out of you, her throat bobbing with each drink she takes from you. It’s overwhelming, and so satisfying, being the consumed for a change.

Her thumb brushes over your clit and you jolt, gripping her waist as she brings you closer to the edge.

“Kiss me!” You cry, “Fuyumi!”

She pulls away from your neck, watching how the blood flows from the wound, continuing her movements against your pussy. You pull her down to kiss you as you come from her fingers. You’re both moaning against each other, passing your blood between your tongues. She pulls her hand from between your legs, stares at the pink-tinted slick and how it webs between her fingers before wrapping her lips around her fingers and sucking them clean off.

She smiles down at you, hair a mess, glasses-less as they’d fallen off much earlier. You press your palms against her cheeks, admiring her. This Fuyumi is hungry, and bloody, and the furthest thing from human. You love her like this. You’ll be her’s forever, if she’ll have you.

You pull her into the shower with you, washing the blood from her hair and her back, taking turns and watching the blood swirl down the drain. She cleans the wound on your neck, and places a bandage over it, though you know it’ll be healed by morning. You place her glasses back onto her face. The two of you fall into bed, finally, arms and legs tangled together, huddled closely. She rubs over the bandage on your neck.

“Next time, I wanna bite you, okay?” You ask, nudging your nose against her. She lets out a laugh you’re excited to hear for the rest of your immortal life and nods.

“I can’t wait.”

#fuyumi todoroki x reader #fuyumi todoroki x you #fuyumi todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #ghost.writes #ghost.fic #vampire empire

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albertdabuttler · 2 years ago

Text

Zombie | K.H.

MASTERLIST

fandom: 80s

pairings: Kirk Hammett x F!Reader

WARNINGS: This story starts with a plot. Friends to lovers, LOOOTS of fluff, kissing, kind of having someone throw themself on the reader (???) more fluff, smut, fluffy smut, fingering, p in v, (safe sex dw 🤣) overstimulation, some form of comedy…

summary: An initially boring Halloween night takes an intriguing turn when a game of spin the bottle has you hoping your kissing skills are good enough for your best friend.

WC: 6.6k

gif not mine!!

A/N: Hi losers, finally posted yayyyy! I wrote and posted this on wattpad and think you guys deserve to see it too! And guess what??? I have another story coming right after this 😍 Also I kinda add detail to what you wear like those corny wattpad writers… I’m sorry…but I swear its all inclusive!!

———————

10:47PM, October 31st, 1979.

Here you sat on the kitchen counter of one of your classmates homes, loud booming music all around you, drunk teenagers making out with each other everywhere and some game going on in the living room.

You were dressed as a ghost, pale makeup across your face, black shadow around your eyes and white clothing, ripped and stained to make it look old.

"That guy over there's been looking at you all night," said Jocelyn, another one of your classmates and your best girlfriend since seventh grade. She was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein.

"Don't look now, but he's totally checking you out!" She said, standing in front of you while trying to subtly look at the guy over your shoulder.

"What's he look like?" You questioned, hoping it was a certain long, wavy-haired brunet you had eyes for since second grade.

"Blond hair, brown eyes and he's jacked. He's dressed like a surfer." She smirked. Hearing her words, you whipped your head around to see the boy she described smile widely at you, sending a small wave your way. He was dressed like a stereotypical surfer, medium shaggy hair, sky blue swim trunks, a white muscle shirt and pink sunglasses.

You politely smiled, waved back and turned back around, "Not my type... You know I like brunets."

Jocelyn groaned in disappointment and annoyance, "Okay well the one you're thinking about doesn't look at you like most of the guys here."

"That's because most of the guys here can't keep it in their pants." You rolled your eyes, hopping off the counter and making your way to the living room. You spotted Tom dressed like a basketball player on the couch with his arm around a girl. She was dressed like a devil, laughing at the game they were playing. Sitting a couple feet away from him, you asked, "What game are we playing?"

"Spin the bottle," the boy replied, the alcohol making his words slur with a smile. You internally praised yourself for going to the bathroom when they were making all the girls play a drinking game.

"Hey!!" you heard someone call out for you, turning to the group whose eyes were all on you. Feeling an intense wave of embarrassment, you spotted the beer bottle on the coffee table turned towards you.

"Fuck."

Looking up to see who spun it, you lowly groaned when it was the surfer boy. He was a pretty attractive guy, above average looking, nice bod, so things could be way worse. You really didn't want to kiss the guy. Your gut told you he was a creep. But of course you knew there was absolutely no way in hell you could get out of this without drinking, so you stood up, walking towards him with an awkward smile on your face.

Standing in front of him for a couple seconds, you leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, quickly turning around to sit again.

Everyone in the room booed at you before the tall blond grabbed your wrist and kissed you with a little too much tongue. You cringed and pulled back, but he didn't let go. He tried to kiss you again so you shoved his face away with excessive force.

The room was quiet. The upbeat music in the background making it that much more awkward.

"That was gross," you chuckled, scoffing and turning back to your seat.

"Don't eat the garlic bread before the game, guys." You said, earning a few laughs.

I mean, the guy was being far too desperate for a silly game of kissing random people. You had the right, especially if the kiss was bad.

It was when you sat down that you noticed him. He was dressed in a zombie outfit, makeup of fake scars on him. Finally you found him after almost the entire night of looking for him, or rather waiting for him to pass by near you, but it's the same difference.

Kirk stood by the doorway in the corner of the room, a smile with a look that mocked you.

You subtly stuck your tongue out at him, earning the finger in return.

It was Jocelyn's turn next, she kissed a random guy, and the turns kept going until it was your turn to spin.

You really, really hoped it landed on Kirk.

So you spun it hard and fast, the bottle sitting there spinning for longer than usual until it finally slowed down, landing on the other side of the room.

It was him. It landed on Kirk.

He stared at the bottle, scratching the back of his neck with a cringe on his face.

Now what? Surely you didn't think it through, how would you kiss him? Would it ruin your almost lifelong friendship? Would he see you differently and finally acknowledge his feelings for you? Or would he dislike it and judge you based off the way you kiss?

You didn't realize the moments that had passed until Kirk was standing right in front of you.

"We don't have to do this if you don't wanna." He whispered as he looked down at you, awkwardly pursing his lips.

"Nah, gotta play the game," You took his hands and almost jumped up with excitement despite your nerves.

Kirk cleared his throat, turning to the guy you kissed earlier and in a mocking tone, "Watch and learn, motherfucker." He said, giggling at the guy.

He turned his head back to you, trying to hold in a laugh. But he hesitated, finally realizing the spot he was in. A light pink dusted his cheeks. He ignored it and moved one of his hands to cup your cheek, the other to the back of your head.

The moment felt like it was going in slow motion as he leaned in, gazing into your eyes and then looking straight at your lips until his lightly pressed up against them.

Wow.

Kirk was a great kisser. It made you wonder how much experience he had.

He was quite smooth with it, slowly moving his lips against yours. He pulled away for a short breath and your reaction, until he turned his head the other way, leaning back in to kiss you again at another angle. Just to see if it was any different. People began to cheer.

Moving your hands up around his neck, you surely didn't expect anything like this, if anything you expected a short, boring kiss.

Your heart was racing, you felt your face become hot as you nervously played with the hair on the nape of his neck. He pulled back, his eyes widening in horror.

He quickly let go of you and moved back to his place, leaving you standing there as the game continued on.

You looked at him confused. It was just a kiss right? Part of a game. You didn't have to act like it had to be special. But why'd he kiss you like that, then act like it was gross?

Standing up, you made your way to the kitchen, "I'm gonna get a drink." You stated in slight disappointment, swerving past Kirk and earning 'Oo's' from the crowd.

Now Kirk felt guilty for pulling away so fast.

Kirk always liked you. Just not in the way he thought he did. Yes, he'd occasionally feel the room get hot when you checked him out, thinking he wouldn't notice. Or get nervous when you looked too pretty... But that meant nothing. It would be the same if you were a stranger.

However, he really liked that kiss. The sweet taste of punch with a hint of alcohol. How soft your lips were. How your hands felt as they lightly tugged his hair. He wondered what other situations you'd pull his hair in... Maybe when he made love to you... Physically showing you, and verbally affirming how much he really did love you. How close your body was to his. That was the closest proximity you two had ever been in. He really enjoyed it.

Wait.

Fuck, does that mean he likes you now?

He couldn't stop thinking about it. About how the kiss made him feel. About how you were literally perfect for him. You knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. He loved everything about you, there wasn't a single thing he could think of that he didn't like about you. God it was all so cheesy and gross. How could he let himself think like he was in a high school Rom-Com movie.

All these thoughts overwhelmed him with excitement, making him smile widely and get up to look for you. Just then remembering you were probably upset or something by the way you left so abruptly.

You sat on the kitchen island counter again, facing away from the living room, watching as a few couples kissed and giggled around the room and you sighed in annoyance.

"Hey."

The familiar voice made you freeze. You knew he was standing behind you, waiting for you to acknowledge him but you pretended like you didn't hear him over the music.

Your eyes followed him as he passed in front of you, leaning on the counter across from the one you sat atop, crossing his arms.

He cleared his throat.

"Hi," you said with a plastic smile, your voice cracking.

He smiled back genuinely, "Sorry if that was... Weird. We had to, otherwise we'd have to drink."

"Yeah... It's fine. Just a kiss," you laughed awkwardly, staring at the boy in front of you, hoping that he might actually like you. Just because of the way he kissed you.

He looked great in his costume. Fake bite marks on his neck and arms, his hair was messy. He had a white tee with faux blood stains and rips in it, revealing some skin and the light definition of his muscles. Over that, he had a leather jacket, the sleeves rolled up, with black ripped jeans and a fob too.

"I thought you came for a drink," he said, grinning with his stupidly cute crooked teeth and that annoying little dimple, licking his dumb red and plump lips. "Right," you chuckled, hopping off at the same time he stepped forward, nearly bumping into him.

You wanted to be as far from him as possible.

"Hey," he called out your name.

"Yeah?" you replied, turning back around to look at him.

"The drinks are over here," he chuckled, pointing his thumb behind him where there were a couple of large coolers on the ground.

"Right," you mentally face palmed. He handed you a bottle of beer and you reached for the top to avoid coming in contact with his hand.

It still had the cap on but you couldn't take it off and chuckled in embarrassment. Why was it so awkward now?

"Here," he took the bottle from your hand and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, handing it to you.

When you reached to grab it again, he pulled back.

You paused, moving to try and grab it again but he held it away from you.

"Kirk."

"Yes?" He smiled cheekily.

"Give me my beer."

"Well it's not yours until you've taken a sip from it, am I right?"

You sighed, "Just give me the bottle, Kirk," going to reach for it again but he held it behind his back.

"Kirk!" You chuckled.

Now he reached his goal. Finally a smile.

Trying to attain for it for the third time, he moved it away once again, holding it above his head this time.

"Come on," he chuckled, "If you want it you just have to take it." He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Gripping his shoulder, you got on your toes trying to reach for it. He watched your hand as it was a couple inches from the bottle, "Ugh, you almost have it!" He mocked, turning his head down to look at you.

Locking eyes with him for a second, his breath hitched as his eyes flickered to your lips once more. An intense wave of desire for another taste, he slowly leaned in.

You did notice this but decided to be oblivious and ignore it. Kirk was a ticklish guy, so you poked the side from which arm he was holding up, causing him to immediately flinch and bring his arm down. You quickly snatched the bottle from his hand, "HA! Loser."

"Hey, that's cheating!" He said, laughing nervously, hoping you didn't notice his attempt.

"Losers, weepers." You said, turning around to grab a piece of candy from a bowl.

Taking a long sip of your beer, Kirk spoke up before the silence became awkward.

"So about that guy you kissed earlier,"

You almost choked on your drink but kept it up to your lips to avoid having to say anything.

"Was my kiss better than his?" he raised his brow playfully.

This time you did choke, coughing for air as you set the bottle down. Kirk hurried to you and softly patted your back.

"You okay? Sorry..." What a stupid question, he thought.

Grabbing the bottle again, you took another sip to stop the itching in your throat.

"Are you good?" He cautiously let go as you cleared your throat.

"Uh-m yeah..." Speaking was uncomfortable, so you cleared your throat once again.

"Sorry. Uh, what were you saying?" You knew exactly what he was saying but hoped and hoped he forgot about it.

A sadistic smile grew on his face.

"My kiss was better than the other guy's, right?" He sat atop the counter.

You stared at him in disbelief.

"What do you think, Kirk?" You asked him genuinely.

He threw his hands up in defense, "Hey, you're my best friend so you've gotta be on my side."

You rolled your eyes, thanking the lord for his lighthearted personality.

"Yes. Your kiss was better. He used too much tongue." You cringed.

"Good..." He chuckled, clearing his throat. His palms were getting sweaty.

"...Did..." He hesitated.

"Did...you like it...?" He kept his gaze on you for any kind of response or reaction.

You tried to look away from him, but his eyes kept you in a trance.

"Uhm... Yeah. You're not a bad kisser, y'know." You smiled, playfully hitting his shoulder. An attempt to lighten the mood.

He smiled back. "Alright, good." He laughed lightly, "I know that if you liked it then it really was good."

"What makes you say that?" You questioned, a little confused.

"You're brutally honest with me."

You paused. Maybe you weren't as honest as you should be. You've been lying to him since the second grade. Or rather keeping something from him. Which is still dishonesty.

But you couldn't tell him now. I mean, you got over him a ton of times, so you could do it again. And you've liked other guys more than you liked him... But you still always had a little thing for him in the back of your mind when you had those other crushes, you hated how smitten you were.

"Yeah, I am aren't I?" You smirked. "That's why I'm better than all of your friends." You joked.

He only smiled at you.

"I love you."

You turned around just in case your blush was noticeable.

"Good."

Turning back around, "I love you too," you lifted your bottle up to him, "but remember you're still a loser."

He playfully rolled his eyes, "Yeah whatever."

Walking towards the living room, it had seemed that the game was still going on.

"Wanna get outta here?" He asked, walking up next to you, motioning his head towards the general area in which the front door was located.

"Sure. It's kinda boring here anyways."

Kirk chuckled, looking at Tom and mouthing to him that he was gonna leave.

"I'll go warm up the car," he informed.

"Alright," you responded, walking up to Jocelyn to let her know you were leaving with Kirk, since she was your ride there.

“Let me know if he makes a move," she whispered, winking at you.

"Oh shut up," you scoffed.

"What? He looked real into it when it was your turn. One would think he was in love with you!"

"Stop it, Jocelyn!" You giggled, getting up to leave.

"Use protection!" She yelled rather loudly.

You gagged in response and turned around, lifting your hand next to your head and flipping her off.

The walk to the car was difficult. At first you had to swerve through a crowded foyer in order to leave the house, and the walk to the car was cold. It was windy, but thankfully Kirk had driven up to the front of the house from where he was parked. Which was kind of far.

As you reached for the handle, you heard a click and pulled, only to find it was locked.

You groaned loudly, "Kirk, it's cold as shit out here! Stop it with your stupid games."

He rolled down the window a crack, "Only if you say the magic word."

"Please."

"No, the magic word." He smirked.

"God, you're such an asshole sometimes." You sighed.

He made a buzzer sound, "Wrong."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you dragged your hand across your face, knowing he wouldn't budge until you played along. "Abracadabra."

The door clicked and you wasted no time in opening the door to sit down.

"Fuck you."

"Thanks." He said, shifting into gear and driving off.

"Wanna get ice cream?" He asked.

"Uh... Yeah but I'm pretty tired. Could you just drop me off at home?" You replied.

"Mhm."

The ride home was a little quiet, so you decided to turn on the radio. Damage Case by Motörhead began playing at full volume, causing the both of you to jump as you quickly reached for the volume to lower it.

Turning the knob for a different radio station, you found one with a softer tone of music.

How Long by Ace was playing. The romantic vibrations it gave off caused you to quickly switch the radio station, but Kirk grabbed your hand.

"Go back, I like that song"

"You do?" You questioned, scoffing as if he was a weirdo for liking it, even if you did too.

"Yeah." He chuckled, his eyes still on the road.

So you went back, and the song played.

A short moment passed and Kirk spoke, "You know you're my best friend, right?" He said.

"Uhh, yeah...? Where's this coming from?"

There was a light ahead going from yellow to red.

As he came to a complete stop, he turned to you, "I know this is real corny, but I would do anything for you. Anything. Just say the word. Okay?"

"Okay...." You dragged out, letting out an awkward laugh. "Thanks Kirk."

"Anytime." He clicked his teeth and winked, pointing a finger gun your way.

The light turned green as you chuckled.

Finally you turned the familiar corner onto your block. It wasn't long until Kirk pulled over to the curb in front of your home, "Thanks Kirk, see ya," you said as you opened the door.

"Hey, wait," he called, "Could I maybe spend the night? My dad said it's best I don't go home tonight..." He pursed his lips.

"Oh yeah, sure. My parents aren't in town until Sunday, so... We can watch as many scary movies as we want without getting yelled at to go to sleep," you chuckled.

"Wicked," he pumped his fist, turning off the ignition and hopping out of the car.

"Whaddya wanna watch?" He asked as he followed you to the front door.

"You already know." You turned to him, smirking as you unlocked the door and walked inside.

"Right." He giggled, "Classic."

It wasn't long until the both of you were in your room, Kirk sitting on the bed while you put in the VHS for Creature from the Black Lagoon.

"I'm gonna go change real quick," said Kirk as he stood up, grabbing clothes he'd left there before and walking out your room towards the bathroom.

You also quickly got changed into sweats before he returned. Suddenly hearing your door open, you saw Kirk standing there shirtless, holding his shirt up in one hand.

"Have you been wearing this?" He asked, hiding a smile.

"...No." You replied, trying so hard to keep your eyes on his, but you couldn't help when they moved down to his bare torso. He had already taken off all his makeup

"Okay just making sure you're not the one who absolutely drenched this in vanilla perfume."

You cringed. "Sorry. I mean it's your fault for leaving it here." You held your hands up.

He scoffed and went back to finish changing.

He threw the clothes from his costume in one corner of your room, hopping back on the bed as you left for the bathroom too, to wash your makeup off and brush your teeth.

"Alright, you ready?" You questioned, shutting the door to your room and turning off the light, leaving a little lamp on your desk in the corner of your room.

You sat with your back on the headboard, Kirk laying down, his head in the pillows.

When it began playing, you felt Kirk lay his head in your lap and you instinctively began raking your fingers through his hair. He brought up one of his hands to rest on your shin. At this point, you couldn't help but just look at him, his side profile from above, how perfect he was. Like fuck. Why the fuck is he so perfect?

There wasn't a moment of the day in which you didn't think about him. It made you sad sometimes, that he never acknowledged or noticed it. But then again, you weren't really making it obvious either.

But what made all that disappointment go away was that kiss. You were so annoyed that you kept thinking about it.

You thought about what Jocelyn said. About how he looked "so into it" or whatever. It was hard to forget the feeling of his soft plush lips on yours. Goddamn. And the way he held your face, with such gentleness. How he went back in for another like the first one just wasn't enough.

Here you began thinking about kissing him again. Right here, right now. And if it would get intense, what it could lead to... How good he was in that department.

Trying to pay attention to the movie, you clenched your jaw hard, trying not to let yourself think about those things.

No, not with him right there. When he was gone yes, but not now.

Those thoughts didn't give up. The image of him on top of you just popped into your mind. It wasn't your fault. Your mind trailed off thinking about his hand on your leg, if he got up and moved it up to your thighs... How his calloused fingers would feel touching you in all the right places... It felt like only five minutes had passed but the movie was suddenly over.

"Did you enjoy the 87th time of watching that movie?" He asked out of the blue, lifting himself so that his face was at your level.

"Yes, I did." You replied after a moment.

He got off the bed and walked to the little shelf you had with all your VHS tapes. He bought one for you not too long ago, of a movie that had come out earlier this year called 'Alien.'

You had watched it with him in theaters a few months ago and immediately fell in love with it. That Ripley chick was such a badass.

He put that one on, the package still hadn't been opened so this would be your fourth time watching it. You already watched it three times at the movies.

It began playing and he walked back to sit on the bed again, only this time he sat against the headboard, to your left. Of course you had to lay your head on his shoulder otherwise it would feel weird.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, laying his chin on the top of your head, sighing in exhaustion.

Woah, your hair smelled really nice, he noticed.

Now it was Kirk's turn to think about you. That kiss. He had been thinking about it all night since it had happened. It pissed him off that he never thought of you that way and suddenly out of the blue its like all he wanted to do was you. And god, why did he have to go in for another? He thought maybe that gave it all away. Oh but the way you held his hair, god that felt so good. He wanted you to pull his hair and tell him how good he made you feel.

Well shit, Kirk might actually be in love with you too. Hell yeah he's loved you his whole life, but never like this. It's like that kiss opened his eyes or something.

He lifted his head to look at you, just to admire you. You felt this movement and looked back up at him.

Shit, should he say something?

"Is everything okay?" You asked.

He couldn't respond, he opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. God that was embarrassing... All he thought about was kissing you again. He's never been so obsessed over something so little but here he was.

He wondered if you wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss you right now.

"Kirk?" You pulled back a little, "Are you okay?" You asked with sincere concern.

"I wanna kiss you again right now." He didn't hesitate.

You just sat there flabbergasted.

Never in a million years would you have thought to hear those words from Kirk.

"...What?" You felt like you heard him wrong.

"Are you messing wi-"

That's when he cut you off and pressed his lips against yours again.

Pulling back, he watched for your reaction.

All you could do was stare between his eyes and lips.

"That was nice." You finally said.

He just smiled and went back in. This time he held the back of your head and pushed your face against his in order to kiss you harder, your hands lifting to rest on his chest. His head turned, syncing the movement of his lips with yours as his free hand slid down to your thigh, dragging it up and down. He slowly slipped his tongue past your lips, teasing yours as you pushed yours against his.

As your tongues danced, the hand on your thigh moved closer to your core, but it felt wrong to touch you before you said he could. So he moved it to your jaw.

The two of you were finally running out of breath so you finally pulled away.

Neither of you said anything, the only noises in the room were that of the movie and both your heavy breaths.

Kirk had finally caught his breath, "I like you. I like like you. And now I really wanna...Touch you..."

You smiled, "Took you about ten years."

"Ten years...?! What?" he looked at you surprised.

"Kirk," you laughed, "I've liked you this whole time, and you notice now?"

He stared at you in disbelief, his face slowly turning a shade of red.

Just the thought of you constantly having him on your mind turned him on. He looked at your lips again, "Sorry," he said before kissing you again. "My whole life has been a lie..." He joked, smiling, pushing his lips against yours once more, then moving to press kisses on your cheeks. He pecked a trail of small kisses all along your jawline, causing you to giggle, until he licked a stripe along your neck.

His hand moved from your face down to your torso, your heart skipping for a second as he began to kiss all over your neck, searching for that one spot until he reached one and you tensed up a little. That's where he decided to suck and bite at, leaving a quite obvious and visible bruise.

He subtly lifted the hem of your shirt, moving his hand under and finally coming in contact with your bare skin, continuing to peck at your neck.

His hand lightly squeezed your waist as he let out a heavy sigh, leaving lingering kisses on your jaw, moving back to kiss your lips once more.

"Can I?" He whispered, his fingers barely sliding under the waistband of your sweats.

"Yeah." You answered, watching his hand as it moved lower. It was then that you noticed a bulge in his pants, it made your face get hot but you didn't say anything about it.

He purposely made his movements slow, his fingers never quite giving you any relief. He liked to tease. But of course, like all horny teenage boys, he was beginning to get desperate. His fingers found your bundle of nerves and he began to rub small circles over the cloth of your panties.

You let out a heavy sigh, "Is that good enough?" He asked, moving his head up to look at you, making sure he was doing a good job.

"Yeah... Feels good, but... More please.." You breathed heavily in between words.

His hand moved up and his fingers reached under the band of your panties, two of his fingers slowly moving up and down your lips, "You're so wet..." He whispered in excitement, a small smile on his face as if he was surprised.

Finally he pushed his middle finger inside you, slowly pumping in and out until he added another. He began moving a bit faster, curling up into just the right spot, making you to let out a small groan.

"Oh, fuck." You said, your eyes shut in pleasure.

His palm began rubbing against your clit, making your legs slightly come together.

"Does that feel good?" He breathed, watching your face just to make sure once again.

"Yes, fuck yeah... Keep going," you moaned quietly.

The movements in his hand quickened, his eyes still on your face as it contorted into visible pleasure, causing him to softly smile to himself.

You leaned up to kiss him and he sighed into it, his fingers scissoring inside you as he kept pumping them in and out. He pulled away and looked down at his hand only to see it disappearing into your pants.

"I'm gonna stop for a bit, okay?" He said, slowly pulling his fingers out.

"What happened?" You asked nervously as you watched him move off the bed.

He began pulling his shirt over his head, and your legs instinctively parted, "What are you gonna do?" You questioned.

"Do you have condoms...?"

You blushed and quickly got up, "Let me go check," you said as you walked out the door, your knees already a little weak.

Kirk noticed this and laughed.

"Shut up," you said as you walked towards your parents room.

It was a little odd thinking that your parents might have this kind of thing and you would actually die if you found what you were looking for on a different occasion, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You checked your dad's drawers and surprisingly found nothing, so you moved to your moms side and the first thing you saw was exactly what you needed. You grabbed one of the condoms and immediately ran back to your room, closing the door and locking it even if no one would come home.

When you turned around you were met with Kirk sitting on the edge of your bed, propped on his elbows with his head thrown back, waiting for you.

Now there was a very obvious tent in his pants.

"Does this work?" You sat behind him on the bed, holding up the condom as he turned to look at you.

"Yeah..." He leaned in to kiss you again, slowly pushing you to lay back. He lifted himself and helped you take your shirt off, leaving you in your bra and pants.

His pupils dilated, "You're so beautiful," he said as he looked down at your body, leaning up to kiss you for the umpteenth time.

He tugged at the waistband of your pants and pulled them down, you lifted your hips and he was able to pull them all the way off. He then got up and pulled his own off, along with his boxers.

Kirk had a big dick when he was hard. And it was slightly intimidating too.

He leaned back down, keeping one hand free and the other next to your head.

"Will this hurt?" You asked.

He looked at you confused,

"Are you a virgin?"

"No, your dick is just bigger than the others," you replied.

His face got beet red, "Shut the fuck up," he laughed, leaning closer to you and pulling your panties down, inserting his fingers into you once again, making you gasp.

He didn't keep them in for long before pulling them out and bringing his hand down, using your wetness to begin stroking himself. His eyes closed as he sighed.

He opened his eyes again, "Can you open the..." he huffed, "the condom," he asked, watching your hand as you grabbed the small package and ripped it open with your teeth.

"Can you help me put it on?" He looked at you helplessly. He was playing a game and he was good at it.

You moved your hand down and he let go of himself, grabbing onto your wrist as you rolled it on.

It's been so long since you wanted to do this, to have him in your grasp, so you spit on your hand and began slowly jerking him off. He let out a low groan before wrapping his hand around yours and squeezing a little tighter.

Looks like he likes it rough, you thought.

"Oh my fuck, " He whined, shutting his eyes tight and throwing his head back, then leaning down to bury his face into your neck.

Not long passed before he pulled your hand away and huffed, "You ready?" he asked, holding himself closer to you, "Yeah," you answered. Kirk brushed his tip against your entrance, sliding it up and down and smiling at your reactions. He then pushed himself in an inch at a time.

Your jaw fell open along with his, the two of you looking one another in the eyes, your eyes fluttering shut as his own rolled back.

Once he was all the way in, he stopped, moving down to press his lips onto yours.

"You feel so warm..." He breathed.

"Please," you whined, hoping he would understand it was for him to move.

Kirk slowly began pulling out before he pushed back in, slowly picking up his pace until he was thrusting steadily. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan you figured. One of his hands brushed down your side, stopping at your thigh to pull it around his waist and give himself more space.

His thrusts got harder before he hit your g-spot. Letting out a low moan, you moved your hands up Kirk's chest and around his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck.

"Kirk," you whimpered and he released a heavy breath as he began to repeatedly hit your sweet spot again.

"Right there," you whispered closing your eyes and grabbing a handful of his hair.

"You're so soft," he sighed. He was slipping in and out fairly easily.

You pulled his hair with one hand, digging your nails into his shoulder blade with the other, causing Kirk to stifle a moan.

Kirk tried going faster, harder, in order to give you the release you needed. He finally let out a high pitched whine, "Fuck," he said with a heavy breath, the sweat already starting to form on both your bodies, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"You—" you cut yourself off with a gasp, "you feel so good," you groaned, tugging harder on his hair.

"Yeah?" He whispered, his exact wish from earlier tonight was actually coming true.

Opening your eyes, you were met with his, gazing at you.

"Hi," you breathed, smiling softly at him.

Kirk slowed down, "Hey," he grinned, leaning down to kiss you once more, his movements coming to a halt.

His lips lingered on yours for a while before he finally pulled back again.

Moving his hand between your bodies, he began rubbing little circles on your clit again before resuming his thrusts. The feeling of his hand along with the movements in his hips caused you to clench around him, squeezing your thighs around his waist.

Kirk weakened at the feeling, his head dropping to your shoulder as his thrusts became sloppy.

"I'm getting close," he whispered next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Me too," you admitted, running your hands through his hair.

You could feel his burning hot, bare skin sliding against yours. Suddenly your breaths got quicker, your heart rate increased and the coil in your stomach tightened.

"Kirk—" you paused,

"I'm gonna cum," Kirk moaned before you could finish your sentence.

His hips stuttered and he tensed up, finally letting go and relaxing on top of you.

Your back arched as you felt him fill the condom in you, "Kirk please go just a little more," you begged.

He lifted his head to look at you with worry, like he felt he wouldn't be able to do much for you.

Yet he still tried to move, the sensitivity taking over all his senses making a moan escape his throat. His body was quivering along with his movements, "I'm almost there," you said before he released a sigh, continuing his movements. His hand grabbed one of yours, interlocking your fingers and holding it next to your head, squeezing tightly,

"Come on, baby," He groaned, closing his eyes like he was getting dizzy.

Finally you came, your back arching as you clenched around him once again.

Kirk slowed down and finally stopped, "Thank you..." you sighed softly. "Sorry if it was too much."

"That's okay," he smiled up at you, blowing a stray hair from his face, "I told you I'd do anything for you, just say the word. Remember?" he chuckled.

He pulled out slowly before taking off the condom and disposing of it.

Lying next to you, he put his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, causing you to giggle.

"I love you." He lifted himself to look down at you.

"I love you too, Hammett." you smirked jokingly.

He laughed and plopped back down next to you.

"I can't believe we just had actual sex." He said while staring at the ceiling.

"It sounds odd when you say it like that..." you said as you turned to him, looking at his beautiful profile again.

"Like... I just put my penis inside of you—" You smacked his arm, cutting him off.

"Kirk! Shut up!" You laughed.

He turned to look at you, "I want to be your boyfriend."

You blushed, "...And I wanna be your girlfriend..."

He smiled, a light pink showing on his cheeks.

"But seriously, you tell me that now instead of before you," you held up quotation marks, "put your penis inside of me?"

Kirk let out a loud laugh, holding his hands over his face, "Shut the fuck up."

He sighed, "I love you. Again. Sorry, I don't know how many times I'm gonna say that," he chuckled, looking away a little embarrassed.

"Kirk," you grabbed his face and kissed him, "I love you. You're my best friend. I always have and I always will love you, okay?"

He looked at your lips, "Good," he joked, going back in to kiss you.

Suddenly you heard a scream, the both of you sat up, noticing the alien on the screen of your tv.

"I forgot that was on."

———————

thank you for reading 😙😙

#kirk hammett #kirk hammett smut #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett fic #kirk hammett fanfiction #metallica smut #smut #writing #kirk hammett angst #kirk hammett fic rec

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ambrossart · 2 years ago

Text

Post Prom

summary: after leaving prom, you and eddie go to the hideout to reminisce and listen to music. one thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 6,320 warnings: sfw, new relationship, eddie being awkward, eddie being adorable, eddie being romantic, eddie being obsessed with his guitar, lots of fluff, two-part story

This short story is the epilogue to Dancing with Myself. For proper context, I highly suggest you read that before reading this. It's 10 chapters long and a fairly quick read.

The stars had never shone as brightly as they did that night.

You couldn’t stop staring at them as you walked out of the banquet hall with Eddie by your side, with his suit jacket draped over your bare shoulders, feeling more and more like it was always meant to be there.

“This looks better on you anyway,” Eddie had said when he offered it to you. “Just don’t get it dirty, ‘kay, or else Wayne’ll kill me. It’s his one good suit.”

“I’ll guard it with my life,” you promised, only half joking.

And while you thought about this, while you traced your thumb along the silk lining of Wayne Munson’s one good suit jacket, while you walked and talked and stole glimpses of Eddie’s face when he wasn’t looking, you couldn’t help but smile and say to yourself,

I’m in a dream, aren’t I?

Yeah, you had to be. The stars were far too bright, and the night too calm. Cars drove up and down the road and passed by without a sound. In the wet, wet grass, crickets chirped and a single sprinkler was still sputtering with life, hissing in the dark with a quiet shhhh-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. You could hear it so clearly as you and Eddie strolled down the covered footpath together, your shadows illuminated by the soft orange glow of the streetlights overhead. Eddie had a ring of keys in his right hand. They jingled as he tossed them up, caught them, and twirled them around his index finger.

I’m in a dream, you thought, and tomorrow morning I’m gonna wake up in my bedroom, alone, with that dusty old journal sprawled open in front of me.

And this made you withdraw into yourself and go silent for a minute. Your steps got slower and slower. Your smile slipped and collapsed into a troubled frown that deepened the further you got from the banquet hall. Eddie glanced over his shoulder, saw you falling behind, then slid his keys back into his pocket.

“Buyer’s remorse?” he said with a chuckle, but there was no humor in his voice, none at all. He turned and stepped in front of you, blocking your path with his body. “Hey, y’know we don’t have to go anywhere, right? I mean, we can always go back inside or… or I can just take you home, if you want.”

Eddie muttered the last part under his breath, wincing as he did. His dark brown eyes pierced into yours, nervous and a little afraid, afraid that if he said goodbye to you right now, if he took you home, kissed you goodnight, and watched you walk through that front door, there was a small chance he might never see you again.

And you supposed that was partly your fault, so you put your hand on his chest and gave him a reassuring smile.

“No, that’s not it,” you said. “I was just thinking.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you. “You were just… thinking?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

If this really is a dream, please, please, please don’t wake me up.

You motioned toward the parking lot. “Lead the way, sir.”

Eddie cracked a small smile. “All right,” he said, and backed away from you with a little bounce in his step. “I’m, uhh, over here, so…”

You weaved through the crowded parking lot and found Eddie’s 1979 Chevy Nomad parked alone on the west end between a dying tree and a flickering lamppost. You held in a laugh. Oh jeez, you thought, of course he parks in the sketchiest spot he can find. If Ted Bundy had a reserved parking space in Hawkins, this would be it. It practically screamed, Yeah, you’re about to get napped.

Eddie seemed to notice this, too. He lingered by your side for a minute, then reached up to scratch his head. “Uhhh… there were other cars around when I parked here, just for the record.”

You looked up at him, fighting back a smile. “I wasn’t gonna say anything…”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed into a playful glare. “Yeah, you were.”

He went and opened the passenger side door, and you busted out laughing when you saw his guitar case propped neatly against the front seat. This didn’t shock you nearly as much as it should have. If anything, you were more surprised that Eddie hadn’t strapped it safely into place with a seatbelt.

“So you let your guitar ride shotgun, huh?”

“Well, she is a lady,” Eddie replied, making you giggle.

“So, what, should I go sit in the back like cargo? Or do you wanna just rope me to the hood like a Christmas tree?”

Eddie leaned against the side of his van. “No, I’d never do that to you…” Then, with a self-amused smirk: “You can just hold her on your lap.”

Your eyes flattened into a hard line. Very funny, your eyes said.

Eddie chuckled quietly to himself. “Just kidding, I’ll move her.”

Effortlessly, he lifted the guitar out of the front seat and put it in the back with the rest of his equipment, setting the instrument down on the floor with great care. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said while stroking the top of its case. “You’re still my number one girl, okay?”

You rolled your eyes and climbed into the front seat. As soon as you sat down, something small poked your butt, making you jump up in surprise. It was a guitar pick, one of many scattered about Eddie’s van. You were finding them everywhere: under your feet, on the dashboard, in the ashtray, even wedged in the crack of the center console. You dug one out with your fingernail and threw it into the glove compartment.

“You know, you really need to clean out your van,” you said to Eddie as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Uhh, yeah,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to get to that for about two years now.”

He closed the door and flashed you a charming smile.

“So… where would you like to go?”

“You didn’t have a place in mind when you asked me?”

“Honestly? No… I was kinda expecting you to say no.”

You both laughed. Then you looked away and caught your reflection in the side-view mirror. It felt so strange, being there. You had fantasized about sitting in this van at least a hundred times. Now here you were, digging plastic guitar picks out of your seat (you found another one and flicked it away). It was even better than you imagined.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” you said, giving Eddie a shy smile. “You can pretty much take me anywhere.”

“Anywhere,” Eddie repeated slowly, his brown eyes locked with yours. “That’s… very unhelpful.”

Smiling, he leaned back in his seat and thought about it for a minute. His right hand went up to rest on the steering wheel. His index finger started tapping rhythmically against it. In the silence, you were swiveling around in your chair. Eddie caught you out of the corner of his eye and laughed.

“Having fun over there?”

“Yeah,” you said while moving back and forth. “I like the swivel.”

“The swivel is fun,” Eddie said. “The swivel is fun…”

Then, slowly, his whole face lit up.

“I got it,” he said. “I know where we can go.”

He started the van and put it in reverse.

Soon after, Eddie was pulling up in front of the old auto parts store on the corner of Main and Oak.

The building was basically dilapidated at this point. The grass along the side was patchy and full of weeds. The blue exterior was badly faded, chipped, and covered with graffiti. In the large storefront window, beneath a tattered and weather-worn awning, a marquee reader board was still advertising a sale on tires from 1966. If not for the row of cars and motorcycles parked along the curb, if not for the music pouring out onto the street, you would have thought this was just another abandoned building.

Eddie got out first, walked around the front of the van, then opened the passenger side door.

“Ready?” he said to you, his eyes shimmering with childlike excitement.

You went inside and were instantly transported to the 1950s… or at least Cliff Kozack’s twisted, apocalyptic vision of the 1950s. Old Halloween decorations lined the shelves: coffins, skulls, cobwebs (those were real, though; Cliff kept them because they matched his aesthetic—or he was just too lazy to dust). Guitars hung from the ceiling and fell occasionally, landing behind unsuspecting patrons with a startling thwack! Famous faces were plastered across the walls: Elvis Presley, Connie Francis, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke, Ritchie Valens. All the chrome finishes were dull and rusted in the corners. The black-and-white checkered floor was grimy and sticky with spilled beer that nobody had ever bothered to mop up. In the corner, propped beside a dusty, broken jukebox that only played one song: “Rockin’ Robin” by Bobby Day (and God help you if you played that song), a skeleton dressed in a leather jacket was gesturing toward a sign that spelled out the night’s drink specials.

Except there were no drink specials, just cheap beer and booze.

Cliff poured a beer, slid it across the bar, and then saw you and Eddie walk in through the front door. His eyes widened in horror.

“Quick,” he said to one of his bartenders, “what day is it today?”

“Uhh… Saturday.”

“Saturday.” Cliff closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. “God, I was really hoping I got my days mixed up.”

Then he poured himself a shot of bourbon.

Two, actually.

One for you and one for Eddie.

He slammed them back in two gulps.

Meanwhile, you and Eddie were heading into the lounge just off the main bar, where a psychobilly trio called the Killer Elvises was performing on stage. Their hair was greased and styled into matching pompadours. The lead singer plucked an upright double bass that was almost as tall as he was. And they played the kind of snarling, thrashing music that made you want to get up and punch someone in the face for no reason at all. You had been there for less than a minute and Eddie was already getting revved up.

“God, I love these guys,” he said, shouting over the music.

You two were making your way to a table in the back. It was your table, the one you sat at every Tuesday night. Eddie wanted to sit there specifically. He insisted on it.

“Y’know the lead singer used to only play classical music? Wasn’t even allowed to listen to anything else. Yeah, I guess his parents were like these super-religious zealots or something.”

You looked toward the stage, where the lead singer was currently singing about drinking blood under the full moon and having sex with a werewolf.

“Well, I’m sure his parents are very proud of him now.”

Eddie glanced back at you, a smile crawling up the side of his face. “Yeah. Probably.”

Then he pointed toward a table tucked away in the corner of the lounge, half hidden behind a massive stone pillar. From the stage, you could barely even see it.

“That it?” Eddie asked. You nodded and said it was.

You sat down and made yourself comfortable while Eddie stole the seat across from you. Then he propped his elbow on the table and laid his chin on his palm, gazing at you with his big brown eyes.

“So, uh, this is your table, huh? And, what, you would sit in that spot?”

You looked around you. “Uhh, yeah, pretty much… I mean, it’s not the exact spot, but—”

“Well, hold on,” Eddie said, “I’m pretty sure I asked for the full experience, so…”

He made a “go on” motion with his hand. In return, you made a funny face.

“Seriously?” you said.

Eddie nodded, his eyes soft and affectionate. “C’mon, humor me.”

You looked away, feeling all the blood rush to your face, then slowly got up and dragged your stool a couple more inches to the right. When you sat down again and turned your body ever so slightly, you had a completely unobstructed view of the stage.

“There,” you said in a flustered voice. “Happy now?”

But Eddie didn’t answer you, not for a long while. He kept staring at you, then at the stage, then back at you, his eyes darkening more and more with each pass. During this time, the Killer Elvises had transitioned to a slower, almost bluesy style. You were thankful for that. Otherwise, you might not have heard Eddie when he said,

“Hey, how many times did you come here?”

You shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Guess.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Eddie’s abruptness made you a little uneasy.

“I dunno,” you said. “Twenty, maybe thirty times.”

Eddie dropped his head into his hand and cursed.

Your eyes widened. “What?” you said. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Eddie rubbed his face in frustration. “Yeah, well, it’s a pretty big goddamn deal to me.” He sounded angry, but not at you. “Thirty times, Y/N, and that’s probably a modest estimate. You came to watch me thirty times, and I never noticed you. Never. Not once. How the hell did I not notice you?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. This time, they felt a little heavy.

“I guess you just weren’t looking,” you said, and Eddie stared at you with a guilty, helpless expression.

“Yeah, I was,” he said under his breath.

Then—

WHAM!

Two huge fists slammed onto the table, making you both jump.

“Well, well, well,” said Cliff, bringing his face down to your level, “look who’s here…”

“Hi, Cliff,” you said. “Hey, congratulations, by the way. You’ve got a real packed house tonight. I think there’s like fifty people here.”

Cliff’s lips curled into a hard, unamused smile.

“Hey, man, I keep telling you to get a sign for this place—”

“I don’t want a sign,” Cliff said to you. “Signs attract pests, and I’m still trying to get rid of the two I currently have.”

His eyes went to you, then to Eddie, then back to you.

“Hey, we’re like your only regulars… us and the guy that likes to sleep in that booth over there.” You gestured toward him with your chin. “You know, someone should really check on him soon ‘cause I haven’t seen him move in a while.”

“No, I kicked him a few minutes ago. He’s fine.” Then to Eddie, Cliff said, “I see you finally found your number-one fan. You know, she comes in here every Tuesday. Every Tuesday. The other night, I thought she was gonna start a bar fight.”

“Really?” Eddie gave you an impressed look that made you feel embarrassed.

You put both your hands on the table and sat up as tall as you could. “Hey, that’s… that’s not even…” With a huff, you sank back down and muttered under your breath, “I was trying to listen to the music. They wouldn’t stop talking.”

Cliff’s chest rose and fell with hearty laughter. “You hear that?” he said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “She was trying to listen to the music,” and for some reason that made Eddie smile and chuckle to himself.

Once Cliff returned to the bar, you turned to Eddie and said, “What, is that like an inside joke or something?”

Eddie was still smiling. “No, it’s just…” He pointed across the lounge. “You see that table over there?”

“Yeah… What about it?”

“When I was younger, my dad used to bring me here a lot. Yeah, he would, uhh, just drop me off here while he went and did… well… whatever he did.” He shrugged it off like it didn’t matter. “Anyway, I’d sit at that table… at that table… for hours and hours, just watching these guys play and wishing I could be as good as them one day. And, yeah, I would get really annoyed whenever people talked during my favorite parts.”

Now you were smiling, too. “That’s… really cute, actually,” and you both went quiet and listened to the band play for a while.

Halfway through the fourth song, while you watched the musician’s tattooed fingers fly across the frets of his hollow-body guitar, you couldn’t help but say, “He’s really good.”

Eddie said, “He’s very good…”

You glanced to your left and caught him watching the guitarist in silent awe, his mouth hanging open, eyes racing to keep up with every movement of the man’s fretting hand.

Stifling a giggle, you said, “You are green with envy right now.”

“I am…”

“You’re gonna go home and practice for like three hours, aren’t you?”

“Oh, at least,” Eddie said, giving you an adorable smile.

That’s when Cliff’s partner decided to drop by for a friendly little chitchat. The buxom brunette strutted up to your table with an empty drink tray and pressed it against her chest while she observed you and Eddie with a tender, motherly expression.

“Awww, well aren’t you two just the sweetest thing, sitting here all cozied up and adorable… I feel like I’ve been waiting half my life for this day to come.”

Cleo tossed you a girlish, not-so-well-hidden smile (Wow, you thought, it’s a miracle my secret lasted this long), then turned to Eddie and said, “You know, she’s been coming here every Tuesday for the last… God, I don’t even know… probably about three ye—”

Panic seized you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie’s lips twitch upwards, curling into a cocky smile.

You squeezed your eyes shut and blurted out, “Yeah, he knows, Cleo! He knows. How ‘bout you go get us some drinks?”

Cleo brushed you off with a laugh. “Oh fine, oh fine…” She lowered the tray to her side. “What can I get you two lovebirds?”

Eddie said, “I’ll just have a beer.”

And you said, “I’ll have a rum and Coke, with muddled cherries, garnished with cherries and some sugar around the rim. Make sure Cliff really grinds those suckers down, too. I don’t wanna see a bunch of cherry chunks floating around my glass.”

Cleo looked at you both tiredly, her lips gathering into a tight, uncomfortable smile. “Yeah… that’s gonna get old real quick.” She sighed and went back to the bar.

As soon as she was gone, Eddie looked at you and said, “Three years? Did I hear that right?”

You shook your head. “No, not three years. Nowhere near three years.”

There were, you were fairly sure, at least two occasions where you chose to stay home.

Because you were sick.

You immediately changed the subject: “So, anyway, when are you guys getting a new lead singer?”

“Nice segue,” Eddie said. Then: “Shit, I dunno, man… after Scottie got locked up, it just didn’t feel right to replace him. Plus, we couldn’t find anyone, so…”

“I’ll do it,” you said.

Eddie squinted at you. “Can you sing?”

“No… but neither can Scottie.”

Eddie laughed. “Fair enough.”

Then you leaned onto your elbows and said, “Any idea when he’s getting out?”

“Uhh…” Eddie stretched out his arms while he thought about it, rolled some of the tightness out of his neck and shoulders. “I think he gets released in like three months.”

“Damn,” you said. “Hard to believe it’s almost been a year.”

You suddenly remembered the last time you saw Scott Sloman. It was a few months before he graduated. Scottie came up to you after school and said he needed a favor.

God, he’s an idiot…

Who?

No one. Never mind.

You shook the memory away. “Shit, man, let that be a lesson: don’t go speeding through a school zone with a bunch of pot in your car. What the hell was he thinking, anyway?”

Eddie nodded slowly, his eyes taking on a distant sheen. “Yeah…”

And now, as you looked at him, a terrifying thought crossed your mind. It made your heart sick with dread.

“That could’ve been you,” you said, and Eddie’s gaze plummeted to the floor.

Just then, a shiver rolled through you. You pulled Wayne’s jacket tighter against you and tried not to think about that anymore.

“Okay, sweeties,” said Cleo as she returned with a tray of drinks. “I have one Shirley Temple with a side of maraschino cherries.” She set down a highball and a shot glass, then reached for the last glass on her tray. “And for you, sir… one Coke. Can I get you anything else?”

Eddie scowled at his beverage. “Where’s my beer?”

“Uhh, waiting for you to turn twenty-one.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and brought the glass to his lips. “Like I don’t drink already…”

And Cleo said, “Not in my bar, you don’t.”

She turned and walked away, but before she got too far, Eddie called out to her again: “Hey, Cleo, can we get some wings?”

Cleo looked back at him and sneered. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Meanwhile, you chucked a maraschino cherry at Eddie’s head.

“What?” Eddie said to you with a mischievous smirk. “I just want some wings…” and he tipped his head to the side, dodging the next cherry you fired his way. “Hey, where’d you come up with that, anyway?”

“I dunno, I panicked,” you said. “I thought I’d been found out, and I needed to throw you off my scent.”

“With blueberry wings?”

“Blueberry barbecue wings, actually.”

“Yeah, what is that? Is that a real flavor or did you just make that up?”

“No, it’s real… I think.” You seriously considered it for a minute, then shrugged. “Yeah, I imagine it having this smoky-sweet kinda flavor. I’ve never had it before, but I feel like it’d be really delicious… that or really disgusting. Either way, I’d like to try it once before I die.”

“Noted,” Eddie said, and reached into your shot glass full of cherries.

Your jaw dropped as you watched him put the fruit between his teeth and gently, so gently, pluck it off the stem.

“Hey, you know how they say, umm, people who can tie cherry stems with their tongues are automatically good kissers? Yeah, turns out there is zero evidence to support any kind of correlation between the two. I mean, obviously, you must have pretty good muscle coordination to tie a cherry stem with only your tongue, but that says very little about how good you are at kissing. Yeah, it really just means you have a skilled…”

You closed your mouth, snatched your drink, and washed the rest of that sentence down your throat.

Eddie watched you, a smile tugging at his lips. “Makes sense,” he said. Then, in a low voice: “Can you do it?”

You set down your glass and wiped your lips. “Do what?”

“Tie a cherry stem with your tongue.”

You gulped. “Umm… I’ve never really tried, honestly, but probably not. I’m very not very coordinated in general, so I wouldn’t expect that skill to transfer.”

Eddie nodded. “I see,” he said while stealing another cherry from your glass. Before popping it into his mouth, he looked right at you and said, “Well, I can.”

Your whole body flushed. “H’okay…” you said as your mind raced with a million unbidden thoughts. You reached for your glass again and—“Hey, here’s a fun fact: did you know that grenadine isn’t actually made from cherries? It’s made from pomegranates.”

“That is a fun fact,” Eddie replied with an amused smile. “You wanna hear another fun fact?”

“Tell me.”

“Your face is about as red as your drink right now.” Eddie propped his chin on his fist and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Fun fact.”

Your blush deepened. “Oh,” you said.

Then you looked down at the table and thought, God strike me down, I’m a filthy fucking pervert.

The band stopped playing around twelve-thirty. Afterward, the members packed up their instruments and returned to the lounge to drink and play cards with a few of Cliff’s off-the-clock employees. By then, most of the Saturday night crowd had already moved on, leaving only Cliff’s regular clientele: some college kids, a couple bikers, but mostly just a bunch of old guys that wanted to drink quietly at the bar and be left alone. Those were Cliff’s favorite kind of people. He kept their glasses full and they kept to themselves. They were the perfect patrons.

Then there was the Munson kid.

“Hey…” Eddie came up to the bar and started drumming his hands on the counter. “Just outta curiosity, who do you have up next?”

“Nobody,” Cliff said while he cleaned the soda gun. “Nobody else signed up.”

“Interesting,” said Eddie. He reached into his pocket and slammed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter. “How much time will that get me?”

Cliff glanced at the meager offering. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” God, that greedy bastard. Eddie threw his head back and groaned an all-too-familiar groan. “C’mon, man, I’m trying to impress a girl here.”

In response, Cliff pressed his massive palms onto the counter, leaned forward, and gave Eddie an intense, unblinking stare.

“You’re trying to impress a girl?”

“Yep.”

“That girl?”

“Mhm.”

Cliff exhaled deeply through his nose. “Okay, kid, lemme tell you a little something about that girl. She comes in here every Tuesday just to watch your shitty band play shitty music. When you guys suck, she gives me hell for it. She says I need to invest in a better sound system.”

“Well,” Eddie muttered under his breath, “you do need a better sound system. That thing’s a piece of shit.”

Cliff arched his eyebrow, daring him to continue. Eddie waved his hands in surrender and stopped talking.

“What I’m saying is… I dunno how the hell you did it, kid, but clearly you’ve already done enough to impress her.”

Cliff’s words sank in deep, making Eddie’s heart feel warm and full. He leaned against the bar and observed you for a moment, while you sat and sipped your drink at the table (and probably, secretly, tried to tie a few cherry stems with your tongue, just to see if you could do it). Then he turned back to Cliff with a huge smile.

“Yeah, but I still kinda wanna do it, so…” He placed his finger on the stack of paper bills and slid it further across the counter. “How much?”

Cliff sighed and slapped his hand over the cash. “Okay, Romeo, you’ve got twenty minutes.”

Eddie pumped his fist in victory, spun around, and went marching back to your table.

“Hey,” he said once he reached you, “wanna be my roadie?”

Your eyes were skeptical, but also curious. “Sure.”

And now Eddie was dragging the guitar strap over his head while you sat on the stage with your legs dangling over the edge, barefooted, your heels resting beside you. He switched on his amp and reached into his back pocket, pulling out yet another plastic guitar pick. It thrummed gently against the steel strings as he played a few random chords, making sure his instrument was still in tune.

“Just out of curiosity,” you said, “how many guitar picks do you have on you at any given time?”

“Uhh, at least two,” Eddie replied with his head bent over his guitar. “Yeah, never know when I’m gonna need one.”

“Right,” you said, “I guess you never know when someone’s gonna ask you to bust out a wicked guitar solo.”

Eddie chuckled a little at that. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet, but…” He looked over at you and smiled a sweet smile. “All right, crazy, name your song.”

“Any song?”

“Any song.”

Wow, talk about pressure. You clapped your hands together and brought them to your lips in thought.

And you thought.

And you thought some more.

Finally, after a minute of silence, Eddie leaned over and said, “Okay, remember we’ve only got twenty minutes here.”

“Fifteen now,” Cliff hollered from the bar, and Eddie gave you a look that said, Hurry up.

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Ummm… Oh—”

“Can’t do ‘Free Bird.’”

Your mouth snapped shut, and you frowned. “Why? You can’t play it?”

“No,” said Eddie, a little insulted by your accusation. “No, I can definitely play it. Easily, actually. I’m just not allowed to play it. That’s the problem.” He started scratching his chin, a nostalgic smile consuming his face. “See, uhhh, when I first learned that song, I played it nonstop for like three weeks straight, drove everyone here crazy… so, yeah, if I play that song right now, Cliff’s gonna throw us both out.”

You laughed. “Okay, then—”

“Same goes for ‘Stairway to Heaven.’”

“Wow,” you said. “Way to ruin every good guitar song for me, Munson.”

“Hey, trust me, there are plenty of better guitar songs out there. You just have terrible taste in music.”

“I do not have terrible taste in music!”

“Well, your favorite band’s Journey, so…”

You made a sharp, stabbing motion with your finger. “Hey, watch it, pal. If you’re gonna turn this into another Journey hatefest, then I’m just gonna…” but you couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, not while Eddie was staring at you like that, his eyes practically sparkling under the stage lights.

You turned around and laid your hands on your lap. Then, after a brief moment of careful deliberation, you said, “I wanna hear ‘Hotel California,’ and I want you to put some soul into it, Munson.”

When Eddie didn’t answer, you looked over your shoulder and saw him rubbing the back of his neck in contemplation.

You sighed, dejected. “What, you’re not allowed to play that song, either?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, no… just, uhhh, gimme a second, okay? It’s been a couple years since I played that one.”

He put his guitar pick between his lips and thought hard about it for a moment, humming the melody under his breath, miming the chord progressions with his fingers until they felt just right. Once he finally had it, he took the pick out of his mouth and positioned it over the strings.

“Okay,” he said to you, “get ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” you said… and your mouth fell open as soon as Eddie strummed the first chord, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the strings.

The slow, haunting twang of his electric guitar sent chills down your spine and made your skin prickle with goosebumps. All of a sudden, you were twelve again, sitting alone in a dark and crowded auditorium while some strange boy played a terrible cover of Judas Priest’s “Rock Forever.”

The kid sucked. God, did he suck. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to realize it. He was playing like he was the headlining act on a rock ’n’ roll tour, like everyone in the audience had paid hundreds of dollars just to watch him perform. You could hardly contain your laughter. It was cracking you up all night: while Chrissy’s dad drove you home, while you gave your parents a painfully descriptive play-by-play in the living room, while you tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep because you couldn’t stop thinking about that hilariously awful performance.

Except by then you weren’t laughing anymore. You were too busy picturing that boy’s face, and his eyes… mostly his eyes… those deep, deep brown eyes, the brownest eyes you had ever seen. Every time he played his guitar, they took on this focused yet far-off look, like he was a million miles away.

Those deep, distant brown eyes left you speechless even now.

“Wow, Munson,” you said when he was finished, “you’re like my own personal jukebox.”

It was a silly throwaway joke, not even remotely funny, but for some reason it made Eddie stop everything he was doing and stare at you for a moment, his eyes dazed and blinking, as if he suddenly couldn’t remember where he was.

“What?” you said.

“Uhh, nothing,” Eddie replied, “just a little déjà vu, I guess.”

He gave his head a couple quick shakes and raised his guitar again, his movements awkward and clumsy as his hands struggled to find their natural grip. “Uhh… next song? This one’ll probably be the last, so think carefully, okay? You really gotta make this one count.”

“Okay,” you said, but you already knew what song you were choosing. Yeah, you had made that decision about four nights ago when Cliff cruelly pulled the plug on Eddie’s Tuesday night performance.

You stole one glimpse of his shirt and said with the brightest smile, “‘Prowler’ - Iron Maiden.”

Eddie closed his eyes and sighed deeply, blissfully, then turned to you with an adoring look on his face.

“You’re welcome,” you said. “Have fun, sir.”

You were both smiling as you and Eddie left the bar together, the night sky hovering high above you, twinkling with a thousand stars.

Eddie carried his guitar and his amp and hauled them into his van. Then he reached back for the small bundle of cords you held in your arms.

“So, did you have a good time?” he asked.

“I did,” you said. “Yeah, it’s always fun pissing off Cliff.”

“Yeah…” Eddie glanced back at you. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

Then he pulled the sliding door closed and leaned against it, staring at you with a gentle expression that made your heart speed up a little. You wondered when Eddie was going to make a move. You wondered if he was going to make a move. You wondered if you were being too presumptuous in assuming that he was going to make a move. Then you wondered if you were wondering about this too much and finally slumped down beside him, your back squeaking against the filthy van door.

“Shit,” you said. “I definitely just got this jacket dirty.”

You peeled away from the van and turned around, guiltily displaying your back to Eddie.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Great, you thought, and leaned against the van again.

“I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Eddie said. “I’ll take all the blame… Yeah, I don’t want Wayne hating you before he even meets you.”

And that made you grin—a stupid, happy grin.

“I think he’ll really like you, by the way.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“No,” Eddie replied dully. “No, he’ll definitely think you’re annoying.”

For that, you clobbered his shoulder with your fist. Eddie absorbed the blow, laughing as he did.

“God, always so violent,” he said, pretending to rub the pain out of his shoulder. “You know, if you’re looking for an excuse to touch me, you can just…”

Eddie closed his mouth and looked away, then started pensively clucking his tongue behind his teeth: click, cluck, click, cluck.

The sound reminded you of a ticking clock steadily counting down the minutes.

One-o-eight.

One-o-nine.

One-ten.

The night was finally nearing its end. Now you and Eddie were standing at a literal and metaphorical crossroads, its intersection marked with a tiny green sign. It sat smugly on a rusted metal pole and presented you with two options: you could keep going straight down Main Street or make a sharp right turn onto Oak.

Main Street was the logical and more dependable choice. The road was recently paved and brightly lit, dotted with all kinds of trees, flowers, shrubs, and these cozy little wooden benches that sat so neatly on the freshly cut grass. It was a nice road, a scenic road, a road that gradually led onto Cherry Street, then Maple Street, and finally, safely, brought you to your house. You and Eddie would sit in his van for a few minutes, enjoying the awkward yet wonderful silence, and then he would lean across the seat and give you a kiss—a chaste, gentleman’s kiss.

All in all, not a bad way to end prom night. In fact, you thought it sounded rather romantic.

Sweet.

Innocent.

Then there was the other street: Oak Street. Oak, with that hard, hard K. You couldn’t see all the way down that street, not from where you were standing, but you knew it eventually turned into Cornwallis. And you knew Cornwallis… yeah, you knew that road very well. That road was older, cracked and covered with potholes. It was the road where your tire had blown out while you were driving back from a party at Sattler’s Quarry. You and Chrissy had to hike a mile to Benny’s Burgers and ask Benny to borrow his phone. And the whole time you kept thinking, I’m never, ever driving on this road again.

Yeah, Cornwallis was a bad road, a dangerous road. It went on for miles and miles, winding through steep hills and giant pockets of dark, dense forest. And if you weren’t very careful, you might accidentally… inevitably… make a wrong turn and find yourself flying straight down Kerley Road.

… towards the Forest Hills Trailer Park.

Oh shit, you thought. That is a very tempting road.

You sucked in a shaky breath as your knees trembled with indecision.

Meanwhile, Eddie had pushed off the side of the van and went reaching into his pocket for his keys.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice husky with regret. “I should probably—”

You put your hand on Eddie’s heart and felt it jump at your touch.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you said, “not yet.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a second, then softened with a warm, hazy glow. He leaned into your palm, into you, and murmured against your lips,

“I don’t wanna take you home.”

⏩ part two

DWM MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

#stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x dwm!reader #dwm short #dancing with myself #dwm #ambrossart

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filmsmakkari · 4 months ago

Text

LA Girl Magic

warren rojas x fem!reader

Summary: Warren Rojas always dreamed of Los Angeles. The clubs, the music, and the ridiculously beautiful women.

CW: Sexual-ish content but no actual smut, a little angsty at the end. As always my (Y/N) is assumed to be black and sometimes such is implied but definitely not enough that others can't read.

June 1979

Everyone always dreamed of Los Angeles. The warmth of the Californian sun, the waves crashing against the Venice shore, the palm trees lining the streets. LA was the land of opportunity. And when you wished on Los Angeles stars, it felt like they would always come true. LA was the dream. Endless sunny days, ridiculously beautiful girls, and freedom to do and be whatever you wanted.

Los Angeles was everything for a band from Pittsburgh, where the only options were the mill or the army. So when Billy Dunne asked Warren Rojas about the possibility, Warren immediately went out and bought a van so the band would be ready to make the drive. It more or less cost him everything he had. It was crazy, but he somehow trusted it.

And boy, he couldn't have been more right.

It didn't come immediately. Weeks of phone calls that lead to nowhere. Finally meeting Teddy Price, and then being put through the wringer by him for months, a canceled tour, and being so dirt poor that he had to steal toast from restaurants. Enter Daisy Jones. Look At Us Now comes out. Sold out shows, gold records, and more drugs and women tearing at his pants than he could have ever dreamed of when he was just some skinny, curly-haired kid in Pennsylvania. The Six were living the California dream. He always said Daisy had "LA girl magic." He even tried to get Billy to write a song about it.

It was July 1st, 1979, the LA date of the Aurora tour. For Daisy, it was the hometown show, but she had always said she didn't have anyone in LA, no parents or extended family in the whole city. So everyone in the band was surprised when she said she'd have a childhood friend coming for the show. The shock became even greater when Daisy walked into the green room laughing and smiling with (Y/N) (L/N).

(Y/N L/N) was the "it girl" before that term was coined. A gorgeous Hollywood starlet. An Oscar winner at ten, a Vogue cover at 15, a sold out world tour at 20, and a star on the Walk of Fame by 21. She was currently working on her sophomore album, and the world was waiting to see how she'd elevate herself further. But in the meantime, she was staying on the public's minds with her new Chanel film being aired on every TV in America, in which she played a songbird stuck in a cage next to a bottle of Coco Mademoiselle. (Y/N) had the talent that made her the critic's darling and the incredible beauty that made her desired and hated.

Warren's breath caught when he looked at her. (Y/N)'s hair, dark like a raven's wing, tumbled down her back in long curls. She wore a pale blue Halston jumpsuit that made her skin shimmer, and diamond jewelry added to the effect. And her eyes… oh God, those brown eyes. Warren would bet that she'd be able to finish him with just her eyes.

His cheeks slightly heated up at his thoughts as he watched her introduce herself to the band members. She approached him last, wrapping her arms around his neck, saying, "Hey, it's so nice to meet you! I'm (Y/N)."

Warren stuttered slightly, removing his hands from her waist and looking into her eyes. "I-I know."

(Y/N) chuckled. "And are you gonna tell me your name, drummer?"

"Warren!" he rushed out embarrassingly quickly. "I'm Warren Rojas."

(Y/N) smiled. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Warren."

Warren loved the way his name sounded on her tongue. He wanted her to say it over and over again. He wondered what it'd be like to hear her scream it.

These thoughts remained on his mind as he played as hard as he could that night, knowing she was watching and wanting her to feel every beat. Warren knew that people usually didn't pay attention to the rhythm section during concerts, too interested in the lead guitar or frontman to notice the lonesome drummer in the back, but just knowing there was a chance that (Y/N) was watching him, Warren played that drumline like it was his last night on earth.

Teddy was waiting as they all walked backstage, giving the usual pats on the shoulder and congratulations.

"Hey, Rojas," Teddy called as Warren cracked open a beer. That is the kind of performance I expect from the best drummer in rock' n roll!" Warren had never received such high praise from Teddy, and the compliment made him swell with pride.

"Hey, call it the LA girl magic," Warren said with a shrug and a smile.

Teddy furrowed his brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about, son, but if that's what made you play like that, I need you to use it every night."

˖°🌊🎐𓇼⋆🦪₊

The afterparties in the bus were always wild, but tonight was different. The Six had just played one of their best shows of the tour, so they decided to rent out some random bar on Sunset to celebrate specially. Beautiful bodies of men and women were swaying to the sensual rhythms and blues blaring from the boombox, and there were pills and powders sprawled across the tables that could only be found on the dirtiest streets of the City of Angels. This night was on fire.

Now, on a normal night, Warren probably would have grabbed a blonde with nice tits and a brunette with nice legs and taken them anywhere with a working lock on the door, but on this particular night, even the tightest skirts wrapped around girls just begging him to lift them around their waists and bury his face in between their thighs weren't the slightest bit tempting to him. Instead, all his attention was on a certain LA girl with dark features and the voice of an angel.

(Y/N) and Daisy were currently standing on a table, swaying their hips in a way that could only come naturally to girls who were stumbling out of clubs like these in tight dresses and runny makeup when they were 14. All of the men stared at them hungrily. All the girls tried to emulate their movements. But none could mimic the harmonies they sang over the random guitar melody playing. Their voices were enough to bring the roof down.

Warren was in fucking awe.

He'd gotten used to Daisy's voice. The power in it, the way she sang from deep in her belly and sounded like her voice was traveling over rocks to produce the sound. Daisy's voice was the pure essence of rock n roll.

But (Y/N)? Her voice was hauntingly beautiful. And in the teal shimmery dress she's changed into for the after party, with slits on either side, she looked like she'd come from the depths of the sea to lure men in with her siren call. Her voice was alluring but dangerous. It pierced its way through Warren's heart, and in that moment, he would've done anything she asked him to.

"Huh," he breathed out. "LA magic."

"What was that, love?" asked the red-haired girl who'd taken it upon herself to wrap her arms around his neck and move her body against his.

"Excuse me," said Warren, shoving her off and walking towards (Y/N). A sailor drawn to a siren, he approached the table and called her name.

(Y/N)' s eyes widened happily when she saw him. "Warren!!" She climbed down from the table and wrapped him in a tight hug. "You did so well tonight, congratulations! The drumline in "Let Me Down Easy" made the entire number- no one could have played it better!" she yelled over the loud music.

Warren exhaled and smiled. "It's just nice to know someone's listening."

(Y/N) let out a giggle, folding her lips before turning back to the table. "Daisy-jay!" she yelled at her friend. Daisy had already found another way to occupy herself, playing some sort of game involving vodka and a chocolate bunny. "Yeah, (Y/N/N)?"

"I'll be right back! Save me a shot!" (Y/N) yelled before grabbing Warren by the wrist and dragging him outside the club.

The pair heard Daisy yell out ",Hey! Don't have too much fun you two!"

(Y/N) exhaled a deep breath, taking a few steps forward and staring up at the sky. "It's a full moon tonight, Warren."

Warren stood beside her. "Yeah, no stars though."

They looked back at each other, brown eyes meeting brown eyes in a warm dance.

"There are never stars here," (Y/N) said with a smile. "Something called light pollution, I think. From all the city lights everywhere."

"I love the city lights. Seeing them reminds me that we made it. That we're really here." Warren closed his eyes for a moment. "But some nights I miss the stars. Back in Pitt, I could always see hundreds of stars from my window. Started chartin' em like I was part of Apollo 11 or something," he said shyly, letting out a dry chuckle.

"That's amazing, Warren." (Y/N) smiled at him so beautifully and kindly. He knew she meant it.

"I didn't know you were from Pittsburgh," she said.

"Mmhm. Been friends with all the guys since I was a kid. But I was actually born in Botogá. Shot over to the U.S. when I was three."

"Colombia?"

Warren nodded with a smile.

(Y/N) hummed. "I guess now's a good time to mention that I've always had a thing for foreign men. Only guys I usually like more are drummers in rock bands," she said nonchalantly, looking back at the moon.

Meanwhile, Warren felt like his heart was in his fucking ass.

He swallowed nervously. "W-well I have a thing for Hollywood girls."

"Oh, really?" she said casually.

"Yeah," Warren said, building up his confidence. "'S part of why I chose to move here. I knew that even if the music thing worked out, I'd still be able to find a girl from the city of angels to take me to heaven." Warren pushed a stray curl behind her ear, and for the first time in the whole night, (Y/N) was the nervous one.

Warren felt the change in dynamic immediately and decided to take a risk. He leaned in, searching (Y/N) 's eyes for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the gap between them, seizing her lips with his in a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling the tall man downwards. He grabbed her by her waist, exposed by the slit in her dress, pulling her closer. (Y/N) let out a small moan at the feeling of his touch on her skin, and Warren took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, increasing the wetness accumulating between her legs.

The pair finally pulled away for air, staring deep into each other's eyes silently.

"Do you want to see heaven, Rojas?" (Y/N) asked breathily.

Warren's lips were swollen, and his pupils were dilated as he spoke, "I'll follow wherever you go, angel."

(Y/N) caught his lips in a quick kiss before walking over to the phone booth and calling the taxi company. She'd never felt so much embarrassment as when she had to stifle her moans on the phone with the operator as Warren had followed her into the booth and began kissing and sucking up her arm to her shoulder and neck. Once he quickly figured out her weak spot was in between her jawline and her neck, he just continued on with the spot as if he was a starving man and her skin was his last meal. That, along with his large hands traveling up and down her body, almost caused (Y/N) to drop the phone, tear off her clothes, and sit on his lap on the dirty street corner.

When the taxi finally arrived, (Y/N) 's embarrassment only grew as Warren pulled her to practically straddle him and stuck his tongue down her throat. She could feel the discomfort radiating from the driver. But when he started playing with her panties… well, then she said to hell with embarrassment.

It felt like they'd been in the taxi for an eternity when they finally arrived at the large house in Baldwin Hills. The lovers stumbled through the large door, fumbling with each other's clothes and sharing messy, maddening kisses as they fell on the couch. (Y/N) sat atop Warren, staring deep into his eyes. The feeling of his hands on her waist was making her feel crazy.

"I want you inside me, Warren."

She didn't need to tell him twice.

˖°🌊🎐𓇼⋆🦪₊

January 2000

"At some point that night, I had every part of me in that woman," Warren reminisced with a chuckle. "Shit felt like joining the swim team. Shit, sorry Jules." Warren Rojas had aged handsomely. His once sleek black curly hair had grayed, and he'd developed wrinkles around his eyes. His hands were now rough and calloused from years of being a successful rock drummer who achieved many accolades before being inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame and retiring. He was the perfect picture of a had-been rockstar, a man now in his forties, tanned from days spent sitting out on his rusty old boat in the Marina. Some people might have pitied him, but he was content.

"I forgot who I'm talking to. I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep that part in. I think Nina would die if she had to hear about her old man like that."

Julia, now a woman grown and the spitting image of her mother with long, straight black hair and a camera at hand, was a far cry from the child Warren had known all those years ago.

"Hard for me too, to tell you the truth," she said with a slightly awkward laugh. "So then what happened?"

"Well I think you know, kiddo. Love. War. Band called it quits."

"With her, I mean."

Warren tensed up a bit. "Well, I loved her. Spent eight years with her, so I think he might've loved me too," he said with a smirk. "But we wanted different things, in the end. I wanted to slow down for a bit. Buy this boat, maybe have a few kids. I wanted success in the music world, but I wanted a wife and kids to share it with. She wanted to keep going. Being an "EGOT" at 24 wasn't enough, she wanted more. I've always loved her for that. She has so much hunger for life. She wants to live. She nearly gave it all up to settle with me, but I loved her too much to block her dreams. And I loved her enough to let her go. Met Lisa back in '89, had Nina in '94. I'm happy with my life now. I feel like everyone thinks I'm this miserable, washed up drummer, but I'm happy with the life I built for myself."

"Do you still love (Y/N)?" asked Julia.

Warren smiled a sad smile and looked at his lap. "... I'll always love that girl. I see her in everything. I watch her life in pictures now. Hear her voice on the radio. You'll probably have to cut this out too… cause of Lisa, of course… but uh…"the man trailed off, and a haze fell over his eyes as if he was seeing flashes of the past.

"You know something? That night when I first met her, after… after we finished," he shot Julia a look, "I got up to get her a cup of water, and when I looked out of her kitchen window, I saw a shooting star. I'd barely seen two stars in my time spent in the city at that point. We'd just fuckin talked about it! But after that night with her? There one was, shooting across the sky."

Warren chuckled and shook his head. "Goddamn LA Girl Magic."

#warren rojas x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes x reader #warren rhodes #daisy jones and the six #djats #djats x reader #daisy jones x reader #daisy jones and the six x reader #billy dunne x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #x reader #daisy jones and the six fanfic #simone jackson #karen sirko #zarina's stories 🫧𓇼

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