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SMii7y: Oh, it's beautiful, 3 on 1. Here we go.
Jericho: There's so many of us, surely you don't fuck this up.
SMii7y: *laughing* Fl0m...
Fl0m: I'm out of stamina!
Eli: Just kick it! Just kick it!
#smii7yplus - pro soccor online is hilarious#time stamp: 4:18#banana bus squad#smii7y+squad#smii7y#jericho | tucker#fl0m#elilikesrice#g: pro soccor online#text#words
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Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (M)
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 PAIRING: Academic rival!Haechan x afab/fem!reader
â WORD COUNT: 4.8k
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GENRE(S): Smut, E2lover, Rival2lovers
â SUMMARY: Haechan and you have never gotten along, and your friend group is sick of it, so they make a bet that the two of you can't ignore. When put to the test, will your hatred for each other still stand?
â
â WARNINGS: 18+, minors do not interact, Meandom! Haechan, aphrodisiac drug, mentions of drinking, sexual bet, sexual intercourse, swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, Haechan being mean, lowkey forgot what I wrote, so just BEWARE.
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NOTES: Yuh! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. Another saga of me failing the Don't write another hate2love challenge! FYI, I'm not a writer; I'm just a person who writes occasionally. Lovers in e2l not found more of a fuck buddy type relationship. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks for the support on my other fics. I don't usually write that often but the good feedback encourages me.
At this point, your friends were getting tired of it. You two were constantly at each other's throats. They initially believed you could'nt stand one another, but recently, the atmosphere in the room after your shouting matches was too intense to be fueled solely by animosity. The flames behind your eyes burned too brightly for them to be caused by resentment alone. They used to hold you back from lunging at him, but now they wondered what would really happen if you got your hands on him.
Haechan and you had known each other since middle school. You two shared a lot of the same classes, and unfortunately, you both had parents who expected you to excel in school. You were always trying to one-up each other or stamp out the other's resolve. Your relationship was rocky from the start, and even if you two weren't fighting for the top spot, you doubt you would find him likable.
Haechan was a natural at everything. He didn't have to try very hard to be the best; he just got it. On the other hand, despite spending hours studying, you could just barely match his performance. You were jealous of how easy he made it look. The fact that he would flaunt his success in your face didn't help.
âCan't keep up?â He would say after outperforming you on the final exam by 10 points, he had that same smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face on full display. You had spent days preparing for the test, even skipping a few hours of sleep. Haechan never studied; the most he ever did to prepare for an exam was to quickly skim the material a few hours before the test. Even then, he would still ace it.
You expected to grow up and put the rivalry behind yourselves during high school, but he would jump at any chance to make you look like an idiot. You could say the sky was blue, and he would argue that it was actually the reflection of the ocean that gave the sky the illusion of being blue. Back in middle school, you limited all interactions with him for your own sanity. However, in high school, he somehow managed to join your friend group, so you were forced to endure him during hangouts. You eventually got used to his presence and the non-stop teasing. It wasn't until you received your acceptance letter to the college you would be attending with your friends that you thought you would finally be free from him. Haechan's parents had wanted him to go to a college that was 4 hours away from your hometown, and you counted down the days until graduation.
Luck was never on your side.
Due to Haecahan's tendency to put things off, he wasn't able to submit his application in time, and as the school was very competitive, the available spots quickly filled up. Luckily for him, your college had an extended application process, which allowed him to send it in late, and he was accepted. Now here you are two years into college, and Haechan is still insufferable.
You two were on two completely different career tracks, so your classes never overlapped, so at least you stopped fighting about grades. Being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore, anyway. You hated the pressure that your parents put on you growing up. Before, you would have had a heart attack if you saw a B, but now you just shrug them off. Even still, all you two do is just have petty arguments because that's all you have ever done.
âYou would not be able to see an explosion in space; it's a vacuum; fire can't exist.â
"Well, I've seen Star Wars, so I think that proves my point.â
âThat's Fiction! You know, like the idea of you having a brain,â you roll your eyes.
âAlmost like your sense of humor? I was joking. Of course I know that I took astronomy before you," he smirks.
He was constantly trying to get under your skin. You take a long breath and try to calm yourself down. "Well, yeah, because I took a different science asshole." Your friends say it's because you always give him a reaction, but you hate being wrong. You had to get the last word, especially against know-it-alls like him.
Despite your complaints, he isn't entirely horrible. On the days that you two aren't arguing, he's making you laugh so hard that you practically fall over. He's not a complete jerk all the time; it's just that once you two get started, it's hard to stop.
âOh please, can you two cut it out? You have either had too much alcohol or not enough if you can still think about arguing,â your friend Johnny slurs.
It's Saturday night, and you have just finished off an exhausting exam week. Your friends felt a celebration was in order to wind down from the trying week. Now the only thing trying was Haechan testing your patience. You're at Johnny's house, and everyone is spread out around his spacious living room, bottles of alcohol scattered several surfaces. Johnnyâs family was well off, and he lived off campus in one of the few estates that his family owned. The house had two stories and a pool in the backyard. On the weekends, you would spend the most of your time here.
âYou're right I came here to relax, not burst a blood vessel.â You sigh and take a seat next to Johnny on the couch. You take a couple sips from whichever unopened can of cheap alcohol is nearby. Even though you could already sense a buzz coming on, it needed to hit harder if you were going to have to deal with Haechan all night.
Hyuck chuckled and found a spot on the carpeted floor. "Sorry, the princess just seemed like her day was going too well; I had to ruin it a little," he said.
Your friend Yuna raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked as she took another sip of her drink. âFor you to hate her so much, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about her.â
âOne point Yuna, '' you smile at your friend's rebuttal. Arguing with Haechan could be tiring, but your roommate always had your back.
âI think you two just need to hug it out... in a room... alone,â your other friend Mark joked.
You dryly laugh, "So funny."
âYou scared?â Hyuck says with a wicked grin. He leans back on one arm as he sips on his drink, still eyeing you confidently. It's at times like these that you betray yourself the most. He looks so good with his light brown hair framing his face; it's grown so long now that it covers his eyes if he doesn't push it back. The alcohol must be hitting because now all you can imagine is pulling on the soft brown locks and not out of anger. You must have taken too long to reply, because now he's raising an eyebrow at you.
âI wouldn't want to be alone with you even if you were the last person on earth."
Johnny cuts off Haechan's response before he can start. "Want to test that theory?"
Questions run through everyone's mind as you all turn to look at Johnny after his outburst.
âWhat, are you gonna kill us or something?â Haechan responds wearily.
"No, but I should, with the headache you have given me.â
âSoâŠ?â You urge him to continue.
"You two keep saying how much you can't stand each other, so how about we put that to the test?" Johnny closes with a sinister grin.
âI feel like you're gonna say something really stupid next." Mark comments
Johnny ushers your other friends into a huddle and tries his best to whisper in his drunken state.
"Guys, just hear me out? We can all feel the tension between these two. They clearly need to fuck or something, so how about we help them along so we don't have to deal with them trying to tear each other apart?â
âHow would we do that?â
âWe can hear you, and I am NOT fucking him."
âOh come on, we see the way you two look at each other; you're both just too stubborn to realize it.â
"Hyuck, don't just sit there; help me out here!" you plead
âThey have a point, though; you do want to fuck me,â he confidently adds.
"Please, you would be lucky enough if I poked you with a stick,â you say in distaste.
âOrder! Order!â Johnny slurs, "Look, I have a way for you both to prove yourselves,â using his beer can as a makeshift gavel.
âYeah, where were you even going with all of this? Man get to the point,â Mark mutters as he gets comfortable on the sofa.
â"What if you two take an aphrodisiac together and try not to touch each other? If you can last, then you two will win and show everyone how much you despise one another."
The room is silent when Johnny finishes pitching his idea. You think he definitely had one too many drinks tonight. What kind of plan was this? There was no way in hell you would go along with ANY of Johnny's half-baked ideas, but this one was especially crazy. You were just about to shoot down the idea when another voice interrupted you.
âI'm down. What? You can't stand the idea of keeping your hands off me?â Haechan grumbles upon seeing your reaction.
âwhat? I was just thinking this is stupid. What do I even get out of this? I don't care what you people think,â you huff.
âHow about I give you each $500 if you win?â
âDo you-â you start.
âAND Mark does your homework for 2 weeks.â
âHey! I didn't-â mark says
âAND Yuna does your share of the chores at your dorm.â
âWHA-!â yuna argues
"Deal," you quickly say before anyone can finish their complaints.
"Dude, this is not what we discussed,â Mark complains. Johnny whispers to him about something, and he perks up a little as Johnny makes him a promise. "Fine"
Johnny lays down the rules for you two. You and Haechan will both take an aphrodisiac pill and be restricted to the upstairs bedroom. Youâll have to stay in the room with each other for 3 hours, and if you two can withstand the 3 hours without touching each other, you win. If you lose, you both have agreed to play nice with each other or at least around other people.
As soon as you both take the pink pill, Johnny starts the timer. You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom, where you often crash on the weekends. This was definitely not how you thought you would be spending the weekend.
âWeâll come knocking when the timeâs up! Yuna yells from downstairs.
You pout playfully and mock her from over the railing of the stairs. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.
âOh real mature,â Haechan chuckles as he shuffles past you up the stairs. The staircase was really narrow, and you could practically feel his body heat against you as he went. The pills' effects haven't even fully settled in yet, and you're already feeling things you shouldn't. If you were planning on winning, you would have to get it together. Maybe this wasn't as easy as you thought.
As you make your way up the remaining stairs, you see Haechan standing by the door frame, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes. "You're stalling."
You murmur under your breath, "I'll literally give you my half of the money if you shut up for the next three hours," but drag yourself into the room nevertheless.
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The first 20 minutes aren't terrible. You guys make yourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the room and pick a random wall to stare at. As Haechan makes himself comfortable on the room's lone bed, you take a seat on a little bench that lines a sizable window. You're grateful he keeps his mouth shut. This was probably the longest you two have been in each other's presence without speaking.
It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that the effect hit you. Your breathing grew labored, and your blood started to flow through your veins more quickly. Your body started to heat up. To cool down, you placed your face on the window, breathing fogging the glass. When you looked up to see how Haechan was fairing, he was already looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes as his chest expanded with each deep inhale.
As much as he got on your last nerve, you had always thought he was attractive. His tan honey skin that glowed in the sunlight, his pretty moles that you would kill to kiss, and his gorgeous eyes that always made your heart beat just a little harder when he would glare at you whenever you hit a nerve. You loved seeing him worked up, but the few moments you got to see him when he was happy were moments you stored deep in the vault of your heart. You hated him; there was no time for admiring him.
You tried to shove those thoughts away, but It was as though all the thoughts you had been working so hard to suppress had suddenly surfaced. All you could think about was his plump lips and how they would feel on your body. How his fingers would feel encircling your throat, pressing the chilly rings that decorated his hands against your skin. His golden locks flowing through your fingers as you hold him close. You couldn't resist licking your lips at the idea.
âDon't fucking do that,â he abruptly spoke. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He spreads his legs further, trying to get comfortable in his spot across the room.
You try to fight the urge, but your eyes travel down his body to the bulge in his sweats. You immediately cross your legs at the sight. You had to clutch onto the pillows of the seat you were in; otherwise, you don't think you could stop yourself from crossing the room in a heartbeat.
âWhat? Can't handle it hyuckie?â You coo at him, using the old nickname you haven't called him since middle school. You had to find some ground in this setting. You couldn't let him see how weak he was making you.
"Out of all the times you pick to be a brat, now is not the time," he grumbles mockingly.
âWhy? Am I getting on your nerves? Hmm, I could only wonder what that must feel like,â you sneered. You were so horny, it's pissing you off. You decide Haechan can use a taste of his own medicine, and what better way to blow off steam than to get under his skin?
âMaybe they were right. Maybe you do need a good fuck for you to lose the attitude.â
âShut the fuck up.â
"Careful," he smirks, licking his lips.
You know that look; he's testing you. He's daring you to say something else.
"That's what I thought," he says, closing his eyes and attempting to control his breathing.
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You're about an hour in, and you can't take it any longer; you're practically rutting against the seam of your jeans, hoping for some kind of friction.
"Please, I can't do this anymore," you cry out for air. You turn to face him, but he doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his brows are drawn together as if he's in pain.
âHaechan!â You scream again; this time he slowly opens his eyes, and you suck in a breath as your eyes meet. His pupils were completely blown as sweat pricked his brow.
âAre you giving up?"
You nod in response.
âThat's too bad; I still want to win,â he smirks lazily.
"Let's just forfeit; this is stupid!â You stand from where you were seated and head to the door. This prompts Haechan to finally move from his spot as he uses his long legs to cross the room in three wide strides. Before you can open the door, he stops you. For the first time since you two entered the room, he touches you. While keeping his body an arms' length away from you, he is shoving you up against the door by your shoulders. Your body is on fire at the mere touch, and you're grateful for the little bit of space he has given you.
âCalm down. Think this through,â he huffs as if out of breath. âjust-just think of the money.â
âI don't care about this stupid bet! I feel like I'm going to explode,â you cry, fighting to escape his hold, but he just pins you back against the door.
âHow about I take care of it then? Hmm?â He begs, never breaking eye contact. âI'll take the pain away, baby. Just work with me, yeah?"
"That defeats the point Haechan; we aren't supposed to touch each other; I thought you were smarter than that," you protest, growing increasingly frustrated.
âAs long as you keep those gorgeous lips shut, nobody would ever know.â He slowly closes in on you as he speaks. âI help you out, and when we get out of this room, we pretend like nothing happened, and that we still can't stand each other, deal?â He's a breath away. The close proximity, the way he's practically breathing down your neck, and the look in his eyes that tells you he is only about 2 seconds away from devouring you were all you needed to go along with Haechan's scheme.
You stopped listening about halfway through anyway so you nodded mindlessly before closing the remaining space between the two of you. You're pushing off the door and pressing your body against his as you guide him towards the bed. Even though you can both feel your lungs starting to burn, neither of you has the strength to break the kiss. When his legs met the edge of the bed, he sat, giving you both time to regain your breath. He's resting back against his hands, looking up at you, and his legs are spread wide as if he were offering himself to you.
"Come on princess, take whatever you want from me," he smirks as you get into his lap and nestle down against the tent in his pants. You push him until his back is flush against the mattress, then mindlessly grind down on him. You use his chest to steady yourself as you throw your head back and drown in the feeling. You feel Haechan's hands gripping your waist and then traveling up your torso. His hands explored your body as you got lost in each other. Haechan sits up to meet your lips in another passionate kiss. As he deepens the kiss, he clutches your waist tightly to restrict your movements. You whine at the lack of stimulation, but all he can do is smile against your lips in return.
âBe patient baby; let me love on you.â
âThisâŠwasâŠnotâŠa part ofâŠthe deal,â you try to finish as he lovingly pecks your lips.
"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down? Shut up,â he says, ignoring your insistent whining, lavishing your face and neck in wet kisses. Any âlovingâ he was going to give vanished at your bratty behavior.
âStop teasing, hyuck seriously. I think I'm going insane.â
You were on the verge of tears at this point; you needed him to give you some type of relief. That's exactly how he wanted youâdesperate and needyânot like you already weren't, but he liked to push you to your limits.
âLay down for me,â he says, releasing his grip on your hips and patting your thigh to signal you to get up. You swiftly move to lay on the bed, and you watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head and takes off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his underwear. He climbs the bed and helps you remove your jeans. As he's tugging the material down your thick thighs, you remove your shirt and bra. He settles between your legs, and you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist. He has to press his palm down against your lower stomach to stop you from grinding against him again.
"You promise to behave?" He prys your legs free from his waist, trapping them against your chest and restricting your movement.
You nod mindlessly, reaching out to grab him and trying to draw him into another kiss, but he pins your hands above your head, using his hips instead to further pin you down.
"Uh-uh princess, use your words," he adds coldly.
âPlease hyuck, I promise I'll be good.â
âYou going to be a good girl and keep that mouth shut?â
You were exhausted from having to use your brain to come up with a coherent response; you were at your limit. All you could think about was him filling you up, and every second he didn't, it felt like a year of your life span was shaved off. You did cry this time. You were so frustrated with him; he did this all the time. He never plays nice; he always makes you work for it.
"Oh you poor baby," he coos lovingly as he kisses your eyelids and wipes away your tears. "I'm sorry, but I have to hear you say it," he continues.
"I promise to be your good girl; I swear I won't make a sound, please," you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.
âIf I hear one sound, I'm stopping, and you can walk out of this room and finish yourself off, got it?â
You've learned to respond quickly when he asks you a question, so you nod your head with a "yes sir."
This makes Haechan smile wickedly. Who would have guessed that the same brat who walked into the room with him no less than an hour ago could be so obedient? He was definitely never letting you live this down when this was over. He finally decides to take pity on you, kisses down your body, and removes your panties. He threw your legs over his shoulders, and a quick kiss to your inner thigh was all the warning you got before he nuzzled his nose up against your clit as he licked into your entrance. He savored the taste with his tongue before licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The sounds his mouth made as he devoured you were wet and noisy as he slurped away at your essence.
You were fighting for your life above him. Reaching for a pillow that was just almost out of reach, you used it to smother your sounds. A sharp slap on your outer thigh served as a warning to keep your voice down. It was the only warning you were going to get. Soon the pillow is long forgotten as you gasp for air. Your thighs began to shake as you choked on your moans. Your back arches, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll. You were going to come, and you would have welcomed it with open arms any other time, but you knew how loud you could get. He was not letting up, and you knew if you came like this, you wouldn't be able to hold back the scream that's been dying to echo against the walls.
You try your best to fight it off. You frantically push at his head, begging him with your eyes as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to bite back moans. He shakes his head no, but the movement simply adds to the pleasure, and you're about to lose it. You try to get away from his mouth by shifting up the bed, but his powerful arms wrap around your thighs and pull you back down onto his mouth.
"Hae-" His look silences you, and your mouth hangs wide in a silent cry as you spasm on his tongue. It was the most intense orgasm you'd ever felt. Once he helps you ride out the wave, he kisses your pussy one more time before pulling away. As soon as he does, you snap your legs shut, still reeling from the orgasm. His face was practically dripping as he stared you down, hungry.
"Better?" he asks, brushing the back of his palm across his face.
"Mhm,â you reply, causing him to raise a brow, "better,â you quickly follow, using your voice.
Your eyes travel down his body until they reach what youâve been craving for the most. Haechan was harder than you thought could even be possible. His tip was a furious shade of crimson, gleaming in precum.Â
"One more baby," he strokes his length before hissing and gripping the base. "Just be my good girl one more time," he begs.
You almost feel bad. The whole time he was teasing you, he was also teasing himself. You're amazed he's maintained this level of self-control up to this point.
âI don't know if I can keep quiet if we continue,â you plead.
âOpen your mouthâ is all he says as he prys your legs open and settles between them.
You comply, and Haechan shoves your panties into your mouth. You try to object, but he covers your mouth with his palm for added security.
"My turn," he grins before bottoming out inside you. The first few strokes are so deep, you can practically feel him in your stomach. He's trying to keep control; he's trying to be gentle with you because he knows how sensitive you are, but he's slowly losing it. He's going to use you like a doll. His thrusts pick up pace, and all you can hear in the room is skin slapping against skin unforgivingly. The hand around your mouth clamps down harder as he buries his head into your neck.
âIm sorry... fuckâ was all you got as he hiked your leg up higher on his waist, trying to hit deeper. His hot breath fanning across your neck and the soft staccato groans he lets out are the only indications that he is close. Your head is in the clouds, and you can't think straight. You barely register the fact that you came again until he bites at your neck to muffle his deep groan at the feeling of your walls tightening down on him. Next thing you know, he's snapped.
He quickly sits up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he drives his hips down into you, practically fucking you into the mattress until his hips are stuttering. He pulls the panties from your mouth to kiss you in the hopes of drowning out his own sounds of pleasure. His kiss is messy. It's nothing but tongue and teeth as his thrusts grow slopy. He's practically whimpering into your mouth when he cums.He rides out his high before pulling away from your lips. All you can do is stare at each other as you catch your breath. There is a brief moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. He collapses next to you and pulls you close.
âYou think they heard that?â he asks, panting.
"Oh, we definitely heard everything." A muffled voice can be heard through the door, and you assume it's Yunas.
You're too sleepy to feel embarrassed as your eyelids begin to droop.
"Don't worry, you two; we'll say you won as long as you don't try to kill each other again." Johnny's muffled voice can be heard next.
"I don't think she'll be able to do much for a while," Haechan muffles. Speaking to your sleeping form more than anyone else.
"I'll get the plan B girl. I gotchu," Yuna voice fades as she walks down the hallway.
She was definitely gonna grill you for the details. She always wanted a run-down play by play of everything that happened.
Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in haechans warm embrace.
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Johnny would call his mission a success. You two stopped arguing for the most part, and the group was able to enjoy more peaceful outings without the two of you turning every conversation into a debate. Your friends were fond of your bickering, but at times it could get to be too much. But now that your relationship with Haechan has blossomed into aâŠ.situationship? They were running into another problem.
You two fuck like rabbits.
No matter where you were, you two were slipping off to do who knows what or being all touchy-feely with each other, and your friends didn't want to see or hear any of it. But because you two seemed happier, they learned to cope with it. Yuna bought new noise-canceling headphones to use whenever Haechan would spend the night at your dorm. Johnny upgraded the speakers in the house so that when he had a party and you two snuck away, the music could blast louder to drown out your noises. Mark downloaded more mobile games on his phones to ignore you two when you would get all lovey during movie nights.
Haechan still picked on you, but he saved it more for the bedroom, and you still tried to test his patience any chance you got. You didn't know what you two had, but you didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted or even furthering it. You learned a lot more about Haechan and discovered that you two had more in common than you believed. You also learned he could be a real sweetheart sometimes. Maybe your friends were right all along, and maybe Johnny isn't as crazy as you thought. Maybe you didn't have to be better than Haechan all along.
Rushed ending opps
#haechan#lee haechan#haechan smut#nct smut#nct dream#nct 127#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#smut#right before i post a fic i get the worst case of anxiety it makes me wanna puke#like whats stopping me from deleting this rn đ€#imma let yall have it tho đ€Ș
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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.
Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink
WC: 7.1k
Chapter 13/20
Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!
Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no oneâs looking. Today, heâs stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.
âI thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,â you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. Itâs made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.
Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. âAh, but the PTA meeting is after school today.â As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend⊠âFigured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.â He lowers his voice to add, âIâm sorry I wonât be able to make it. But Wayneâll be there.â He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you.Â
You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. âWhat can I do for ya, Abby?â you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.
âJoshua said that heâs taller than me!â she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and sheâs already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.
You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abbyâs distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. âHoney, he is taller than you,â you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.
âYeah, but he doesnât havta say it!â she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. Itâs one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.
You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. âWell, you can just play somewhere else. And weâre gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.â Time to sing the Good Morning songâagain. If the kids didnât beg for it every day, you wouldâve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.
Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie.Â
âWeâre still on for Saturday?â you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzoâs. Itâs a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.
He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when heâs nervous, though youâre not quite sure whatâs on his mind. âY-Yeah, Iâll pick you up at 7?â
âI canât wait.â
At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom thatâs serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that itâs Ms. Marionâs room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harrisâs artwork. You find it easily; itâs the best in the class. Itâs a drawing based on the saying, âMarch is in like a lion and out like a lamb,â and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. Heâs drawn a zig-zag line under the lionâs pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambsâ bodies. Heâs also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lionâs says âROR!!!â and the lamb bleats âBAAA.âÂ
Willâs gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what youâre staring at. âHeâs a talented kid,â he remarks. âWe gotta have him sign something now so we can say âwe knew him when.ââÂ
You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. Youâll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.
Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.
âHowâs your day going, Wayne?â You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. Heâs wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.
Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, itâs the equivalent of a beaming smile. âCanât complain. Didnât get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitterâs.â He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. âWell, new to him. That stuffâs gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.â He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. âJeez, âm old. I remember buyinâ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.â
More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.
âWelcome, everyone,â she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. âThank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so letâs get to it!â Sheâs far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. Itâs an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; thereâs a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.
âOh, Edâs gonna love that,â Wayne leans in and whispers to you. âHeâll probably be more excited than Harris.â He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.
The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.
You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: âWhat is there to be ready for? Itâs kindergarten, Jesus Christ.â and you have to stifle a laugh.
Linda luckily doesnât hear his lament. âIâm opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.â Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. Itâs precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room.Â
âYes, I have a question.â Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. âWhat is the schoolâs policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic andâŠotherwise?â Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that sheâs enjoying this. âBecause, to me,â she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, âit just seems completely unprofessional.â
The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.
You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayneâs eyes on the back of your head, as though heâs silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that heâs doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.
At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. âMs. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.â Sue Sinclairâs expression is stoic, unreadable, and youâre not sure whether sheâs angry at you or Carol. How would she know itâs me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and youâre all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carolâs little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.
A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.
âItâs okay,â he softly reassures you. âI donât think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isnât in your class anymore.â
âI-I know.â But Frankie is, which means Iâll have to face Carol every day, Iâll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.
Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. âDarlinâ, youâve got nothinâ to worry about. Itâs no oneâs business who youâre with.â He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. âI gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.â He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.
Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they donât know about you and Eddie yet, youâre confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why.Â
Eddieâs hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your numberâhis favorite seven digit combination in the worldâand beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, âhello?â, heâs practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.
âBabe, guess what?â He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.
âWhatâs up?âÂ
He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. âI applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?â He hears your soft âmhm,â before proceeding. âAnd I got it! Ash just told me now!â He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. âEddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkinsâ wildest dreams!â
Thereâs a pause on your end of the line before you reply. âIâm so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.âÂ
Though thereâs still an air of something Eddie canât quite identify, itâs woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. âNow we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzoâs.â
Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. âUm, about thatâŠâ you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you donât hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, âmaybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?â
His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. âEverything okay?â
âYeah, just been a long week.â
It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesnât believe you, but he needs to get to Wayneâs and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. âI really wanted to take you out, show you off, yâknow?â He clears his throat, scrambling for words. âWe can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.â
âMmkay,â you mumble, and Eddie hopes heâs not just imagining the smile in your voice. âIâll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.â
He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home?Â
I shouldnât have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson.Â
Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayneâs, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. Heâs suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a poolâwell, maybe not a pool; heâs not making that much moneyâbut definitely space for Harris to run around and play.
And in this fantasy world heâs created, youâre standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a Worldâs Best Mom mugâpossibly the only mug Wayne doesnât already have nailed to the trailer wallâmade just the way you like it. Youâre laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.
Heâd sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neckâ
âThatâs amazing, Ed!â Wayne claps a hand on his nephewâs back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. âYou talk to your girl yet?âÂ
âFirst person I called.â My girl. The first person I called was my girl. Sheâs my girl and Iâm her manâ
âGood.â Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. âShe could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.â
Eddieâs brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. âWhat are you talking about?â he asks before calling out his sonâs name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didnât result in a lesson learned.
âShe didnât tell you?âÂ
âTell me what?â He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Werenât you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?
Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddieâs face falls with each word. âShe seemed real shook up,â he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. âI wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.â
Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. âYeah, no, âs fine.â He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. Itâs not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising.Â
What worries Eddie is why you didnât tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didnât want to be seen at Enzoâs with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?
Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddieâs flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. âItâs pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you loââ
âWayne!â
âFine, fine,â Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. âBut you should just talk to her. Make sure sheâs okay.â He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. âI know it ainât been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.â
Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. Heâd bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, heâd learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that theyâd all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something heâd never had before: safety.
Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. Thereâs not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even thatâs on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, theyâd probably leave without taking a thing. âThanks, Old Man.â
ââS what Iâm here for,â Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harrisâs mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasnât done in years: he kisses the top of Eddieâs head, too. âNot just a pretty face, yâknow.â
On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradleyâs Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. Heâs determined to take you to Enzoâs, and heâd hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.
He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. Theyâre delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:
âThought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.â
âMy idiot husband came home early,â a womanâCarol Perkins, Eddie realizesâpunctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. âBut speaking of that meetingâIâve been meaning to tell you: guess whoâs also hooking up?â She doesnât wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, âFrankieâs teacher and Eddie Munson.â
âThe teacher and the Freak? No way.â He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. âDidnât know she was down for that kind of stuff.â
âKeep it in your pants,â Carol huffs, as though sheâs not stepping out on her own husband. âBut Iâm serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.â
Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billyâs second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. âLove notes? What, is he in high school or something?â
Carol snickers. âGuess heâs making up for all the times he didnât bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.â
âLooks like he had to go for an import,â Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the manâs ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.
âAnd a desperate one at that,â she snorts. âI mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?â
âLetâs hope she comes to her senses eventually,â he agrees. âSo, is your husband home nowâŠ?â
All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. Heâs so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.
âHey! Get back here!â The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. âEddie Munson. Of course. I shouldâve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.âÂ
Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. âNoâŠI didnât meanâŠit was an accidentâŠâ
The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. Heâs a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, âHeard that one before. Probâly from you.â
Anger burns in Eddieâs throat, but he swallows it. âLook, let me just pay for these, and Iâll get outta here.â He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.
âNice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.â His cold hand clasps Eddieâs bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. âIâm calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.â
âShit-shit-shit,â Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the manâs grip. âYâdonât have to hold me; Iâm not gonna run away.â
To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though itâs likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.
Heâs taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that heâs supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that itâs for the 1990 fiscal year, and he canât help but wonder if thatâs the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees.Â
He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.
Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.
You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detailâEddie.
Youâd expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didnât show. He wouldâve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.
Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesnât want to deal with the backlash heâll get from dating his kidâs former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling.Â
At 7:30, Eddie still hasnât shown. Heâs not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for himâyou were too much for him.Â
Youâre about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.
âH-Hello?â
âThis is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?â an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances itâs reporting.
Youâre caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, âyesâ and the line rings twice.
âSweetheart? You there?â Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where heâs calling from.
âY-Yeah, Iâm here,â you say, and itâs only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly youâre gripping the receiver. âWhy are you inââ
He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. âLong story,â he mumbles. âCan you just come and get me? Thereâs, uh, no bail or anything.â
âIâll be right there.â You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. Youâre ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that heâs been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.
You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence youâre faking.Â
âIâm here to pick up Eddieâer, Edward Munson?â His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesnât quite belong to him.Â
The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads âP. Callahan.â He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket.Â
âHop, is Munson ready to be released?â Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety.Â
The officer on the other endâChief Hopper, you presumeâconfirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face.Â
You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddieâs hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.
âBabe, what happened?â you ask once youâre safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.
Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall.Â
âItâs awful being on the inside,â he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. âYouâve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldnât stop thinkinâ about you and almost got shanked.â
His joke subtly informs you that heâs not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now. âPoor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.â
âIt was more like forty-five,â he protests, âand every second counts when itâs spent missing my girl.â
âYouâre so full of it, Munson.â My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldnât complain.
He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. âFull of longing and devotion!â
âSshh!â you chastise him lightly through your giggling. âGet in the car, crazy man.â
âCrazy âbout you!â Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, heâs resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.
Tell me what happened. Donât keep any more secrets from me. I wonât judge you or leave you. Iâm your girl, remember?
It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, âIs everything okay?â Itâs a stupid question; you donât get arrested if everythingâs okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce.Â
ââM good.â He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesnât quite reach his eyes.Â
You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. âCan we talk about what happened?âÂ
His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. âNot a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.â
âA misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?â Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isnât. Stop making me feel like you donât trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.
âYup.â He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.
You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. Thereâs only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is heâs keeping from you, thereâs a reason he hasnât worked up the courage to say it.Â
Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. âWhere are weââ
âYouâll see.â
Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. âCan I make my man feel good?â you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.
âShit, baby,â he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants arenât as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. ââS exactly what I need.â
But it isnât solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didnât crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak.Â
You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline.Â
Eddieâs hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. âFeelsâmmfâfeels good,â he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, âgonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.â
âSâokay,â you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. âJust wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.â
âYeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.â He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. âLet me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.â
You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. âFine, fine,â you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. âThe last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.â
Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. âWhâŠwhat?â His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion.Â
âWeâve only been together, like, a month.â Itâs too obvious a point to confuse him. Thereâs no way he really wants a kid with you right now. âWe canât have a babyââ
Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. âBut thatâs not what you said.â You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you canât immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. âYou said that we canât have people seeing that I knocked you up. WhyâŠwhy wouldnât you want people knowing that IâŠ?â
The imagined swell of your belly that heâd hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summerâs heat. Youâre tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame youâre carrying along with Eddie Munsonâs child.
âI just figured you wouldnât want people talking about you,â you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harrisâs injury. You bring yourself back to the driverâs seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. âYou wouldnât be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that weâd, yâknow, have a kid right nowâŠbecause you already have one, and this is all so newâŠâ You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.
Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. âWhy would I be upset? Youâre my girl.â Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesnât move to retrieve it. âYou still want to be my girl, right?â
âI still want to be your girl,â you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. âI just donât want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you canât even tell me why you were in jail tonight. Thatâs a pretty big deal, Eds.â Thereâs a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. âWhy wonât you tell me?â
âI could ask you the same thing,â he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. âI had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.â
The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. âYouâd just told me about your promotion,â you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, âI didnât want toââ
âSo, yesterday? Or today?â he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. âYou couldâve called me.â
You could have; youâd certainly considered it more than once, but you didnât want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. âI thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldnât want to be with me anymore. Youâd think I was too much of a burden.â
âYou?â Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. âYou think that youâre the burden? That youâre the reason why people are talking about this?â People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesnât catch it. âNah, Sweetheart. In the equation of âTeacherâ plus âFreak,â youâre hardly the problematic variable.â
ââTeacher plus Freak?ââÂ
âTeacher,â he says slowly, pointing to you, âFreak.â He brings his forefinger to his own chest. âIâm kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.â He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. âPeople I care about.â
Youâre unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years.Â
Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. âTonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That youâd realize youâre too good for me and leave.â His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.
âToo good for you?â The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. âToo good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?â You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. âToo good for the man who would do anything for his son?â
âNo,â Eddie shoots back, âtoo good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. WhoâŠwho got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradleyâs because heâd stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasnât on purpose.â He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After heâd schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where heâd ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.
You take a sharp breath in. âThatâs what happened tonight?â
âYeah,â he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. âThose schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckinâ idiot.â He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyoneâs attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until heâs simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.
âFuck, âm sorry,â he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. âThanks.â
âYou donât ever need to apologize to me for crying,â you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. âI wantâI need you to be able to show me what youâre feeling.â Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. âWhy do we let them get to us?â you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.
âI was thinking about that,â Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. Heâll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows heâll find it there tomorrow. âLike, I didnât give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?â He takes a deep breath through his mouth. âAnd I realizedâŠitâs because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.â He swallows before stroking your cheek. âI want to be enough for you.â
You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. âYouâre enough, Eddie. Youâve always been enough.â Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. âI have an idea. Why donât we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.â You immediately worry that youâve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. âWe can still go out to dinner; I just figuredâŠafter the night you hadâŠâ
He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. âIâd love that.â Before you can start the car again, he says, âwhat Carol said at the meetingâŠdid it really make you think I wouldnât want to be with you?â
You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. âYou already have so much on your plate. I didnât want to be another problem to deal with.â
Eddieâs expression hardens, but his frustration isnât directed towards you. Itâs for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.
âEddie!â you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin.Â
He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, heâs smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. âYou are not a problem. Never.â He pauses, collecting his thoughts. âWe make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, weâll justâŠsic Harris on them.â
The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but itâs not quite as heavy as it was before.Â
You arenât too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.
And youâre everything to each other.Â
--
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#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#tui
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Follow Me Not [ZCL] Masterlist
Description: After Chenle "accidentally" hits the follow button on Twitter, you try to get him to unfollow you by any means necessary, even if he's keen on staying right where he's at.
Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (featuring NCT Mark, NCT Jaemin, aespa Ningning, & aespa Karina)
Genre: SOCIAL MEDIA AU! :D suggestive, crack, funny haha stuff idk
This series includes explicit & suggestive content & is not suitable for audiences under 18. If you are a minor, please do not interact.
Content Warnings: suggestive content, man-hating jokes, kys jokes, etc etc will add more when I think of them
Notes: I hit 500 followers!! Thank you everyone <3 this is a little experiment I've been wanting to try for a while, and what's better timing than this??? lol please ignore time stamps i'm too lazy to fix all of them
taglist: open! message me or comment to be addedđ„°
Contents
profiles: âšsmâs dumb shits + chenleâš profiles: the gorlzđ€Șđ©·
chapter 1: plz think of the ratios 2024.1.29 chapter 2: y/n declares war 2024.1.31 chapter 3: russian roulette nct version âčïž 2024.2.2 chapter 4: detective y/n on the case đ€đđ» 2024.2.4 chapter 5: he SNUCK???? 2024.2.5 chapter 6: all the way formal đ 2024.2.6 chapter 7: i've been bamboozledđđđ 2024.2.7 chapter 8: đ„°đ€đ„șđ« always always always 2024.2.8 chapter 9: time lapse 2024.2.9 chapter 10: operation y/nle 2024.2.10 chapter 11: here's the deal 2024.2.11 chapter 12: come here and act normal 2024.2.12 chapter 13: ?????? REPENT SINNER 2024.2.13 bonus: chapter 13.5: maroon (m) 2024.2.13 chapter 14: like the old daysđ€Șđ€© 2024.2.14 chapter 15: tired of you two đ 2024.2.15 chapter 16: sleepovers every night đ„łđ„ł 2024.2.16 chapter 17: #ynleisback â€ïž 2024.2.17 chapter 18: đthat mess is all mineđ 2024.2.18 chapter 19: đ€ -> 𧹠2024.2.19 epilogue: ç»ć°Ÿ â€ïž (the endâ€ïž) 2024.2.20
+ sneak peek at the timeline...
#nct dream#chenle#nct dream smau#chenle smau#chenle x reader#chenle angst#chenle fluff#chenle smut#nct angst#nct fluff#nct smut#nct dream smut#nct dream angst#nct dream fluff#social media au
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necessities 4
series desc: modern day (fem) reader x classic prythian az
warnings: 18+, sexual tension, horny az, reader is ditsy
a/n: i know what i said i swear im trying to update bee series lol
wc: 2.4k
other parts will be on my az masterlist <3
four
No matter what you did, you couldn't sleep, despite your long stargaze on the balcony, and the heaviness you'd felt after dinnerâyou just couldn't sleep.
"Azriel? Are you awake?" You call out, biting down softly on your lip. There's a moment of silence where you think he's asleep. That was part of the problem it was too silent. No cars outside, no second generation hatch with ocean noises and a peach glow night light, no fan or ac.
"Yes, did you need something?" he finally asks, he had offered you the bed and made himself comfortable on the sofa he had in the other room. It was close by, but not close enough. And the dark corners of his room? Fuck no. You'd seen enough horror movies to know what kind of things lurked in corners.
"I'm scared," you respond and he couldn't help the amused smirk that found its way onto his lips. One thing he had observed in his short time knowing you is that even if you weren't the brightest, you were certainly the cutest. Something tugged in his chestâ an urge to comfort you and make you feel secure. A human, he swallowed. "Can you come in here?" your next question caught him off guard, go in there? How was he supposed to keep his hands to himself? "Please?" you ask when he still hadn't said anything. He lets out a soft sigh and the next thing you know hes next to you, you jumped a little, you didnt think you could ever get used to that, the silenceâ the quickness in his movements.
"What are you afraid of?" he asks softly, the bed dipped gently with his weight as he sat, leaning against the headboard with his legs off of the side and his wings tucked neatly, draping slightly off of the side of the bed. You snuck a glance at him and your mouth went completely dry, your breath getting caught in your throat, he was shirtless and was it a sight. It was dark, but the soft glow of starlight from the windows and the balcony illuminated his lean muscular torso, gorgeous tattoos covered his body and arms. It made you feel self conscious about the girly little pink butterflies that were tramp stamped onto your lower back. His face was angled toward you, tipped back in a lazy way, a pillow between his neck and the headboard.
"Huh?" you mumble, forgetting what he had even asked, your heart was beating faster than it ever had. Even faster than it had your first time playing seven minutes in heaven and you'd ended up in the closet with Colin Taylorâ who had been the hottest boy in the eighth grade at the time.
Azriel smirked down at you, but his eyes revealed nothing, his nostrils flared slightly as your sweet scent traveled up and tickled his senses making him hyper aware of the way his cock was pressed against the thin fabric of his sleeping pants. "I said," his voice was a bit lower now, more gravelly, because he was also hyper aware of your bare legs underneath the fabric of the blanket, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. "What are you afraid of?" he repeated his question and his voice travelled along your bones, warming you from the inside out, you swallowed thickly, your cheeks burning.
"Well I was afraid there was a ghost in the corner but now Im afraid youre some kind of demon with sex powers," you reply quietly, your heart was hammering, your legs were pressed tightly together underneath the blankets, and that familiar warm and fuzzy feeling was beginning to fill the pit of your belly. He was mesmerizing and the effect he had on you was infuriating.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement and desire. He liked this, he liked that all it took was a look and the sweet smell of your sex would fill his space, it would suffocate him in a way that he knew he was going to begin craving. Play with her. The shadows were begging.
"No powers, but Ive been told Imâ gifted." Your cheeks burn at his words, your mind immediately going to the size of his cock, you had been forcing yourself not to look down. "I think you just like looking at me, I can smell it," Azriel surprised himself with his words, it wasnt often he was this bold with a female. Your cheeks flushed even deeper with his admittance and you were glad it was dark in his room.
"Smell what?" you demanded, suddenly feeling self conscious, your body felt so hot. You resisted the urge to throw the thick blanket off of your body.
Your sweet delicious little cunt that is aching and soaking just for me, but you can't tell if youre terrified of me or if you want to fuck me which makes it all the more exciting and delightful for me, knowing that youre just a little scared.
He cleared his throat and said instead, "Nothing Bubbles, you should get some rest," Azriel resisted the urge to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, it kept falling over your eyes and it bothered him for some reason.
"Goodnight," you sigh, wishing you had the courage to press the question.
"Goodnight."
-
When you woke up the next morning Azriel wasn't next to you in bed anymore. He was sitting on the balconyâ drinking tea, of all things.
You slid out of bed and stood there a few paces inside, peering at him for a moment, it must have been dawn because the sky was colored with oranges and pinks. There was an aura of shadows around him like the first time you met, it was so unnatural yet it seemed to match him well.
âDo you always stare this much?â he chuckled quietly without turning his head in the slightest, how did he do that? You felt your cheeks heat up, your throat going dry. Every time he laughedâ or spoke in that deliciously gravelly voice it seemed to travel through your blood and warm you from the inside out.
âI wasn't staring!â you countered, scrunching your nose up at him, he turned his head to the side now, an amused smile pulling at his lips.
âThere's tea, kettles hot,â he says softly, but he's still not fully facing you, his profile is breathtaking though. You could imagine a full page spread of Azriel modeling for Calvin Klein, the thought made your mouth water. Maybe on a balcony similar to this one just half nakedââStill staring,â he croons and your cheeks grow hot again.
âOh shut it,â you snap and whirl on your heel to fetch your own cup of tea so you could join him on the balcony.
He still doesn't move when you take a seat in one of the ridiculously large chairs next to him, the backs designed to accommodate his wings. How could anyone ever sit so fucking still for so long? You certainly couldn't, not without your for you page.
âSo like I'm guessing you don't have salted caramel cold brews here?â
âNo, sorry Bubbles,â he sends you another glance, he definitely didnt know what that was.
âSo what are we doing today?â you ask, your eyes traveling from one beautiful view to the other, you could see Azriels head turn in your peripheral vision. He was watching you take in the view of the sunrise, your heart skipped a beat. You remembered being nervous for various promotional events, when you had to meet people and make sure you didn't stumble over your words, when you had to make connections and brand deals and all that shit that had seemed so important just a day ago. Now, sitting here, in this other realm next to the most beautiful manâ creature you had ever seen⊠It was a new kind of nerves that coiled in your belly and made heat creep up the back of your neck.
âI told you, I'm going to take you to my family. I may know someone that could help you get home, maybe, I asked yesterday but I only gave minimal details. Myâ You could call him a brother, alsoââ he paused, talking to you was difficult, he couldn't just say Rhys was the high lord, you wouldn't understand. âHes also in charge of this land.â
âLike a king?â you ask softly
âYes, but his title is high lord, and where we are now, where this city is, these lands are called the night court. These lands are what he rules over, anyway, hes the one who might be able to help you.â He tried to make it as simple as he could for you.
âIt's all so complicated,â you sigh softly, it was tiring, all these new things you were learning. You also weren't sure if it was so bad here, considering you had spent all of your time with this sex god. âGoogle would come in clutch right now.â
"Google? Clutch?"
"An internet thing. And clutch means likeâ It would be super useful." You were realizing how difficult slang was to explain, did it even make sense?
"Clutch," Azriel repeated, his lips curling into a small smirk, "some breakfast would be clutch, then." His smile only widened when you laughed.
-
You checked yourself one last time in your little compact mirror from your bag and you winced. The only good thing about the robe Azriel had given you to wear was the giant hood that was attached to it. It hid the ugly cut on your forehead that you'd gotten when you landed here. You thought about all of the under eye masks sitting on your vanity at home, you needed them now. You weren't as primped as usual but you'd done your best, and you did look post worthy. Minus the stupid head wound.
âReady?â Azriel asks softly, turning his head toward you. There was a mansion in front of you, and no you were definitely not ready.
âAs ready as I'll ever be, did you tell them?â
âThat I was bringing dinner? No,â he flashed his blinding smile at you and you returned it with a grimace.
âNot funny,â you narrow your eyes at him, your feet feel heavy and your heart is hammering against your chest.
âI thought it was,â he shrugs and opens the door for you, he could see completely over you, and the shadows lead him to the dining room, you followed closely behind. The house was gorgeous, it looked like it could have been straight out of a museum, you fought the urge to take out your phone and take pictures.
âAz?â there's a slight alarm in the smooth voice that speaks first, and you can feel his eyes on you. Az, he didn't mention a nickname. The otherâ Man or monster, whatever he was, was also handsomeâ but not like Azriel, not beautiful like him but still very handsome. And his eyes⊠Were purple. âWho is this?â
âMy new friend,â Azriel says his eyes landing on you again. You blushed at his vague description and he nodded to you. You slowly pulled off your hood and a few gasps sounded about the room. âY/n, also known as Bubbles,â Azriel looks again at you, and then back to the three sitting at the table. "Y/n, this is Rhys, and this is Feyre hisâ" he pauses, he was about to say mate, but he didnt know if you would understand. "His wife, and Nyx, their son," he continues, ignoring Rhys' curious, and also warning stare, the claws knocking at his mental shields, "and her sister, Elain," he finishes, and you make a mental note of each of their names.
âShe's a human,â it's Elain, who speaks next, her voice is honeyed, but there's an edge to it and your eyes fly to her, she's not looking at you, but at Azriel. You see something flash in her eyes and you can tellâ there was something there, you don't know why but your gut twists.
âYes, she is,â the second woman, Feyre says, she's just as beautiful and she's holding the small boy on her lap, he has wings just like Azriels. She's looking back and forth between you and Azriel, and then finally settles back at the other man, Rhys. You notice their pointed ears, are these people fucking elves?
âAnd why⊠Why Azriel, have you brought a human here?â there is an edge in the man's voice, it makes you blush and feel quite unwanted.
âI'mâI'm really sorry for like, barging in on your dinner or whateverâ Usually I would come with like a cute bottle of wine or something but I'm not from here,â you ramble and the three of them are staring at you now, normally you loved being the center of attention. Here? Now? Not so much.
"Any friend of Azriel is a friend of mine," Rhys responds and gestures to the empty chairs at the table. Azriel pulls one out for you before sitting beside you, you immediately begin nervous bouncing your leg. You held back a shriek when two plates of food appeared in front of both of you. You feel Elains eyes on you and you wonder why she was staring so intently. "Is this why you were asking about travelling to other worlds yesterday?" Rhys turns his attention back to Azriel, of course he would be able to tell she wasn't from this world.
"Yes."
"Where did you find her?"
"Spring court."
Feyres head snaps to Azriel, and you swallow, feeling the sudden tension in the air.
"And why were you in the Spring court?" Rhys asks, his eyes glimmering and the question is followed by a long pause.
"Passing through," Azriel says shortly, youre blushing now, because you can tell this conversation holds a weight that you don't understand, and you can tell that hes either being vague or outright lying. "Can you help, or not?" Azriel asks after another pause.
"We'll see what the library has to offerâ tomorrow," Rhys responds thoughtfully, his eyes settle on you and yours shift to your plate.
You decided that you were not cut out for a world with magically appearing foodâ and you weren't exactly sure if you should eat it at all.
â
reblog and i'll give you a kiss ;)
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#acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel smut#acotar fic#azriel spymaster#azriel fluff#azriel fanfic#acotar smut#azriel fan fiction#azriel fic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel#pro azriel
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*:ïŸâ§*:ïŸâ§ these violent delights | davos blackwood (part 9) *:ïŸâ§*:ïŸâ§
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 â€ïžâđ„| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 â€ïžâđ„
ship:Â davos blackwood x fem!oc
warnings: 18+ explicit smut
summary: they fuck
word count: 5333
a/n: this chapter is long asf and I was almost going to publish it as a two parter and leave you all with blue balls once again but I decided to just wait it out until I finished it! So sorry about the extra long wait. Next chapter is the END (I hope) not counting the epilogue okay bye
When Cersha returned to her chamber, she was not surprised to see Davos perched on the bay windowsill, his fingers laced around his bent knee while his injured leg stretched out beside him. She had expected him to be blistering mad at her abrupt dismissal earlier that afternoon, but he was a vision of weary resignation as his forehead rested on the glass. The watery light filtered through the fresh linen shirt he had dressed in, showing the curve of his torso and the sinewy length of his arms. He lifted his head and smiled as the door creaked shut, she saw that he was rid of the patchy beard that had grown in the twelve days since the battle. Had it really been such a short time?
âMy, Iâve never seen you so clean.â She teased.
âAll in service of you, my lady.â He got shakily to his feet and bowed mockingly.
âDavos, please.â She sighed, the elation of her epiphany at the sept already waning.
âWhat?â He cocked his head to the side and offered a slanted smirk. âIâm your sworn protector, arenât I? Chastely sworn⊠we both know how that turned out, now donât we?â
She reddened at the memory of his lips stamping wet marks across her skin. She said nothing, only rolling her eyes. He sat back heavily on the sill and clucked his tongue.
âWere you sitting on that lie for long?â
âOnly sinceâŠâ She drifted off, feeling a wave of residual panic at the memory of the night before. Davosâ face softened and she shied away from the earnestness of it. âLook, Iâm sorry. I am. I just, I wasnât sure how Oscar would take it if he knew who you were or that a Blackwood had killed a Nightâs Watchman on his land, I thought he mightâŠâ
âExecute me on the spot?â
âNo! No, heâd never kill unless he had to. I was afraid he may send you back to your family to be punished for desertion, or that he might have just thrown you in the dungeon or something for starting this whole mess.â
ââStarting this whole mess,â is that what you think? Is that why you still donât trust me after all weâve been through?â
âNo! You were defending your familyâs honour, I cannot fault you that, but the battle began with the swing of your sword. That is the truth. I feared Oscarâs retribution, but his ire is for the lord regent who instructed the default on the assize.â
âAlways trying to protect me, arenât you? What ire could that boy have? He looks as if-â
âAs much ire as Iâll have if you speak ill of him.â He just scoffed and shook his head. âAsides, it matters not. Oscar recognised you.â
âI could have told you that,â He said. âIf youâd only told me of your plans.â
âI see that now.â She ran a hand through her hair. âI surmised you would not take kindly to concealing your identity from the regent high lord. I did not want to fight you.â
âWhy?â His expression darkened as he pushed to his feet and limped a step closer to her. âAre you afraid of me?â A step closer. âThink I might kill you?â
Another step closed the gap between them, his hand coming to rest feather-light on her neck. Her eyelids drooped as the tickles of his callouses fizzed through her brain.
âWeâve come this far crow boy.â She looked up through her lashes, seeing him obscured behind soft focus and beige streaks. âIf you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.â She pressed forward until there was a slight pressure on her throat. âIâve seen the fire in you, but Iâm not scared. It burns for me, does it not?â
âAye.â He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his pupils blew out into glossy black discs in the confines of his dark eyes. âAll for you, my lady.â
That was enough to make her melt into his touch, savouring the warm, full feeling that radiated from his rough hand as it formed the perfect collar around her swan-curved neck. That feeling, not of possession but of belonging, as people sometimes belong to each other. Her hands found his neck in some attempt to mirror the experience back to him, thumbs stroking the smooth skin from his ears to his collarbones as his eyes drifted closed. His breaths grew ragged as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.
âI thinkâŠâ His nose brushed hers, lips so close that every breath was a heady exchange of essence, hearts racing in syncopated time. â...I want to know what itâs like to kiss you.â
âIs that so surprising?â Her fingers stroking his jaw pulsed a rhythm in his veins.
âI donât kiss.â He growled weakly, stomach fluttering like a virgin maid.
âWhy?â Her breath on his lips was the ghost of a kiss.
âBrings all sorts of⊠feelings.â Her hands were in his hair now, scratching gently at his scalp and savouring the rabbity softness of his freshly washed locks until blissful tremors weakened his knees.
âIs that such a bad thing?â He let go of a whimper as she rubbed her nose against his.
âIf I kiss you, Iâll never stand to be parted from you. Iâll have to marry you.â
She pulled back, all the silvery feeling rushing through the channel of their meeting eyes.
âKiss me.â
In that soft afternoon light, safe at last behind the stony battlements with the dull roar of the rushing moat shielding them from silence, in a room lovingly furnished with the colours of their liege, with the perfumed steam from the bath behind the fish mural divider wreathing around them, they shook off their houses like two bucks losing their antlers in spring. It was as if there had been a levee between them, weeping water from long spiderweb cracks, and now the stones came bursting out and there it was. The torrent of feeling, the lips parting, the passion, the crush, the smelting together of two beings in this primeval ritual.
At last they broke apart, her gasping for air and him kissing down her neck, whining against her perfect skin.
âDavos.â She panted. He nipped her. She took a handful of black hair and tugged it firmly. âDavos!â
âMmâŠâ He tilted his head back and she saw his eyes clouded by lust.
âBehave.â She pecked his swollen lips. âI must bathe first. I stink.â
A mischievous grin spread across his face and he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply.
âYou smell-â Sniff. â-fantastic.â
As she lifted her arm to push him away he stuck his face right into the pit and drew in a long breath.
âLike a woman.â He sighed dreamily and began peppering kisses across her chest.
âGet away!â She laughed, lifting her arms and throwing back her head to give him more access to the skin exposed by her dress. âYou foul beast.â
He just chuckled and kissed all over her collarbones, bending double as she backed away until they bumped into the tub. He whined when he realised where they had ended up.
âSweetling.â He pouted, trying to coax her back toward the bed.
âDavos, anyone would think youâre starving.â She rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile. âCome on. Wonât you wash my hair for me?â
âYou know slavery is outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms?â
âJust get in the bath.â She pursed her lips derisively, letting her hands wander up under his shirt to explore the dips and curves of his back. âJust⊠soak with me for a while. Please?â
He scoffed and she could see him fighting against a blissful smile as her nails raked up his spine.
âFine.â
âThank you.â She murmured. âWas that so hard?â
He smiled in that exasperated way, peeled off his shirt and dropped his breeches and underclothes in a swift, practical motion. For an instant she was stunned by the beauty of him; the subtle dips and rises of muscle on his thin limbs and torso, the grazes, bruises and old faded scars that each served as a reminder of passionate fury roused when something he loved was at risk, and the supple pink skin of his dick that hung half-hard by his thigh.
âWhat?â He grinned. âLike what you see?â
âYour wound.â She pointed to the bandage on his thigh, trying to save face.
âOf course.â He rolled his eyes. âDo you want me in the bath or not?â
She bit her lip.
âYou can dress it again later.â He had pulled it off and clambered awkwardly into the milky water before she had the chance to protest, gripping both sides of the tub as he gingerly lowered himself down. âGods, thatâs lovely.â
âYouâre always putting yourself in harmâs way for me.â
âYou love it.â She did love it. âThough I hardly think a bath can be considered âharmâs way.â Besides, this is far nicer than the bath they drew for me. Just hot water, a rag and a bar of soap. NoâŠâ He picked out a floating rose petal and inspected it before letting it float away like a grumpkinâs sailboat. â...luxury.â
She noticed then that she had indeed been showered in what little frills Riverrun could afford with an encroaching war. Roses from the gardens floating on water white from goatâs milk; she suspected from the lactonic, pastoral scent that it was not the cowâs milk favoured by most highborn ladies for bathing. The water was silky through her fingers, from salt and honey she assumed, and lavender oil turned the steam heavy and narcotic.
âThe boy favours you still.â Davos remarked as he reached for a brown-skinned pear from the tray on the side table, cut in half and loaded high with soft cheese and a crust of walnuts, and popped the whole thing in his mouth, wiping the juice with the back of his hand.
âEnough about Oscar.â She flicked a scoop of water at him, making him sputter. âAnd donât eat all those, Iâm starving. Did they not feed you earlier?â
âThey did, but Iâm never satisfied, my lady.â He smiled sweetly. âMinnows and cress on toast, though the ones you catch are far sweeter.â
âThank you.â She preened, though his flattery was obvious, and took a pear for herself, a little moan escaping her at the flavour. âI must confess, I have missed real food. I hope they give us lamb tonight, or veal. Something thatâs fed on grass and hasnât had to fight for every morsel-â
âAre you getting in or not?â
She huffed at his blunt tone and expectant face, and finished her pear in two irritated bites. The amusement on his face was almost enough to make her storm off, but stronger than the annoyance that was only heightened by the bubbling fear of removing her clothes in front of him was her desire to be close to him. She turned her back to him and unlaced her dusty riding gown, letting it fall in a heap at her feet. In just her smallclothes, she hesitated. His eyes burned her from behind as the air burned her from inside. She heard the water slosh and Davosâs hand found hers, dripping water on her gown.
âHey.â He said softly, squeezing her hand gently until she turned and met his eyes. âIâm not gonna hurt you. Iâm not gonna laugh at you. Whatever youâre afraid of-â He tapped his temple. âItâs in here. I think youâre beautiful.â
She closed her eyes, letting the words settle inside her, then lifted his hand to the lacing on her top. In a few deft movements he had pulled it loose, letting her free herself from it along with the bottoms. Instinct told her to cover herself, but she balled her fists and held them at her sides, letting his gaze roam across her form. She had always thought of herself as ungainly, all sharp angles and no curves, but under his eyes she felt her jutting hip and shoulder bones held the beauty of an ancient gnarled willow, and her long sinewy arms still covered in dirt were like the wings of a falcon rising from a bath of dust. She was a dryad and she glowed.
âYou areâŠâ He kissed her hand. ââŠsoâŠâ Again. â...fuckingâŠâ Once more. â...gorgeous. Gods, I donât know what youâve done to me, woman. Youâre all I ever think about.â
The haze of steam caught the candlelight and danced in wisps around him. His hair turned black as pitch in the damp, the blood rose to his cheeks, and beneath that deep grey, his eyes were so green. Green like moss and agate and beetle wings. He was made of frown lines and scars, taut muscle, crooked teeth and passion like fire.
âDavos.â Her hand found his face. âI meant to say before, but⊠I suppose I was frightened. But, youâre- youâre⊠a vision. I am so glad to have met you.â
She kissed him, and for a moment it was all lips and fig sweetness until he smiled against her.
âGet in the bath.â
âFine.â
She tried to glower as she clambered in beside him, but the warm embrace of the water was far too enticing. The surface sloshed as he spread his knees, making room for her to sit between his legs, and the level rose so high it nearly ran over the edge when they were both settled.
âWas that so hard?â He mumbled as he kissed her shoulder.
âShut up.â
They sat that way for a while, cloistered in hot silky water. She ate her pears and washed the dirt from her skin, and he hummed a ballad so sweet that she could have cried. When she was done he freed her filthy hair from the braid, lathered it with soap and washed it with deft fingers massaging her scalp. She could not help the little groans of satisfaction that escaped her at the gentle tickling touch. She could feel him pressing into her back as he fisted her wet hair tightly and let his lips rest flush against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending tingles to her toes.
âIâm warning you, my lady, if you keep making those filthy noises I might take right here in the bath.â
âMaybe you ought to.â Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
âWould you like that?â His lips parted to kiss her ear and she felt her eyes slip out of focus at the sensitivity there.
âPlease.â
His free hand found her nipple, already a hard, pink marble beneath the hot water, and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips lifted and her hand fell between her spreading legs in an involuntary response.
âPlease, please,â Came his rough whisper. âPlease what, my lady?â
âPleaseâŠâ She gasped. âPlease touch me.â
âWhere? Where can I touch to please you, my sweet-â Kiss. â-virtuous-â Kiss. â-Bracken-â
A slosh of water hit the ground as she whipped around and took hold of his cock, feeling it hard, yet supple under her grasp like a lance wrapped in silk. He whimpered as she pulled her hand in slow, deliberate motions around the head.
âIf you donât stop teasing me Iâll rip it off, I swear.â
âThere she is.â He relinquished his grip on her hair as he rocked his hips, letting his length slide through her hand as he gripped her thighs. âThereâs the fire.â
He pulled her legs apart without another thought and ran his fingers along her slit. She was slick where the water had not washed it away, and he could feel the folds of her were swollen blooms beneath the wiry swathe of hair. She jolted when he found that little button at the top, a high keening coming from her throat at that sweet agony.
âItâs okay now, my love.â He assured her.
âItâsâŠâ She whined. âItâs soâŠâ
âItâs so good, sweetling, I know. I know.â
He spread her open with one hand, pulling back the hood of skin that covered that nub and rubbed his fingers in steady circles, drawing moans from her like music from a harp. Her hips pushed up against him and she lost hold of his cock, but he didnât care. All he wanted was that beautiful rhythm of her reaching for him, reaching for that incomprehensible height. His fingers slowed, he needed her lucid for a moment.
âCersha.â He spoke against her ear. âAre you listening darling?â
âMm.â She nodded, desperately pushing up against the minute rotations of his digits.
âHave you ever touched yourself?â
She nodded again.
âOn the inside?â
âNo.â She shook her head, her voice strained. âNever inside.â
A puff of breath escaped him.
âDo youâŠâ She panted. âLike that about me?â
âDoes it make me⊠perverse if I do?â He growled. âIf I want to claim you before anyone, before even you?â
âI want it to be you.â She admitted freely.
âThen it will be me.â He kissed her cheek reassuringly, his fingers circling her bud a faster now.
He worked on her for a while, bringing her back to the peak, and as pleasure rolled through her like white-capped waves, a finger plunged inside her. It slid in so easily that she scarcely registered the change until she grew aware of a strange tightening, and a thickness that she clenched against. She gasped, earning a chuckle from her lover.
âIs that good?â
She nodded, her hand flying to her mouth as he began to slowly, incrementally pump it in and out. Just as she was growing used to the rhythm, he curled his finger inwards and seemed to hit some strange point that sent a jolt of pleasure through her. She shrieked and covered her face.
âThatâs good, isnât it, sweetling?â
He nuzzled the side of her face as his fingers rapidly fluttered against her sweet spot, his palm bumping her bud, radiating syrupy, heady sensation. She gave a little yelp and buried her face in his neck, making him grin.
âMoreâŠâ She managed to say. â...please.â
âAs you wish.â
She felt empty for a moment as he drew back his finger, but soon enough she was gasping against the overflowing fullness of two thick, calloused digits drawing over that sponge of mystifying bliss.
âGods, youâre tight.â He muttered darkly, thrusting them as deeply as he could.
âDavos, I think- I think Iâm...â
âLet go, my love.â He whispered, his hand moving at an impossible pace. âCum for me.â
It was those rough-spun words that were her undoing. She seized and gripped the bathtub, rolling over the wave of boiling pleasure. It was a brief thing, a blink of bliss wherein her thoughts were entirely drowned out, clenching rhythmically around his digits until she relaxed, flopping back against his silken torso. His arms found their way around her stomach and he squeezed her tight against him.
âYou did so well, sweetling.â He rocked her gently for a while, until she felt strong enough to speak.
âThat thing you did for me at the inn,â Her voice was barely above a whisper. âThat thing you did with your mouth...â
âI ate out your cunny, sweetling, thatâs what I did.â His eyes stirred with lust and mischief. âYou want more?â
âNo- yes, but no. I want to do it for you. I want to- toâŠâ
âYou want to suck my cock?â He put a hand to her cheek, his expression a mix of want and concern. âYou donât have to, Cersha. Itâs gruelling work, I should know.â
âWhat do you mean?â
His cheeks tinted and a strange flash of agony passed over his face before he shook it away.
âWell, Iâm no stranger to buggery, but I always preferred the fairer sex. Letâs leave it at that.â She felt a rush of curiosity at his words, and he must have noticed as he sighed moodily. âOne day, Iâll tell you about the boy. I promise.â She swallowed her questions and nodded. âShall we move to the bed?â
She got up eagerly, splattering more water onto the floor as she went, but was slightly alarmed to find her legs were already trembling. She offered Davos her hands, and he eyed them speculatively for a moment. She thought he might try to drag himself up on his own, but he took her help and soon they stood, holding one another as the water rolled off them in rivers. He giggled impishly, kissing her all over and before either of them knew it they were flopping down on the bed, still sopping wet like two otters in heat.
âWeâre getting the sheets wet.â She protested weakly.
âWeâll sleep in my chambers.â He muttered, shuffling around until his injured leg had room to stretch out. âThe bed is just as soft, if not so lovingly furnished.â
âAre you comfortable?â She fussed, hating the sight of his wound without a bandage. The messy sutures she had administered had been replaced by neat little stitches since they had arrived at Riverrun; the work of a Maester, Cersha supposed.
He put his hand to her cheek, a half-mocking look of amusement on his face.
âI am not made of glass. Now, are you sure you want to do this?â She nodded eagerly, and he guided her face gently downward. âAlright, Iâll show you how.â
She settled herself by his waist and watched, almost in awe, as he spit in his hand and gently tugged his length. The fold of skin pulled back and slipped easily up and down the moist, pink tip. He groaned lightly as he worked on himself, and in a few smooth strokes he had grown stiff and engorged. Cersha felt her mouth water, and was surprised to find that she felt no shame. She knew he would be big- in the pitch dark of that night in the inn, she had felt his impossible length slide through her hand- but nothing could have prepared her to actually see a manâs naked form, and it excited her more than she cared to admit.
âPut your mouth around the tip.â He instructed, using his free hand to gather her hair and hold it at the base of her neck. âUse your lips to block your teeth, thatâs it, darling.â
She had to stretch her mouth wide to take him in, but it was worth it for the salty sweetness that spread across her tongue.
âGood girl.â He growled. âGood girl. Now feel around with your tongue. Do you feel that?That ridge, just there, right- right there.â
On the tip of her tongue rested a firm seam of skin, just at the base of the head. She flickered her tongue across it in a rapid flurry, and he whimpered. His hips lifting and an inch more of his length entered her mouth triggering a gulp of surprise.
âOh, yes. Yes, sweetling thatâs it, thatâs it, just focus on the head.â With his hand in her hair he tenderly guided her head up and down, up and down, never forcing himself any deeper than she could comfortably take. âBob your head like that, just take it in and out. You donât-â He interrupted himself with a weak grimace. â-you donât have to take it deep. Itâs lovely if you do, but⊠but just do what you can, darling. Keep working with your tongue, youâre doing beautifully my love.â
He relinquished his grip on her hair, trusting her to keep up the rhythm, and wrapped his hand around his shaft, jerking himself into her mouth, while his other hand found his plump stones, rolling them in his palm. Cersha gripped his thighs, growing light-headed as she moaned and slurped around the size of him. It seemed he had given up on words, and instead fell into a frenzy of⊠moans? No, growls. He was like an animal, half-way between deep rumbles and high keening whines, his hips rolling and thrusting upward, seeming to forget his earlier gentleness. She took him deeper, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. Before she knew it, his hands were on her forehead and he was pushing her off of him.
âDid- did I bite you?â She gasped.
âNo! Darling, no, I made you gag.â He struggled to sit up and held her face in his hands, stroking her hair, his face a mask of concern. âI cannot believe I did that, Iâm so sorry, Cersha.â
âYou didnât mean to!â She eagerly reached for him again, but he caught her hand and kissed them all over.
âStill.â He implored. âIâm sorry. Besides, we had to stop. I would have finished in your mouth, Iâm sure you wouldnât like that.â
She considered for a moment.
âI⊠I suppose not.â
His face softened sympathetically.
âI want you to⊠to, um, to cum, though. Itâs only fair.â
He chuckled at her choice of words and kissed her forehead.
âI can use my hand, if only you kiss me while I do it.â He gauged her disappointment with an impish smirk. âOr⊠I could fuck you, I suppose. If you want me to, that is.â
âOh, please!â
He tossed his head back and laughed, pulling her into his embrace.
âOh, my girlâŠâ He pushed her wet hair away from her eyes. âI would work for hours like a draft horse if it would please you.â
He struggled to heave himself up, but she pushed him back by the shoulders. He made a little oof sound and his puggish nose crinkled in annoyance.
âIâm not an invalid.â
âIâd rather it this way.â
A grin dimpled his cheeks and his eyes glittered.
âOh, really?â She just smiled knowingly and set about piling up pillows behind him to prop him up. He sighed dreamily. âI feel like a princess.â
âPrince of Crows,â She murmured, straddling him. âOn a weirwood throne⊠withâŠâ Her fingertips found his forehead. ââŠa red eye.â
He noticed her eyes had crossed out of focus, half closed. He took her by the arms and gave her a gentle shake that seemed to rouse her.
âYouâre a witch, Bracken.â He laughed, though his heart thundered in his chest.
âI get it from my mother.â She shook her head, giggling nervously. âAnywayâŠâ
Her hand reached between her legs to find his cock, stroking it gently. He laughed airily, happy to forget her strange words. The calloused pads of his fingers found their way to slide along her slit, and he scoffed.
âGods, you get wet from nothing.â He seemed almost annoyed as he sunk two digits into her with no resistance. âSoaking wetâŠâ
He withdrew and held up his fingers to show the glistening slickness that coated them, then slid them into his mouth. She gasped as he wantonly swirled his tongue around them, and pulled them out with a pop.
âThe sweetest Iâve ever tasted.â He told her. âThe only one I ever wish to taste again. I suppose mine could not have been such a joy to sample.â
âIt was beautiful.â She kissed him, catching the ghost of herself on his lips. âYou are beautiful.â
âAh, Iâm a busted old thing.â He flushed, lining himself up with her entrance. âBut, thank you all the same, my lady.â
She felt the very tip of him sliding into her, and she hesitated.
âDavos, I⊠I do not wish to have a child.â
He palmed her cheek, as he loved to do.
âThen no child you shall have. I will spill myself upon your stomach every night until we are married, and every night thereafter until you feel the time is right.â
âAnd if I do not wish to marry?â
âThen unmarried we shall be.â
âAnd if I never want a child?â She thought of her mother then, the screams, the smell of blood like ironâŠ
A pained expression crossed his face, but it was gone as soon as it was there.
âThen no child you shall have.â
âDo you promise?â
âOn mine honour.â She searched his eyes for a sign of dishonesty, but found none, so she nodded.
She sunk down onto him, feeling her inner muscles clench and tent out as they adjusted to the thickness prising them apart. It hurt, it could not be avoided, his girth was simply too great. At the alert of her pained whimpers, he gripped her hips, holding her up until he was sure she had taken enough time to grow used to the feeling. He held her steady as she incrementally shimmied down, down, down until he bottomed out with an inch or two to spare. She cried out as she felt him pressing his bruising tip into her roof, but by then it had become a good pain, a cleansing pain.
âMy girl.â He murmured. âMy sweet girl.â
She lifted up from her knees, focusing on that exquisite feeling of his veins and ridges sliding against her walls, then lowered back down. Up and down, up and down, she repeated the action until she noticed he was holding his breath.
âIs that alright?â
âYes,â He managed to utter, panting. âGods, youâre just so tight. I canât⊠I canât see myself lasting long at this rate.â
She giggled as he whined, his hands finding her buttocks and bouncing her up and down on his rigid length, deeper and harder until she collapsed against him, grasping him like a tree in a windstorm. She grunted as he adjusted her on his lap and hit that sweet place inside her.
âOh, fuck!â She hissed.
âThatâs it, isnât it?â His hot breath passed across her ear. âThatâs the spot.â
âOh, gods, DavosâŠâ
He pumped upwards as he bounced her, and she felt his tip rubbing across her sweet spot before it punched against her roof, every single time. It was brutal, yet tender, and she could feel his restraint. She knew then that this man could fuck like an animal if she set him loose.
âYouâre my girl.â He insisted. âSay youâre my fucking girl.â
âIâm y-yourâŠâ She spluttered. âIâmâŠâ
Suddenly it stopped. He held her up, nothing but the tip left in her. She wriggled in his grasp, desperate for that overwhelming in-out-in-out-in-out.
âSay it, sweetling.â He cooed.
âI-Iâm your girl.â
âFuckinâ aye, you are.â
He plunged her back down, filling her in one thrust. Wave after wave of pleasure built up inside her, pump after pump, after pump until she had to bite into his shoulder to contain the half shrieking moans that had taken over her speech. It was this that broke his restraint, and as his thrusts grew sloppy, he slammed into her, fingers digging into her bony frame so harshly that they would have drawn blood were his nails longer.
âIâm c-â
The climax struck her dumb and she let out a guttural snarl as it seized all sense and reason from her. She clenched on his cock, still incessantly moving inside her, again, again, again, her eyes rolling, white fishes shimmering across her vision, until finally-
âFuck!â
He pulled out, furiously rubbing his cock as he reached his own peak, his body stiffening and writhing as he spilled his hot seed onto her stomach. When he was done, he paused for a moment, eyes glazed and staring at nothing, until he noticed her and a flash of feeling passed across them. He did not hesitate to pull her to him, the strength of his arms evident as he crushed her against his torso, caring nothing for the stickiness there. It was then that she realised she was weeping. For what, she did not know. Perhaps, just the beauty of it all.
âShh, shh.â His voice was flute soft again. âMy beautiful girl.â
When she had regained some composure, she cleared her throat, forehead resting against his.
âI fear we need another bath.â
Thanks to my lovelies @aemondslove @disillusioned-phantasma @anaviieiraaa @deepestlovert @flordiakilos @kitty2984 @kpopfanfictionfantacies @sometings @nikkilsworld @gladiatorgladiator @borislava17 @oshun22 @spider-stark @marvelenthusiast10 @itsyagirl01 @nixtape-foryou @giggles-andkicks @benijbol @darlingcharling-blog @writervaul-t @kayrakhan @unicorntrooper @frogoerson @aphroditeanadyomene @councilofcastamere @ellxpsismm @teapomp @fuckalrighty for your reblogs and comments! I'm doing it for you guys :)
#davos blackwood x reader#davos blackwood#hotd#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fan fiction#hotd fanfic#benjicot blackwood#benjicot x reader#benjicot blackwood x reader#hotd imagine#house of the dragon imagine#ben blackwood imagine#benjicot blackwood imagine#bloody ben imagine#bloody ben#ben blackwood#ben blackwood x reader#bloody ben x reader#benji blackwood#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd imagines#ben blackwood imagines
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eddie x fem! reader
master list
summary: Christmas time is here, eddie + you dance around the fact youâre both in love, corroded coffin performs.
w/c: 15k
warnings: NO MINORS â18+ only- mentions of Chad and his awfulness, thoughts of sex
a/n: s/o to my lovely coven for helping me tweak parts of this story, beta reading + letting me insert them through out the story @jo-harrington @blueywrites @newlips @pastel-pillows @loveshotzz @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse @br0ck-eddie @courtingchaos @fracturedarkness @word-wytch @hellfirehottie420 @chestylarouxx @big-ope-vibes đ @agentmarvel @hxllfired â„ïžâ„ïž
âDonât peek!â
âIâm not!â
âI mean it, youâll ruin it if you peek!â
Large hands cover your already shut tight eyes as you walk forward blindly through the crunch of ice and heavy snow. The soles of your chunky boots leave behind inch deep footprints in the parking lot of Boomâs Auto shop.
âEddie! oh fuâ your hands are freezing!â
A deep husky chuckle hums in your ear, skating across the air and landing warmly on your cheek. A flushed heat accompanying the welcomed tickle of his laugh.
âJust a little further,â Eddie says with a laugh, still walking behind you, big hands blind folding your eyes. Maybe you should have mentioned that you donât like surprises. The last surprise you had trusted was from your parents. And that resulted in them moving across the country to be closer to Kevin, cutting you out and leaving you behind.
Practically stamping your foot and stopping altogether you let out his name in a small whine.
âSo impatient, Tooty,â he whispered like a ghost into your ear, sending a flock of goosebumps down your neck. His calloused hands itched at your soft skin. Your eyelashes tickling his palms. âI promise itâs worth the wait, just a little bit further.â
Sighing with hmmpfed pout, you trudge on, squishing snow beneath your feet.
âOkay, are you ready?â Eddie gleams, hinted delight in his voice like a child showing his parents his cubby at school.
âNo,â you tease, eyes still closed, âI think Iâll just turn around and go home.â
Eddie breathes out a groan and tickles his cold fingers into your neck, giggling as you squeal, âsee you brought your infamous attitude, sweetheart.â
Gasping for breath from the cold and trying to get away from Eddieâs frigid digits you quip, âah, you know me, I donât leave home without it.â
âBrat,â Eddie jokes, moving your shoulders into the perfect position he sees fit. âAlright bâTooty, open your eyes.â
The sun shines blinding against the frosted white ground, stinging your eyes as you open them from the darkness of your eyelids and Eddieâs sheltered hands. Nestled in the back corner of the parking lot next to a pile of snow sits your car, sitting on 4 brand new tires.
Stunned beyond believe, heart full and ready to burst you are at a loss for words.
âUhâ, sorry it took so long, I fixed it up a little bit more than what was initially wrong with it, replaced the tiresâthey were pretty bad, fixed the headlights, completely flusâ â
Eddieâs mechanical explanation of what was wrong with your car and how he fixed it goes dead with a grunt and a gasp as you throw yourself into his arms, forgetting his healing ribs you fully wrap your legs around his waist. Ignoring the way the snow on your boots is soaking through his shirt making his back wet, his leather jacket riding up from your sudden jump into his arms. He is completely consumed in this moment. He doesnât care. The whole world is in his hands, and he doesnât want the warmth of your body to escape him. Soul on fire and the barricade around his heart completely down, grass growing where they lay now, he is enamored by you. The smell of your hair, how tight you are squeezing him around the back of his neck. Your thighs clutching him. Heâs a mess. Melting more than Frosty did on the warmest day of the year.
Welling tears spill from your eyes, you whisper shyly, âthank you,â Floored by your own emotions, you are speechless. Outside of the Wheelerâs, you havenât had someone care for you on such a personal level before. Eddie made you feel safe, he gave you a sense of calm that filled you with hope, filled you with joy. Not being able to fathom how your life has changed so much since he moved in, the anxiety of everyday life washing away with his smile. His goofiness rinsing the doubt out of the air. The bruise around his eye is fading, color returning back to its original beautiful paled complexion. Emotions running high, you canât convey with words how grateful you are, instead you pull your head from his shoulder and turn it slightly. Pressing delicate mauve painted lips to his cheek. Itâs sweeter than sugar. A dainty quick kiss as sudden as the first drop of rain hitting your cheek in the summer.
Wiggling down his body with one last squeeze around him, he doesnât register that you are sliding away from him on purpose until he releases his hands on the back of your legs. Thankful for his long hair more than ever today, his ears are tinged red much like his cheeks, one colored with a mauve set of lips he never wanted to wash away. Keeping you with him forever.
Looking into Eddieâs eyes you notice how big they are, a smirk is dancing across his lips. Not wanting to ruin the sentiment, but anxious all the same, you push his chest lightly, a coy smile on your lips, âhungry?â
Oh he was hungry. Starved for you. Your touch, your lips, your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. Heâs never been so hungry for affection in his entire life, and you were feeding him crumbs. Couldnât you see he was on his knees begging, pleading for more?
âAlways,â he finally sputters out, desperately hoping you didnât see the tiny hearts floating around his head like a cartoon character in love, âbut youâre driving,â he says tossing you your key ring, âtime to be my chauffeur, babe.â
It feels weird to be behind the wheel of a car again, considering you havenât driven in months. The same yellowed tree scent hung from your rearview mirror, no longer full of aroma, fake blue and green Mardi Gras beads jingle together as you bump along the neglected roads of Hawkins. Polaroids of you and Nancy smile back at you from beneath the dash. Various materials of scrunchies litter the gear shift. Loose change fills one of the cup holders.
The sound of a window rolling down and the smell of burnt tobacco has you looking over at Eddie. He looks like heâs in a clown car. Bent bare knees from the holes in his jeans are cramped against the dash. His long arms lighting two cigarettes, a brown filtered end for himself, and a white one for you. He inhales deeply, pushing the smoke out of his lungs and looking out the window, arm bent lazily, palm up to hand you yours. Shamelessly flirting, you carefully place your mouth around the cigarette, your lips grazing his knuckles as you look up at him, with a wink you retreat from him, your lipstick leaving another mark on his skin. Burning into him, inking his skin better than any tattoo he had gotten so far. The bob of his throat is more than noticeable as he gulps deeply. He trails his eyes from your devilish lips to your innocent eyes. Wide enough that Bambi would cry at the sight of them.
Eddie shakes his head with a sigh, choking on smoke as you smile to yourself. You donât notice the way he readjusts himself in the seat, desperately trying to cross his legs, a heat in his cheeks that he would blame on himself getting a cold if you were to ask.
Heâs like a child at a fair, touching every single thing in his line of vision, jokingly grabbing the oh shit handle with every turn you take. Flicking his lighter, moving the visor up and down and to the side, pulling this way and that. Adjusting his seat all the way backwards and then all the way forward when you stop at a stop sign, hand still on the lever, a laugh stuck in his throat as heâs practically folded like an accordion in the front seat.
Blondieâs âCall Meâ plays and Eddie grabs the hairbrush he found in the glovebox as a microphone. Heâs moving his shoulders in a way that suggests heâs a seductive lounge singer, throwing his hair behind him, then in front of him. His eyes dipped in alluring sex appeal, throwing his head back and showing the expanse of his neck. He laughs a maniacs giggle and so do you. Relishing the time spent with him.
âThought metalheads didnât dig Blondie,â you question, inhaling the last of your cigarette and discarding it out of the window.
Eddie chuckles, âSurprisingly enough, one of the regulars at the Hideout plays it on repeat while weâre clearing the stage. Every. Single. Night. Speaking of which, uhhâ,â he wasnât sure how to ask you, not even sure if you wanted to goâ but it was worth a shot and what would it hurtâ worse thing that could happen would be you saying ânoâ, âya got plans the day after Christmas?â
Thinking for a while you didnât want to let it on that you in fact had zero plans. Itâs not as if your parents came home to celebrate with a dinner or take you to a movie, fuck they never even bothered to call.
âMerry X -mom dad & kevâ
Barely a greeting. Just slanted, chicken scratch handwriting inked onto a blank 99 cent Christmas card. The cheapest of pens was used to write the five words, noted by the scribble at the bottom of the card, when the ink went dry. The card itself was very basic, crimson red with a cartoon Christmas tree on the front. More than likely purchased at a gas station with a carton of Marlboros and a microwaved bean burrito. Cold fingers wrap around the envelope, cotton gloves smoothing over the handwriting as if it were a cherished love letter from your husband lost at sea.
Without fail, the one time a year you heard from them, left you more hollowed than the previous one. And as bummed as you were, when Eddie saw the card in the trash can when he tied up the garbage for the curb, he didnât hesitate, didnât pry, didnât ask. Just tied up the trash and didnât say anymore about it.
âHmm.. well the salon is closed so I wonât be working, why whatâs up?â
Eddie leans over and turns the knob of the radio down, insinuating how serious he was, âwell the band is throwing a gig at the Hideout, kinda like a party for everyone who needs to blow off some steam after the holidays⊠and I thought maybe youâd wanna go? I havenât seen you at a Corroded Coffin concert since the 80âs.â
He was right, you hadnât seen them perform outside of your own garage since high school. Busting his balls a little, your lips curl in a sweet tease, âwould I make the fifth or the sixth drunk there?â
Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a face, âIâll have you know, we actually have to sell tickets now, but you? I'm making you pay double for that mean comment.â
âOh kiss my ass,â you laugh as he shove him lightly, âI guess I can make an appearance.â
Eddie grins ear to ear, he canât wait to see you in the crowd smiling up at him. Since heâs moved in, heâs dreamt of the day you finally went to see him play again.
âWell I guess Iâll see you there, maybe even buy you a drink, if youâre lucky.â
He thumbs through your cassettes oooing and awing over your beloved tapes, plucking Stevie Nickâs Bella Donna tape and flipping it over to read the song list on the back.
Head spinning you imagine how sexy Eddie would look on stage. Imagining the sweet aroma of sweat dripping from his hair on his bare chest has you practically drooling, thankful that Eddie is pre occupied with your cassettes, you squeeze your thighs tight.
Eddie begins to hum dumbly along as the end of REO Speedwagon sings about taking it on the run, the mixed tape youâd had since high school plays the next song, Tracy Chapmanâs âFast Carâ. The beginning guitar melody rings into his ears, a song he hadnât heard in years.
âYou got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe weâll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.â
The lyrics hit your soul, Tracyâs gentle voice singing calmly to you, roped tight with Eddieâs deep serenade, must be what the gates of heaven sound like when theyâre opening. Like the two people in the song, you were both tortured by your pasts, aching for something real something new. You ached for him. Did he for you?
Looking over at him, the cords of his neck stretched tight, prominent muscles jutting out around a chain necklace he never took off. Itâs impossibly thick, veins lining it perfectly, the best candidate for a vampireâs snack. Stopping yourself from wondering what your teeth would feel like against his skin there, you tear your eyes away from him. Would your tongue tickle from the bitter taste of his cologne? Would the slight drag of your teeth beneath his jaw drive him wild, feral like how youâre feeling? Heat blooming along your cheeks and flooding your belly. You can practically feel the silk of his skin on your lips, daydreaming about the noises he would make if you were to flick the tip of your pink tongue along his adamâs apple. Sucking sweetly, softly⊠you spend the rest of the drive to Bennyâs lost and dazed, desperate for any sort of relief. Body, and soul.
-
The aroma of bacon grease hung thick in the air when you walked into Bennyâs. The sagging, water stained wall paper and faded formica table tops were a staple for the dingy diner. Anyone not from Hawkins, would turn up their nose and leave, fanning their face like a woman in church in the south in the 30âs at the sight of the disheveled diner that somehow kept passing inspections. Benny kept the kitchen area spotless, but could not be bothered with the decor and upkeep of the simple things such as wallpaper and art that dated back to borderline colonial times.
Eddie licked his lips as he eyed the sticky and tattered menu. His stomach was an endless pit, a never ending gaping hole the size of the Grand Canyon. Two baskets of fries, a patty melt, a stack of pancake and a piece of cheesecake, âitâs for later,â he said with a smile, only to devour it in two forkfuls once it arrived in its âto-goâ box.
âThank you, by the way,â you murmur around a mouthful of peach cobbler, voice growing small. âFor my car, and well everything you doâ oh shit, what do I owe you guys?â
Eddie swallows hard, throat coated with the velvety cheesecake, âNothing,â he answers as if it were an insult you even asked.
âCâmon Eddie,â you say rolling your eyes, âwhat do I owe you?â
He enunciates the word again, making syllables where they are otherwise not needed. Moving his head left and right as he gets closer and closer, moving over the boothâs table like a snake, the ends of his curls dancing over the tabletop, a smug look pressed on his lips as he licks his fork.
Pulling your eyebrows in and folding your arms across your chest, you narrow your eyes at him.
âItâs not gonna work,â Eddie says, leaning over to take the last bite of your peach cobbler, savoring the warm peach and sugar infused treat on his tongue, âyour pouting games wonât work on me, no matter how fucking cute you look.â
The scowl set on your face would have impressed Medusa, before his smile broke you. He was good at that, breaking you out of your shell and opening your eyes to show you that life didnât always have to be taken so seriously. Your smile matches his and he reaches for the bill, sliding out of the booth. Twisting your body to stand from the under stuffed cushion Eddie is standing in front of you, leaning with one hand on the table, bill curled in his grasp, the other on the back of the booth. He looks like heâs going to say something but itâs lost on his tongue. Defeat and uncertainty cloud his eyes, not here, not now. He hangs his head, shaking his curls lightly. Shaking the nervousness from himself. He reached a ringed hand out to you, eyes dripping with want and cheeks pinked in the prettiest blush on his cream colored skin, along with the mauve lipstick he never wiped off, wearing your lips proudly, a prize greater than gold burned into his skin.
Words fail him, he notices how when youâre around just how much you steal the breath from his lungs. Almost as if he is prepubescent, full of acne and a buzzed head all over again. Scared of girls, a gangly freak who people made fun of. A lost sheep. It had been years since anyone has made him feel that way, usually women were throwing panties at him, bras, themselves at times. It wasnât hard for him to fulfill his temporary needs. One faceless broad at a time. You? You were nothing like that. He respected you, trusted you, wanted you to feel safe with him. Wanted to take you out and show you off as his girl, his Tooty. Would you want that? Would you want to be his?
âReady?â He asks, voice low and his lips dripping with a teasing smile.
Nodding, he pulls you up to him, your smooth fingers wrapped in his rough calloused hands. His face tilted downward to yours, yours up to him. And all of his questions are answered by the look in your eyes. Theyâre warm, dreamy, sucking him in like a magnet to your soul, frantically yearning to connect yours with his. And heâs ready to give it all to you.
-
Standing at the faint remnants of color of the checkout counter, a waitress locks eyes with you first. Smiling warmly and making chit chat. Eddie slides the check around you onto the smooth surface, her bubble gum persona fleeting immediately at the sight of him, her brown eyes staring heavily through her bangs at the stained lipstick on his cheek. Giving you and Eddie a quickened glance, she makes a beeline for the back, knocking the stack of rolled silverware over as the door slammed home behind her.
It doesnât take an expert to put two and two together. She was either an ex girlfriend or simply an ex lover. Either way, at one point in time they meant something to each otherâ and you werenât sure how much or how little that something was.
It hits you then just how inexperienced you are. Eddie has probably slept with 100s of women; being the lead singer of a small town band gave him that privilege of doing so. Of course he has, he practically , if not not so practically told you himself. Wheels spin in your mind and youâre embarrassed at the way your nose tingles trying to push down the small inkling of jealousy brewing in your belly. What the hell would he want to do with you if there were so many other women, better looking, and definitely sexierâ ready to be his flavor for the night? Being with Eddie was a joke and you were the punch lineâ why would a guy like him settle down with someone as vanilla as you?
Suspicion creeping itâs ugly face in your mind and making room for all its baggage as a large hand meets your lower back guiding you gently towards the door. Heâs talking but it falls deafly around you. Not wanting to know, but finding difficulty in keeping your mind from wandering, you stretch into the unknown of just how many women Eddie has slept with.
The number didnât matter.
Shouldnât matter.
But it begged the question looming in your mind for weeks: would you be enough for him? Walking in jaded silence back to the car, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, wind whipping your hair in your face, Eddieâs warm hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he joins your silence. Desperately looking through the clouds of your mind trying to find where you went.
Eddie might be a lot of things. He may not be that great at math, knowing the ins and outs of fractions to make his sales when he was a dealer for Rick didnât exactly qualify him as a mathematician, he struggled with making friends when he was younger, learning that being an obnoxious kid didnât win any gold stars in the popularity department. But he was profoundly excellent at recognizing peopleâs emotions, any tiny slip, slow shiftâ he could sense it immediately. So when you shut down, leaving only nods to his never ending questions, he knew you were hurting.
Fumbling with your keys from your pocket they are plucked from your grasp by thick ringed fingers,âEddie what the hââ
âJustâ,â he pauses then, unsure of what to say, how to explain how he feels about you, the words are thick on his tongue but he knows he needs to explain something first, âwait,â
He runs a hand through his hair and points back at the door to Bennyâs, âIâ Iâve never given a shit about any girl Iâve been with.â The line is not at all how he wanted it to sound, what was meant to be sincere came out as cocky and like he was almost bragging.
âOhâkay?â you answer even more confused than you were already feeling. âWhat the hell does that have to do with me?â
He huffs a breath and kicks around snow with the toe of his boot, âIâve never wâ fuck,â he takes a few steps backwards throwing his paled face to the now blackened charcoal sky, muttering to himself. This was not going well. He could feel you slipping from his fingers. What was meant to be a nice night was now being spoiled by his incoherent thoughts, mouth moving faster than his brain could think. He looks back at you, your eyebrows raised, weight shifted with your arms crossed. Whatever message he was trying to convey was spilling a capital âFâ of his blood all over the snow, crimson coloring the white ground.
Chewing his tongue, jaw tightening with aggressive anticipation that heâs just fucking everything upâhe finally spits it out, his mind cooperating with his mouth and all in one heavy, heated breath he practically screams, âgoddamnit, Tootyâ Iâve never cared about someone like how I care about you.â
Stunned, you stand stone still, watching him with large eyes.
âYouâ youâre theâ fuck.â He moves quick, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks tilting your head up to him, the breath stolen from your lungs as you watch his eager eyes swirl with browns and blacks, Dr. Pepper fountains of bliss. He hesitates, licking his lips. Looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Deciding not to do what he so desperately craves. But itâs not the right time. Not here. Not now. Not before he asks. Not before you understand the multitude of his seriousness. Not before you make it known that you want it too. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to press forward, voice strong and steady, no longer breaking, no longer unsure. Confident. âNo other girlâ no groupie, no ex girlfriend no past flingâ no one means shit to me except you, okay?â
Heart exploding piñata candy allover your body, tootsie rolls flowing through your arteries, cotton candy dancing in your lungs, sugary mars bubblegum filled lollipops peak from your eyes as you fall hopelessly further in love with him. His fingers melt into your cheeks, burning and dissolving your candy coated insides into a liquid fire of a molten river filled with pinked sweet syrup. You want to swim in his chocolate eyes like August Gloop. Never full of him.
Would he taste sweet? Oh how your lips cried a sorrowful song not being able to lick the sweet words that drip from them.
Later that night your stomach flutters thinking of his lips on yours. That small kiss on his cheek meant more to both of you than could be imagined. Solidifying there in the parking lot of Boomâs Autoshop, just how much you meant to each other. A silent agreement. An understanding. The line was crossed. The only question now is: who would jump with both feet first?
-
The dusty overstuffed Christmas tree box slides across the kitchen linoleum with a drag as you shove all your weight into it from the basement steps.
âYouâre a stubborn woman yâknow that?â Eddie grumbles from the other side of the box, pulling it further into the kitchen, circling back and reaching his hand out to help you up the steps. âI told you I would get all of this up after I got off work.â His work coveralls coated with deep stains of motor oil and grease, snow melting slowly on his boots.
Huffing low and climbing the last step you explain, âyep, and I told you, mister,â a long nail poking him in the chest, âthat I didnât need any help.â
âYeah yeah, just gonna do everything by yourself your whole life, never asking for help?â Eddie asks, matching your attitude, booping your nose with a dirty greased soaked finger, his toothy grin on full display, âalways just a little shit arenât ya?â
A heavy scoff leaves your mouth, fake shock from your lips as you place a hand to your chest, âme? Think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Munson.â
Eddieâs face twists with gross turmoil at the name. âChrist, I havenât been called that since high school in Higgins office,â he turns his nose up and scowls, âplease sweetheart, consult a doctor you must be ill.â
Bantering back and forth for a few minutes Eddie agrees on taking a shower before starting to set up the tree. â.. and whatever other girly shit you have planned for us.â He says with a laugh as he shuts the bathroom door and turns the silver knob for the shower head.
It was Friday night and since Nancy had moved out starting her own Christmas traditions with Jonathan, you were left with her same traditions in the same house but with a new someone to make them special with.
Chili was simmering on the stove. Rich and spicy just the way Karen Wheeler had taught you to make it, the counter held her famous cinnamon roll recipe, rising gently on the counter. It was engraved in your mind after watching her make them every Sunday for years, and you had yet to make them for Eddie. The kitchen smelled savory yet sweet, the mixed concoction floating heavenly notes of hunger induced stomach pains to the bathroom as Eddie toweled off, pulling a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. His hair hung in wet lengthy ringlets, dripping down his back as he emerged into the dim lit kitchen, a hunger in his bellyâ but not holding a candle to the fiery burn of want in his stomach at the sight of you.
The flour dusted lightly on your cheek could be mistaken for pixie dust with how magical you looked to him, the sleeves of your baggy red velour knit sweater were bunched around your elbows, bringing a spoon to your plump lips as you made them into a small âOâ blowing gently on the contents of meat, tomatoes, peppers and kidney beans cradled in the the silver utensil close to your lips.
Eddie had never been jealous of silverware before but he would give his left nut and his guitar away to be that lucky heated spoon for just one minute. Slotting the metal into your mouth, you hum a sigh of satisfaction as you savor the delectable bite, chewing slowly and licking your lips, Eddie is gripping the counter tighter than an old woman gripping her life alert as she tumbles to the ground. Fuck, heâd break a hipâ hell no, heâd break every bone in his body just to have you hum around him, any part of him, his earlobe, his fingers, his cock, he didnât care. Reaching up and brushing his own cheek like a coy school girl, he still felt the way your lips touched his cheekâ and that was weeks ago.
âThink Jonathan still does secret investigative pictures for Murray Bauman if you were looking to snap a few pictures you little perv.â
Head swiveling towards him at your last word, you canât keep the act up anymore, your cheeks feel like theyâre going to burst with how wide youâre smiling, your laugh echoes off his naked chest and hits the cabinets, pinballing around the room, striking him like lightning in a summer stormâ bright first and the thunderous boom coming after.
Snorting at your own joke and the way his cheeks heat with shameâcaught with his hand in the cookie jar, drool practically falling from his lips as his mouth hangs open. He has never looked better. Your boldness stays long enough to send him a wink, and your stomach flutters when he returns it, rubbing his cheeks to will away the blush implemented on his skin.
âAre we going to eat or are you just going to keep making fun of me?â Eddie presses, a light shade of pink still tinged on his cheeks, his smile bright and cheerful.
Walking closer to him you let your body take control, mind not thinking. Useless in your head as you move with sure steps closer to him. Not wanting to know the repercussions of your actions, yet something about him has made you so sure that what youâre feeling was real. That he felt it too, reassuring you with his body language, his words. He wants this and so do you. Time to dive in. But the ache of rejection, fear of making a mistake, afraid to let yourself be loved when you arenât worthy of it. Has your stomach in knots. Stopping short of your hands on his chest, the confidence is gone, buried beneath the savory smells of the kitchen and the heated stares between you both.
Uncertainty soaring, you place your hands on your waist, head hung in a cloud of anxiety, âtree first, then we can eat.â
Silently moving through the motions, you unbox the tree monotonously. Eddieâs raging war against himself. Begging the question of what happened to make you turn the flirting dial off. The tree is up, and youâre busy fluffing the branches after a year of being squashed in a box and stuffed into a basement. Overthinking what you said to Eddie, you canât move past how he makes you feel.
Itâs not as if you have had a boyfriend other than Chad, or even had anyone other than him kiss you, touch you, and none of that was enjoyable. Being with him was crippling, suffocating in a way that you werenât ever sure youâd ever be able to breathe normally again. Living in a state of constant fear for years, waiting for the day he would return. And when he didâEddie was there to comfort you, hold you while the panic attack riddled your body, collapsing in on itself. Eddie was there to pick up your broken pieces and mend them together with his silliness, his arms wrapped around your body shielding you from demons he couldnât see. Taking the blame for something that wasnât his fault. He was impossibly charming, good-looking and even though he could be a pain in the assâ you couldnât imagine your life without him.
âFuck, ow ow, shit, Tooty! Iâm not a genius or anything, but there is no way this is right!â A quick jolt back to reality has you turning your head sharply to see Eddie tangled in emerald green ropes of colorful christmas lights. Entwined in his hair, around his thick fingers, and arms. Christmas clashing with his tattoos heâs all furrowed brows and huffed breaths. You desperately try to stifle a smile but fail miserably. âItâs not funny! It hurts!â
âEddie,â you choke out in between laughs, reaching up with delicate fingers, and a laugh buried in your chest you begin to untangle his messy curls from the strings of lights. Adjusting his curls this way and that his brows lax at your pretty face so close to his. There they are again, the lips that kept him up the last few nights. The lips that could be full of vinegary insults, and sweet sultry compliments. The silky skin of them call out to him in his dreams, purring his name.
Feeling the need to explain himself for earlier, âfor the record, sweetheart, I was staring at the spoon, nânot at you.â
Smooth. Jesus Christ.
âThe spoon huh?â Giggling at his lie, untangling his rings and fingers from the lights, releasing him from the holiday handcuffs, âreally? and what was so interesting about it, hmm?â
Eddie grabs your hand as it slips from his hair, leaning close enough that his chest is brushing yours, âI have a grudge against it.â
Confused, you pull your eyebrows inward, âwhat?â
His lips are licked and he holds your hand palm to palm your fingers between his, hugging his rings in your small grasp. His other hand travels up to your chin, laying lightly against your delicate skin. Small strokes of his thumb outline your top lip, and you suck in a quickened breath. Your knees are weak, and you lean into his touch, pushing yourself closer, skimming your fingers along the charcoal outlines on his chest.
The satiny pillows of your lips against his rough calloused skin send him to heaven on angelâs wings. His eyes are trained on your mouth, thumb lining your Cupidâs bow. He circles downward, studying your lips like a map, following the path of Magellan to the corner of your mouth. Face studied hard he doesnât see the way your eyes have closed, and barely registers the nails on your hand scratching his chest in delight. If your lips were a test, heâd pass with flying colors. Every line is memorized, the color is painted more beautifully than that asshole on tv painting sceneries of birds and rivers. Heâs not even breathing, and you arenât sure if youâre awake or asleep. His fingers act like melatonin lulling you to sleep with each sweep across your lips. Pulling your bottom lip down, a noise escapes his throat as he watches it pop back up against your teeth with a soft thump.
âThe spoon is lucky,â Eddie admits through broken breath. His words flow through you like the smoothest water against a creek bed, rippling and bubbling in your veins pooling in your core and heating your body with lust.
âEddie,â you hum, sending a vibration through his fingers to his now throbbing cock. The oven beeps and you jump in his hands. Forced back to earth from the ethereal spin of Eddieâs warm fingers massaging your skin. Pulling away from him is harder than erasing a permanent marker, getting year old puke stains out of a carpet, harder than overcoming the worst pain youâve ever felt. Padding into the kitchen you straighten your sweater, lungs burning with aching want to be filled with Eddieâs essence.
Placing the cinnamon rolls into the center of the warmed oven, you turn to find him behind you, silver Christmas ornament bulbs hanging from his nipple rings. âThink Walt would hire me to dance on stage for Christmas?â
This was routine for you and Eddie, intense moments followed by giggling laughs. An endless circle on repeat. If you werenât ready to jump he wasnât going to push you. Heâd wait for you, however long it would take for you to be ready to admit that he loved you and you loved him back.
-
The tree was up and lit, beautiful colors of red, blue, yellow and green shone brightly against the dark evergreen. Sitting at the table eating chili and cinnamon rolls, Eddie looks like a kid in a candy shop. Eyes blown wide and sparkling. âYâknow Iâve never done that before.â
âPut Christmas bulbs in your nipple rings?â
After the light fiasco Eddie hung the decorations with care and slotted two silver Christmas bulbs in his nipple rings, shaking his chest around, a twang in his voice, âmy stage name is Elejandro but honey you can call me big E.â
âWell that either,â Eddie laughs, wiping a rogue dribble of chili away from his chin, âbut no, Iâve never decorated a Christmas tree.â
Swallowing the mouthful of cinnamon roll you mull over his confession, âdid I just take your Christmas virginity?â
âGuess so,â he grins, shoveling another spoonful of the hearty chili into his mouth using his cinnamon roll to soak up the tomatoey broth. âArenât you lucky?â It was your turn to battle away your thoughts as he licked the back of his spoon then his lips. Oh his wicked tongue would be more than delicious on more than a few places on your body.
âWhoâs the perv now, Tooty?â Eddie gleamed, his smile turning upwards in a satanic smile. The heat from your cheeks would fill a cold room with warmth. A wink from his eyes has you both smiling again. Teetering towards uncharted waters but not quiet dipping toes into the waters of giving in, not yet.
-
After cleaning up supper and listening to Eddie thumb through the medicine cabinet for the Tums, you whipped up the sugar cookies and pulled them out of the oven.
They were cooling on a wire rack on the counter. Icing, sprinkles, Christmas themed m&ms and twizzler pull apart licorice were filling the brim of small styrofoam bowls. Hot chocolate was bubbling in mismatched ceramic mugs in the microwave. Awaiting their marshmallow floaties to join the rich chocolate bath.
âCookies too?â Eddie asks, a shit eating grin on his face as heâs coming back inside from his after supper cigarette, the chill of the frozen air following him on his heels, âbaby, youâre spoiling me.â
Baby.
The sentiment falling to the deep pit of your stomach making you clench your thighs tight, a skipped heart beat sending heat through your body. Itâs definitely not the first time youâve heard him say it but the way his eyes sparkle and are half lidded have you liquified into a soupy puddle of goo.
Pushing down the heat building in your body, inhaling deep through your nose, you try to keep it together. Itâs getting more and more difficult. The feelings you have for Eddie have been steadily growing fonder since Halloween. That stupid Jesus costume had you thinking the unholiest thoughts for weeks. And now heâs sweeter than ever before. Looking like heavenâs fallen angel, Satan's favorite son. A cherub face with a demonic mind, the perfect disguise. There wasnât a single square inch of him you hadnât thought about in ways that would make holy water simmer on your skin. Fuck.
ââTooty?â fingers snap in your face as youâre pulled from the fiery depths of pure joyful sinful lust filled hell. Eddie as the devil and you sitting at his right hand, his hands.
âChrist, you look possessed,â
Oh how you were.
âS-sorry,â you stammer out, a nervous laugh pushes from your lungs as he smiles at you.
Eddie and you were just two misfits, throwing together a Christmas like it was normal for you both. A normal that you could very easily get accustomed to.
-
âYou what?!â Nancy shrieks in the booth next to yours as she rolls another perm rod into her motherâs hair. Her thin eyebrows are hidden beneath her straight bangs a look of disbelief planted on her face, âholy fuck, youâre serious?â
Explaining to Mrs. Nancy Byers and Karen Wheeler about your developing feelings for your roommate, left one of the related women stunned, the other with ecstatic delight.
Karen claps her hands, a fuschia smile on her lips, eyes bright and fighting back tears, âoh sweetie I am so happy for you.â
âThanks,â you say shyly, fiddling with the combs on your counter, âand yes Nance, I am serious.â
Fingers moving rapidly she rolls the rest of Karenâs hair before saying anything else. âIâm happy for you, too ya know,â Nancy finally admits, âI saw the way he stared at you on Halloween.â
âSaw who stare?!â Robin chirps as the bell above the front door dings, announcing her Kramer-esque arrival, spinning chaos in a denim jacket. She slots her wirey frame in your chair, snowy boots plopped on your counter.
Nancy spins Karen around and motions for her to sit under the dryers. âSeeing Eddie stare at Tooty on Halloween,â she explains to Robin.
Robin nods and flicks through your brushes and hairsprays on the counter. âOh for sure, heâs in love with her, it's so obvious.â
A bloom in your chest erupts as heat floods your cheeks. Robinâs confirmed words spread open your chest with adoration and love. Itâs one thing to think someone might like you, hope they will reciprocate the same feelings, but itâs quite another thing to have multiple other people notice the feelings growing between you and someone you're crazy about.
Robin, Nancy and yourself gossip for the rest of your shift. Robin leaving with fire engine red hair, matching the blood pooling around your heart, beating for Eddie, aching for his touch, his smile, his stupid jokes. All of him. You were ready to take the dive.
-
âOil change on this thing already?â Eddie laughs as Steve jumps out of the midnight black G-Wagon, tossing the keys in the air to himself.
Steve chuckles and threads his fingers through his hair, âyeah, new job has me traveling most of the time, and whenever I donât want to flyâ they provide me with this bad boy,â a sparkly gold plastic credit card is pulled from his wallet.
He goes into detail about how he has been taking Leighanne with him on his trips and just got back from seeing the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center in New York, how heâs sure heâs in love with her. âIâm happy for you, man.â Eddie says, âshe seemed like she really was into you.â
Steve smiles, a cigarette between his teeth, âhowâs the whole situation with Tooty? Make a move yet?â
Eddie lights his own cigarette, mulling over his answer. The short of it was, things were going ⊠steady? They werenât moving forward but not necessarily moving backwards either. He thought you felt the same way he yearned for you, but what if he made his move and you recoiled? He would die if he made you feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. You were his main goal, his end game, his one in a million, he wouldnât be able to live with himself if he screwed it up.
His stomach in knots he feels like he could puke all over the patent leather of Steveâs shoes.
âI think itâs good?â Eddie blurts, confusion in his tone and a nervous hint of dread. âI care about her a lotâ and Iâve told her that, Iâ â he swallows hard, unsure of his next sentence but needing some advice, âI just donât know how to show her that she means more to me than just a friend or a roommate or my friendsâ sister.â
Steve looks at him confused, âdude,â he asks in all seriousness, âare you a virgin?â
The choked out bellering laugh Eddie emits from his body scares away the birds resting their feet on the telephone line. âSteve, what part of me being in a band and a cocky asshole screams virgin?â
âWell, youâre acting like one! âI donât know what to do!â Fuck man, stop being so scared and just tell her how you feel!â
Eddie's laugh turns sour, âIâve never had to do this before, I havenât been in a relationship in six years, and even then, I never once felt how I do about Tooty. So yeah I am scared because I donât wanna fuck it up or have her think Iâm just some creep like that fuckwad Chad.â
Steve shakes his head, and grabs Eddie by the shoulders, âyouâre overthinking this, like a fuck loadâshe likes you, I know she does because whenever I talk to her sheâs always telling me about something you did that day, but if you want some guidanceâ Iâll help you out.â
The greatest heads of hair in Hawkins, Indiana work for the next half hour, developing a plan for Eddie to make his move before he lost you.
-
Soft, pillowy blankets of pure white snow cover the cramped poverty stricken Forest Hills Trailer Park. Illuminating the impoverished community in a mask of Christmas spirit. White, and pristine. An illusionists dream, one so great that someone might have mistaken the rotting trailers and the broken down vehicles as heaps of snow instead of the decrepitness that would show truth when the masking snow melts and brings forth the ugly harshness of muddy roads and sinking foundations.
Spending Christmas Day with Eddie and meeting his uncle had brought a sweetness to your insides, eating away the sourness that the holidays delivered most years, a steady reminder that you were passed down like a pair of jeans. It had been Eddieâs idea to bring dinner over to his uncle's place and you were more than excited to get another peek at his world. Having talked to Wayne on the phone about what he would like you to make for food, his voice was gruff but serene, calling you maâam and answering your questions between puffs of his cigarette.
âDarlinâ,â Wayne answered after the second time of you asking if he was sure that it didnât matter what you brought over; he didnât want you to fuss over him, âwe could have Surfer Boys pizza for all I care, but if you do make somethingâ you make damn sure that nephew of mine is helping ya, alright? I ainât raised no man to sit and watch work beinâ done, no matter what he thinks.â
Giggling with a hand to your mouth, Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks burning crimson, âChrist Wayne,â he breathes, âpipe down or Iâll take your Christmas present back.â
A hacking cough rumbles from the other end of the phone as the two Munson men bicker back and forth.
Settling on garlic mashed potatoes, swedish meatballs, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and the second pumpkin pie since Eddie ate the first one with a fork and a container of cool whip on the couch after work yesterday; you and Eddie stand at the door of the sky blue trailer the morning of Christmas Day, arms full with casserole dishes and desserts.
The door opens and the waft of a bachelor-esque aroma hits your nose. Stale cigarettes, and laundry soap combine is a surprisingly comforting smell as Wayne Munson meets you at the door. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the edges take a look at all the food balanced between four arms and immediately grabs the containers from you, cigarette planted between his fingers as he slides the food into his own arms. âLord,â he huffs, âyou been cookinâ all morning?â
Eddie holds the door open with his foot and ushers you in, hot on your heels to get away from the bitter cold. âHell yeah she has been,â Eddie said proudly, showing you off like a 4H blue ribbon, âshe wouldnât even let me taste test it.â
Shying away from his compliments you place the mashed potatoes on the counter, turning around to get a full look at the tiny trailer.
Mugs of various assortments, sizes, colors and shapes decorate the wall above the door. A row of dusty long forgotten hats, balances over the window above the brown couch. A small tv is set in the corner of the living room, a table that has seen better days is wedged into a tight corner across from the cabinets in the kitchen, two matching chairs and a third aluminum folding chair propped against it, the seat hard cracking plastic, stuffing spilling out. The fridge is small but functional, a brass magnet with a clamp holds a hand written note of dates, some crossed out in red ink, others upcoming left alone, next to a calendar. The home is well loved and portrays everything you expected from a bachelor pad. Simple, tidy, cramped.
Imagining Eddie in high school living here, you wonder if the brown couch held more than just dust and well grooved ass prints. Memories of Eddieâs previous lovers? One night stands? The thoughts make you shiver with jealousy and disgust as you take lids off of containers and place aluminum foil from the meatball tray on the side of the counter. Eddie and Wayne are on your right talking about a leaky shower head, the cost of replacement parts and how much it would cost to get a new one.
â⊠agh,â Wayne argues, âit wonât take me long to take it all apart and figure it out, ainât no need to go out and buy a new one.â
âAlright stubborn ass,â Eddie pokes, a toothy grin on his face, âjust trying to make it easier on you.â
Wayne and him laugh, greeting each other with a hug. Eddie is a whole head taller than Wayne, their stark differences are completely night and day. Where Eddie is pale, Wayneâs skin is weathered and tan, the piercing blue eyes are ice against his tan complexion, meanwhile Eddieâs eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black holes in the galaxy.
The Munson men pull away with slaps on the shoulders and jokes about frail bones and old age. When Eddie looks at you next Wayneâs eyes follow, his ruddy ringed hand gesture to you with a palm upwards, presenting you like a celebrity, âWayne, this is Tooty, Tooty, this is my uncle Wayne.â
Smiling sweetly and stretching your hand forward for Wayne to shake you are enveloped with his warmth through his heavily calloused hands. âPleasure to meet ya darlinâ, Eddie ainât ever brought a girl home for me to meet before.â
Never brought a girl home.
How could you be the first? Eddie dated Chrissy for an entire year, and youâre sure heâs had more than one girlfriend in the past. Including the waitress at Benny's. Why wouldnât he have brought any of them to meet Wayne? Clearly his uncle means a lot to him, and you remember how Eddie was with Chrissy, how much he cared about her⊠why did she never come back to the Munson home?
Eddie interjects your thoughts, his cheeks pinked with embarrassment, âWayne what the fâ.â
âAh hell, I forgot I bought some paper plates, let me go get âem from the truck.â Wayne tuts, walking quickly past you and Eddie, the cool rush of air fills the room and the snap of the screen door has Eddie shaking his head. Murmuring to himself about needing to keep his mouth shut as he busies himself with getting forks and knives from the wonky drawers.
-
Empty plates and full bellies coordinate into a sleepy haze between you all. Wayneâs contagious laugh fills the kitchen as Eddie groans when the small photo album is passed around the table. âRemember this one Ed? Damn you were madderân a hornet that day when Mrs. Milford asked you to mow her yard.â
âYa,â Eddie yelled, âthatâs cause there is no yard she just made me pick up rocks, and most of it was dog shit from Rocko!â
Wayneâs bellering laugh brings tears to your eyes at Eddieâs misfortunes. A picture of a younger Eddie no older than ten years old, dirt and a scowl on his face, same big doe eyes and a bad haircut.
A smile finally breaks on his face seeing your smirk dance on your lips as you wipe the laughing tears from your eyes.
The three of you spend hours laughing, Eddie and Wayne clean up the table as you put food in Tupperware containers for Wayne, slotting them into the fridge and stacking them neatly.
The Christmas present Eddie had for Wayne was in the back of the van and was heavy. Wayne jumped in to help Eddie carry it in, tutting and making a fuss when you told him you could do it, âno maâam, you sit down right there, I mean it!â
Once outside, the two Munsonâs light up cigarettes, exhaling puffs of smoke into the chilled air, the crunch of snow beneath their boots.
âSure was nice to meet your girlfriend Ed, I think sheâs a keeper,â
Not missing a beat and rolling his eyes Eddie all but screams, âWayne for fucks sake we are not dating, I told you this! Or did you turn senile since I moved out?â
âWell I just thought that if Iâd tease ya enough about it youâd do somethinâ about it âstead of gawking at her all night like sheâs gonna break.â
Eddie's ears burn, âI have a plan, itâs just not something I wanna ruinâ I gotta do it right, she isnât like anyone elseâ sheâ she means more to me than that.â
âIâm proud of ya son, finally grew up,â he claps a hand on Eddieâs shoulder, âyou be good to her. Donât know anyone of your other girly friends, or whatever you call âem, who'd dare step foot out in these parts.â
-
Eddie's gift to Wayne had been a bigger tv, one he could watch Gunsmoke on and be able to see it comfortably from the couch instead of squinting. Wayne smiled from ear to ear and kept on smiling when he stood at the door and waved goodbye to you both.
Cheeks sore from laughing, exhausted from the day you yawn behind a mittened palm. Watching the street lights bounce and sway as Eddie drives you both home.
âCanât be tired already are you?â He asks, smoking a cigarette lazily, smoke billowing from his nostrils and around his curls.
You stretch your back, arching it against the cracked leather of his seats, a yawn slips from your mouth, âJust a little bit,â your voice is small and strained from the stretch, eyelids heavy.
He pleads with slight desperation in his tone, âdonât fall asleep on me yet,â his eyes are soft and tender, blinking slow and gazing into yours, âI still have to give you your present.â
âPresent?â
Eddie and you hadnât talked about getting each other presents even though you had one wrapped neatly in a small box in your bedroom at home.
His face lights up as your eyebrows pull into a quizzical ponder. âItâs nothing big,â Eddie shrugs nonchalantly even though his insides are fiery pools of gummy liquid, tangled knots of rope, âjust something kinda silly.â
Heated cheeks and a delicate fluttering in your stomach keep you awake the rest of the way home, the fluttering increases anytime Eddie catches you looking at him, his lips pursed in a smirk.
Inside, you speak few words. Eddie tosses his keys on the table, a jingled clink as it skids and stops amongst the stack of mail. The creaking leather of his jacket is soft as it rubs with the flannel fabric of his shirt as his arms are pulled from it, tossing it on the back of the wooden chair. He sits to unlace his boots. The overhead light dances off of the silver of his chunky rings, highlighting his large veiny hands, working in a fluid movement of untying the laces from the eyelets. Those powerful hands. His talented fingers. Aching for them to be on your skin you are tantalized by them. Eyes never moving from the skin pulled taut on his knuckles, chapped and pink from the chilled air and the refusal to wear gloves.
Your own shoes are off, toes begging for warmth as you walk gingerly to your room and change into pajamas. What gift did Eddie have for you? Would he think your gift was weird? Pushing the negativity from your mind, you change into comfy pajamas.
Eddie was waiting in the living room with your gifts behind his back. His mind racing and heart thumping noisily in his chest. He had run this through his mind more times that he could count, obsessing over the fine minute details for days. He had calculated the perfect way to do this with the help of Steve. Tonight was the first part and tomorrow, after âA very Merry Corroded Christmas at the Hideout,â he was going to ask you on a date, a real one. One that he borrowed fancy cologne from Harrington, cleaned his van out for, one that ended with him telling you how crazy he is about you, how he thinks you hung the moon, any and all cliches surmounting every horribly sad country song that Boom made them listen to at work, heâd sing them if you wanted that from him. Heâs never felt more like a sap in all his life, but for you, heâd be everything and more. And if he was luckyâ and you were readyâmaybe he would steal a kiss.
His daydream is cut short when you shuffle from your room to the living room. Christmas tree lit behind him, makes him look fit to be an angel sitting atop the tree rather than standing in front of it, the same smirk he always wore skirting across his face.
The red flannel heâs wearing is rolled to his elbows, pushed up haphazardly. A silver chain hanging delicately around his neck and disappearing in the opening to his shirt. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of him, you walk the same way towards him that heâs standing, hands behind your back, fingers digging into the foiled Christmas wrapping.
âOkay,â Eddie says nervously licking his lips, âletâs countdown from 3 and we can exchange? Does that work?â
Nodding enthusiastically, your mind is screaming at youâ your gift is too much, heâs gonna hate it, heâs gonna think itâs weird that you bought this for him. Stomach churning like butter, you hear Eddieâs low velvet voice counting down. At his voice dipping lower when he gets to one you slip the sweat slicked thin box from behind your back and lean hold it out in front of you.
Your chapstick smile is sweet and adoringly beautiful, Eddie nearly drops your present from behind his back at the sight, fingers clutching to the silky wrapped handles of the gift bag with Santaâs fat white ass climbing up into a chimney on the front. His arm swings forward and holds the bag by its handles on one thick finger, like a bomb ready to explode at any second.
Eyes wide and bright he places the gift bag in your hand and exchanges his present for yours. âEddie you didnât have to do this,â you gasp at the sight of the bag, âyou already fixed my car and wouldnât let me pay you.â
âYeah well,â Eddie starts rubbing the back of his neck, âopen it and weâll decide if I should have or not.â
Placing the bag on the ground and taking the crinkly emerald green and sparkly gold tissue paper out one sheet at a time, Eddieâs eyes never leave your hands as you reach the bottom of the bag and they hesitate. His heart jumps to his throat, stomach falling out of his ass. Itâs too much, you hate it. Of course you do, it was a stupid idea to begin with. Why the fuck did he ask Gareth for his help? His original idea would have been better than this, and now look! Youâre about ready to rip his goddamn head off like a praying mantis or some shit. SON OF A Bâ
A shrill laugh erupts from your lungs as Eddie feels a tidal wave of relief wash over him. Tucked into the bag, folded as neatly as Eddie could, you pull out a black t-shirt, safety pins decorate the hem, a homemade ripped neckline. Corroded Coffin's sadistic logo is printed on the front and beneath it reads, âEddieâs babysitterâ in bold white lettering. Fingers tracing the lettering you havenât stopped laughing yet.
âIâI was deciding between âbabysitterâ or âmanagerâ but went with thâ I just figured you needed something to wear for tomorrow and I thought this would be câ do you hate it?â
âHate it?!â you squeak between giggles, âEddie this is the best gift Iâve ever received, I canât wait to wear it.â You meant that, the thought that went into this, the personalization. The almost possession of being anything of Eddieâs made you weak in the knees.
âThank fuck,â he breathes, finally able to take a breath and relax, âshit I have something else for you too, but uh.. close your eyes and turn around for me.â
His breath on your neck drives goosebumps and flutters all over your body. The cool feel of a necklace tightens on your neck as Eddie latches it closed, and goes slack once heâs finished. His hands trail down your back and land on your hips to turn you back around. His fingertips digging into your flesh ever so lightly.
The necklace is heavy, something weighing it down but you canât be sure what it is, itâs not until you glance at his hands that you notice one of his rings is missing, the chunkiest of them all, the pig head is no longer on his middle finger, but around your neck instead.
His fingers skate along your neck as he adjusts it into place, tickling your collar bones with his finger tips, sending shivers across your skin, he keeps this up and youâll be permanently goose pimpled for the rest of your life. Youâd wear them proudly if it meant his hands never left you.
âThere,â he announces in finality, his eyes dip to your lips, the necklace and back to your eyes, âarenât you just the most beautiful thing Iâve ever seen.â
Core throbbing and pooling with molten hot lava at his complimentary words, his velvet, panty dropper voice. Fuck, he is so pretty it hurts.
âBetter open your present before your mouth gets you into trouble,â you whisper, blinking long and slow as you stare back into the depths of his eyes, lost in the muddy galaxy.
He grins, his fingers walk up your neck and cup your chin, bringing you ever so slightly towards him, enough that you can feel his breath on your own lips, his tobacco voice pulling you in and wrapping you tight in a nicotine high that theyâd make quit ads for in the upcoming future, âoh princess, Iâd pay to be in that kind of trouble.â
and youâre floating, in this moment there is no sound, just two souls shedding the last layer of self doubt, the last inkling of the unknown as your toes dip in the warm pools of the burnt caramels of Eddieâs eyes. His lips are slick and you want to get a taste, want to feel the chapped crack in his bottom lip nestled against your tongue, busting the crack open and savoring his blood in your mouth.
The fervoring tension has never been this strong and you wonder if youâll be able to pull away or if youâll push yourself up on your tippy toes and close the inch gap between you, sealing your feelings with a kiss. But itâs Eddie who pulls away, taking a ragged breath and hitting himself lightly in the head with your carefully wrapped present.
He could feel the flames from your lips, the sweet venom of your tongue was sirening out to him, but he wouldnât, couldnât do it. He has a plan in place and no matter how hard all puns intended it was for him to pull away from you, he had to. Wanting to follow his plan, making sure his iâs were dotted and his tâs were crossed heâd never studied harder for anything in his life. Heâd pass this test for sure, having obsessed and studied the material for months, staying up late most nights to tune out the fine details. Heâd get this right.
Your eyes droop as he steps away from you tangled in his web of desire you canât get unreleased from. His fingers slide along the taped edge of the wrapper and youâre certain youâre going to fold like a chair at the way the veins bulge in his hands. Heâs looking at the gift you bought, a silence on his lips as you drool for the way heâs holding it. Heâs stammering, suddenly an impediment in his vocal chords as his tongue twists thickly against his teeth.
âNo wayâ No fucking way!â Heâs screaming, pulling his hair and jumping around the room in a boyish giddiness.
âM-Metallica! Tooty!! No way, dude no way! These are fake right?!â
They werenât.
Robin always had a craft for winning stupid shit and when the radio station out of Indianapolis announced they were giving away tickets to see Metallica in February to caller number 18, Robin just so happened to call the radio station requesting to do a shout out for Vicky and ended up winning the tickets. The night she came to you to color her hair, you exchanged the service for the tickets.
Before you can answer he grabs you up in his arms, spinning you around the room, holding you tighter than a safety belt on a rollercoaster. He spins and spins as you both laugh like kids.
âMerry Christmas Eddie,â you whisper in his ear when he stops spinning. Heâs holding your waist, and youâre on the tips of your toes, his head buried into your neck.
âWhy are you so good to me?â Eddie asks solemnly against your neck, his voice vibrating your skin in a heated pulse.
Not answering for a long time, you bathe in his musky scent, his hair tickling your face in silky curls. His strong arms holding you tight against him, your fingers playing with the opening of his flannel and the ends of his curls, your cheek right against his chest, moving with his breathing.
âBecause I want to be,â you finally answer, pulling away and getting lost in his inky warm eyes, âyou deserve it.â
He reels you back in, his chin atop your head. Minutes melt together and you arenât sure how long you stand this way, hip bones fusing together as one with your hearts aligning, your eyes have been closed for a while and you feel cracked lips on your forehead, making you shiver as he whispers, softly into your hairline, âmy angel.â
-
The next day is filled with chaos. The guys are in and out of the house at the ass crack of dawn bouncing speakers and other odds and ends you didnât even know were in the house against each other into the back of Eddieâs van. Wearing Eddieâs necklace proudly close to your heart you make them all sit to eat breakfast burritos. They eat and leave with a flash, but not before Eddie comes back through the door. He grabs your hands, holding them softly in his calloused grip, âSee you at the show?â
Smiling widely and trying to will the heat from your cheeks away, you answer, âwouldnât be a proper babysitter if I wasnât there to watch now would I?â
âShould have made you the janitor,â Eddie grins and as he sees you still wearing his ring around your neck, he tosses you a wink that could liquify smoke. His tall frame slinks out the door driving like a bat out of hell to go set up at the bar.
-
The jeans youâre wearing are so tight accentuating your ass to explicit levels, the worn docs youâve had for years are perfectly broke in and comfy on your feet, the shirt Eddie made for you wrapped around your chest perfectly, the letters of bending the âCâ and the âNâ on either side.
Steve, Leighanne, Robin and Vicky pick you up around 6, Robin with her fire engine hair and fishnet stockings under holy jeans. Vicky in a plaid printed overalls and a beret. Steve and Leighanne are both wearing jet black, her in a sheer sleeved button up shirt and a long black skirt. Steve wore an old band shirt he borrowed from Eddie. Your nerves were frazzled but settled slightly when Leighanne and Robin cat called out the window as you paraded down the front steps.
The drive to the Hideout had you stifling a chunky vomit in your throat. Nervous beyond belief you couldnât shake it. Eddie had asked you to come, made you your own shirt to wear just for tonight, he clearly wanted to see you, wanted to have you watch his band play. Breathing in and out in exaggerated breaths Steve parks the G Wagon and itâs time to go inside. Here goes nothing.
-
Eddie wasnât kidding, the bar was busy and posters with the bands silhouette were sticking on every surface in the bar and outside of it. Outside the bar was a girl around your age, short in stature, her brown hair piled high on her head, brooding green eyes piercing your own as she smoked a cigarette, selling tickets.
Eyeing your shirt she rolls her eyes, âyou must be Eddieâs special guests,â she spits, eyeing you up and down, a jealous pitch in her voice, âguest of honor my ass,â she mumbles to herself as she lets you in free of charge. The Hideout was exactly how you remembered it to be. Pungent smells of spilt liquor and cheap keg beer fill your nose, the smoky haze filling the bar is a welcomed reminder that this place was a legendary spot in Hawkins.
Eddie and the boys were on stage setting up amps and speakers. His long curls catch the light and showering the room with amber swirls of caramel and chocolate. Heâs wearing a cut mid drift shirt that looks like it would fit a toddler, his tattoos and fine definitions of his hips and slight abs are on display. Every vein in his arms are protruding and river lined. Heâs the single sexiest man on the planet and your body was running over with want.
âLetâs get a drink, yeah?â Steve motions to the sticky counter of the bar. A dark curly haired woman with enormous boobs and red lipstick wearing a t- shirt reading âdaddyâs girlâ is behind the bar. Sheâs familiar to you but only in passing, the more you think the more you recognize her as Max's older brotherâs girlfriend. Her long red nails clack on the sticky counter as she waits impatiently for you to make a decision.
Steve orders for him and Leighanne and orders Robin a water with a straw, never living down her behavior on his birthday. Vicky and you both order beers that probably should have been cold but with the daggering stare the bartender drove into your skull you didnât dare ask.
Pocketing the cash Steve slapped into the counter in her bra, she made her way over to the extremely intoxicated drunk girls there for a bachelorette party.
âYouâre so fucking pretty, youâre like my bestfriend,â a girl with wavy brown hair and glasses slurs to her friend, her voice up an octave as they power slam fruity drinks that resemble melted skittles.
âI hope Greg realizes what youâre giving up to be with him,â the girl with pinked red hair shouts above the others her leopard print jumpsuit stretched tight across her heaving chest, fussing over her friend with cropped lavender hairâs appearance, holding her up like theyâre re-enacting Weekend at Bernieâs.
The bride-to-be pouts and makes a face, âwho said Iâm giving up anything? This whole bar is free game and according to Joâs guide for the night, we still have âmake out with a mustacheâ to cross off.â
Snickering as you pass them, Leighanne linked her arm through your left as you make your way to stage, sipping the lukewarm beer in the barely clean glass, its hop tickling your throat with each travel in your mouth. Corroded Coffin has gone backstage and are waiting to be announced. The bar is flooded with people young and old. Reliving their glory days one sparse balding mullet at a time.
âI had no idea Eddie was in a band,â Leighanne whispered loudly into your ear, âhe was in such a bad mood when I met him I didnât really get to know him.â
The memory of Steveâs birthday still stung but the moments after and the day after that were still singing sweetly in your soul. âHeâs come around quite a bit,â you explain.
âYeah,â she agrees, âSteve told me about the two guys he fought at work, said they were mouthing off about you and he just snapped.â
âNothing that wasnât deserved,â âIâuhâI took care of it.â He says in a final explanation.
The bruises on his face, the broken ribs, his cracked and bleeding mouth. That was for you? He fought two guys off because of you?
Mind spinning on its own axis you canât grasp why he would do that for you. Why he would get himself severely hurt just because some douchebags said some shit about you. It wasnât worth it. Your eyebrows pull inward and your heart aches even more for Eddie. He was hands down the sweetest man youâve ever come across. Putting himself in harmâs way just to prove a point. He could have lost his job, could have gotten even more hurt than what he was. It was stupid, reckless and dangerousâ but somehow you couldnât think of anything other than your heart hammering into your chest.
A booming voice fills the speakers and coaxes your attention to the center stage. âPlease welcome, all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, our own, Corroded Coffin!â
Eddie and the boys trot on stage, Gareth takes his seat behind his drum set, followed by Jeff picking up his bass guitar and Big D picking up his instrument, you notice him winking towards a girl beside you, the blush on her pale cheeks could be seen from another planet.
Eddie is the last out, strutting forward with his runt red warlock guitar slung around his neck and a bullet belt hanging on his slender waist. His smile radiates across his face as he approaches the mic. He looks through the crowd with twinkly eyes and when he catches your stare front and center he winks and bends down, voice low as he speaks only to youâ as if no one else is in the room but the pair of you. âPrettiest girl in the world made it all the way from Cherry Lane to come and see me huh?â
âWell since you practically begged,â you quip, heat warming your cheeks as his smile spreads wider.
âWait for me after?â Eddie asks, eyes dripping deeply into yours, cartoon hearts floating from each blink of his lashes.
His stare could heat a kettle it burned into your soul and cozied up with your heart, softening it to a beautiful graying ash. Nodding and smiling like a fool in love you canât form words when he shoots you a wink and stands in a swift, fluid motion, grabbing the microphone and shouting, âHawkins! Are you ready to get this party started?!â The lights beat down on the band as they begin their set for the night.
Thrashing on his guitar, Eddie starts the tinny opening to Metallicaâs Wherever I May Roam, followed by Gareth beating into his drums. Having watched them play this song many times in the garage it never ceases to amaze you how deep Eddieâs voice can get in the beginning of the song, his liquid sultry tone curls around your skin and holds you tight. The cords in his neck are profound jutting out in delectable delight. A feast for the wicked. His fingers move deftly along the fretboard as he sings and plays. Hair already slicked with sweat and hanging in a curly wet curtain of onyx down his back and stuck to his face. Heâs never looked better. Hardly recognizing anyone around you, you're completely enamored like a moth to a flame by his appearance, his sex appeal on fire, licking up your skinâs gasoline, orange hues in a smoldering fire.
The song finishes and Eddie yells into the mic, âIâm Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin, if you donât like metal or the 80âsâŠâ
The crowd chants as Eddie holds the mic out to them, âTHEN GET THE FUCK OUT!â
Screams, whoops and hollers are bouncing off every surface of the dingy blackened bar. The beginning bells of For Whom The Bell Tolls chime and the crowd goes wild. When Big D rifts the beginning of Love Bites, Eddie takes a giant swig of Jack Daniels and your tongue aches to lap up the drops coursing down his stomach and finding solace in the waistband of his jeans.
Does he need a chaser? If so, you know the perfect antidote. Hungry like a wolf for him you can feel the soaked panties between your legs, the friction of your jeans give little relief where itâs needed.
The band plays a few more songs, and you are surprised that Eddieâs voice never falters or cracks during the entire nine minutes of Freebird, he nails the guitar solo and his sweltering smooth voice hits your core with each belting ache of the sad song. Steve holds Leighanne from behind and they sway together through the lyrics, heâs whispering into her ear and sheâs fighting back tears. Robin and Vicky are slow dancing in a drunken stupor of smoke, completely in their own world.
The drunken girls from the bachelorette party are each making out with men double their age, the bride is getting a piggyback ride from a balding man you recognize to be wait what? Wayne Munson, reliving his glory days and having the time of his life as her white veil is worn around his head, cigarette hung limply from his thin lips. Itâs safe to say the entire bar is drunk and having one of the best nights. The bartender has a line of party go-ers to do body shots from her cleavage. Itâs hot and humid in the bar but Corroded Coffin doesnât take any breaks, they keep playing and you can tell exhaustion is evident in Eddieâs face as he sings his heart out.
Eddieâs voice booms as he grabs the mic with a maniacal laugh, he looks down at you and points to you with an outstretched palm, âthis next one is for the biggest brat, pain in my ass, absolutely the most gorgeous girl Iâve ever known, we havenât played this song in years, but I know itâs her favorite.â
Jeff starts thumbing on his bass guitar with Gareth hitting the drums, immediately you know the song. You canât believe he remembered. It was months ago when you had mentioned it to him, asking shyly if they still played it. Eddie starts singing the first verse,
Thereâs a place just south of Witches Valley
Where they say the wind wonât blow
And they only speak in whispers of her name
Thereâs a lady they say that feeds the darkness
It eats right from her hand
With a crying shout, sheâll search you out
And freeze you where you stand
Lady Evil, evil
Sheâs a magical mystical woman
Lady evil, evil on my mind
Sheâs the queen of the night
Tears well in your eyes and you canât help them from falling. Grabbing the necklace he had placed so delicately on you yesterday you rub the tarnished steel between your fingers. Itâs not even a sappy song, but the fact he remembered from all those years ago when you were just a bratty sister to his best friend and he was an asshole teenager, made your heart soar. You were in love with him. More than just a little crush, more than just a one night fling, you wanted him as yoursâ yours and yours alone.
The bar is full of screaming fans, girls with their tops off, throwing their bras at the band, but Eddieâs eyes never leave yours. His soul reaches yours and tells you without words the same thing you are thinking.
The rest of the concert you stand in one spot still staring up at the beautiful man in front of you, utterly intoxicated on him. The valleys of his neck as it vibrates and stretches with his vocal chords, the veiny thick hands as they strum his guitar, his wet hair that would look so delicious wrapped around your fingers. You yearned for him, carnally desired to have those hands wrapped hotly around your skin, between your legs, on your neck. Fuck.
-
The gig ends and the boys slip backstage. âFuck man! I havenât seen that many people at one of your gigs ever, where the hell is Gareth?â Big D asks, squeezing a can of spray cheese into his mouth.
âOh you know him,â Jeff chides, downing a warm beer, âheâs bumpingâ uglies with his main, probably locked in the menâs bathroom again.â
They all chuckle and Eddie hurries to grab his stuff, anxious to meet you up front and buy you a drink, maybe take you out for midnight pancakes at Bennyâs. Looking as beautiful as ever tonight he had a hard time keeping the gig going, all he wanted to do was jump off stage and kiss you so deeply your bones would sing from his fervor, and now that it was over, he moved into the final phase of his plan, making you his.
âAsh is waitingâ on me, you still riding with us Big D or is Em gettinâ lucky tonight?
Big D wipes his cheese filled lips, âah I might give her the olâ pickle tickle, hey man,â he says gesturing to Eddie, âa whole song dedicated to the most gorgeous girl huh?â
Eddie doesnât miss a beat, âam I wrong? Tooty not pretty enough for you?â
Big D holds his hands up in surrender, âdamn dude thatâs not what I was getting atâ Iâmâ we are happy for you. Donât let her get away.â
Eddie smiled sheepishly, âthatâs the plan my man,â he says slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, âthatâs the plan, gotta go.â
He makes his way down a narrow hallway back to the bar when heâs stopped by the twins. Arms crossed and looks of vengeance on their painted lips.
âLadies,â Eddie greets, head down and making to pass them, but the stand stone still, blocking his way.
âDaddy,â Cece answers, âthat wasnât very nice the way you treated us the last time we played.â her lips pursed in a pretty pout, a tight faux leather mini skirt exentuating her curves.
Carol purrs as she walks towards him, her hip gripping leather pants and a denim vest adorned with band pins pushes her chest up and nearly to her eyeballs, soft Farrah curls surrounding her face and sway down her back. Her finger curled under his chin, âI think you owe us⊠a favor.â
âOoh yes,â Cece agrees, âa big favor,â her hand wraps around the soft length outside his jeans. Lips pressing into his sweaty neck.
âIâm gonna pass,â Eddie says firmly, avoiding Carolâs needy fingers in his hair, âbut Gareth might be up for another round, give him about a half hour or so.â
Carol grabs Eddie by his crotch and walks him back into the wall, pinning his shoulders with her arms, her lips tantalizingly close to his neck. âA song dedicated to that bitch roommate of yours?â she seethes, âhow pathetic.â
Cece speaks now, her words laced with venom long slicked back pony tail cascading down her back, âbet she canât fuck like us, word around town is her pussy was trashed by Chad Cunningham.â
Eddie instantly feels a fire in his belly; he's ready to tell them both off, ready to get to you and take you out for a meal. But when he looks up he sees you standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. He calls your name but you ignore him, throwing a middle finger over your shoulder and swallowing the lump in your throat as turn on your heel and stomp away, down the hallway and through the loud chattering of drunks in the bar, passed the stage that you finally felt like you were getting somewhere with Eddie, and out the door.
The wind had picked up, blowing snow all around the parking lot. A white wall of opaque blindness, you don't have a jacket but you know the general way on how to get home. Crossing your arms across your chest you put your head down and began to trudge through the parking lot.
Not being able to fathom what you saw, you are pissed that youâre jealous. Pissed that your rockstar roommate, who was known for being a ladies man and a player, pulled one over on you. Made you think he loved you just for him to be sucking face with the twins who were at your house all those months ago. Tears sting and practically freeze to your lashes as you stomp further and further away from the hideout, heart frozen and rigid once again.
With the wind blowing hard you didnât hear the door being flung open frantically or the loud music being sung by the drunks from the jukebox. Eddie barely catches a glimpse of your black shirt and barrels through the deepening snow to get to you. âTooty!â
A warm hand wraps around your arm and pulls you around to face him, your eyes are like steel knives into his as he stares into them pleading with you to understand. âYou gonna walk the whole way home?â
âWhat the fuck do you care?â you shout, trying to wiggle your arm away from him, âyou must think Iâm really fucking stupid huh?â
Eddie is perplexed, face twisted in confusion, âwhat the hell are yâ Jesus Christ itâs freezing out here, let me take you home. We can argue and fight all you want without getting hypothermia.â
âNo! Iâm not going anywhere with you!â you cry, trying to shove him away but nearly falling in the snow. You didnât want to be in his presence ever again. He hurt you, he made you feel like you were special, turns out you're just as common as a penny on the sidewalk, not even face up for luck.
âTooty,â Eddie barks, voice angry, sharp and full of pain, âif I have to drag you by your goddamn hair into the van I will. I have no problem doing that. Letâs. Go.â
Shoulder checking him on your spin back through the parking lot, you stomp through the thick snow and climb into the passenger seat, shivering and pouting.
Eddie is close behind you, hands raw and red from the elements, trembling as he reaches for the knob to blast the heat. He doesnât say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, only looks your way to try and read your face, your peripherals catch him more than onceâ but you wonât give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears.
The ride home is full of slippery snow packed roads, at the stop sign before turning onto Cherry, Eddie looks your way, âare you mad at me?â
Are you mad at me? What a stupid fucking question.
âNo Eddie Iâm over the moon, jumping for joy, mother fucking delighted to see you with not one girl but twoâ groping you ready to feast on you like a snack.â
Eddie shakes his head, not wanting to argue but seeing no other way through it. âThatâs all you saw huh? And where were my hands Tooty? Was I touching them?â
You think hard, unable to to process or give a shit what he was talking about. âI was too distracted to see what you were doing, sorry for leaving so soon and disrupting your rockstar ego in the actâ Iâm sure youâre into other people watching you fuck.â
Eddie lets out a taunting laugh that is anything but trying to be funny. Heâs flabbergasted by how mean youâre being, 100% only seeing what you wanted to.
âYou are seriously talking out of your ass right now, ya know that right?â Eddie sneers, pulling into the driveway, heâs hurt and like an animal, heâs lashing out, defending his pride, âWhy do you even care if I am, which for the recordâ Iâm not, with someone else? We arenât dating, youâre not my girlfriend.â
The poisonous words sting worse than the first fight with him ever has. Not giving him a chance to explain, you throw open the door, not slamming it but leaving it wide open and stomp inside. Kicking off your boots you hear two doors slam and Eddieâs boots stomping behind you.
âFuck!â Eddie shouts, âdo you ever finish a conversaââ
âFuck you! You wanna be some rockstar prick with his dick in anything that walks? Be my guestâ but keep me out of it!â Turning to your bedroom, Eddie jumps over the couch to block your path, arms stretched across the door frame.
âWe,â Eddie yells again, âare going to talk about this, stop running away from me!â
âNo,â you chastise, âwe arenât!â
Eddie hears you but presses on, âwhy are you mad at me because you think you saw me kissing or touching those other girls?â
âUhh,â you groan, defeated, âleave me alone.â
âTell me,â he continues.
âNo.â You announce crossing your arms.
âTooty, Jesus Chrâ tell me,â heâs losing his calm, agitated by your bratty attitude and refusal to talk to him.
Fidgeting and stamping your foot you donât want to give in to him, canât tell him why youâre so upset. How embarrassing to tell someone youâre jealous.
âEddieâ get the fuck out of my way.â
âTell me why and I will, be a big girl, use your words,â his venomous teasing only fuels your fire.
âJesus Christ you incessant fucking gnat! Get out of the way!â
Eddie presses forward, inching towards you, making you draw away from him, âare you jealous, Tooty?â
The word makes your cheeks heat, admission written all over your face as he keeps pressing into you further, your back is at the wall and his arms box you in, face inches from yours. âDid seeing me with someone else make you mad?â
Grumbling his name you try to push away from him but he is persistent. âTell me Iâm not crazy, baby.â His whispered tone seeps through your skin, flooding your panties even more, your heart screaming with each beat, mind inching you impossibly closer to him.
âTell me you want this just as much as I do,â his hooded eyes, pour into yours, licked lips wet with spit.
Toes in the water, itâs surprisingly warm despite the frigid cold of the weather outside, but heâs been keeping you warm now for months.
Hands on his chest you finger the holes in the neck of his shirt. His cold wet hair tickling your hands as you yank him closer to you, practically bumping noses, âyouâre not crazy, but I will be if you donât kiss me.â
Hesitation long forgotten, the smooth silk of your lips are hugged tight against Eddieâs pinked and chapped ones. Floating higher to the galaxy he swore he would take you to, tank full of gas, dancing you around in his arms on Saturnâs rings, diving head first into Jupiterâs springs.
Blissfully euphoric is the language of your spilled lust infused love.
-
for readmore đŠ
#honey iâm home#eddie munson#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson/reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson fanfiction
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â€ïž Heart Beat â€ïž
An Advent Fic by @allwaswell16
Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crushâand his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums. đ 35k ~ Now Complete! đ
đ„ 1 đ„ 2 đ„ 3 đ„ 4 đ„ 5 đ„ 6 đ„ 7 đ„ 8 đ„ 9 đ„ 10 đ„ 11 đ„ 12 đ„ 13 đ„ 14 đ„ 15 đ„ 16 đ„ 17 đ„ 18 đ„ 19 đ„ 20 đ„ 21 đ„ 22 đ„ 23 đ„ 24 đ„ 25 đ„
Now with a bonus chapter... â€ïž 26 â€ïž A Valentine's Day time stamp
{ Incredible moodboard by @nouies }
#advent fic#heart beat#allwaswell16#thelarriefics#hlficlibrary#1dficvillage#hlcreators#hljournal#1dcreatorsclubhouse#hlsource#trackinghappily#trackinghome#1dsource#ficsfor4am
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ok im feeling the kiss list sm!! im feeling angsty... so steve x reader with #4 or #26?? love u <3333
#4 (a kiss where it hurts) was double requested, so this is #26-- *this* one isn't angsty although technically could be considered a wee tinybit smidgenly dark if you squint real hard. Sorry this is not even remotely edited and all over the place and just *sighs* yeah okay enjoy!
Steve Rogers x reader: a kiss as an apology
I'm So, So...Sorry, a tale for Valentine's 2024
Summary: Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.
Warnings: *screams and bites pillow* WHY. WHY???? omg, this just...ack...smut. Nomad Steve being needy and touch-starved just ruined my life. đđđ DUB-CON adjacent b/c Steve loses control. Please send him help. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There's plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist, but this ficlet is for adults! WC 2022
To look at him, youâd think this dude can fuck, but it turns out that the absolutely huge man checking into your familyâs small rural motel doesnât know the first thing about flirting, much less sex.
You have no idea what âGrantâ and his friend âTomâ were really whispering about over the breakfast table that one morning weeks ago, but later that night Grant came by the office, restless and unable to sleep.
He just talked to you. It was all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you liked on your days off. Even that seemed a struggle for himâthinking up casual questions. He could look you in the eye up until he had to respond, and he didnât give many answers in return.
You laughed--you had toâwhen Grant asked if he could walk you to your door, whichâŠis ludicrous because itâs a house a whopping fifty meters down the way from strip of rooms.
âI could walk,â he shrugs. âIâll probably do a lap or two anyway.â
âWell, I have to wait for Clark to show up, butââ you look him up and down ââokay.â
Twenty minutes later, the craziest thing happened.
An elk walked right in front of you on the path, and you jumped back, slamming into the wall of muscle the was your escort. You were both perfectly still as it moved.
Then that thing squawked and stamped huge hoofs. You threw your weight backward and spun to flee, clambering over Grantâs body.
Why you were so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife.
The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly he tried to hold you still.
The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hissed through his teeth for you to stop should have been your hint, but instead you clung to him harder, asking if the animal was gone.
âUhâŠâ Grant tenses against you. âItâsâŠitâs justââ he shudders when you wriggle closer ââyes, gone,â he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.
He takes a second to breathe, then, âletâs get you home.â
âGrantâ is now properly called âSteveâ in private.
It took a while for him to trust you. He and âTomââwhose real name you still donât knowâhave been back and forth to the motel several times. You donât talk about other guests. You donât gossip. You donât pry because that is just the nature of your business.
Steveâs initial five oâclock shadow has come in nicely. The first time he returned with the full beard, you couldnât help yourself and brushed your fingers through it on your way back from handing him his key over the counter. The way he looked at youâŠdevastating.
Tom made his own, very knowing face, and winked.
âYou should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.â
Steve cleared his throat harshly and blushed, accidentally leaving a small bag on the ground when he rushed to the door.
âHe was joking. It was a joke,â Steve blurted when he found you standing there to give it back.
You just smiled and said Tom wasnât wrong.
âSo, if you ever just want a hugâŠâ you muttered.
Thatâs how this started.
A tentative embrace where only the top of his chest touched you led to a lovely full-body hug, and then he held you a touch longer, so your hand went to his hair andâŠ
Steve whined and crashed you two against the wall outside his room, righting himself almost immediately, excusing the behavior, and rushing back inside. You couldnât let that stand though. You stopped the door before it closed.
âHey, itâs okay. I can be here, if you want, to hold.â
Steveâs eyes were one of the only things you could see in the dark room.
You took a chance and reached out to scratch at his bearded cheek again. âNot like youâre gonna hurt me, Stevie.â
So he melted into your hand, eyeâs rolling as if drunk on the feeling, and you stepped in to hug him.
You canât count the number of times youâve had to tell him âitâs okay,â but at least Steve doesnât stop everything to apologize each time. Convincing him not to be self-conscious of how his body reacts to touch took a while.
He humped your leg like a puppy while you played with his hair. He came in his pants while you gave him a back rub. He cried when you kissed over his arms and chest.
Youâve told him itâs all okay.
He tries so hard not to smile when he checks back in, but he waits until your shift ends to have you fall asleep in his arms.
Youâve told him itâs okay to fall asleep in your arms, too.
Genuinely, the best part of the whole arrangement is that he will let you do anything to him. Heâs fine being petted and fawned over, teased for being more ripped than jeans in the â90sâexcept for he didnât understand that joke, sadly,âand itâs okay because you get it. He doesnât tell you any personal information. He barely told you his name. Heâs probably figured out that you arenât an idiot and have put two-and-two together, but he keeps quiet, too.
He lets you keep touching him because he enjoys it.
Aside from the average hug and a simple spooning hold, Steve only ever touches you when you put his hand somewhere. (Right, except for the leg humping, but that was adorable so who cares! He wasnât even doing that to touch you; poor thing needed friction, is all.) Anyway, since heâs been so excited about everything youâve wanted to do to him, you push your luck.
The recent days have been all about Steve completely naked and at your mercy, which is, of course, still focused on making him feel good, but tonight is the very first night you are also naked. Itâs meant to be a profound comfortâyour weight atop him, maximum skin-to-skin contactâand it is.
Heâs warm and stretched out like a cat in the sun beneath you, smiling, resting his eyes as dusk takes over the sky. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat but donât notice until heâs gently shaking you awake.
âYouâreâŠyou were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare.â
Steveâs voice is husky. His grip on your arm is deliberately stationary until you shift to slide off of him.
His hand flies down to the back of your knee but not before you feel the hard length of his erection move from its perch at your ass to press flush on the back of your thigh.
âDonât,â he whispers. âJust ignore it.â
Youâre surprised heâs so shy after all youâve been through for this. How can he doubt?
You stretch up to his face, straddling his abs for stability. âStevie,â you say with soft fingers carding through his long hair, âyou know it really is okay. You know that.â
He hums, his cock jumping against your ass while he squeezes your knee. He exhales shakily when you drag the back of your nails down his arms and sit up. Too dark to see, all you can go by is what you hear and feel.
âAs long as youâre okayââ you press into his pecs to lift yourself over his hips âand this is okay for you, right?â
Itâs hard to hide how desperate heâs made you, but the issue is mutual based on how Steve groans when you settle your folds along the length of him. He clenches his ass so hard, it lifts you and sends a surge of heat to your core.
Thereâs a shuffling noise by his head.
âIs that a âyes?â Are you alright?â
The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled âyes.â He clenches again, and your arousal finally slicks his hot skin beneath you.
You keep your hands braced on his chest as you start to move, tiny pulses at first, and the poor thing is too sensitive.
Heâs a panting mess by the time your slick is spread over him.
âNo,â he whines, and you stop, thinking itâs too far to push him. âToo soon.â
âShh, itâs okay to come. Remember, Stevie? Thatâs good. We can stop butââ
His other hand clamps onto the meat of your thigh. âDonât. Donât stop. I justâŠâ
âThen weâll do this again. Donât worry,â you coo, rolling your hips from his root to tip.
He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan. He only lasts a few more thorough pumps. The spurts of cum graze your clit as he finishes on his stomach, shot as far as your wrists still above his chest, and for the first time with Steve youâre disappointed you canât immediately keep going. You were getting very close, too, very fast.
It pains you to peel your sticky pussy off of him to get tissues, but you praise him the whole way.
âPlease,â he rasps, taking hold of your arm as the last is wiped up, âmore?â Heâs breathless. âI can do better.â
You smile in the dark, excited for the possibility but afraid to push him. âStevie, you did great. Rest forââ
âNo, IâI wantâŠI mean, can I touch you this time?â
Oh.
Oh.
âSure,â you gulp, âthatâd be nice.â If by âniceâ you mean âIâve just creamed myself at a single questionâ then yes, very nice.
He wants you in the same position straddling him, but thatâs so he can spread his hands and run his fingertips over the most of you. Heâs softened as he starts exploring you, but his lingering fascination with your breasts makes you wetter and wetter. He likes how you purr and gasp as he pinches and kneads. He likes to pull at your thighs until he gets handfuls of your ass.
He gets hard again off of your moans and tucks his cock between you while you instinctively ride him. Itâs still only him deliciously fucking your folds until the repeated swipe of his head over your clit tips you to the edge, and your nails dig into his skin to draw down with the coil in your belly.
The angle catches him at your entrance, a shallow thrust that has you crying out lewdly, and suddenly, youâre on your back, Steveâs huge body pinning you to the mattress, one elbow propping himself by your chest, his other hand brutally spreading your ass to accommodate him.
Youâre overwhelmed by the power he exerts over you. He suckles and nips at your breasts, cock so deep it pushes your insides to make way, and what starts as an average orgasm just wipes you out in a cascade of sharp pleasure.
Your hand grip blindly at his hair and back, choking on screams of profanities he wouldnât appreciate, and he wraps his arms under you, bending you in an arch, chest to chest, while his hot breath rolls over your sweat-cooled throat.
You feel his lips open wide, but Steve goes silent until spent.
Finally, his last slow pistons calmed in halted combustion, he nuzzles his head to the crook of your neck.
Your fingers are frozen where buried in his hair.
In the dim moonlight you can see his ass twitch, jolting in over-stimulation while he gently pulls out of you. He props himself up, posture small and timid for such broad shoulders.
He hovers above you while you try to read each otherâs expressions.
âIâŠIâŠâ he starts quietly, looking over and over your features.
His chin ticks closer, hesitates, and then descends so his lips can capture yours. Itâs so quick and chaste, like any other first kiss, but all out of order.
âIâm sorry,â he says, the words cracking in his guilt. âI couldnât help it. I couldnât stop.â
You pull him down to you, properly melding your mouth to his, beginning your next lesson already, then let him come up for air.
âItâs okay, Stevie. You can still walk me home.â
A/N: *drops bath bomb to froth in the pool of Tumblr* *runs away* Don't ask me wtf just happened because I don't know. It just consumed my whole day.
[psst. This became a whole series. 'Hideout' Masterlist]
Bucky Barnes and a kiss as encouragement âŹ
ïž âĄïž Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt
[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
Tags: I'm also adding the people who showed interest in this concept earlier. You will not be tagged beyond this unless you ask! @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes @bstorn @rogersbarber @cevansbaby-dove @nowandajenn @jesevans @justherebecausesafarisucks @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp
#steve rogers fanfiction#250+#ro answers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader smut#soft!steve rogers#nomad steve#nomad steve rogers#captain america fanfiction#captain america x reader#captain america x you#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n
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The Doll House - A Geto Suguru x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)
You sell yourself to a brothel to feed your family and Geto Suguru is in charge of training you to be the perfect submissive sex doll.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Read Tojiâs Part Here!
Read Nanamiâs Part Here!
Read Sukunaâs Part Here!
Read Gojoâs Part Here!
Read Chosoâs Part Here!
AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Getoâs. Iâm not sure how many parts it will have. If youâd like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!
Smut. 18+. Dubcon. Submission. Extreme humiliation. Voyeurism. Light degradation. Masturbation. First time sex. Fem Reader. This Divider by @benkeibear!
When Suguru enters his room, he finds his doll huddled in a corner, shivering. Sheâs pulled his shirt on, but it dwarfs her, the sleeves covering her hands. He approaches slowly, and stops a few feet away before kneeling down to her level.Â
âCan we talk?â he asks her, his voice soft and even. âNot as trainer and doll, just as people.â
She looks up at him. Her eyes are puffy and wet. Seeing the anguish on her face makes him feel like heâs been stabbed. âYou said you wouldnât hurt me,â she says. âYou said I can trust you, that youâll keep me safe. But when I felt unsafe, when I was scared, I turned to you! And you⊠youâŠâ
âI hurt you, and Iâm sorry,â he began. âYou have no idea how sorry I am. I thought this would upset you, yes. But I didnât realize how much it would hurt you. If I had, I swear I wouldnât have put you through that.â
To emphasize his apology, Suguru bows down low to the floor, touching his forehead to the carpet. âPlease forgive me for failing you as a trainer, as a person.â
He doesnât look up to see her reaction, but after a few moments of silence, he hears her voice say, âI want to know why. Why did you do it? What did I do to deserve punishment like that?â
Finally lifting his face, he gazes at her wet but determined eyes. âThe truth is, you scared me this afternoon,â he tells her. âI could tell youâre getting too attached to me. Remember what I told you? The cruelest fate for a doll is falling in love with her trainer. Because that trainer is going to hand her over to some other man and then move on to the next doll. Iâve seen it absolutely devastate dolls in the past, and I didnât want that to happen to you, so I thought if I did something drastic, it would stamp out your feelings for me.â
She doesnât say anything, just stares at him. Itâs agony not knowing what sheâs thinking, but he goes on. âThatâs also why I havenât had sex with you yet. Iâm afraid it will only make the attachment worse.â
He doesnât say so, but heâs even more afraid of the fact that heâs growing attached to her. He denied it to Satoru, but his longtime friend knows him better than anyone, and heâd hit the nail right on the head.Â
His doll narrows her eyes at him in a look of disapproval that sends a shock of panic through him. No doll has ever looked at him this way. âYouâre selfish,â she says. âYou decided what you thought was best for me on your own. You didnât even ask me how I felt or what I wanted! Yes, Iâm attached to you. Yes, Iâm in love with you! But maybe Iâm prepared for whatever heartache Iâll feel when we separate. Maybe I still think itâs worth it!â
Suguru blinks in surprise. Is his doll actually stronger than he thought? Looking at her now, with steely resolve in her eyes, he thinks sheâs more beautiful than sheâs ever been. Not to mention the fact that sheâs wearing his shirt. Heâs seen her naked this whole time, but somehow knowing his shirt is  against her body is getting him riled up.Â
God, heâs falling for her.Â
He bows his head down again. âTo make things right, I will submit to you for twenty-four hours. Iâll do anything you want, no matter what it is.â
******************
You stare at Suguruâs bowed, submissive form. Is he serious? Is he really going to do whatever you say? You decide to test him.Â
âTomorrow morning at breakfast, I want you to go to the dining hall naked! And jack off in front of everyone!â
His eyes become as round as saucers, a blush creeping over his face. Then he takes a deep breath and looks straight at you with a strained but determined expression. âOkay. If thatâs what I have to do to make things right, Iâll do it.â
âReally?â
He nods.Â
You canât resist laughing. âIâm just kidding! I wouldnât make you do that. Iâm not that cruel.â
His face shifts from relieved to guilty. âI really will do anything you ask. Just tell me what you want.â
You think for a moment, then climb to your feet. âTake your clothes off, and donât wear anything for the rest of the night.â
He stands up from his kneeling position on the floor and looks down at you. Again you see that fire in his eyes. Heâs already shirtless, so he unbuckles his belt. Then he kicks off his shoes, opens his pants, and slides them down his legs, leaving only his boxers.Â
You find yourself breathing a little faster as you watch him push his boxers down and step out of them. Thereâs something lurid about seeing him stark naked here, outside the bathroom.Â
His body is divine. Perfectly toned, with smooth skin, eyes like darkened amber, hair a black river pouring down his back. His cock is growing hard before your eyes as he looks at you. Why? Youâre actually covered up for the first time in two weeks. Regardless, you canât stop staring at him.Â
âNow sit on the edge of the bed,â you say, âand pleasure yourself.â
He seems surprised for a moment, then gives you a sensual grin and lowers himself onto the bed, sitting on the mattress, facing you. He opens his thighs slightly, now fully erect, and begins lightly stroking himself while looking at you.Â
His hand moves slowly at first, sliding up and down his shaft, his thumb brushing over his tip. Then he starts to move a little faster, a little harder. After a few minutes, you can see a sheen on his skin as his hand smears precum from the tip over the rest of it. You want to wrap your lips around it, but you donât. This is his punishment after all. Instead you stand just a few feet away, watching. His eyes never leave your face, and just to tease him, you lick your lips.Â
You hear his breaths come harder, see his face flushed pink as his hand strokes faster. His hair is still loose, some of it in his eyes as he moves. Youâve never seen a hotter sight in your life. You rub your thighs together under his shirt, but itâs not enough. Not enough friction. While he stares at you with lusty eyes, you reach down and press the soft fabric of his shirt between your legs, against your bare, wet pussy, and rub.Â
The fire in his eyes becomes an inferno. You hear his creamy voice gasp out, âFuck, youâre soâŠâ But he stops before he can finish. Heâs breathing fast, jacking off faster and faster, and you know heâs close. You canât resist any longer. You drop to your knees in front of him and open your mouth, extending your tongue. He looks surprised, but then he quickly presses his tip to your tongue and releases, cumming into your mouth in great spurts.Â
When heâs empty, he falls back on the bed, panting, one arm draped over his face. After he regains his strength, you insist that he takes a shower while you watch. Youâve done this every night, but somehow it feels different when youâre covered up and heâs not. You also order him to dry his hair but leave it hanging loose.Â
You finally get to shut the door while you shower, reveling in the comfort of the warm water and the privacy. You steal another one of his big comfy sweatshirts to wear for the night, but when you start to put the one you wore earlier in the hamper, he stops you.Â
âIâll wash this later,â he says, gently pulling it from your grasp. You watch him fold it and shove it into a drawer, thinking thatâs sort of gross, but a little flattering.Â
âIâm sleeping in the bed tonight,â you tell him, already crawling under his covers.Â
âOf course,â he says, getting the blanket youâve been using from his closet and preparing to sleep on the floor.Â
âWait. I want you to sleep in the bed too.â
He pauses, looking at you. âAre you sure?â
You nod, then look down a bit shyly. âAnd⊠I want you to cuddle me.â
*******************
When she said those words, Suguru made his decision. But it will be weeks before he tells her.Â
He slips under the covers, then scoots as close as possible to her. Sheâs lying on her side, facing him, looking at him with wide, glassy eyes. He pulls her into his arms, the warmth of her delicate frame wrapped in his sweatshirt feeling incredible against his naked body.Â
For a while, they just stay that way, the only movement coming from the rise and fall of their chests as they breathe each other in. She smells sweet, like the cherry shampoo he put in the shower for her. Finally she shifts, turning her face up to look at him. âYou arenât too cold, are you?â
He smiles down at her. âNo, youâre keeping me warm.â
She snuggles even closer to him, and heâs overcome with a feeling of guilt. He canât stop thinking about what he did, about her terrified face looking to him, hoping for him to stop that whole nightmare. Feeling the way he does for her right now, with her in his arms, he wishes he could go back in time and punch himself in the face.Â
But itâs done, it happened, and he canât change it. He can only work to make it up to her. Right now, he only wants to make her happy, to make her feel good, to be even closer to her.Â
He tilts his face down, and does something heâs never done to a doll before: he kisses her lips.Â
She blinks, surprised, before her eyes slide closed, her mouth opening to allow him to deepen the kiss. She tastes as sweet as she smells, and his hands glide over her body beneath the covers, sliding under the shirt.Â
He rolls them both over, leaving her on her back with him on top of her, and kisses her again. When he stops to take a breath, he looks down at her and asks, âDo you still want me to fuck you?â
Her eyes seem to light up with excitement. âYes!â
*****************
You thought youâd be scared. Youâve imagined your first time over and over, and it always left you feeling both excited and nervous. But right now? With Suguru sliding his sweatshirt up your body to reveal your breasts, his lips planting kisses down your neck and collar bone before taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, you only feel elation.Â
Every touch is gentle, soft, warm, as his hands explore you in ways they never have before. His movements are intimate, affectionate. He lightly grinds his hard body against you, and you can feel him all over. His hair, still loose, flares out around him, falling over both of you like a curtain. Your hands canât resist grabbing it, running your fingers through it as he pushes your legs apart.Â
His fingers slip between your folds, stroking your clit until your pussy is glazed and ready. It doesnât take much. Youâve been aroused all night, with him walking around the room completely naked. He scoots forward, positioning himself, then looks at your face.Â
You raise your head from the pillows and kiss his lips, confirming that youâre ready.Â
Suguru presses himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch, watching your face intently. Thereâs discomfort, but no pain, as you feel yourself stretch around him. Heâs going slowly enough to give your body time to adjust, careful to avoid tearing the delicate skin. When the stretch becomes a bit much, you wince, and he pauses.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks, so sweetly.Â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you tell him.Â
âCan you take a little more?â
You nod your head. âI want all of you.â
He pushes further in, and finally he sighs in pleasure. âItâs all in,â he says.Â
For a while, he doesnât move. Heâs letting you get used to his size. The discomfort you felt fades away, leaving only a pleasant sensation of warm fullness. Heâs inside you. The man youâre in love with is inside you, and just thinking about that makes your whole body tingle.Â
âIâm going to move now,â he says, and then he slowly pulls part of the way out before pushing back in. He watches your reaction carefully, and when you show no signs of pain, he begins thrusting slowly in and out of you.Â
Your breath hitches as his cock goes in deeper than before, hitting a spot that makes your toes curl. He looks down at you with that fiery expression, eyes almost dazed, hair messy around his face. And he begins moving a little faster, going incredibly deep each time, continuously hitting that sweet spot until youâre moaning under him. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck, pulling his beautiful face closer so you can kiss him again as his thrusts become stronger, faster.Â
Heâs using one arm to brace himself above you, the other is curled around beneath your head, holding you up, fingers in your hair, as his mouth devours yours. The way heâs looking at you, the way his breathing is matching your own, the way his thrusts are so deep and deliberate⊠heâs not having sex with you. Heâs making love to you.Â
As if you have no control over them, your legs automatically wrap around him, and then your whole body is clinging to him, pulling him impossibly close.Â
âFeels so good⊠SuguruâŠâ you moan out, barely noticing that you forgot to call him Master. You feel him twitch, feel his body becoming tense, and you know heâs on the edge, just like you. âPlease⊠cum inside meâŠâ
Heâs breathing hard, staring at your face with such a lovely, lustful expression. Then he plunges deeper than ever into you, pressing against that heavenly spot, kissing you at the same moment.Â
It pushes you over the edge, and you cum around him at the same time he releases his seed inside you, your mouths drinking in each otherâs moans. Â
When it was over, he helped you pull his shirt back down your body and the two of you fell asleep snuggled into each otherâs arms.Â
*********************
Several weeks later, you find yourself standing in the welcome room of the Doll House, wearing your own clothes, waiting to meet your new owner. Your suitcase is sitting on the floor beside you, and youâre a nervous wreck.Â
Ordinarily, buyers are expected to come in for several in person visits before the transfer of ownership, so that the new owner isnât a stranger to the doll. But your buyer preferred to remain anonymous and forgo the visits.Â
You said your goodbyes to the other trainers and dolls this morning at breakfast, then to Suguru this afternoon. You were a little sad that he didnât seem as bothered by your separation as you were, but you suppose thatâs to be expected. After all, heâs said goodbye to countless dolls before you.Â
You tried to stay calm and strong. You promised Suguru you could handle this, that you wouldnât fall apart or make a scene, but itâs hard. You want to cry. You want to storm back into his room and beg him not to let you go. But you wonât do that.Â
Ever since that first night you made love, the training changed. Suguru insisted you wear one of his oversized shirts every time you left his room. He let you sleep in the bed every night with him, cuddled up like lovers. You still had to call him âMaster Suguruâ and obey all his orders, often doing lewd things to him or in front of him, but you came to enjoy those orders. There was a softness to him, a warmth in his smile when he looked at you. Because of that, youâd hoped⊠Well, best not to dwell on it.Â
As you stood there fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you heard a familiar voice behind you.Â
âExcuse me, miss? Iâm in the market for a doll.â
You whirl around to find Suguru standing behind you, grinning. You look at him in confusion. âWhat?â
âAll trainers are allowed to pick one doll theyâve trained to keep as their own, just once during their career,â he says. âSo Iâm your new owner, if youâll have me.â
Tears are stinging your eyes already. âIf? If Iâll have you?!â you ask, wiping your face. âWhat a silly thing to say, Master Suguru!â
With that, you dive into his arms, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time since you signed the contract. There was no longer a looming shadow of some unknown owner who would control you for ten years. There was only Suguru, the man you loved.Â
The next ten years were looking very bright.Â
Tag List:
@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene
#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto#geto suguru#geto smut#geto x y/n#geto x you#geto suguru smut
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Finished reading Trigun/TriMax a couple days ago and have been feverishly trying to piece together a timeline, so hereâs the result of that âš
EDIT: as of 3/13/24 this has been UPDATED
For a more detailed timeline (with vol/ch marks): google sheet
Full res of the graphic (& other resources): bit.l/trigunresources
Notes & rest of the timeline under the cut!
Edits as of 3/13/24
The detailed spreadsheet is organized and color coded! If you'd like a more concise breakdown of events/see some of my reasoning behind certain time stamps feel free to skim through that
Changed where in the timeline the Maylene and Wolfwood events happened (originally where I had placed them would have made Maylene like 6 when she and Wolfwood reunited which is NOT correct)
moved where in the timeline Knives started collecting the GungHo Guns (at latest he started in 0090 (20 years before 0110) since it's noted that Monev has been training in a cellar for the past 20 years
Moved where Knives initially tracked down Conrad (felt like it needed to happen at least a decade before July)
Changed up some of the months (personally, I don't think the Ark launched in December, since that'd put Milly and Meryl's arrival to the colony in July, which wouldn't make sense. So I placed the ark launch in October which of course offset some of the other month stand ins)
Added an earth year for when Knives and Vash are born. The explanation is I think at minimum there was at least a 2 year period between them and Tesla (since Rem was around for that whole process). I do think it was more than that, but thatâs the earliest possible year I think it could have happened. Personally Iâm more in the camp of 5-10 years, but def not 50 like in tristamp
Old Notes:
If you see any typos or phrase inconsistencies: no you donât đ (đ)
Blue text can be completely ignored, thatâs just kinda my personal preference/wild guesstimating of when âexactlyâ those events happened
Blue lines can also be ignored, theyâre also just rough guesstimates on where exactly in the timeline these could have happened
The distance of the lines from one another doesnât really mean anything, I started trying to follow a system to notate when things happened really close together but it was//// not consistently done ngl
Fun fact: by the time Wolfwood leaves the orphanage Meryl is 18! And she was 14 at the time of Julyâs destruction
Additional fun fact: Brad is 17 when he and sensei meet up with Vash in the Factioned city (which I think is absolutely RIDICULOUS), and we know this because he was 4 the one/last time he had met Vash and itâs been 13 years since
It was noted by Karen, one of Merylâs coworkers, that she and Milly had been on assignment with Vash for about 4 months. (Might be that they were out searching for him during that time as well, but Iâm choosing to interpret it as they were actually with him for that amount of time)
Iâm also working on a 98 timeline for comparison (but more like just sequence of events cause I donât think I have the patience to sift through the lore quite as much⊠mainly making it just to clarify how the anime delineates from the manga)
I am//::: feeling v unhinged after this and feel like it could be improved/i need to do a more thorough read, but Iâm calling it quits for now before I actually go insane (but hopefully some people will find it somewhat helpful!)
Also: if anybody has any notes to add or clarifications/corrections I would be more than happy to hear them đ
#resources#posts that broke 100#Trigun maximum#Trigun#trigun manga#TriMax#used my last and only braincell on this I swear#also guess Iâm expanding on my blog organizing tags â>#timelines#btw this is updated!#trigun resources
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Puffer: Grizzy, what are you doing!? Grizzy, where are you taking me? *laughing*
SMii7y: Where are they?
Grizzy: Uhm, uh, Puffer!?
Puffer: I'm the door. Grizzy, I'm the door.
Grizzy: I'm stuck on top of you!
Puffer: Grizzy, stay there.
#smii7y - prop hunt games will NEVER be the same#time stamp: 4:18#banana bus squad#bbs#smii7y#grizzy#bigpuffer#blargmyschnoople#g: midnight ghost hunt#text#words
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WHO!
INSPIRATION â the storyline of boynextdoorâs music videos/songs from their debut single, WHO!
GENRE â social media au, summer break + school au, rom-com, reverse harem, choose your own adventure (for part 3)
PAIRING â non-idol!boynextdoor x fem!reader
CHARACTERS â boynextdoor, jisung + chenle (nct), jake (enhypen), eunseok (riize), winter (aespa), natty (kiss of life), possibly more
WARNINGS â cursing, death jokes, suggestive/sexual jokes (no smut), mainly boynextdoor-focused, no y/n + friends tweets til part 2 (but y/n is mentioned ALL throughout part 1), mainly y/n-focused during part 3, ignore time stamps and all that, characters are works of fiction NOT an accurate representation of the people used (more to be added in upcoming chapters)
TAGLIST â (OPEN) send an ask, dm, comment, etc!
STATUS â ongoing!
NOTES â itâll probably be a little while before this is officially out, but i wanted to release the masterlist because i am SO excited about this omfg iâve been so absorbed in boynextdoor lately and i figured thatâd be the perfect fuel for my second smauđ€another thing, my default for the parts is 10 chapters, but i may give or take from the length depending on how i see fit
first knock!
inspiration!
SYNOPSIS â sungho, riwoo, jaehyun, taesan, leehan, and woonhak all find a summer crush to call their own, but it turns out that youâre the one they all call their own.
PROFILES (1) | PROFILES (2)
1. i know where my baddie lives
2. overglorified wattpad fanfiction
3. bagging the bitches (literally)
4. the circumference of a goldfish
5. to rep or to love, that is the question
6. can picasso ride these wheels?
7. pregaming a housewarming party???
8. stop being happy itâs making me uncomfortable :/
9. IHOP UHOP WEHOP
10. smells like teen spiritâŠand axe body spray
second knock!
inspiration!
SYNOPSIS â each boyâself-deemed as âthe most desperateââscramble to gain the courage to ask you out before the others can. amidst the rivalry, they decide to call it off to make the playing field even. in other words, they decide to confess to you together with an utmost chaotic serenade.
PROFILES (3)
1. coming soon!
2. coming soon!
3. coming soon!
4. coming soon!
5. coming soon!
6. coming soon!
7. coming soon!
8. coming soon!
9. coming soon!
10. coming soon!
third knock!
inspiration!
SYNOPSIS â the boysâ midnight fiasco tips over your internal dominoes, sparking a conflict between your head and your heart. despite your brainâs chants to reject all of the boys, your heart rebels, beating faster and faster forâŠ
â„ SUNGHO â coming soon!
â„ RIWOO â coming soon!
â„ JAEHYUN â coming soon!
â„ TAESAN â coming soon!
â„ LEEHAN â coming soon!
â„ WOONHAK â coming soon!
EXTRAS!
the pop princess posse
start â 7/18/23
end â n/a
© woonhakist 2023
#woonhakist#who!#boynextdoor#boynextdoor smau#boynextdoor au#boynextdoor x reader#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor scenarios#boynextdoor fluff#boynextdoor crack#boynextdoor texts#boynextdoor fanfic#sungho x reader#riwoo x reader#myung jaehyun x reader#taesan x reader#leehan x reader#woonhak x reader
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Holy shit. TIMEBOMB FANS STRAP IN FOR THIS.
(lots of you have probably already seen this video before, but hereâs a quick reminder)
First letâs start with the pinned comment that breaks down time stamps in the video:
Introduction (Ekko did not just have a SLIGHT crush on Jinx lol) : [0:00]
RIOT geniously hiding stuff about Timebomb till the reveal : [1:32]
The timelapse (lots of uncorrect lines in the audio cause we didn't know they met at that time, so it was just me theorizing, but I guess I wasn't wrong now lol) : [2.35]
Ekko-Jinx background, Timelapse + what we know from LORE, and how RIOT been playing with our sanity : [3:20]
âš WALL ANALYSIS [starting with the easiest ones to see, most interesting parts are near the end]
Intro : Ekko's Wall painted in a RORSCHACH Art style [patchwork graffiti] - being full of Powder & Jinx, Ekko being in love representations, and references to Arcane : [7:28]
Jinx's heroe number and Ekko having her X and her signature all over him : [10:09]
(!) Please see the threads in description to see it all pointed out (!) The video didn't really say it right but these pictures and explanations will definitely make you see what I mean, and also, what I mean about the hair-clip and the Firelight symbol might be theory but I have explained in my thread all the things I discovered that make me thing the Firelight symbol, seeing how it changed, might have a link with Jinx in the first place when it was invented by Ekko.
RIOT playing with us and hiding the fact Jinx was on the wall : [12:14]
This is NOT hypothesis : [12:58]
The developers pointing out the forms we need to see with the thunder hextech energy : [14:54]
Yes, Ekko was in love, and he represented himself 6 times looking at her with bewildered eyes, heart in his eyes, blushing or spying on her during their teenage days : [15:18]
âš SUMMARY FOR THE THE PAINTINGS --------
NOTE : sometimes you will see the paintings Iâm pointing out even better in the next paintings I will point out. By exemple, the Firebomb and the Ekko blushing drawing described in N°2, are clearer and more easy to see in the screencaps pointing out painting N°3! Just try sticking till the end of the video to see them all! ;)
First observations & How I started my Analyze : [16:11]
N°1 - Arcane Jinx main painting on the left - representing Ekkoâs Hope to get her back : [16:41]
N°2 - Powder main painting on the right (double faced Powder-Jinx + Ekko blushing + Jinx Chumper bomb) : [17:44]
N°3 & N°4 (I apologize for the lame quality of this one but it was quite hard to make it stand out!) - Screaming/crying Powder, teenage Powder-Jinx drawn K/DA style boxing + teenage Ekko with his Firelight jacket standing on the other side : 5 scenes painted in one and moving along with the seconds! (SIDE NOTE : the cube design on the painting represents the Arcade place in which Jinx boxes the machine, I forgot to mention it in the video!) : [19:19]
N°5 - Vi abandoning Powder - exact Arcane scene : [21:28]
N°6 - Get Jinxed scene from Arcane and Ekko spying on her : [22:14]
N°6, 7 & 8 - Ekko representations watching with bewildered eyes, blushing, with his Firelight mask AND A HEART around the 2 middle Powder & Jinx paintings : [25:20]
Back on N°7, beautiful painting of teenage-adult Jinx with shimmer eyes on top of the wall : [26:26]
N°9 - Little Powder from Arcane & Ekko blushing next to it : [27:47]
N°10 - Doll Jinx with Arcane's clothes : [28:28]
N°11 - Black & white picture of the same screaming/crying Powder represented on painting N°3 : [28:50]
N°12 (that you can see more clearly later in the screencaps of N°27!!) - Ekko in GILDED skin & Jinx with untie long hair drawn in negative mode : [29:04] (!) in the video I said Firelight jacket but now that I discovered all the Ekko-Jinx matching stuff in the Gilded universe (and them hiding in the crowd side-by-side on the Caitlynâs Gilded artwork lol), I realized it looked like Gilded Ekko in that painting!
N°13 - Young Ekko with unknown person on his side but seeing how the rest of the wall is Jinx, it is probably Powder : [29:19]
N°14 - Young Powder & Ekko talking, probably the talk they had after Powder was taking in by Silco, seeing how Ekko is represented like a skeleton (dying inside) : [29:37]
N°15 - Jinx blue smoke/cloud tattoos representation (!) this cloud I'm pointing out is actually part of the ''cracking the hextech scene'' I've discovered later on, and is located on her shoulder! I will show the painting of that scene later in the video don't worry ! ;) [30:25]
N°16 - Symbols next to the Get Jinxed painting, that have different meanings in the next scenes I will show when the wall will be upside down (singing, crying + hextech symbols) : [30:32]
N°17 - THREE PAINTINGS IN ONE : Powder's red eye when she looks at Silco at the end of Act 3 + Jinx's face/mouth when she looks at Ekko before she made her bomb explode : [30:45]
N°18 - Representation of baby Powder's trauma on the bridge : [31:54]
N°19 - Lighting the flare scene drawn negative mode again, being represented in every way/side you turn the wall : [32:12]
N°20 - Random elements, like Ekko's young blushing face, giving the shape of a heart when you turn them upside-down : [32:29]
N°21 - Young Powder with Arcane's clothes, but looking more fierce as the Powder we know. Perhaps one Powder from Ekko's memory, or the Powder from the Timelapse : [32:40] (!) You can see this painting more clearly in the screencaps of N°27 (!)
N°22 - Jinx drawning/reborn scene with Silco : [32:56]
N°23 - (sorry I have deleted this one since I couldn't point it out in the video, but here's what it was : the black canvas on each side of the scene, also have Jinx & Powder's representations on them, but you'll have to zoom in and improve lighting + the quality yourself to see them cause it can't be shown in a video ToT/)
N°24 - Powderâs leather bag + teenage Ekko staring + blue & pink hand palm : [33:17]
N°25 - Big Jinx monkey-bomb from Arcane, near the other paintings of that exact same scene : [33:37]
N°26 - Drawn negative mode : ''Devil'' Jinx from the bridge scene : [34:08]
N°27 - Two paintings in 1 - Teenage or adult Ekko & Jinx + Ekkoâs Gilded skin again ? : [34:31]
N°28 - Jinx ''cracking the Hextech'' scene : [34:57]
N°29 - Firelights representations, same as the ones Jinx drew in her Diary : [35:40]
N°30 - end [36:05]
MORE INTERPRETATIONS & BETTER QUALITY OF SOME PAINTINGS :
N°12 - Ekko & Jinx with untie long hair drawn in negative mode but also, if you look at it at [34:55], you'll see it way more clearly AND also see that it gives Jinx lighting up the flare scene with Ekko on his overboard flying around her.
N°27 - at [34:37] you'll see the young Powder from N°21 way more clearly!
The Jinx Monckey-bomb. At [30:58] ; [31:55] and [34:13] you might see the Jinx Monckey-bomb more clearly as the pictures are in better quality or more focused on this area !
N°22 [32:06] : I forgot to mention it in the video but in that drawing-reborn scene with Silco, you can actually see fingers/a hand (drawn by the Jinx mouth from N°28) pushing on Jinxâs skull/in her hair which seems to be pulling her under water.
More stuff about the Get Jinxed painting and the Devil Jinx one : on top of the Get Jinxed painting, there is a scary white mask/face that I believe to be representing Silco. When you turn the picture upside down, and try not focusing on that mask, it then gives off the Devil Jinx I showed earlier.
Also, the big yellow/bewildered eye in the middle of Jinx chest in the Get Jinxed painting could be representing the Eye of Zaun, as this a tech-nerd Jinx being represented here, and as Ekko is represented staring/spying on her, it could imply that Ekko has recognized Powder in her in that moment, the Zaunite child with whom he grew up with and whom he loved.
End note : I forgot to mention it in the video but there are also 2â3 Vi representations on the Jinx paintings, one from the scene where she left her on the street and went to calm herself away from her, and another with her head and shoulders down, on the main Jinx painting on the left, that looks like the Vi introducing scene from Episode 4 in the prison.
OKAY INSANE. Next Iâm gonna give you some screenshots I took so yâall can get some visuals to the stuff you just read. Also, WATCH THE VIDEO!!! The creator does a lot better at exposing than I doânever mind the fact that this is literally their findings! (I didnât find any of these, just watched the video and now spreading it to tumblr). I have absolutely no recollection of which Nâą photo these images belong to so youâll have to play connect the dots lmao
A lot of the images also already have text on the screen explaining, Iâm just gonna paraphrase what the voice in the video (not the text) is saying.
These two photos are telling us how Ekkoâs down bad ass based the entire firefly logo off of Jinx and her logo⊠and for the context in the first image about the emboldened Z, here it is:
PRACTICALLY IDENTICAL.
This is the video creator explaining their level 1 billion brain power on thinking outside the box and how the idea of the painting was to go back to an Ekko origin short that came out YEARS before Arcane did. Theyâve been planning this entire time, and when the description pasted far above talking about the different photos it was talking about the images painted on a wall in an Ekko origin (will show screenshots next)
The creator of the yt video found almost FORTY Jinx paintings and references to Arcane (which hadnât been anywhere near its release date when the origin came out.
These ones on the large wood slab are CRAZY. The artists and develops had loads of fun because in the last photo you can see jinx screaming/crying if you focus on all the colours in the photo.
However, the YouTuber blurred Jinxâs face to hell you focus on the blues and pinks where the developers/artists made kind of like a moving mini scene that moved while the video itself moved. To my understanding you can see Jinx boxing and at some point Ekko shows up, too.
(Iâll repost this so I can add more images đ)
#âź reef talks#arcane#timebomb#theories#league of legend#Ekko#jinx#crush#before you started talking to the gun#league of legends#lol
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Your crush on Eddie was better off a secret and a kiss that should never have happened leads you into a storm.
I wasn't happy with my first version of chapter 4. So I polished it up and added a little more dialog. Feel free to wait for the next chapter but if you'd like to read it, either as a refresher or for the very first time, please let me know what you think. XOXO-Jelly
Masterlist Listen to Fake Plastic Trees Here
What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.
WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar
A sharp chill nips at your cheeks as gusts of autumn wind blow through the amber-leafed trees surrounding Hawkins High's parking lot. You pick at the splintered wood of the picnic table beneath you, etched with initials and scribbles. The anguished croon of Placebo plays through your headphones, drowning out the sounds of the start of another school day. Shifting the pile of books on your lap, you steal a glance at where Eddie stands with his back to you a few yards away.
Lately, itâs like your best friend has purchased real estate in your brain. Daydreams resulting in hearts doodled in the margins of your notebooks a little too close to where you printed his name. His dark curls spill over the collar of his worn denim vest, shadowing the frayed edges of the Dio patch he had sown on last week. He's deep in conversation with Dan Shelter, a senior in the same class that Eddie would have been in if he hadnât missed so much time after his mother passed. They both turn and look at you at the same time.
Eddieâs eyes narrow as his brows pull tighter into a frown. You push one of your headphones back, and the noise of everyday chatter and car engines bursts into your reality.Â
"You know your girlfriend is deeply weird, Munson," the spiky-haired jock says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, not even trying to hide his distaste.
Girlfriend. Youâve both tried to stamp out that rumorâyet no matter who else you go out with, those sparks never last and pale in comparison to the steady flame you feel around Eddie. Would it really be so bad if it were true? The answer scares you more than you expect.Â
"Sheâs not my girl," Eddie retorts with a swift shake of his head, his voice edged with that familiar bite of annoyance. His foot scuffs against the asphalt, the white Reebok stark against the black jeans clinging to his narrow hips. An impatient sigh pulls the fabric of his Hellfire Club t-shirt tighter across his chest, outlining his lean frame. "You in or out?" His fingers snap near Dan's face, the sunlight catching on his silver rings, "I've got other places to be, and you're not my only customer."
"Sure, whatever," Dan grumbles, extending a hand with a few crumpled bills.
Eddie accepts the cash with an easy smirk, teasing the dime bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it sway like a pendulum. Danâs hand hovers while he glances around for prying eyes, but Eddie lets the bag drop to the ground before he can take it.Â
"Oops," Eddieâs voice drips with feigned innocence before he pivots on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.
Danâs face ignites with anger as he stoops for the bag, muttering a curse.
"Always a pleasure," Eddie calls over his shoulder, flashing a dismissive two-fingered salute. A gaggle of pink-cheeked girls from the sophomore class crosses his path, eyes trailing over him like he's their favorite song come to life. Â
"Ladies." He extends an arm, waving them on, his voice as smooth as a melody. They flutter past with giggles and heated glances. Despite their whispers of 'freak' in the corridors, they all vie for a chance to climb into the back of his van when no one is looking â to be the subject of the rumors they'd later deny.
He never hides his interest when he likes a girl â everybody knows when Eddie Munson is into someone. But heâs never looked at you that way, never given you that smile meant for those he desires. And thatâs something that has never bothered you. Now, it stirs something else â a green thorny vine wrapping around your insides. Heâs just Eddie â your friend. The same old Eddie, you reaffirm, even as your heart whispers lies of a different tune.
Without missing a beat, he saunters over, the rhythmic clink of his chain wallet punctuating each step. He leaps onto the picnic table, landing beside you with a thud, sending vibrations through the timeworn wood. His eyes linger on the girl's retreating forms.
"You need to be careful, Eddie," you warn, tipping your chin toward where Dan is stalking off in a dark cloud of annoyance.
"Careful is my middle name, doll." He smiles a big, sly grin, dimples deepening, causing a flutter in your chest, an unexplained sensation that's become strangely frequent these days.
He nods at your leg, eyes dropping to your thigh. "Whatâs this?" His dark lashes make half-moon shadows on his cheek as his thumb brushes over the square field of bright white crosses covering the denim patch on your jeans. A trail of tingles follows, unbidden and unwelcome. You disguise the shiver as a chill from the wind, even as you crave more of his touch.
"Itâs called sashiko," you explain, hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin as the ghost of his touch lingers. "The art of visible mending."Â
"Looks cool." His gaze meets yours, a little too intense and a little too long. Your fingers clutch your notebooks tighter, a shield against whatever this feeling is.
"Are you coming over after school?" Your voice is steadier than you feel.
"Iâll drop you off, but Iâve got to go back to the trailer after," Eddie replies, his eyes still holding yours in a silent conversation you can't quite interpret. "Iâve got stuff to do." Something in his tone suggests layers you're not ready to peel back. "Not your kind of stuff."
The house where Eddie grew up doesn't look the same anymore. Someone else has moved in â keeping the lawn perfect and fixing up all the broken things, erasing any traces of tragedy. The neighborhood has moved on, absolving themselves like they hadnât just turned their back and let it happen. As if it wasn't their problem. Eddie's staying on the other side of town now with his Uncle Wayne in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Wayne's heart is in the right place, even if he drinks too much, just like Eddie's dad did. But he's not bad, just... lost when it comes to dealing with an angry teen, and with him working nights, Eddie's on his own to figure out how to deal with it all.Â
"I can keep you company?â You try to keep the offer casual despite the hump in your pulse.
He shakes his head, a shadow crossing his features. "Nah, Iâve got to stop at Rick's, then a run." There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before.
You frown and look away, hiding your disappointment. "I donât see what the big deal is," you argue, keeping your voice low, "We smoke together all the time."
"The big deal," he says, reaching out to lift your chin and forcing you to look at him. "Is that this is business, and I donât want you involved. Alright?" His voice is firm, letting you know he wonât budge. "Iâll pick you up later," he promises. "Movie night. Just us."
The shrill ring of the bell is your cue to retreat, to put distance between you and these feelings threatening to upend everything. You nod at him, shoving your books into your bag. His gaze holds you for a heavy beat before breaking away. There's a shift in the air, a prelude to something you can't name, like the static before a storm. Eddie's last glance sears itself into your thoughts when you part ways at the door.Â
As you make your way to class, those feelings nag at you like a forgotten lyric. You hug your arms, trying to squeeze out the persistent ache that spreads through your limbs. It's a tangible pain, this longing, like a hand squeezing around your heart, making it hard to breathe.
But you push it all down, guarding it like a secret. To lock it away in the confines of your ribcage, where it can't taint the one thing you value most. The friendship you've built is too important, too rare to risk on a silly crush that might only live in your head and fade with time. Itâs a gamble you wonât take. You can't lose him. You wonât watch that light in his eyes dim for you, awkward silences replacing the laughter. Without him, youâd be alone.
Cold gray days give way to dark, inky nights. The stars and moon are veiled behind thick cotton clouds, stealing the light earlier as fall edges closer to winter. Winds gust, sending wet leaves sticking to the glass of your office windows as the bare fingers of the boxwoods planted around the brownstone scratch against the house in protest.
Lowering the lid of your laptop, the light in the room dims as the brightness is trapped between the two halves. Your arms stretch over your head, loosening the tension in your neck as you push away from your desk, drifting towards the sounds of life from the living room. Steveâs long legs are stretched out on the chaise end of the couch, a Bulls game on the TV, but his attention is stuck on the laptop resting on his thighs.Â
âMy eyes are going to fall out my head if I stare at that screen for any longer,â you declare, rounding the corner of the couch.
âWell, then, come stare at this screen instead.â He nods at the TV, extending his arm to make space for you to crawl onto the couch next to him and fit yourself into his side.Â
âYouâre so warm.â You nuzzle into his chest, and his lips touch the top of your head. âDonât let me fall asleep.â
âIâll wake you up when itâs time for bed. I still have a few hours of work left,â he sighs, his finger sliding down the trackpad as he scrolls through a document that never seems to end.Â
âIs that for the launch?â Your eyes squint at the brightness of the screen.Â
He groans at the ping of another incoming email while toggling between the many windows he has open. âYeah, we're in the final stretch. The event team is trying to finalize the details. Maroon 5 and Fallout Boy are locked in to perform, but weâre still waiting to hear back from a few other acts and about a million other details that need ironing out.â
âItâs going to be a great night, baby. Everyone will be so impressed,â you assure, the arm you have draped across his stomach tightening, trying to impress your words into him. âEverything is going to go smoothly, youâll see.â
He scoffs, doubt clouding his voice. âI wish I had your confidence. The server's capacity is still a question mark, and we're racing to fix streaming delays. Fuck!â The heels of his hands press into his eyes. âAll I need is this thing to fail at the last minute, especially with Richard and my dad watching.â He imitates his father's stern tone, âTypical. Heâs always been a fuck up. Chokes right before the buzzer.â Letting his hands drop, his eyes turn to you. âI should have listened to you and not invited my parents. I actually never thought they would agree to come. Now Iâm running around trying to get things ready for them too.â
âHey,â you take one of his hands between yours, âThatâs not going to happen, Steve. If the servers have issues or if there's a lag, it's just a hiccup. You've got a team to handle that. You've put in the work, and you're brilliant at what you do. Your parents will see that. Everyone will.âÂ
He manages a smile, but itâs just a placation.
âWhat can I do to help?â You ask, âIâll make sure we have some Pellegrino stocked and that cheese your parents like.â
There's a pause as he weighs his next words. âIâve already called the housekeeper and told them to put fresh sheets in the guest room in case they decide to stay here, but I still need to make a reservation at the Four Seasons as a backup.â
Your jaw tightens, but you curb your annoyance at how John Harrington has everyone trained to cater to his high-maintenance whims, but this is for Steveâs peace of mind. âIâll call first thing tomorrow. Consider it done. Anything else?â
He hesitates, a little apologetic. "My suit... the dry cleaner closes early tomorrow. I hate to ask, but I might not make it in timeâ"
âNo problem. Iâll make time.â
His lips lift at the corners, and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. âI love you.â He leans forward, slotting his lip softly between yours. âIâll put the ticket in your bag. Thanks for helping out, Ace.â
âI just have Eddie's interview tomorrow afternoon. I should have plenty of time." Standing, you tug at his hand. "Now, can we go to bed? Everything will look better after a good night's sleep.â
His mouth sets in a determined line as he shuts down his laptop, yielding to your pull as he rises. His hand finds a place on the small of your back, grounding you both as you climb the stairs together.Â
Hitching the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder, you kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk in front of the brick building. Car horns blare in the distance as traffic rolls by in the busy neighborhood. The sun casts a glint off the steel CursedSound sign, its metal already weathering with a faint tinge of color. The heavy door is yanked open, its clank and whine making you jump.Â
"Hi," Eddie greets you with a soft tone from the other side of the threshold.
"Hi," you return, shyness adding a tremble to your voice that shouldnât be there. His fingers grip the edge of the door, and light flashes off the Rolex peeking out from under the cuff of the plaid flannel he wears over a fitted v-neck and jeans, the fabric snug against his defined shoulders. Itâs still a novelty to see how his slim build has filled in over the years. Part of you still expects the boy you knew instead of this man in front of you. He looks you over in the same way, like heâs trying to decide if youâre really there. Maybe itâs the differences he sees in you, too, or does he still see the lonely girl he once knew? You shift your gaze down the street, your toes curling inside your Converse as warmth climbs up your neck. "Are you going to let me in?"
"I don't know." He pretends to ponder, a smile forming, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Where's your hard hat?"
Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips until he breaks into a chuckle. He swings the door open wider, welcoming you in. You pass him with a shake of your head and continue down the hall.Â
The lobby is in chaos.
"Sorry for the mess. The maid took the week off," he quips, watching you take in the space.Â
The brown paper has been removed from the windows, allowing bright light to stream through the streaked and dirty glass. All the furniture has been pushed toward the center of the room, and ladders and paint cans litter the floor space. A large mural wrapping around the windows and front entrance has been outlined but not completed. In the same graffiti style as the one upstairs, this one displays more cityscapes with waves of the lake breaking at the forefront. Winged skulls and guitars blend with colorful swirls of clouds rising toward the ceiling.Â
"Itâs perfect," you tell him as your eyes follow the sweeping, colorful lines around the room. âReally beautiful.â
"Was that a compliment?" He asks, coming up behind you, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought it was a dump."
"Well, what can I say?â You spin around. âItâs growing on me." Your fingers move to your lips, concealing your smile as his deepens with your praise.Â
"You look really good." His low voice bounces off the empty walls, "I meanâŠyour, uh, outfit is nice." He waves his hand toward you before wiping it on the front of his jeans.Â
Your brows raise as you glance down at the jeans and plain Lolla tee you put on this morning. None of the trendy outfits you usually wear for interviews seemed to fit right today.Â
"Wow, that was smooth," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I donât know why Iâm so nervous."
The fluttering in your stomach matches his energy. âMaybe itâs because Iâm going to get you to spill all your secrets and print them so the whole world can sit in judgment."
 A choked sound comes from his throat as his eyes widen into saucers.
Unable to keep a straight face, you giggle. "Relax, Eddie. I already told you Iâm not writing some hit piece. Youâve got nothing to worry about. Besides," you shrug, "Itâs only me."Â
A sharp breath escapes as his shoulders lower. "Yeah, youâre right." He says, taking a step forward, his gaze locking with yours. "After all these years, it's still you.
"Eddie." His name comes out on a breathless sigh as you look away. The shield of anger between you is heavy and battered, and you arenât sure how much longer you can hold it up. He takes another step forward, and you clear your throat. "Why donât you show me what else youâve done?"
He rakes a hand through his curls, "Of course." His lips tighten into a flat line as he gestures toward the stairs. "After you."Â
You lead the way to the second floor, where the smell of fresh paint permeates the air. A ladder leans against a half-painted wall, and orange extension cords crisscross the carpet in the hall, winding into the studios like work has been suddenly halted.
"Where is everyone?" You look around the abandoned space before stepping inside Studio A. It's come a long way since your last visit. The deck that holds the mixing board is ready, and the wiring is underway.
"I didnât know how long youâd be here, so I told them to take the rest of the day off." His eyes follow the movements of your hand, brushing over knobs and sliders of the soundboard that's still sheathed in a protective layer of plastic.Â
"You didnât have to do that," you say, walking back out into the hall.Â
"I didnât think we needed the audience," he shrugs, walking along with you to the next room.
"I hope you donât fall behind schedule." The walls of the small Studio B are covered with walnut slats to create an acoustic barrier while still keeping the room open, while the mixing room kept the original exposed brick.
"Iâve got time."
"Even so," you move to the window. The sun glints off the mirrored surface of the tall building across the street. "Iâm sure you're eager to open. Put out that first album with the CursedSound logo in the liner notes."
"Of course I am." He comes to stand beside you, taking in the bustle of the city at midday. "Itâs gonna be good to have nothinâ between me and the music. Let the artists be as creative as they want. Their management can deal with the corporate A&R people and leave me out of it."
"You never did like playing by the rules," you smile, catching his eyes in the reflection of the glass.
He turns his head, studying your profile. "Why should I?" he continues, his tone more determined, "The rules sure as hell never helped me. I'm gonna take my chances as I find them, even if I have to play a little dirty. I deserve happiness the same as the next guy."
"Of course you do." The world has done nothing but take from him.Â
"What about you?" He asks as you return to the hall. "The rules seemed to be treating you well."
You raise your shoulders with a warm smile gracing your lips, one you have no intention of concealing. "I love my job. I like the city, andâŠI have Steve."
"You ending up with Steve Harrington," his voice curls around the name, a sneer you can almost see, "I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."
Stopping, you pivot to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "He's a good guy, Eddie."
He sighs in a short, almost defeated breath. "I know he is, doll."
The unmarked door at the end of the hall provides a convenient distraction. "Where does this go?" You wonder with your hand closing over the knob.
"My apartment."
"You're living here?" You let it go like it burned you, swallowing the lump that has made a sudden appearance in your throat.Â
"Sure. Can't beat the commute." He reaches around you, turning the doorknob to reveal another flight of stairs. "Do you want to go up?"
Flashes of that day are more vivid than they should be for memories two years old. The closet carpet is soft under your fingers as wet tears rain down on the glossy pages. Steve's voice gets closer as he calls out your name. A tightness grips your chest as you attempt to step back, momentarily forgetting that Eddie's right behind you. He supports you with a steadying hand on your hip as he faces you, seeking your reaction.
"No, that's okay. I think we're fine down here. IÂ wouldn't want to disturb anyone," you say, attempting to sound confident as you wipe your palms along the sides of your jeans.
Eddie scratches the side of his head as his brow wrinkles. "Who do you think it up there?"Â
A hot breath passes your lips as you turn away, walking back down the hall toward Studio C. "I donât know," you call over your shoulder, too chicken to face him. "Skyler Simmons. Rock royalty. Media darling. According to the magazines, your long-time girlfriend. The one you own a house with. Ring any bells? Isnât she here with you?"
"My what? Skyler Simmons?" The deep belly laugh that follows has you spinning on your heels to face him.
"Wait. Youâre serious?" His dimples make an appearance as his smile deepens. "Me and Skyler?" He can barely get her name out without chuckling.Â
"The one youâre photographed with constantly."
His brows shoot up. "Keeping tabs on me?"
"Oh, donât flatter yourself," you huff. "It came up in my research. Do you have a relationship with her or not?"
"I know her," he offers, shaking his head, "Sheâs a friend. We go to the same group."Â
"What group? The one for annoying assholes."Â
He pauses, his arms crossing over his chest. "The one for people with addiction in their families. That okay with you?" His voice escalates. The simmering anger in his eyes mirrors the intensity of his tone. "Skyler is gay. Her girlfriend's usually hanging around, too. Does that mean Iâm fucking her too? Jesus."
Frigid water clashes with your hot blood as the fight drains away. Glancing at your feet, your voice diminishes to barely more than a whisper. "Why hasn't she come out in the media?"
"Maybe because itâs none of anybody's fucking business." His piercing gaze bores into you as the sharp words land like heavy stones in the sour pit in your stomach. "Hold on," he waves a hand in front of you, "Why do you even care?"
"I donât," your voice falters as the dishonest answer leaves you without hesitation. Your eyes trace the patterns on the floor. "It just makes for a better story, is all."Â
His hands run through his hair, fingers tugging on the ends as his tone softens. "Doll," he pauses, taking a deliberate step closer. His warm fingers cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those amber swirls, always seeing beyond your surface. "No one else is in my apartment, and no one else is gonna be."
His touch sends a searing heat spreading through your skin as the weight of your engagement ring pulls on your finger. "Youâre a grown man, Eddie. Do whatever you want." Stepping back, his hand falls from your face as you turn and enter the studio.
"Fucking stubborn," the low murmur carries under his breath as he follows you inside.
"It looks like this oneâs almost finished." You spin around the room, taking in the progress, before letting your bag slide down your shoulder and sinking onto the couch.Â
Gray triangles of acoustic foam now adorn the live room walls in contrasting patterns, and layers of soft carpeting line the floor. The mixing room's mural stands completed, and the furniture has all been placed.Â
His eyes move around the room, the pride evident on his face. "Just some wiring and the vocal booth, and Iâll be ready to start setting the levels."
"This oneâs your favorite, I can tell," you shift, tucking a leg under you as he joins you on the couch.Â
"Shhh," he hushes you, raising a finger to his lips. "The others will get jealous."
Rolling your eyes, you pull your phone from your bag, open the recording app, and set it between you both.
"How does this work?" Eddie's eyes are fixed on your phone while he rubs the back of his neck.
"Well, typically," your hand slips back into your bag to retrieve the neatly stapled pages of your notes, "I ask a question, and you provide the answer." You set the pages in your lap, drawing in a steadying breath. Heâs sitting in front of you with a key to a locked door â one that might be best left closed and forgotten, but itâs time to hear him out.Â
"Eddie Munson interview, part one."
"Mr. Munson." You slip into your most professional tone. "Thank you for granting us an interview during this busy time. All of us at Stax are very excited to welcome CursedSound to Chicago."
He leans forward, his voice dropping slightly in timber as a much smoother, older Eddie begins to answer, "Thank you. I always have time for my favorite magazine." He winks.
Your lips press into a line as you tilt your head to the side, taking a quick glance at your packet. "In April 2003, Fever to Tell was released by a relatively new band and a completely unknown sound engineer. It went on to sell over a million copies, putting The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the name Eddie Munson on industry minds. Fever to Tell is still, to date, one of my favorite albums. Were you aware of the significant impact this record would have when you were working on it?"
"At the time, we were really just hopeful, you know? We believed in the music we were creating. Karen and Nick, and Brian flew out from New York with their last dime, and we just got to work. Karen had this kind of raw, untamed energy, and I wanted to capture that, to add an edge to the album. It was this post-punk dance-floor-friendly racket that injected a much-needed dose of authenticity into a musical era that was getting stagnant."
"It's not an exaggeration to say that record helped shape the direction of indie and alternative rock for years to come. But what I want to ask is you before all that. What was the road like moving from Hawkins to having your dreams come true in LA? Was this the path you first set out on, or were there curves in the road?"
"I think 'curves' is a generous term for the absolute shit choices I was making for myself back then," he chuckles. "As you know, I left Hawkins about a year after I graduated. That town had already decided I would never be anything more than a freakâ a loser with no future. If I had stayed, that's exactly what would have happened. I was trying to outrun my past without a clue what I wanted for my future. I had my own band back then, and sometimes, weâd open for slightly bigger bands that rolled through town. One of them was about to tour and invited me to go as their one and only roadie, and it felt like a free ticket out."
"Bananafish," you interject, swallowing and glancing down at your notes.
"Yeah, Bananafish. God, they sucked. Did you know they started as a Spin Doctors tribute band?"
"No," you laugh, "And that wasnât a red flag for you?"
"It should have been. I wasnât with them for long anyway. I think I lasted for three weeks before they cut me loose for getting in a fight with the drummer." He pauses, shaking his head. "I never knew when to shut my mouth. At that point, they had hooked up with another band called Everly. Slightly better, but not by much. I managed to hold it together for a few months. I was high or drunk most of the time, the only reason they kept me around was because they liked the way I babied their instruments."
"I remember,â you nod. âYouâd spend half an hour polishing that Warlock every day after school."Â
"Got to treat a lady right if you want her to sing for you," he says with a sly rise and fall of his brows, draping an arm over the back of the couch, shrinking the space between you.
"I was surprised that you left it behind."Â
Eddie's expression turns more solemn. "There were a lot of things I wished I couldâve taken with me. But back then, I couldnât even take care of myself."
"I donât believe that," you swallow, the words sticking in your throat, "You could have tried."
"If I had tried, they wouldâve ended up broken, and Iâdâve lost them anyway." His fingers brush your shoulder, and you flinch. The leather creaks as you sit back against the arm of the couch, just out of reach.Â
"Back to Everly. Why did you part ways?"Â
"Oh, well, I fucked it up, of course. They had landed a spot at Bonnaroo, and I got so fucked up the night before I missed sound check. When I managed to pick myself up off the floor of the van, they handed me my duffel and a twenty and told me to pound sand." His eyes drift away, fixating on a point across the room. "I had barely been outside of Indiana, and there I was, stuck on some farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with no ride, no money, and no one to call. I was angry at the world and never felt more alone. People always talk about hitting rock bottom, I thought that was it, but now that I look back, it was more of a crossroads. If I had followed that darker path, there would have been no coming back. I was wandering around backstage where they park buses, hungover, maybe still half in the bag, and thatâs when I met Max."
"Max Navarro?" You shuffle through the pages of your notes.
"Yeah. You know him?" Eddieâs eyes brighten as his gaze drops to the pages in your lap.
Your head turns from side to side. "You referred to him as a mentor in the Stones interview, but I couldnât find much on him besides his name being listed as an audio engineer for several tours."
"Thatâs Max." Eddie breaks into a smile. "Heâd tell you he likes flying under the radar. He was hanging out in front of the bus playing guitar with a couple of guys when I walked over like a cocky shit, picked one up, and started playing. He gave me something to smoke, and it wasnât weed. All I know is that I woke up face-down in the dirt the next morning. I donât know if he liked me or just felt bad for me, but he dragged me on the bus and had me start assisting him with the sound for Faith No More."
"Faith No More? Are you kidding me?" Your hands fall to your lap, slapping against your thighs, jostling the cushion enough for your phone to slide toward the back of the couch. "You had their poster in your room. If I didnât know you better, Iâd think you had a charmed life."
"Well, even the sun shines on a dog's ass some days," he laughs.
"So Max is who taught you about engineering?"Â
"Max is who taught me about everything." His voice holds a reverence when he says his name. "He kept an eye on me. Showed me how to work the boards. He said he could see shadows following me around, so when we got to LA, he took me out to the desert, fed me some tea, and exercised my demons."
"Did it work?" Max wasn't the only one to see shadows looming. Consequences of decisions made by others. Expectations of a community that turned its back. They clung to him like an impenetrable fog.Â
"Iâm not sure. I felt lighter after, but it could have been the gallon of water I sweat out," he chuckles. "After that, he cashed in a favor and got me an internship with a small studio in Laurel Canyon. I parked cars at night and lived in a room the size of a closet at Maxâs house. I worked my ass off. I went to therapyâ"Â
"How very L.A. of you," you chime in.
"Donât knock it until you try it." He looks at you from under raised brows. "Itâs, uh, good to talk about things. Be open, you know?"Â
"No thanks. I tried that once," you tell him pointedly, the tightness in your chest returning, "It didnât work out for me."
Your arrow hit the target. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Dollâ"Â
"You decided to stay in L.A. and work at a studio instead of going back out on the road?"
"I like studio sessions. Makes me feel like Iâm working towards something. I like completing an album and putting it out in the world. Some people thrive being out on tour, like Max. Not me," he scratches at his chin. "Too many ghosts on those old roads."Â
Like the ones back in Hawkins that jolt you awake in the dead of night, murmuring past shames of a lovesick and foolish girl. Robin had seen it, and so had the entire town, but you arenât her any longer. She lies resting beneath the frigid earth, her memory an unmarked grave. You've moved forward, and youâll never go back, the city drowns out the remains of her cries.
"So you stayed and built your life there," you conclude, flipping through the pages of your notes, ticking off the points from your outline.
Eddie leans back, a contemplative look on his face. "I guess you could say that. I got my own place, made some great friends. Sundays are for Max's family and Chile relleno. The weather is always beautiful. But I really stayed for the music,â he shrugs. âHave you been? I could take you some time. Show you around. Max would love to meet you, the girl I wonât shut up about. I think youâd like it there."
The girl he hasnât bothered to call in a decade. "To Los Angeles?" Your gaze rises from your notes to meet his nodding response. "I've been a few times. With Steve. Mostly for work."
"Oh yeah. Makes sense." His jaw tightens, and he averts his gaze. "Well, I guess the rest is history. Is that enough for your story?"
"Yeah." You reach for your phone, tapping the red square to stop the recording. "It will be a great opening piece for the series." You pick up your messenger, hauling its weight into your lap, tucking your notes inside. The afternoon is ending on a flat note. A stone sits on your tongue, holding back questions that you lack the courage to ask, but maybe itâs better this way.
Eddie sits up suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Speaking of history, I want to show you something." He stands up, looking towards the door and back at you, "Um.. wait here, okay? Iâll just be a minute."Â
"Okay-"
He holds up flat palms. "Donât go anywhere." His eyes close as he winces, " I mean, you can wander around if you want. Just donât leave."
"Eddie-"Â
"Iâll be back." He holds up one finger as he exits the room.Â
With a sigh, you push up from your thighs, rising to your feet, walking through to the live room where a drum kit stands at the ready. The snare looks a little worn, and the symbols have lost their shine. Your nails tap the high hat, and you smile at the shimmering sound.
"What am I doing?" You whisper, spinning the gold band on your finger.
The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the hall. Eddie enters the room with the large box he's carrying obscuring his upper half. His name written in Wayne's shaky handwriting, peeking out from underneath his fingers.
"What's all this?" You ask as he sets down the box with a heave in the center of the room and sinks to his knees, hovering over the taped flaps.
"I have no idea," he grins mischievously. "Wayne gave it to me when I stopped by last week and told him I would see you. But you know him, he never throws stuff out. It could be anything." His hand smoothes over the top as he raises a brow. "Wanna find out?"
Your hands slide over your jean-covered thighs before your feet carry you forward. "Mrs. Click better not be in there."Â
His head tips back with laughter. "I make no promises," he jokes while you take a seat on the floor on the side of the box. Â
His mouth quirks up, watching you get comfortable. With a fluid motion, he leans and grabs a box cutter beside the soundboard. His shirt lifts slightly, offering a glimpse of hair trailing down his belly and the sculpted muscle beside his hips. His tongue lightly grazes his upper lip as he expertly flicks the knife open, his jeans snug on the contours of his strong thighs. Exhaling slowly, you avert your eyes, scanning the room instead as you wait for him to slice the tape.Â
"Score!" He pulls out the ragged-edged sheet that was folded and tucked into the top of the box. "Corroded Coffin," he reads aloud the words scrawled across it with something resembling shoe polish.
"Oh no," you laugh, your head turning side to side as you rock in your seat.Â
"Hey. This is rare band memorabilia. Itâs probably worth money," he defends, holding it up proudly.Â
"Yeah, to the guy you have to pay to haul it away," you giggle.
"Alright, Alright," he folds it up, the smile never leaving his face as he reaches into the box. "These are yours." He pulls out a stack of comic books and hands them to you.
"Still in good shape." You thumb through the copies of Tank Girl and Witchblade.
"My campaigns." He pulls out a pile of notebooks and sets them aside before reaching back in. "Some CDs." He comes out with a hand wrapped around a stack of jewel cases, the one on top catching your eye.Â
"Hey, thatâs my Cranberries Cd!" Your fingers dig into the carpet as you tip forward, yanking it from his hand. "I looked for this everywhere. I knew you took it, you thief."
"I donât know how that got there," he scratches his head, "You must have left in the van."
"Nice try, Munson." your eyes narrow, "I checked there." You lean over the box, poking a finger into his chest, "I knew you had a crush on Dolores."
"You got me. It was the accent," he admits with a grin full of dimples, his hand closing around your finger.Â
"Iâm keeping it." You drop back into your seat and pick up the case to examine the disc.
"Holy shit."
You raise your head to meet his wide chocolate eyes, a look of sheer delight written across his face. "Close your eyes," he instructs, pulling back the flaps of the box, hiding whatever he's found.
"Mrs. Click?" You set the CD on top of the comics.
"Better," he says excitedly, waving a hand toward your face. âCome on. Close your eyes."
"Fine." You leave one eye open, folding your hands in your lap.
"No peeking." He wags a finger.
Your lips purse as you close your other lid, waiting for the big reveal. Plastic clanks against something heavy, followed by the rustle of cardboard.
"Okay. Open."
"Daisy!" Your hands fly to your mouth before you reach out with wiggling fingers.
He winces as he hands over the two-foot garden gnome. "How can you call something so ugly a pretty name like that?"
Taking the heavy lawn ornament in both hands, you gaze down at her droopy hat and too-large ears, which stick straight out beside her bulging eyes and porcine nose. Her rubbery lips are pulled back in a smile, showing off her buck teeth and flowery dress that barely conceals her body.Â
"She's beautiful." You cradle her in your arms. "Besides, you're the one who stole her."
"Youâre the one who dared me to," he scoffs.Â
Your cheeks already ache with an unrestrained smile as the memories from that night surface. "I didnât think you were going to wake up the whole neighborhood crashing into the bushes in Mr. Lawsonâs yard."Â
"I was drunk," he defends, his face turning red.
"You tripped over your feet and ripped your pants," you gasp for air, trying to get the words out with your laughter, "You had on those Garfield boxers with the hearts."
"Of course, you remember that." His laughter joins yours, easy and familiar. "You're the one that woke up the neighbors, making the van backfire."
"It was the first time I drove, and I didnât have a license." You clutch Daisy tightly to your chest as you try to catch your breath. "Mr. Larson came out in his bathrobe, screaming about shooting you in the ass."
Eddie shakes his head as you laugh at his expense. "He almost caught us when you stalled out. All for that hideous thing."
"Shh," you cover her ears with your hands. "You canât get rid of her."
"Never," he agrees, reaching out for her. "Iâll find her place of honor around here somewhere."
"Put her on your nightstand," you suggest, handing her over.Â
"Ugh," he says, setting her aside, "Iâll have nightmares."
You burst into laughter once more, and his eyes ignite. He smiles like heâs savoring every sound, like your happiness is a hard-earned treasure he's been longing for.Â
The shards of the past press against the scar tissue encasing your heart as if struggling to free themselves and reassemble in the present. Your hand finds its way to your chest, pressing gently on the tender center, trying to quell the ache and remain in this momentâwith him.
"What else? What else?" You clap your hands, bouncing in your spot.Â
"Okay, okay," he gives in, happy to indulge you. "Um, a pack of crayons, a monopoly piece." He places them aside. "Thanks, Wayne. Could have done without that. Looks like some clothes. Oh, this is yours." He tosses a ball of red fabric at you, and you catch it with both hands before he continues to search through the box.
"Is this what I think it is?" His voice brims with excitement as he pulls a rectangular tin from the box. He shakes it, and a sharp sound follows. "Yes." His tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he pries off the lid.Â
His voice fades into the background as your focus turns to what you're holding. The fabric of your Musicland vest unfurls as you hold it out in front of you, the gold name tag still pinned to the front catching the light. A heavy sensation settles in your stomach, tightening and cramping as a sick, painful feeling creeps in and spreads â nausea churns as each inhale becomes battle.Â
Thereâs a scrape of metal as the lid pops off. "Polaroids," Eddie declares, his attention lost to the thrill of his find as he flips through the stack of photographs.
Your heart races as the room seems to shrink. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice quivering, your trembling hands twisting the vest as if folding it small enough can make the pain disappear.
"Theyâre pretty faded, though," he goes on, unaware.Â
"I said, that's enough!" The balled-up vest flies from your hands, landing back in the box. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself up on unsteady legs. "I need to leave."
Eddie's laughter dies in his throat as he looks up, the joy in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Wait a minute." He gets to his feet and follows you. The small pile you made topples over, forgotten as you pick up your bag from the couch. "What just happened?" He moves in front of you, blocking your path. "I thought we were having fun."
"Fun?" The word is a shard of ice. Without hesitation, you sling your bag over your shoulder and maneuver past him towards the door.
âJust hold on a minute.â He blocks your path again, hands up, eyes searching yours for answers. âTell me what's going on.â
"What do you want?" The words slice the air, eyes locked, a bare blade of anger.
"I wanted to-" His eyes flick toward the abandoned box in the center of the room.
"No." Your head shakes, "Why are you here? Now? After all this time? What do you want from me?"
"I just wanted to see you." His arms cross over his chest as his voice turns softer. "I missed my friend."
"Your friend," sarcasm drips from your words as you quirk a brow, "So you show up here with a box of crap and a âhey dollâ,â your voice lowers to mock him, "And Iâm supposed to what? Forget about everything that happened and hand you a clean slate. Drop everything in my life to follow you around like a puppy because you feel like paying me some attention?"
"Thatâs notâŠIâm not asking for that." His hand runs through his curls, frustration building in his tone.Â
"I'm not going to sit here with you wandering down memory lane and watch you pretend like you cared." Your eyes sting, but tears won't fall. You've shed your last one for him long ago. "Like any of it mattered."
"No one's pretending here, doll." He steps closer, his hands falling to his side, fingers rubbing at the seam of his jeans. "Of course, it matteredâall of it."
Your bag falls from your shoulder with a resounding thud, its weight matching your resolve as you push your hand against his chest. "I don't believe that for a second. If it mattered, you never could have done what you did."
"Done what?"
"Left me!" Your hand lands flat across your heart. "Without a goodbye, just some shitty mixtape full of songs that I can't listen to without my heart breaking over and over."
"You're right, okay." His voice rises to match your volume, his fingers closing around your biceps. "I was a fucking coward, and I ran. I couldn't see that look on your face again, the one you had when I told you I was leaving. I shouldâve said goodbye, but I knew you'd try to convince me to stay, and that was never going to happen. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can't be sorry I left."
"Hurt me?" You push his hands away, taking a step back to control the cracking in your voice. "You didn't just hurt me, Eddie. You destroyed me."
He swallows, looking away. "You were better off."
Fresh anger surges, along with the strong desire to escape â to leave this dead and buried, maybe for another decade until the hurt isnât so strong.Â
"See, that right there is why I'll never believe you," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger his way as you step around him, your hand closing around the doorknob. But at the last moment, you turn, wanting him to hear it. At least once.
"I didn't quit Musicland. I got fired. I was a mess after you left. I cried for days, but I clung to this pathetic hope that youâd call to explain everything. To say it wasn't the end for us. You wouldnât just throw me away, right? Not after everything we had been through together. I wouldn't leave my room, not even to eat. I was so afraid that the second I left, the phone would ring."
There's regret in his eyes as he steps forward, getting closer until he can touch you again, one hand gently gliding up your arm.
"But that call never came, did it, Eddie? Not one. And every day that passed, I died a little. But then I wasn't sad anymore. All those tears, they turned to hate," you say coldly, locking your gaze with his. "I hated you. I hated every song that came on the radio, reminding me of you. I hated Hawkins and everyone in it. But most of all, I hated myself for trusting you. For believing that you ever cared about me. That I wasnât alone. That's what you did to me, Eddie.â
âYou made me hate myself."
"Iâm so sorry, doll," his words barely crest the silence as his gentle hand cradles your jaw. âThereâs so much I want to explain to you.â
His touch is hot, but inside you, a coldness lingersâinside your stone. "You kissed me. And then you left me the next day. You knew how I felt."Â
"I know. I know. Iâm sorry." He steps closer, trying to pull your rigid form into his arms, lips brushing your temple. "You donât even know how much. Iâll spend the rest of my life apologizing. Trying to make it up to you. But youâre wrong. It all mattered. I did care. That kiss..itâs the reasonâŠ" He pulls back and looks into your eyes, "You knew me, you always did, but there were things I couldnât tell you. Things I couldnât admit even to myself. I was scared and angry all the time."
Your head shakes as you swallow hard. "You're not even real!" You shout in his face, your fingers clutching the doorknob behind you. Spinning, you tug hard, but his hand slams against the door above your head, keeping it shut.Â
"Stop, doll," he pleads. âLet me explain,â but the push-pull intensifies. You're no match for his strength. "Stop it!" he yells. His hand pushes on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Anger flashes in his eyes, and his cheeks flush.
"I made you up.â
âNo.â
âThe boy I knew could never have done that. He could never have hurt me like that." Your shoulder jerks, breaking his hold as you attempt to turn away again.
His fingers wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you in place. "That boy could never have given you what you wanted. He wouldnât have had the first clue how to handle you."
"Is that why youâre back?" You ask, still defiant even as his thumb presses into your throat, tipping your head to meet his gaze. "Dragging this all up again, ruining my life? Because you do?"Â
"Damn right, I do."Â
His words are a gravelly assertion, barely escaping before his mouth descends toward yours. For a heartbeat, the world pauses until your mouths finally meet â urgent and fierce. You part your lips eagerly, tongues finding their way together in a hungry and unapologetic dance. The firm pressure of his mouth moving in sync with yours is a spark, igniting a fire that seems to spread with each touch. The scent of clove and cedar leaves you lightheaded as the flames lick through your body. The scruff on his cheek is a rasp against your skin, a roughness contrasting with the smoothness of his kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and a hint of coffee. This kiss is filled with years of longing, swelling and crashing like an orchestra's finale.
Minutes slip away, yet your greedy mouths remain desperate. The room falls into a hushed stillness, save for the sharp intakes of breath and the sensuous wet slide of lips. The kisses seem endless, broken only by fleeting gasps for air, compelling you to pull each other closer, savoring every taste. Your fingers tangle in the soft waves at the nape of his neck, evoking a low, guttural groan that mingles with your shared breaths when you tug. His hands trace the curves of your body, touching every inch as they follow a path beyond your hips and ass, seizing the back of your thighs. With a firm grasp, he lifts you, pressing you against the unyielding door. You gasp as he positions you just how he wants â aligning himself hot and hard against your center.Â
"Fuck," he growls against your lips as his hips roll, igniting fireworks through your body. Your eyes flutter shut, and a kaleidoscope of colors burst in the darkness.
He nips at the plush of your bottom lip, teeth grazing in a tender claim, a muted buzz begins in your bagâa sharp, insistent stingâthat yanks you from the haze back into the real world. His eyes remain closed when you pull away. He leans closer, chasing your mouth, but the moment is already shattered.Â
Your stomach plummets as the harsh reality sets in. His kiss now tastes like the ash of betrayal. The distressed whimper escaping your throat finally has him looking at you, shock written clearly across his features. Slowly, he releases you, your body sliding against his until your feet meet the floor. He takes a step back, hesitating, swallowing, "Doll â"
"No." You shake your head, your hands covering your mouth. The gold band on your fourth finger is a cool scorch against your swollen lips. "I have to go." You spring into motion, rushing to gather your bag.
"Stay, and we can talk about this," he implores, moving one hand to his hip while the other rakes through his hair.Â
"Please donât," you plead. "Donât ask me for anything else." You swing the strap over your shoulder. "I just châ" But the word stays stuck in your throat, as your eyes swim with tears.
His face falls, "It's not your fault, okay? I kissed you."
"Eddieâ"
"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me," he insists, frustration in his voice as you scrub your face with your hands. "I don't want you driving when you're upset."
"I'm sorry," you say with an aching heart, pushing past him and closing the door behind you.
The sidewalk blurs under your feet as you race to your car. Fat raindrops splatter against the concrete like a spray of gunfire, each one a cold, wet slap against your skin. The sky chooses this moment to crack open, unleashing a torrent that feels personal. Your car comes into view, a bright orange ticket flapping under the wiper. Perfect. Just perfect.
With hands slick from the rain, you fumble with your keys before throwing yourself into the driverâs seat. Snatching the ticket from under the wiper as you go and crumpling it into your fist, stuffing it into the glovebox to be dealt with later. The downpour drums on the roof, enclosing you in a watery cocoon as you search through your bag for your phone. A missed call from Steve and a text reminding you about the dry cleaning. You spill the contents of your messenger onto the passenger seat, pens and lip gloss tumbling into the footwell. "Shit!" The word is a half-sob as you clutch the receipt marked with today's hours in unforgiving black ink.
Glancing at the clock on your dash, it hits you with the subtlety of a wrecking ballâ six minutes until closing. It might as well be in another time zone, given the snarled rush hour traffic and the river that the streets have become. Your car roars to life, and you pull out onto the roadway, tires hissing on wet asphalt, windshield wipers barely keeping up with the deluge. Your skin still sings with Eddieâs touch, but it's the burgeoning storm of wordsâcheater, adulterer, betrayerâmixed with the soft hazel of Steveâs disappointed eyes that tattoo themselves across your conscience. This is the unforgivable sin, and you can't undo it, but you'll be damned if you don't at least try.
You're double-parked now, hazards blinking a frantic rhythm. The 'CLOSED' sign on the dry cleaner's door mocks you as you rattle the unrelenting metal handle. "Please, please, please," you whisper, pounding on the uncaring glass, your unheard pleas bouncing off the empty shadows within. A car horn cuts through the rain â"What the fuck, lady?" The other driver yells, uncaring of your predicament.
"I'm moving, I'm moving!" The words are a rain-soaked shout as you slosh back to your car, drenched and defeated.
Another angry horn sounds off as you pull into traffic, carelessly cutting off a Yellow Cab in your haste. Rainwater drips from your hair, soaking your shirt. Even with the heater set to blast, it does little against the chill that has settled deep in your bones. Down the road, a bright blue sign glows like a beacon, and you jerk the steering wheel, the car fishtailing as you skid into the lot.Â
The pharmacy's fluorescent lights are too bright and too sterile as you grab a small bottle of mouthwash off the shelf in the travel section and wait in line to pay, the store's generic electronic music grating against your already frayed nerves. Outside, you stand on the corner, swishing and spitting the minty liquid onto the sidewalk, repeating the process, trying to cleanse more than just your mouth. A passerby wrinkles their nose at you from under their umbrella. "This is Chicago! You've seen worse!" You snap, arms thrown up in exasperation while the rain and your regrets mingle on the cold pavement.
With pruney fingers, you pull the cardigan you had left at Stax off the back of your office chair. Shrugging it on, the material dampens from your wet t-shirt but offers a little warmth. Your phone buzzes as you settle at your desk â five missed calls from Eddie and four texts. The roar of the heavy rain and being buried deep in your bag had muffled its sound, not that you would have picked up.Â
Eddie: Answer the phone, doll!
Eddie: Look, I need to know that youâre okay.
Eddie: I swear to Christ if you donât pick up.
Eddie: Okay, have it your way. Iâm driving to your place.
What? No! Your thumb presses the call button, and it rings twice before it connects. Thereâs no hello, just the slight hum of an engine and the rain pelting glass.Â
âIâm okay,â you breathe into your phone, âI didnât go home. Iâm at my office.â
Your heart drums in your ears with each second of silence. Your eyes flutter shut, relief flooding you when he finally responds. An exhale loosens the tension in your chest. His voice resonates in a dark rumble through the phone, "We need to talk."
âIâŠ.I know,â your voice wavers as you wipe your nose on the back of your hand. âI just need a minute here, Ed. Can you give me some time?âÂ
The rhythmic blink of the turn signal punctuates his heavy sigh. âYeah. Alright. But doll,â he pauses as the sound of water splashing against his vehicle mingles with the whoosh of passing traffic, âYouâre not running away from this. And trust me, the irony of that statement isnât lost on me. Think about what I said, okay? I meant it all.â
With a tight throat, you whisper, "I have to go," and disconnect the call.Â
Placing your phone on the desk, you dab the raindrops off your face with a tissue. The quiet of the office wraps around you, its half-dark corners and the soft glow from the monitors creates a place for you to breathe and be still. The raging storm and the ticking wall clock echoing in the solitude do little to distract you from thoughts youâre not ready to face. With a deep breath, you lift the lid of your laptop, seeking refuge in the normalcy of work as you coax the screen back to life.
The song erupts from the speaker on the edge of your desk, a jolt of sound shattering the silence like an accusation. You grab it with fumbling fingers, scrambling to press the off button. Covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound that is equal parts sob and hysterical laughter, wondering how you ended up in this situation. With your elbows pressed against the wooden top, you bury your face in your hands.
âWhat are you doing here, kid?â The gruff voice cuts through your misery.
"Jesus Christ, Hopper," you gasp, clutching at your chest, "You scared the hell out of me."
"Guess we're even since Mr. Brightside nearly sent me into cardiac arrest." Hopper towers over you, standing beside your desk with his hands buried in his pockets.Â
âYou listen to The Killers?â You ask, surprised while he drags a chair from the next desk, its wheels screeching faintly against the concrete floor.
âYou kids really think Jim Croce is the only thing on my playlist?â A chuckle escapes him as he eases into the chair beside you, âNow, tell me whatâs wrong.â
You muster a puzzled look, shaking your head in feigned denial.
âDonât bullshit me, kid. I donât have much time. Iâm meeting Joyce for dinner at that Italian place on Taylor Street. Have I told you about it? Iâve been dreaming about the breadsticks. Enzo puts some spice on âem, I donât know what it is, but itâs good. You dip it in olive oil,â he groans, âForget about it. Those things knock your socks off, and Iâm wavering on the main course betweenââ
âI need you to take me off the studio opening,â you interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.
âWeâve been over this. Unless you have some good reasonââ
âEddie kissed me,â the confession slips out, eyes widening in shock at your admission, hands flying to cover your mouth.
His brows rocket upwards, then draw together, his gaze sharpening, voice dipping into a low, protective timbre, âWhat do you mean he kissed you?âÂ
âNo,â you clarify, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing an elbow against the desk, massaging your temple to soothe the forming headache. âI kissed him. We kissed. It was mutual.â
Hopper reclines, the chair creaking under his weight, his gaze level and unreadable. âIâm disappointed in you, kid. I never thought Iâd be having a conversation like this with you.â
âI know. I know. SteveâŠâ you trail off, eyes drifting to the photo of Steve on your desk.Â
Hopper leans in, his hand cutting through the air. âI donât give a fuck about Harrington,â each word gains in volume, âThis is about you and everything youâve worked for. Itâs 2012. That kind of nonsense ends careers. Do you know what can happen if he complains?â
Your eyes roll. âHeâs not going to complain, Hop.â
âYou donât know that,â he counters, his head shaking off your naivety. âThese things like this have a way of coming out. That was an amateur move. Where is your professionalism? What were you thinking?â
âIâm sorry,â you mutter, lowering your eyes. âWe have more of a history than I let on.â
âWell, stop the presses. I couldnât have figured that one out.â His voice lowers in resignment, âMaybe this is my faultââ
âNoââÂ
Your protest is swift, but he plows right over you, âIâve babied you. Maybe itâs because youâre my favorite or because you were just a kid when you started. I let you get away with too much over the years because youâre a damn good writer. But that stops now, Iâm going to treat you like all the rest of the idiots in this place.â His hand waves around the room before pointing right at you. âYouâre going back to that studio, and youâre going to keep your dick in your pants and get those interviews done. If you want to play kissy face, you do it on your own time. You got me?â
Your mouth drops open, disbelief palpable. âYou're still going to make me finish?â
âDamm, right I am,â Hopper affirms, not missing a beat. "If I hand your work off, it raises questions. Big, messy questions. What do I tell downtown when they ask why the piece was reassigned? Unless youâre ready to come clean to Harrington?âÂ
Your lip goes between your teeth as your head shakes.
âI thought so.â Hopper leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This could be both our necks," he mutters, concern filling his voice.
Your head shakes, but your determination is clear. "It won't."
âIt better not. I donât want to hear another word about it until that last story is on my desk. Are we clear?â
Your jaw clenches, the reality of the situation hitting hard. "Crystal."
Hopper's gaze remains fixed on you, ensuring his point has been made. "Good," he says, his voice softening, "Now go on, get out of here. Deal with whatever mess you've got going on. Just make sure it's sorted by Monday."
Your key slides into the lock and you turn it slowly, the tumblers falling into place with a series of soft clicks. You pause, leaning your forehead against the chill of the metal door, grappling with a rising queasiness that sours your stomach.Â
A wave of home's warmth engulfs you, mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and roasting potatoes. The vibrant strains of Queen accompany Steve's honeyed tones floating down the hall from the kitchen.
"Welcome home, ace. I was beginning to wonder where you were," his voice, laced with a touch of concern, greets you, âBusy day? Did you write me a Pulitzer?â
Your messenger bag slides from your shoulder, giving into gravity with a loud smack against the hardwood.
His voice grows nearer, warmer as he moves down the hall, the floor lightly creaking with each footfall. âI swung by the Athenian Room, grabbed us Chicken Kalamata, and I have a bottle of Chardonnay breathing.â
Your favorite. Your heart sinks further, receding behind your ribcage, unworthy of his care or devotion.
He stops short when he rounds the corner into the foyer, taking you in, his eyes reflecting your disheveled state.Â
"I didnât get the dry cleaning," you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I was... too late."
For a heartbeat, he's silent, but his eyes remain tender. âHey, that's alright, ace. I'll just skip the gym in the morning and swing by the cleaners before work. Are you okay?â
Traces of the day find a path down your cheeks as you sniffle and draw the cardigan tighter around yourself. "I got caught in the storm."Â
âDid you forget your coat?â He draws closer as you give a small nod. His hands slide up your biceps, continuing on to wrap around you. âYou're frozen.â He uses his thumb to lift your chin. âHow about a hot shower, yeah? I'll keep dinner warm. You'll feel better after you eat.â His mouth begins to near yours, but you turn your face away.Â
"I think I'm coming down with something," you manage, your lies teetering atop your mounting guilt. "My throat is sore."
Concern etches his features, his brows knitting together as he adjusts, pressing his lips to your forehead. âYou don't feel hot.â
Pulling away, you bury your face into his shoulder. "I think I'll just shower and go to bed."Â
âIf that's what you want,â he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, though his tone is threaded with disappointment. âGo on up. I'll bring you some water and a couple of Tylenol.â
âThanks, Steve,â you step away with a weight in your chest. âI'm really sorry.âÂ
âDon't worry about it.â He waves off your apology, his smile faint but sincere. His arms fold over his chest as he turns back toward the kitchen.Â
As you climb the stairs, the music snaps off, replaced with the distant roar of a sports game, the announcers' voices carrying up the stairwell.Â
The embrace of the hot shower strips away the cold clinging to your skin, but it cannot wash away the regret. Sliding down the tiles, you draw your knees close while your tears fall, mixing with the stream of water spiraling towards the drain.Â
Your life is a song made up of the choices you've made, each one a different note that sounded so sure at the time, but now the harmony seems slightly off-key. The steam rises around you like a specter. It's the quiet between the chords. And you're there, just listening, trying to figure out if there's a note you'd change or if every single one was necessary. As you nestle into bed, sleep tugging like an insistent tide amidst the drift into dreams, one truth resonates clearâ the music plays on.
Song 5 coming this week! Follow @tornupdates for notifications
Thanks for indulging me with this new version. I wanted to get it right. This next chapter is going to be Steve's launch party and will explore the fallout from that kiss. I love each and every one of you and I hope Torn!Eddie makes an appearance in your sweetest of dreams. -Jelly
#steve harrington#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#eddie munson smut#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington smut#stranger things fanfic#torn series
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rocketman: part i - it's just my job five days a week
Summary:Â in which lieutenant commander bradshaw is on a three month special detachment in the pacific and the holidays have never felt lonelier for either of you. it's just three months, it'll be fine, right?
OR you and bradley write each other 159 emails
Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k
Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, bradley needs to remember this is a government email server...(okay yes, i am perfectly aware that our esteemed lieutenant commander would probably get kicked out of the navy for some of these emailsâŠthat being said, i also donât particularly care! weâre playing fast and loose with the time stamps too because i may be smart, but math has never been a strong suit of mine!) enjoy the companion playlist! rest of the series can be found here!
12/17 @ 6:19am
I miss you already and I havenât even left the parking lot. Iâm still in my car typing this after having stayed for probably far too long watching your C-40 take off (like people were staring at me I was there so long)(and, yes, I looked up the name of the plane). Pete asked me if I wanted to get breakfast with him, but I said no. Felt too lost. Plus, I need to get ready for work. Weâre going to get dinner on Wednesday before I head up to Berkeley Thursday morning, though!
Hope you have a safe transport and settle onboard quickly. I left you something in your duffle bag (yes, itâs safe to open around other peopleâŠhead out of the gutter, Bradshaw).
Love you and stay safe, x
12/18 @ 5:46pmÂ
Just dropped off the gifts at the Junior League for Carolineâs adopt a child thing. She was completely in her element (they gave her a clipboard and a bullhorn!), though she did say we went wayyy too over the top. But little Carter asked for all that stuff! We couldnât just not get it all for him? She also appreciated your wrapping skills, very impressed with the bows and tight corners. I met a couple of her friends there, which was nice and they invited me to stay for drinks (the prosecco was flowingâŠ), but I wanted to head home.Â
I miss you so much already, it feels weird not going over to your place after work and making dinner and prepping lunch together - and itâs only been two days. I know youâre on a comms blackout for the next couple days, so Iâm just gonna keep sending these so youâll have a bunch to read all at once.
All my love, x
12/19 @ 11:48am
My brother and Lauren decided to come out here for Christmas after all! My dad was so excited when he called me, but I think Maryâs a little less enthused. Feels like shit knowing we were the backup option for them. Apparently, Laurenâs mom is sick and the whole house is in disarray (not hard in that familyâŠ) so my dad is paying for them to fly in from New York tomorrow. I think itâll be nice, weâll almost have a full set (baring you, of course, my darling rocketman), so the house wonât be as lonely. Do you think weâll get to talk on Christmas or Christmas Eve? You should be getting a package soon (âtwas preemptively sent!) and are under strict orders not to open it until Christmas Eve, buddy!
Going to dinner with Pete tonight, Iâll let you know how it goes. Ameliaâs coming with us, but I donât know about Penny? I hope they like the gifts we got them. Iâm going to stop by your place, do a once over, and make sure the tree is ready for Pete to take, etc. before I leave on Thursday.
Love you and talk soon! x
12/20 @ 7:03am
House looked good! In my seat on the plane. If my morals were shakier, I would 1000% have taken Max up on his offer to fly me up to Berkeley. But alas! Climate change is real and private jets account for 20x as many carbon emissions as commercial planes, so I am up at the ass-crack of dawn for this 7:15am flight. Iâll message you when I land, love you!
12/20 @ 9:04am
Just landed - easy flight. Now to find my dad in arrivalsâŠ
Love you, talk when you get the chance! x
12/23 @ 4:45am
Hey sweetheart! Back online and all settled in. Iâm bunking with Payback and we actually have a pretty decent layout. He graciously offered to give me the bottom bunk, due to my âgeriatric status.â Honestly, Iâm just glad I donât have to sleep in the bunk room with the ensigns and rest of the crew. I forgot how noisy it is being on an aircraft carrier, which makes Paybackâs snoring surprisingly pleasant. Iâm glad he and Bob are with me. The rest of this squadronâs from Lemoore and Bob knows some of them. Itâs interesting seeing him and Payback fly together, but they mesh really well.
Glad Mav is there to keep an eye on you.Â
Okay, I had way too much fun picking out all those presents, so I really hope Carter loves them too. And please tell me you have a picture of Caroline yelling into the bullhorn? I can truly think of nothing scarier than Caroline Calloway ordering the young women of San Diego county around like Santaâs chief elf. And speaking of gifts, I loved my pictures. The one from the Christmas party is my favorite, did Fanboy take it? I saw him running around with his Pentax. When the hell did you have time to print it? Iâve got it hanging up in my bunk so I can see it every night.Â
I still donât understand why you donât fly into Oakland instead of SFO? Like I get it, youâre not a Spirit or SW girl, but kidâŠ.itâs an hour and forty minute flight? Live a little. And I think itâll be nice having your brother and Lauren around for Christmas. How many people do you think itâll be? I always loved seeing Christmas Eves with large families in movies and stuff, all the chaos and whatnot? But itâs just gonna be you five Christmas Day? Iâve heard rumblings that I might be first in line for a Facetime on Christmas Eve, so save some time for me too, kid. Iâll let you know for sure in a couple days.Â
Okay, think weâre all caught up now. Talk soon and love you so much,
Your Bradley
12/23 @ 9:08am
Bubs! I read your email four times since I woke up, I canât stop smiling. Iâm glad youâre all settled in - Reubenâs snoring and ageism aside haha. Howâs the food? Do you want earplugs? A sleep mask? Are earplugs allowed for sleeping? What if you need to get up right away and you canât hear? I could send you a white noise machine? Or is there a fear of hacking with that? I shouldâve done more research on this before you left. Tell me if you need anything, Iâll send it out express! Oh, Iâm just so happy to hear from you. Keep me posted!
Lots of love, x
12/23 @ 8:53pm
You and me, hot date tomorrow night at 11:45pst - donât be late. (And look cute.)
Your Bradley
12/23 @ 8:55pm
Iâll be there đ Love you, x
12/25 @ 9:56am
Bradley Bradshaw you absolute sneak! How on Earth did you pull a Christmas miracle off!?! Mary said she had no clue, so Iâm extremely impressed you got my dad to keep that secret!? I was totally not expecting another present from you? The cooking lessons and apron were more than enough - to say nothing about moving in together!?! I love the bracelet so much, you have no idea. I started crying when I opened it! Mary took a video, which Iâm sure sheâll send you. God, Bradley? You didnât have to do that! Itâs perfect, itâs like weâre locked together. Iâm gonna wear it everyday. Please email me later if you get the chance!Â
(Also, Lauren looked really jealous đ my brother was sweating)
Love you and Merry Christmas Rocketman! x
12/25 @ 11:38am
Ummm, not sure what youâre talking about, kid? That sounds like something Santa would do? Probably heard about how good youâve been this year? x
12/25 @ 11:40am
Thank you, I love it so much and wish I could give you the biggest hug and kiss right now. Iâll have an extra slice of babka for you tonight, talk soon and Merry Christmas, Bradley! Love you x
12/27 @ 4:49am
I miss sleeping next to you. Whenever I canât sleep, I think about the way you looked at me in the living room after our Christmas party. You looked so happy and I hate that I have to leave you for all our firsts. First Christmas, first New Yearâs, first Valentineâs Day. And god, sweetheart, youâre so fucking gorgeous it makes me want to lose my mind sometimes. Always thinking about you, BradleyÂ
12/27 @ 8:38am
I miss sleeping next to you, too (especially since your body is like a furnace and you hold me close when I get cold). And I know you being away during the holidays is hard, but look at it this way - weâll just have our firsts next year. Next year will be our first Christmas, first New Yearâs, first Valentineâs Day together, not an ocean apart. We have all the time in the world, rocketman. Love you today and every day x
12/29 @ 6:02pm
Thereâs already so many things Iâm dying to tell you and stories about the squadron weâre teaming up with, but the Navy will have my ass if I give away too many details so Iâm just going to leave it at this: are we sure Max doesnât have a twin on another continent? Take that as you will. Whatâre your plans for New Yearâs? Your Bradley
12/30 @ 9:20am
Sorry for the delayed response! A minor issue with my brother and my dad that I wonât bore you with had the whole house in a tizzy. Thankfully, he and Lauren are gone even though my dad still wonât tell me what the issue was? Anyway! God, I wish I could hear more about Maxâs twin? I am honestly kind of scared about knowing thereâs a Max doppelgĂ€nger in the Navy (jokes!). For New Yearâs, Iâm going to this party with Mary and dad in the city, itâs at this fancy venue and I have a cute black dress! Itâs very different for me and I wish you were here to see it! Iâll have to wear it again. Message me when itâs the New Year your time! Love you! x
01/01 @ 12:09am
Happy New Year, sweetheart! They had a little party for the officers - we even got cake and Bob snuck me and Payback seconds somehow. Itâs always the quiet ones you gotta look out for. You absolutely need to send me pictures of you in that dress, I canât wait to see it on you in person someday. Hope you have a great time with your dad and Mary, give them my best. Love you and again Happy New Year!Â
Your Bradley
01/01 @ 12:01am
Happy New Year, Bradley!!! You got cake!! You broke some rules! I approve! Milk them for all the cake theyâre worth! Iâll send some pics of the three of us and one just for you big boy đ Talk soon and love you so so much! x
01/01 @ 10:59am
Had a late start! Here are the pics from last night! Try and sneak some more cake xx
[mary_and_dad_being_annoying.jpg]
[me.jpg]
01/02 @ 6:12am
You know you labeled the pictures wrongâŠluckily no one was behind meâŠ
01/02 @ 9:04am
Who? Me? I would NEVER! (Just trying to keep you on your toes.) Hope the flying is going well and youâre staying safe, B! Love you!
01/03 @ 8:00pm
Yeah, itâs going well. Itâs so different flying on the open ocean after so long? Last time was in September when I went to Hong Kong. The desert is cool, donât get me wrong, but seeing the clouds and the water together is unreal. The pink and purple clouds remind me of you (sorry, that was lame). You still gotta let me take you up, kid. Iâve heard Mav is trying to convince you, but you gotta let me be the one. Canât trust just anyone with my girl. Love B
01/04 @ 10:13am
BradleyâŠheâs practically your father, Iâm pretty sure you can trust him to take me up in a plane, you silly boy. Not that Iâm saying you wonât be my firstâŠbut come on! And itâs not lame. I like that the pink and purple clouds remind you of me. Every time I see a plane I send a little call out for your safety. Gotta keep you safe, rocketman! Talk soon and love you! x
01/06 @ 4:45pm
My parents just dropped me off at the airport and no matter how many times I leave them, I always cry. I think the only time I didnât cry when I left their house was when you were with me over Thanksgiving. You always make it better, bubs.
Theyâre coming down in a couple weeks to help me start packing, anything in the house you wouldnât want them to see while dropping off boxes? I can still bring my old bed, etc for the guest room, right?
All my love, x
01/06 @ 9:58pm
I think I get that, having you around this time makes it different. Iâve never had anyone to really write to while Iâve been away before. Sure, I talked to my grandparents when they were still around and my aunts and uncles, Nat, Ice, and a couple others, but not like this. And I donât ever want to not feel like this again.Â
Iâm an open book, kid. Ainât got nothing to hide. And yeah, anything like that feel free to bring with you for the guest room or office. It was the bed, nightstands, and dresser and then your couch for the office, yeah? We can get new bedding and pillows for it if you want? Iâm on comms blackout for a couple days, so message me whenever you want so I can read them all when weâre back online.
Your Bradley
01/06 @ 10:07pm
Perfect! Love you and stay safe, rocketman.
01/06 @ 10:09pm
Love you too, kid.
01/09 @ 6:11pm
Bradley, I donât mean to alarm you, but there was a raccoon in your garage! Scratch that, a FAMILY of raccoons!??! Iâm sure Mr Harrington was ready to call the cops when he heard my scream. Theyâre so cute, but also terrifying at the same time? So, I called Pete and he came right over, a true knight in shining armor! Amelia and I did a THOROUGH sweep of the house to make sure they were relegated to the garage. Pete got them out safe and sound with a random tennis racket and your 4 iron, but somebodyâs coming tomorrow to check on how they got in there. And I know they arenât hurting anyone, but I just donât want there to be any issues later on? (The babies were actually so cute and reminded me of my cat growing up, Porter.) Anyway! Enough drama for tonight, I hope that gets a laugh out of you - talk soon!
Love you! x
01/10 @ 8:05am
Well, the exterminator got here around 7:30 and sprayed all this stuff and blocked the hole in the crawl space of the garage. He showed me pictures and let me tell you, there was quite the nest up there. These raccoons were living large over the holidays.Â
01/12 @ 5:21pm
Okay! Iâm in the parking lot, waiting for my first cooking class to start. Is it weird Iâm a little nervous? I hope everyone elseâs skill level is similar, I donât like feeling behind. I brought my new apron, ironed it and everything. I feel a little like Ina Garten, isnât she just divine? Okay, okay, Iâm going in now! Iâll let you know how it goes! Thanks again for getting me these xx
01/12 @ 7:03pm
I feel so tired? Like my hand cramped a little bit? We started off the class with knife skills, which weâre going to do every week and then made this âsimpleâ egg dish, which was NOT simple and I overcooked the egg. Ina would be so disappointed. Alas! Onto next week. Love you!
01/15 @ 9:12pm
Bradley youâre not going to BELIEVE what just happened on Succession. My heart is POUNDING? Do you think if I called and asked really nicely the Navy would get an HBO subscription for everyone? That is what I would like my tax dollars to go towards. Can you get me a direct line to someone in charge please? Love you!
01/16 @ 7:47am
Not to worry my little Barefoot Contessa, I have returned back to civilization (ie the internet), though am dismayed to have missed this mind blowing Succession episode? Has Perry Mason started back up again or will we be able to watch that together?Â
Bob and I were in the gym earlier and he almost dropped a dumbbell on my foot, I swear my life flashed before my eyes. But I had a new PR on the bench press today, up to 285 pounds. Glad the cooking lesson went well though! Whatâs the class makeup like? x BradleyÂ
01/16 @ 9:04am
Iâm glad youâre back online and safe! Perry Mason has not started yet, though Iâm still certain youâre the only person under the age of 55 that watches it (I guess I should say weâre the only people under the age of 55 that watch it, but whatever). Youâve also missed a couple Top Chef episodes, but we can always binge this season later.Â
Thereâs about 12 of us in the class and itâs pretty evenly split? Though thereâs tragically this really annoying couple who were at the station next to me. I hope we get to change next week, I donât think I can watch them feed each other food another week.Â
And Iâm still waiting for that direct line to the Navy, Bradshaw! Love you! x
01/1 6 @ 6:59pm
Wait, wait, how did I miss there? There was a WHAT in my garage? A raccoon? Multiple raccoons? We need to get a dog or a cat or something. x BradleyÂ
01/18 @ 7:02am
Bradley!! I know we talked about a trip once you got home (provided you still feel up for it with the transition and all), what if we went here? I was talking about our tentative plans with my dad and Mary before I went back to San Diego and they went to Punta Mita this past fall and LOVED it! What do you think? Love you!
01/18 @ 6:03pm
Holy shit! That looks absolutely amazing, yes Iâd love to go! Can we afford that though? It looks expensive? xBradley
01/18 @ 6:05pm
YAY!! Ahh, Iâm so excited you have no idea! I want to hug and kiss you so bad right now! We can fly for free since I have a bunch of AA points (thank you pwc) and then I have like a million Amex points, so itâs not full price!!Â
01/18 @ 6:12pm
When you say âlike a millionâ do you actually mean a million or?
01/18 @ 6:14pm
Yes! Iâve had this card for like 15 years! My whole family does the pooling on it! Itâs a drop in the bucket, promise! Plus, I always use my other card for work and that has a whole bunch of Bonvoy points on it, too. We could stay at one of those? I think thereâs a St Regis next door?
01/18 @ 6:22pm
Sweetheart, I want to go, I just donât want you to waste all those points on this.Â
01/18 @ 6:26pm
What if we go for 6 nights instead of 9? Maybe no plunge pool? Or we could pay cash instead? And then I could get 6x the points from paying that way? So, reallyâŠ.the points just keep accumulating, weâve got to use them sometime! The points can pay for the flights and the hotel and then we can split the room charges and incidentals 50:50?
Will you think about it? You donât have to give me an answer right away and we can always pick another hotel? But if we want to go someplace in late March/early April, I think we should book soon with spring break and all? Not that I imagine many coeds will be staying at the Four Seasons, but you never knowâŠ
01/18 @ 6:33pm
You gotta send me a ppt on all this points stuff, you know math stresses me out. And no, I donât think many coeds will be staying at the Four Seasons, kid.Â
01/18 @ 6:37pm
Can I send you a dossier with everything!?! Even if you say no to that Iâm doing it anyway ;) just promise me youâll think about it, please? Iâll do whatever you want, Bradley <3
01/18 @ 6:40pm
Yes, please send the dossier my way henceforth, Moneypenny.Â
And youâll do whatever I want, huh? Might have to send you a dossier of my own nowâŠ
(But yes, I promise Iâll seriously consider everything. I just donât want you to feel like you have to spend all this money to make me happy. Iâd say weâd both be happy camping out on the beach, but I think that might be a security issue down there, plus neither of us like camping - anyway, you know what I mean.)
01/18 @ 6:43pm
Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!! Is this a dossier for my eyes only? What will M say!? Iâll send you mine if you send me yours?
(But seriously, thank you! Iâll send you more specifics tomorrow - like pricing and whatnot - and you can take a couple days to think it over. And thank you for clarifying the camping thing, I was worried for a second there.)
I love you so much rocketman and weâll talk (email) tomorrowÂ
x MoneypennyÂ
01/18 @ 6:46pm
Iâd say âsleep tight,â but thatâs a given considering you havenât been fucked in a couple weeks.Â
(Perfect, I genuinely am really excited about it, just want to make sure it works out for us both.)
Love you so much, kidÂ
Your Bradley
01/18 @ 6:58pm
Bradley Bradshaw!! You did not just say that over a government email server!Â
Imissyourcocksobadlyitâsdrivingmeinsane
01/18 @ 7:01pm
Couldnât help it. Plus, we both know itâs true.Â
01/18 @ 7:04pm
Oh, shut up. Shut me up
01/18 @ 11:43pm
Iâm sorry if I came off too strong about planning earlier, I mightâve gotten a little carried away and been a little too eager about planning something five days after youâre home from a three month detachment. If at any time before you come home or even right after you come home you donât feel up to the trip, please please please tell me. I want to do something nice for you and give you a chance to truly relax, but Iâd hate for it to come at a price. So, just let me know, okay? Say the word and weâll push it, alright? I donât exactly know what youâre going through, but tell me if itâs ever too much. Iâll always be here, promise. Love you x
[dossier_for_your_eyes_only.ppt]
01/19 @ 8:29am
Kid, no. I promise Iâll tell you. You know I love how excited you get planning things. I think I like it so much because you take care of it all. Sure, you ask for my opinion and what I want, but I just have to tell you one thing, one idea and you take care of it.Â
Funny though, isnât it? How itâs totally opposite in the other side of our relationship? You tell me one thing, one idea and I take care of all of it? Bet itâs hard for you not having someone around to do that for you? Maybe next time we Facetime we can talk more about that? x B
01/19 @ 10:11am
Luckily, I have a very creative imagination, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.Â
See right now, Iâm in my office, sitting at my desk, feeling so overwhelmed. It almost hurts how overwhelmed and frustrated I am. And you bust down the door, hair windswept like youâd flown to Del Mar, and you have that slutty flight suit on and I donât even mind that youâre sweaty and gross. You smell absolutely divine and I rake my hands through your hair as you eat me out underneath my glass desk. I get a conference call, but you donât stop the entire time. You like how squirmy and fussy I get, I canât focus on the deliverable Iâm working on for the client. You like that I canât control myself, that I squeeze my thighs around your head. Eventually, you canât take it anymore, your cock is aching so badly, and you need to fuck me on top of my desk. Youâre so strong it almost breaks. You fuck me so good everyone in the office can hear me crying out for you.Â
(actually, Iâm on the couch, watching college football, but itâs more fun to imagine you fucking me in my office - see, creative imagination! Make sure you get a quiet room for that Facetime...)
Love x
01/19 @ 7:29pm
You think youâre funny, huh? You have any more of those thoughts, feel free to send them my way. âm taking out that picture you gave me for Christmas right now. How you taking care of yourself? My imagination isnât as creative as yours. B
01/19 @ 7:40pm
Guess youâll have to wait for our next FacetimeâŠ
x
01/20 @ 4:24pm
Your dad and Mary write me emails, you know. They arenât as good correspondents as you are (for how could they possibly be, my dear?), but they check in about once a week or so. Mary sends me some of the articles she gives her students and talks about the show sheâs watching with your dad. Your dad mainly talks about you. It makes me wish my parents were still around to do this stuff with me. Just checking in and writing emails and bragging about me to my girlfriend? How was yesterdayâs class?
Your Bradley
01/20 @ 5:39m
I didnât know they wrote you that often and Iâm beyond embarrassed that my dad talks about me that much? But come on, BradleyâŠyou have someone who does that, too? Heâs about 5â8â (on a good day), looks great in a leather jacket, and just spent about two hours last weekend cleaning your gutters and telling me about how you won your high schoolâs debate scholarship?? Like how could you not tell me that? Itâs literally one of the hottest things Iâve heard about you!
Class was good! They taught us a trick to cut onions without crying and one of the other girls complimented my apron! Weâre doing meats next week, cutting, marinating, cooking, etc. and Iâm excited!
01/20 @ 5:42pm
Oh gee, I bet itâs just awful for you to have Mav around all the time. Knight in shining armorâŠ
01/20 @ 5:48pm
Heâs not a bother! And itâs not all the time! Weâre actually going to get lunch together on Saturday! Itâs this new place on the water.
01/20 @ 5:50pm
Sounds like a cute little date! Youâll have to tell me how he is. Love you so much B
01/20 @ 5:55pm
Iâll keep ya posted, bubs! Love you!
01/22 @ 10:01am
Breaking news, kid. Your esteemed, naval aviator boyfriend is going to be on 60 Minutes at the end of February. Totally came out of left field, but I couldnât say anything until they finished filming. Itâs about the Navy in the Pacific and âthe lost art of shipbuilding.â They even rigged up a camera on my plane and everything, it was so cool. Iâve been dying to tell you, but again couldnât say anything until it was official. I probably wonât be on it long since they interviewed the Admiral and Pac Fleet Commander for most of it, but yeah, Payback and Bob and I will be on with my girl Norah. I made sure I had enough sunscreen on so I was camera ready at all times. Love you B
01/22 @ 10:09am
YOUâRE FUCKING SHITTING ME????? Oh my god, Bradley! Thatâs amazing! Margie even ran into my office to see what made me shriek! I am TOTALLY having a viewing party! Oh my god, how do you think it went? Did they get your good side? What about hair and makeup? I know you get helmet hair, bubs.Â
Seriously, so so excited and proud of you, Bradley! Iâm going to make my dad and Mary come down for it! She doesnât teach on Mondays, so this is perfect for them to stay over Sunday night! But now donât go letting all that fame get to your head, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw đ Love you so much x
01/24 @ 12:17pm
Rocketman -Â
I was sitting at my desk earlier and listening to some music before my 12:30 meeting and Elton Johnâs Rocket Man popped up on my shuffle. Obviously, as you are my rocketman, I always think of you whenever I hear it, but today the lyrics really scratched that special part of my brain, so I did a deep dive into the songâs origins.Â
Please note, Iâm including this time in my billable hours to the client (re. you). My findings are as follows:
Bernie Taupin was inspired by a Ray Bradbury story written in 1951 titled âThe Rocket Manâ - not drugs as the urban legend states! Drugs! Imagine!
Bradburyâs âThe Rocket Manâ was first published in Macleanâs, a weekly Canadian magazine, before it was published in the short story collection âThe Illustrated Manâ that same year
âThe Illustrated Manâ later was made into a film, though âThe Rocket Manâ story was notably absent
Some of more popular and renowned stories from the collection include âThe Veldtâ and âThe Long Rain,â the latter of which is commonly read in high school honors English
Was client in honors English? Please confirm in follow up correspondence
Client has mentioned extensive library resources at disposal - perhaps he can check this collection out on his next visit? But for now, an executive summary has been provided:
With space travel more commonplace in society, Dougâs father, an astronaut, is sent on frequent, three- month journeys into space
Despite missing his dad, Doug also longs to be a Rocket Man, though his mother frequently prevails on Doug to beg his father to stay on Earth and be with the family
âWhatâs it like, out in space?â Mother shot me a frightened glance. It was too late. Dad stood there for a full half minute trying to find an answer, then he shrugged.âItâs the best thing in a lifetime of best things.â Then he caught himself. âOh, itâs really nothing at all. Routine. You wouldnât like it.â He looked at me, apprehensively. âBut you always go back.â âHabit.â
The father finds that his work is ruining his life, but the draw of the stars is too great: "You donât know what it is. Every time Iâm out there I think, if I ever get back to Earth Iâll stay there; Iâll never go out again. But I got out, and I guess Iâll always go out.â
Even while on vacation with the family, having Thanksgiving dinner, or sitting on the back porch, the fatherâs eyes are always on the skyâŠ
Dougâs father begs him to not be like him, to not be a rocket man, but what happens when his father goes on one last journey to the stars?
Through much reflection, I have decided that âThe Rocket Manâ was written about you - and your mom and your dad and me and on and on until there is no longer a need for Rocket Men - or the rocket man simply stops and breaks the cycle
You are both the Rocket Man and the little boy, forever waiting for his father to come home from space
The allure of flying, of being a ârocket man,â is both too great and too sad for you to ignore
None of this is to say the rocket man is selfish, no. He simply cannot resist the temptation. He knows nothing other than the thrill and peace of being amongst the stars
And his mother shielding Doug from the sun at the end is like your mom asking Mav to pull your papers, she does it to save him, but it cannot keep him from becoming his father
Needless to say - I had to postpone my 12:30 meeting until tomorrow as my eyes were far too puffy and any word I tried to say felt like cotton in my mouth.
I miss you and I love you - your âLillyâ Â
01/24 @ 8:22pm
Fuck - I love you so much. My clever girl.
01/24 @ 8:28pm
I pour my heart out to you and thatâs all you have to say, rocketman? âFuck - I love you so muchâ
(of course, I also love you so much, my clever boy.)
01/24 @ 8:30pm
Darling - itâs going to take me a little longer to come up with any commentary you deem appropriate, so for the sake of time, yes. I gotta read this story in full. Iâll be at the library at my earliest convenience. âThe clientâ will send an annotated copy with his notes henceforth.
01/24 @ 8:32pm
Of course, sweet boy. Goodnight, I love you so much. x
01/25 @ 11:44am
As promised, my darling girl. Love you.
[b.bradshaw_the rocket man_final paper.pdf]
01/25 @ 7:14pm
Oh Bradley! I love you so much, rocketman. Yes, I couldnât have said it better. Yours x
01/26 @ 10:39am
Bradley! Theyâre sending me to London in February for two weeks! I even get a swanky corporate apartment for the stay. I wish you could come with me - even if it was just for a long weekend? We could go to all my favorite restaurants and afternoon tea and for walks in all the parks. One day itâll work out!Â
But tragedy of all tragedies! I just realized Iâm going to miss a couple cooking lessons when Iâm in London! I already emailed the instructor before todayâs class and she said thereâs other classes throughout the week that are behind us, so I can make it up with them! Ahhh Iâm so excited! Talk soon, love you!
01/26 @ 11:13pm
I didnât realize how nervous I was about the trip until I went to bed tonight. Itâll be my first trip abroad since I got my promotion in November. Plus, itâs a completely different client than my last trip abroad and Iâve only met one person on this new London team before. Sometimes I go into these meetings and still feel like a little kid? Iâm always the youngest person in the room and normally the only woman and on one hand, thatâs cool? But sometimes I feel like someoneâs daughter instead of their colleague? Like these guys are my dadâs age? And theyâre actually supposed to listen to what I have to say about their company? Do you ever feel like that? Like you donât really belong, despite knowing youâve earned your place? I wish you were beside me right now. My bed feels way too big tonight. Love you.
01/27 @ 7:48am
Sweetheart! I am so unbelievably proud of you! Thatâs amazing! You gotta celebrate, go out to dinner with Caro and Darcy, maybe even Nat! I know youâve been working so hard these last couple of weeks, you absolutely deserve this. I canât say I know exactly what youâre going through, but yes. I have absolutely felt like I havenât belonged or deserved something despite having âchecked off all the boxes.â I felt that way when I got promoted to LC and when I got that award in October. Everytime I see it on my uniform, I feel a bit like a faker? Like do I really deserve this? But then I remember the way you smiled at me when I got back to my seat that night and how proud of me you were and I think maybe I do deserve it? Plus, I also think of how goddamn gorgeous you looked all fucked out later that night.Â
And please note, I would happily slip into bed alongside you, especially since my bed feels way too small tonight. Love you, Bradley
01/27 @ 10:56am
Thank you for earlier. I donât know, sometimes I just feel like Iâm just too soft for all of this? Like Iâm always trying to prove something to everyone and I get a little lost. Tell me something good? x
01/27 @ 7:01pm
How about this? Every time I go up in the sky and see the way the sun hits the clouds, I think of you. Iâve never wanted to be with someone as much as I want to be with you. I love you so much, kid
Your BradleyÂ
01/27 @ 7:06pm
Sometimes I canât believe we love each other this much, it feels like a dream x
01/27 @ 7:11pm
I can. Your BradleyÂ
01/30 @ 7:08am
i slept in one of your shirts last night. it doesnât smell like you anymore, but it feels like you: soft and safe and warm x
01/30 @ 7:23am
Well I spray my pillowcase with your perfume whenever I miss you so I guess weâre even
Your Bradley
ps - can you send me another bottle?
01/30 @ 7:34am
Youâre already out? What sort of illicit behavior are you engaging in with that perfume bottle?Â
01/30 @ 10:33pm
I burrow my face in my pillow so I can smell it while I fist my cock, why? Whatâd you have in mind?
01/30 @ 10:37pm
How does that work though? Like genuinely? Do you jack off with Reuben in the top bunk? Or wait till heâs in the gym? Iâve been curious about this for a while now. What about the showers? Is it like an open floor plan thing? Or are there stalls? Is there a Zillow listing for this aircraft carrier?
01/30 @ 10:41pm
Now why would I ruin the mystery?Â
01/30 @ 10:43pm
Bradley!!!!
01/30 @ 10:44pm
Atta girl, thatâs the spirit! Love youÂ
02/02 @ 6:30pm
I am so sick of going to the gym. It seems like itâs all Payback and I do lately. We got this new workout regime thatâs been killing me - donât say itâs because Iâm old. Though, I have been using my Theragun. Payback does my back if I do his in return. It was only awkward the first time he turned it on too hard and yelped (please tell everyone that).Â
02/02 @ 6:46pm
Oh, so you and Rueben Theragun each other, huh? Say more Lieutenant Commander!
02/04 @ 2:45pm
Going to Pete and Pennyâs in a bit to watch the Super Bowl! Max is at the game, apparently his golf buddy Jimmy G hooked him up, though he neglected to bring me or Caroline. I feel like you wouldâve been his first choice, so take that as a compliment I suppose. Do you guys do anything onboard for it? I have $350 on the 49ers winning by 3. Have a lovely day my darling boy x
02/04 @ 9:30pm
Guess whoâs as snug as a bug on a rug in her bed AND $1400 dollars richer? That would be me! When you get home weâre going to Juniper and Ivy, my treat, bubs! x
02/06 @ 4:57am
Awww sweetheart are you gonna sugar mama me again?Â
02/06 @ 7:03am
You do know the only reason youâre getting away with that is because thereâs an ocean between us, right?Â
02/06 @ 6:00pm
Sorry, couldnât resist! Love you! B
02/06 @ 6:10pm
Youâre lucky I love you so much. x
02/08 @ 9:58pm
Can you imagine if I was gone for 20 years?
02/08 @ 10:11pm
Bradley thatâs not funnyÂ
02/08 @ 10:13pm
Itâs not supposed to be. Iâm reading the Odyssey and it got me thinking.Â
02/08 @ 10:16pm
Bradley I love you something awful, but you are such an old man sometimes.Â
Are you going through some sort of midlife crisis reading the Odyssey while youâre at sea?? Is the Old Man and the Sea next?
(ps i love the thought of you reading in your bunk in your spare time and being so struck by something composed thousands of years ago that you have to email me)
02/08 @ 10:20pm
They wait 20 years to get back to each other - practically half their lives. They miss so many things and barely knew each other before he left, but theyâre still so - I donât even know? Theyâre just so intent on getting back to the other in Odysseusâs case? While Penelope makes sure thereâs something for him to come back to? And I mustâve read this stanza ten times before I had to email you:Â
"...the gods cast me upon Ogygia, Calypso's island, home of the dangerous sea nymph with glossy braids, and the goddess took me in in all her kindness, welcomed me warmly, cherished me, even vowed to make me immortal, ageless, all my days - but she never won the heart inside me, never"Â
And I know itâs not a perfect comparison or parallel, but I read that last bit and I couldnât help but think of you? And how youâre the one who won my heart and itâs always going to be that way. Whether I see you in twenty seconds or twenty years.
02/08 @ 10:23pm
Youâd come home to me whether it took twenty seconds or twenty years. Youâd come home to me and Iâd know you anywhere. I love you so much.Â
02/08 @ 10:58pm
âNow help me, please, to get back home, and quickly! I miss my family. I have been gone so long it hurts.âÂ
Your Bradley
02/09 @ 7:03pm
At the airport for London! Taking off! And I may or may not have used points to upgrade to a Club World seatâŠbut like? Itâs a nonstop flight, so itâs okay, right? Workâs already paying for business class? Itâs points from my work card? Itâll be fine, right?
I had to take an ativan in the lounge. I just hate that I still get so nervous whenever I fly long distance? I fly all the time, I shouldnât be like this? You know, one time, I pretended you were flying my plane. I know itâs kind of dumb and silly and a completely different type of plane, but it made me feel better because youâd never let anything happen to me.Â
Anyway, weâre book buddies!! I went to the bookstore a couple days ago and got a copy! I read the Odyssey back in high school, but forgot so much. I was reading in the lounge and this part made me think of you:
â...this lovely house, my marriage home, so full of wealth and life, which I suppose I will remember even in my dreams.â
Iâll text you when I land my darling boy, love you x
02/10 @ 6:02am
You gotta squeeze every last bit of your per diem out of pwc. Youâve been working way too hard lately. Fuck it, on the way home just put the upgrade on your work card or put it on mine. Have a safe (rest of your) flight - maybe one day youâll let me take you up. Love BradleyÂ
02/10 @ 10:08am
Just landed and on my way to the office (alreadyâŠ)
I thought of you as I read and stared out the window on the plane. I could pretend Iâm flying towards you, rather than further away. I canât imagine how you feel doing this everyday, but I imagine itâs like feeling limitless, like everything is in front of you, there for the taking. Maybe, just maybe, Iâll let you take me up one day.Â
Iâll keep you posted on how everythingâs going if you do the same. All my love x
02/12 @ 5:49am
Howâs it going, kid? They working you too hard? Youâre in London! Try to enjoy it, you deserve it. One of the guys Iâm with gave me a restaurant rec for you, said the drinks were amazing, his wife loved it. Do something fun while youâre there! And send me some pictures dammit!
Love you,Â
BradleyÂ
02/12 @ 8:22am
Bradley! Itâs been so so crazy here! I feel like I havenât stopped since I landed. My âflatâ is so cute and right by the clientâs offices, so itâs an easy commute. I feel so professional taking the Tube places too! Itâs one thing Iâd like us to have in San Diego as opposed to all the traffic. Also, itâs CHILLY here and Iâm so glad I dug my big coat out of storage. Iâll try and check the restaurant out this weekend, Iâm gonna sneak in a trip to the Tate, too. Iâve always wanted to see the Turners. Talk soon and love you bunches! xÂ
02/14 @ 9:54am
Bradley Bradshaw! You absolute SAP! HOW!?! Did you conspire with my dad again? Thank you for the flowers! Iâm going to have the biggest smile on my face all day. I love you and hope this is the first of a lifetime of Valentineâs Days together. Always xÂ
02/14 @ 7:33pm
Happy Valentineâs Day to you too, kid. Iâm not gonna lie, I gave your dad very specific instructions for the bouquet (I was going to ask Max, but heâd probably swap it for something ugly and cheap and keep the changeâŠkidding (not)), so Iâm glad they turned out well. It was a very big day on board today: we got special red heart cookies for the holiday. The mood was infectious, I can still taste the sprinkles. Maybe you could cook for me on our next Facetime? Have you learned anything good in class lately? It doesnât have to be fancy, just wanna see you (and maybe also live vicariously through whatever youâre making). Â
02/14 @ 7:33pm
Bradley! I think I can swing that for you, when do you think our next call will be?Â
02/16 @ 3:18pm
Kid, you spoil me. This package is amazing, I donât know where to start (just kidding itâs with the Cadbury chocolate and the Sudocrem as my burnt shoulders thank you), but everything is wonderful, thank you. I love hearing about London and seeing the pictures you sent last time. But I do have one complaintâŠyouâre not in any of the pictures, kid, and thatâs truly egregious. (Think we wonât be able to Facetime for a while, I gave Payback my slot the other day.)
02/16 @ 3:23pm
Thatâs not true! Iâm in the one in front of the Tate!
02/16 @ 3:25pm
Yeah, but I canât see you under all those layers! Just want to see your face. Itâs been way too long since our last Facetime.
02/16 @ 9:52pm
As requested, Lieutenant Commander. I had one of the girls in the London office take this at dinner tonight. She really did wonders with the lighting and even managed to get my sidecar in the pic! x Love you
02/17 @ 6:55am
You look pretty. New dress? B
02/17 @ 7:17am
MaybeâŠit was on sale, couldnât resist. But youâre gonna hate me because all of my clothes are very much not going to fit in your closet. Also, I bought you a new jacket and some socks. x
02/17 @ 7:20am
Ehhh Iâm not too worried about the closet thing. But if you keep buying me clothes we might have a problem.
02/17 @ 7:24am
Itâs so cute though!! Youâre going to look so handsome in it! I got the green one for you!
02/17 @ 7:29am
Okay, admittedly a very nice jacket, thank you. But you are aware that we live in San DiegoâŠ
02/17 @ 7:31am
I am aware of that fact, LC Bradshaw. You can wear it when we visit my parents. Hell, I had to get my coat out of my storage closet for this trip.Â
02/17 @ 6:53pm
Sighhhhh you raise a good point. Alright, alright, thank you for the jacket and socks my darling girl. Whatâd you have for dinner last night? We had chicken with these absolutely awful biscuits, tasted like saw dust, my stomach was growling for some more of that Cadbury chocolate (yes, Payback and I ate all of it already, though it was mainly Payback) for hours afterward.Â
02/17 @ 6:59pm
Oh my sweet boy! Who do I need to call about your meal plan? Give me the number and Iâll call the Navy up right now. And I had scallops with truffle risotto. It was delicious. Wanted to lick the bowl clean. Love you bubs x
02/19 @ 10:22pm
Bubs, I cannot eat another meal out. I feel like Iâm going to burst. Iâve gone to so many work dinners and lunches even before coming here, it almost makes me feel like a glutton.Â
I miss you and your cooking (though Iâll have you know that my skills were vastly improving before my trip abroad!) and you standing behind me at the counter while I try to perfectly cut peppers. Sometimes I do it wrong on purpose so youâll put your arms around me and I can feel the rumble of your voice. Would we call that weaponized incompetence? You better be ready for some Michelin Star meals when you get home, buddy. I just canât wait to be home with you and roll over next to you in the morning and to tell you to stop snoring and that the battery in the smoke detector needs to be changed. I canât wait to be home with you and make a life with you. Iâm going to be really sappy now, but let me have this because I was reading this poem the other day and thought of you.Â
âI am supposed to be touched. I canât wait to find the person who will come into the kitchen just to smell my neck and get behind me and hug me and breathe me in and make me turn around and make me kiss his face and put my hands in his hair even with my soapy dishwater drips. I am a lovely woman. Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?â (x)
Only a month until youâre home with me, I hope youâre hungry.Â
All my love x
02/20 @ 4:50am
Itâs only weaponized incompetence if the other person minds. I, however, do not mind. I loved that quote you sent me, going to be thinking about that one for a long time. I hate to tell you this, but Iâm gonna be offline for a couple days. I hate that itâs at the end of your trip, but please please message me when youâre leaving/taking off and again when you land, you know I worry. Love you and am so unbelievably proud of you, kid! You killed it in London. Your Bradley
02/20 @ 7:03am
Thatâs okay, I totally understand. Iâll give you all the details on our next Facetime. In the meantime, I message you when I leave. Stay safe and love you, Bradley! x
02/23 @ 3:45pm
Taking off soon! I got an upgrade again, thankfully! And I made sure to put your new coat in my carry on - I donât trust British Airways not to lose it! Taking an ativan again so hopefully Iâll sleep the entire flight - love you and talk soon!
02/24 @ 10:33pm
Just landed, slept throughâŠ.90% of the flight! Apparently, there was bad turbulence, so probably for the best. Now, I know you would never have me deal with that my darling rocketman! Talk later - love you! x
02/25 @ 7:09pm
Feels kind of weird being back? I canât quite get back into my routine. Iâm not sure if itâs jet lag or something else? Feeling a little lost? x
02/26 @ 7:55pm
Bradley!!! You were so good, Iâm so so proud of you! Max had everyone over at his place for us to watch you! We have quite the party here including my parents, Pete, Penny and Amelia, Natasha, Mickey and Cielo, Caroline, and Darcy. Iâll have to tell you about the parents meeting later. I wish you had been here for it, they took to each other like bees to honey.Â
You looked tragically handsome, I practically had to hold back a moan when you were standing on the flight deck talking to Norah OâDonnell (is she as nice in person as she is on TV?). God, I want to ravish you, you sounded so fucking smart. You know like half the country is going to be in love with you now, right? Iâve got to get back to everyone, Max ordered dinner for us afterwards, but I had to email you as soon as you finished!
Just wanted to let you know how proud of you I am and how much I love you x
02/27 @ 5:09am
Thanks, kid. Sorry it took me a bit to respond, things have been getting a bit crazy, you know, now that Iâm a celebrity and all? Weâre winding down this training, so the next couple weeks are gonna be full of debriefs and paperwork, which means I should have a more stable schedule. Love you B
02/28 @ 11:48pm
Sometimes I wonder if you were here what would you do? Hold me? Love me? I never feel small except when Iâm in your arms. x
02/29 @ 11:48pm
Some nights in bed, if I try really hard, I can imagine Iâm laying down next to you. And it makes everything just a little easier. Bradley
03/01 @ 12:56am
I havenât taken anything besides my fingers in months. Youâre going to stretch me out so well when you get home.Â
03/01 @ 7:19pm
And Iâm gonna mark your ass pink for that comment. I canât believe you sent that in the middle of the day. You getting yourself off at work? Dirty girl.Â
03/01 @ 9:41pm
Never feels as good as when you do it.Â
03/01 @ 10:01pm
And my hands pale in comparison to your pretty little cunt. You know that first time we slept together you were so fucking tight, I knew you hadnât had a good fuck in ages. It gonna be like that again when I come home?
03/01 @ 10:05pm
Where are you going to have me first?
03/01 @ 10:06pm
In our bed, in our house, after you make me dinner in our kitchen.Â
03/01 @ 10:09pm
Just over two weeks now, I canât wait to see you. x
03/03 @ 5:55am
How you holding up, kid? You doing a little better this week work wise? Try and log off around 5 if you can. Donât want you getting all worn down on me.Â
They had us doing these war games yesterday that made me think of you. You wouldâve walked circles around some of these other guys I swear. Think I can get a Facetime for us in a couple days? Probably will be our last one before I come home. Love you, B
03/03 @ 7:12am
Bradley! That's the best news Iâve had in ages! I canât wait to see you! Definitely felt a little lost after coming back from London, but I hope my rut will be over soon? Tying things up with a client is always so lengthy and tedious.Â
War games! âWould you like to play a game?â Iâd ask if you won, but no one ever wins in the art of war đLove you!
03/05 @ 8:54pm
So, hereâs a new one. My mom called? Sheâs going to be stateside and wants to get lunch tomorrow. Couldâve done with a bit more warning, but apparently, she has a layover in San Diego on her way to New York to see my brother? I didnât even know she was going to see him? I donât even know if I want to see her? Itâs funny, I can already tell you exactly how itâll play out:
Weâll go to lunch at some sort of vegan restaurant, probably Donna Jean
Sheâll make me pay
Sheâll try to get me to use some sort of herb to promote weight loss since Iâm looking a bit âpudgyâ around the face
Though sheâll forget to ask about you, sheâll tell me about her latest string of failed relationships with bartenders and surf instructors in Canggu. Or is it Ubud? I genuinely donât remember, she started in Ubud, but honestly my knowledge of Balinese geography is rudimentary at bestÂ
Sheâll ask how âthat womanâ is doing as if Mary is just the woman my dad is seeing, not the woman who raised me and my brother
And finally, sheâll ask for money though betting is still open as to what for!
So, what do you say? Wanna put a wager on it? Your terms.
Love you! x
03/06 @ 6:30am
$100 she orders the caesar and makes you pay. Iâm not even going to entertain the third parlay, pretty girl. Oddly feeling like sheâs got a winner on her hands so yes sheâll talk about her new paramour. Does she really call Mary âthat woman?â And yes, without a question, she will ask you for money.
Your move my gorgeous girl,
Bradley
03/06 @ 7:49pm
I really wish you were here right now. She doesnât even know me, but she somehow always manages to make me feel small.Â
Caesar - no croutonsÂ
I paid
Pudgy and frumpy, but she was hawking shakes not herbs
Failed relationship? No, sheâs actually GETTING MARRIED
She did not ask about you much other than to say I need to watch my figure for you (see bullet point no. 3)
Mary was called âthat womanâ six times before I stopped counting
She asked for money as a wedding presentÂ
So, you didnât get them all, but not a bad showing. Love you. Talk tomorrow on Facetime. x
03/07 @ 6:09am
God kid, Iâm so sorry. She doesnât know what sheâs missing. Actually, I donât even think she deserves to know what sheâs missing. Did you talk to your dad or Mary about it? I know weâre talking later, but I just wanted you to have a message from me before you start your day. Whatâre you wearing to the office tomorrow? Have you worn that wrap dress lately? You know itâs one of my favorites and that I always love unwrapping it when you get home from the office.Â
Canât wait to see you tonight. All my love, Bradley
03/07 @ 9:55am
The dress doesnât fit. My mom was right, I shouldnât have gotten the french toast.
Iâm planning on talking to dad and Mary later today before you and I have our Facetime. I know theyâll make me feel better, much like you have my darling boy, but it still feels pretty crummy. Especially since Iâm sure sheâs going to have wonderful time in New York with my brother đ and Iâll have to hear all about it next time I talk to him.Â
And Iâm not sure if Iâve unpacked that dress yet! Iâll have to do some digging. Talk soon! x
03/10 @ 3:26am
We had a little baby. He was always giggling and laughing and we were making silly faces and he looked so small in your arms, Bradley. So small and little and he was ours. And then I turned around and he was toddling around the house and we were chasing him and his little legs were moving so quickly and we all wound up on the couch in a tangle of limbs, giggling under the blankets as we tickled him and he called you daddy.Â
It wasnât our house - or what will be our house, I guess? Instead of the leather couch you have, it was white and big and wide and the three of us could easily fit on it, snuggled together.Â
And I could feel your arms around me, rocking me back and forth. I could feel you humming in my ear and kissing my neck and telling me you loved me. I could feel it. I could feel you. I could feel him and you. And it was nice and I felt warm and safe and cherished and loved. Because I felt so much love for this little boy in my arms - the perfect mix of me and you. Everything felt right and perfect.Â
Except when I rolled over in bed to tell you about it, I realized I was alone in my bed, in my apartment, and not in the house that we shared or with the little boy that looked so much like you and I havenât felt so empty and sad since I canât remember when.Â
And I just miss you so much, Bradley. I know I can come across as glib and unfeeling sometimes and like this doesnât affect me as much. But it does and sometimes I feel like my heart is going to burst because Iâve never felt like this for anyone else before? Itâs never been so easy for me to love someone and let them love me to the point that I always want to be beside them. And I know with your job - and mine - that canât always happen, but god Bradley I wish you were here right now so you could hold me and tell me you loved me because I just want to feel your arms around me and know youâre real. I want to tell you about the little boy - the perfect mix of me and you.Â
I love you rocketman x
03/11 @ 12:49pm
Iâm sorry, I shouldnât have said anything. I realize thatâs a lot to drop on you, especially since we canât talk in person. I guess Iâve just never missed a person more in my life and seeing that future showed me what we could have when you come home. God, Bradley I want you to come home so badly. I want you to stay here with me forever and never leave and to have that cute little boy who was the perfect mix of me and you and to have you here in my arms every night. And I know itâs selfish of me to ask or even make you think about it, but I want you right here - in twenty seconds, not twenty years.Â
How did your hop go today? x
03/11 @ 7:03pm
I have dreams like that, too. Iâll be little, but still older than I was when my dad died and weâll be at the beach, running around, and heâll pick me up and spin me around like Iâm flying on an airplane.Â
But then itâll be me and my kid, running around and Iâll pick them up and spin them around like theyâre flying on an airplane. Sometimes itâs a girl, sometimes a little boy. But I always just can feel and tell that I love them and Iâd do anything for them.Â
And I used to hate waking up alone after I had them and Iâd feel empty and sad and like I had the feeling that they should still be there? Except now I have you and I know it doesnât just have to be a dream?
Sorry it took me so long to reply. Today was hectic and I didnât get to check my email until later. But if I checked it earlier, my day wouldâve been a lot easier on my heart.Â
All my love,
Your Bradley
03/12 @ 7:11pm
How do you always know exactly what to say? Iâm sorry for springing that all on you, know it wasnât exactly a quick/easy message, but I love that you knew exactly what I meant. My dayâs always a lot easier on my heart when I hear from you, too. Love you x
03/13 @ 10:17pm
i miss having you around to take care of me. and telling me what to do and what to wear for you and how you want me and where you want me and when you want me and and and. and how good i feel around you as you come, how you take whatâs yours. how i need you to take control and tell me what i need because iâm too much of a dumb slut to figure it out on my own. i need you so much bradley. and itâs so hard because iâm trying to take care of myself like you do and imagine what youâd do if you were with me right now. but iâm so frustrated since no one takes care of me like you do. i feel so empty. nothing stretches me out like you do, nothing makes me feel as small as you do, nothing makes me flush like the sound of your voice against my neck as i come, nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do. need you to call me good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl, anything as long as itâs yours.Â
i need you i need you i need you i need you bradley bradley bradley bradley
3/13 @ 10:39pm
Awwww sweetheart, did you get yourself all worked up over me? Itâs okay, I know itâs hard for you all by yourself. Mustâve been real bad for you to risk this getting flagged, huh? Poor thing, donât worry, Iâll take care of you.Â
Want you to pretend Iâm next to you, leaning over you as you lay down and touch yourself. Say yes Bradley, more Bradley. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Good girl.Â
Want you naked under the covers, no frilly little pajama set or anything. No, I want your cum to stain the sheets and then for you to have to clean up in the morning, all embarrassed because you did this. You made yourself like this because you canât control yourself without me around. All that cum being wasted. Nobody around to lick it off your pussy. So what doesnât get on the sheets, you have to taste. Good girl.Â
Want you to use your fingers - only your fingers, Iâll know if you use anything else. Start with your breasts. Think of how perfectly they fit in my hands and how yours arenât quite the same. They arenât as big. Arenât as strong. Play with your nipples, drag your nails across the soft skin on the underside of your breasts.
Want you to sigh my name as you slide your hands down your stomach towards your pretty little pussy. Have you shaved? Gotten a wax? You know how I like it, want it just like that when I get home. Pretend itâs my fingers sliding into your cunt. A few touches and youâre already clenching on air and Iâm not even around.Â
In and out, in and out. Circle your clit with your thumb. Add another finger, then another. You rocking your hips yet? I know youâre soaked. I know you want more. Three fingers canât stretch you out nearly as much as you need. But I donât know if you can handle anything else without me around. And I know you would never disagree with me, right? Because youâre my good girl and good girls do what theyâre told.Â
Donât hesitate to get loud. Youâre in our house, in our bed, you can be as loud as you want. Bet youâre getting close, huh? Try and last a little longer, can you hear yourself and how wet you are? Are you shaking yet? I know youâre close. Go ahead, speed up your fingers, just the way I do. Itâs okay, you can come. Know youâre gonna get sleepy soon, wish I could sleep inside you, nice and tight.
Now say thank you Bradley. Good girl.Â
03/14 @ 5:49pm
Thank you, Bradley. Thank you for taking care of me last nightÂ
You like chicken piccata, right?
03/14 @ 7:33pm
Yeah, kid, I like chicken piccata.Â
03/14 @ 7:39pm
Okay, thatâs good. Iâm going to make it when you come home. I ran it by my cooking instructor. Inaâs recipe of course.Â
(Iâve read your email seven times since you sent it. Iâve thought about it constantly. I want you to take me softly and slowly that first time. But after that? I canât wait to let go and float. Love you so much x)
03/15 @ 6:09am
Youâre the boss. Good thing Iâll be home soon, youâre gonna run out of material. As is, I had to type that last one with one hand.Â
Love you,
B
03/15 @ 7:21am
Iâll be good till you get home, promise.Â
Have a good day, do you think weâll get to talk much from now till Friday? Love you x
03/15 @ 7:24am
Iâll hold you to it.Â
I donât think so, might be able to send one out before leaving the boat. Better make it a good one.Â
All my love
Your BradleyÂ
03/15 @ 7:25am
You got it! Love you bubsÂ
03/18 @ 11:08pm
Kid - thereâs this lyric that keeps running through my head: âand I want you right here.â I want you beside me - today, tomorrow, all my days. I want you right here, beside me forever. In twenty seconds, not twenty years. See you tomorrow.
All my love,
Your Bradley
03/18 @ 11:11pm
See you tomorrow, rocketman. Iâll be the one in blue.
Love you x
a/n: thanks for reading! i'll be back with part ii and part iii (hopefully not in...4 months). i had so much fun writing these and getting to explore a different format and side to their relationship! thanks to alexa @sometimesanalice, kylie @ofstoriesandstardust, cass @notroosterbradshaw, elle @dissonannce, nik @cherrycola27, and loren @heartsofminds for all the support!
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster imagine#bradley and smart aleck#top gun imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#rooster x reader
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