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gyllenhaalstories · 1 month

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COUNT IT DOWN — JAKE GYLLENHAAL

summary: jake grunts. jake grunts a lot. jake grunts very loudly. do i need to say more?

warnings: smut (semi public sex, quickie, fingering, penetration, orgasm control, creampie). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2920

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i can't get the sound of jake's grunts out of my head (not that i want to anyway) 🥵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"9, 10, 11, 12..."

You sighed. They had been counting to twenty so many times over, they probably hit the million mark by now.

"13, 14, 15, 16..."

You busied yourself around the gazebo, alternating between taking photos of the cloudy sky and videos of the gentle breeze that made the branches of the pretty flower bushes surrounding the area dance.

"Harder!"

The camera, following your movement, focused on Jake rather than the white flowers.

"17, 18, 19... 20!"

"Fuck!" Another grunt.

Jake's trainers and fitness team showered him in praise for sustaining yet another repetition of literal gut punches.

But all you could hear was the noises he just made.

Your man glanced over at you and waved, soft giggles completed the picture. He was gesturing something. For someone who spoke so much with his hands, he was not that good at it.

You figured he meant he was almost done. Or so you hoped.

The punches started all over again, but the sound of the gloves hitting Jake's skin and the redness that bloomed over his abs indicated they were going all in for this last set.

You approached the gazebo, attention focusing on the noises that Jake was making and how he scrunched his nose with each punch.

With each grunt too. Was it a subterfuge to distract himself from the pain, to trick his mind and body to take hit after hit?

Your jaw dropped, although only Jake noticed, while you watched them. It was mesmerizing. No, actually, it was hypnotizing.

The ceiling fans could not rotate fast enough to dry the layer of sweat that was all over Jake's body. He contracted his abs with all his might, hands behind his head and torso exposed to receive more torture. The masochistic exercise was sending his brain into overdrive.

You murmured a faint "You're gonna hurt yourself" that got blatantly ignored by everyone in the room. You clutched on your phone harder, as if you were receiving a part of all that pain too. The fingernails of your free hand dug crescent shapes into your palm.

"One more." His opponent was back at it with the assault on Jake's abs. Everybody in the room chanted the last series of numbers until the training was finally over. In between each digit, there was a loud grunt. In between each hit, the veins of Jake's pelvis bulged while pumping all the blood that made his skin a dark share of red.

Everybody but you retreated to one of the many entrances of the gazebo, getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, you leaned on the column for much needed balance.

"That was fantastic!" Jake laughed. His laughter was the only one that sounded genuine. The other guys chuckled, worried, at his appearance. They pointed out how he was "red as shit". To which Jake answered that "We want the movie to be good, you know."

You were concerned, still, but more so turned on by the scene.

The endorphins were hitting Jake hard. You could tell he was worked up in more ways than one. The euphoric giggles and cocky smile, the way he hopped and jogged around the gazebo to keep his body in this momentum. He was not hearing a word that his team was telling him, something about setting up his ice bath, as they exited the area in a cacophony of squeaky shoe noises. The only thing Jake acknowledged was your presence.

You let him walk to you close enough to pull you by the hand so he could kiss your lips.

"I knew it. I knew you wanted to watch." He smirked. "I gave one hell of a good show, didn't I?" He took your phone out of your hand and set it on the bench from where he grabbed a towel to wipe his forehead with. "Don't tell me that's not true, it's written all over your pretty face."

You rolled your eyes, not even trying to stand up for yourself. "So, you're done now?"

Jake shrugged with a not-so innocent grin on his blushing face. "Kinda."

"What do you mean, kinda?" You sighed, annoyed. "If I hear you guys count up to twenty again today, I swear..."

"Ooh, I'm scared." He giggled again. He calmed down and squinted, looking at you through his long lashes. "No counting up."

Your satisfaction with his answer was short lived.

"But we'll count it down."

You watched him while he draped the towel down on the black mats. "Remember when I bet that you wanted to join me today? I was right." He took a step closer to you. "I'm feeling all the good luck running through my veins right now, so I wanna make another bet."

You looked at him with a confused arched brow. Your eyes studied his body. From the messy wet hair, down to the curve of his pecs, and even further down to his swollen abs; your eyes were met with the bulge in his shorts.

"I bet you that I can make you cum," he brought your attention back to his face. "With twenty thrusts."

"Here?" He nodded. His team was not far away, you could hear them dump bags of ice in the converted trash container that was used for temperature shocks. You rolled your eyes. Laughing while taking in so much pain was insane, but not having a care in the world about getting caught was even more insane. "Nah."

"Come on! I know you want to." He repeated the next words in a lower, quieter voice. "I know you want me to fuck you." He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. "Twenty thrusts, that's all I'm asking." Jake loved to work his magic, he knew all too well that this same magic worked every time. Well, almost. "You gonna give it to me? Gonna let me fuck your pretty pussy? Gonna let me show you who you belong to?" The hand that was on your cheek started to travel down your body, following the shape of your stomach until it slid under the hem of your clothes.

You gasped when you felt his warm hand cup your pussy underneath your panties.

He grunted when his fingers dipped ever so slightly in your wetness. "Yeah, you do. You want it so fucking bad." He pushed his middle finger between your folds and teased your clit. "You were getting so worked up from watching me that you had to go play in the flowers like a busy little bee. You couldn't keep your eyes off me for long, huh?"

You cut his monologue short with a passionate kiss. Your tongue invaded his mouth but quickly lost the battle for dominance.

The way you moaned against Jake's lips gave him the unspoken permission pull down your pants after you both kicked off your shoes. He broke the kiss to help you lay down on the towel and remove his shorts too. "I take it as you accept my bet?"

You both laughed while you gently slapped his chest. "Just fuck me already."

"Attagirl." You did not need to say it twice. Jake spread your legs open and positioned himself between them, kneeling and taking deep breaths while he took in the sight of you offering your body to him.

"We gotta be quiet." You reminded him about the risks of getting caught. What a waste of words.

Jake used your wet pussy to jerk off and lube his cock. He looked at you and how you squirmed under him. You were so wet for him, he glided over your folds and clit easily. "Oh yeah, looks like you care so much about being quiet." He didn't give you time to protest, he guided his cock and pressed it against your entrance. "I don't give a fuck if they hear. And judging by how wet you are..." He pushed, slowly, until his tip was inside of your clenching walls. "You want them to hear us too."

You moved on him, helping Jake get all the way inside you. He was surprised, but through a nod you both agreed that the first thrust did not count.

Jake puts his hands on your stomach, keeping you immobile and at his mercy. "Count down for me, baby."

And you did just that, or so you tried. Jake's first five thrusts were slow and deep, he let you get adjusted to his size while he praised you over and over again about how good you felt wrapped around him. He was rock hard, all the stamina built up from his training made it near impossible to hold himself back and stick to his stupid bet.

"Please, harder!"

Jake grunted in response. He obliged, happily. Selfishly, too. He scrunched his nose and bared his teeth with each thrust.

When you called out the number fifteen with a loud and long moan, he switched things up.

He lifted your legs so you could use his body to lean them on. In this position, you were slightly lifted upwards. He pulled almost all the way out and pushed all the way back in your pussy. The angle made your entire body flinch. He waited for you to say the next number out loud, but his patience ran out fast. "We're not even halfway done and you've gone dumb already? That's my good girl."

With the next ten thrusts, Jake successfully fucked the shyness out of you. You counted down from 15 to 5 loud enough to please him and most certainly loud enough to be heard. He was reaching so deep inside of you, that a few of those numbers failed to come out of your mouth. Instead, your incoherent "Ah, ah, ah" drove Jake even crazier and that made him want to keep hitting that sweet spot.

Now, there were five thrusts left. You could tell that Jake was dangerously close to the edge by the way he grunted louder and without any restraint. He was lost in the moment, without a care for the world that surrounded him. All that mattered to him was making you feel good.

"Fuck!" You cried out when his thumb brushed over your untouched clit. "That wasn't part of the," you panted, he rubbed your clit faster. "Of the rules."

"Do I look like I care?" He breathed out. "Look at me."

You batted your cock drunk eyes at him and took in the view. He looked so good, all sweaty and needy from this different, and much more entertaining, form of exercise.

"That's it, forget about it. You don't need to think." He pulled out, leaving just his leaky tip inside your hole. He watched your chest rise and fall with anticipation for the next thrust that followed quickly after.

"5... 4..." You counted along.

"3," Jake counted down with you. His thumb rubbed your clit at the perfect pace and intensity. Your pussy clenched so tight around him that he knew the last couple of thrusts would make it almost impossible not to cum too quickly. You were both so close. "Just like that, baby. You're taking me so fucking good."

"2." Your face twisted into a blissful expression. Nothing else mattered other than your imminent release. You rested your hands on Jake's arms, kind of trying to keep him close but also kind of trying to push him away so you could process the way your body felt in this very moment.

Jake stilled inside of you. The way your walls clenched and relaxed around his cock felt heavenly. He pulled out completely and sat back. He grunted when he caught the view of your pussy, juices leaking down on the towel from your stretched out hole. You looked so tempting, so delicious. If only he had more time, he would devour you like there was no tomorrow. If only. "Ready, baby?"

You nodded, hands reaching in his direction to try and bring him back where you needed him the most, which was balls deep inside of you.

"Yeah, you are." He leaned forward to kiss you, a distraction from the touch of his fingers on your sensitive clit. He needed you closer, impossibly closer, so that he could feel you explode all around him.

You arched your back. He swallowed your moans. Your legs tried to wrap around his waist, you were trying anything to get him to make you see stars.

"I regret this stupid bet." He scoffed. He looked down at his slick covered cock, it was red and veiny like the rest of his abdomen. It throbbed between your bodies. He could not wait any longer. He used his free hand to line himself with your entrance for the last time. He took a deep breath and exhaled when he pushed his cock inside of you.

Inch by inch, you felt all of his length until he bottomed out. With his thumb rubbing your clit, it all felt so intense. You let out your loudest moans yet when you started to cum on his command.

Jake tried to talk you through it, telling you that you were his "perfect cockslut" and that "your pussy was made to take my cum". He slurred his words more than anything.

His voice echoed in your empty mind, so did the sound of his grunts when your clenching walls brought him to his orgasm.

He fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch your reaction to being filled with his load. Jake moaned your name when your pussy relaxed around him. It finally let him move, not that he wanted to.

Your legs fell down on the floor and you laid there, giggling to yourself. Jake lost no time to join you, laughing along while he kissed your lips.

You put one hand on his cheek and the other one on the back of his head, not caring for his sweaty hair. You pulled him closer for another kiss. You wanted this moment to last forever, and, well, you desperately wanted a second round.

"Oh shit." Jake cursed when he was called out for his ice bath again. "Just in time." He pointed out the odd timing, right when you guys finished. The was no way this was a coincidence.

Your eyes widened at the realization. There was no way this was a coincidence. They heard you. They heard it all.

"Coming!" Jake yelled out then exploded in a fit of giggles while he stood up and put his gym shorts back on.

"You're unbelievable." You, finally, laughed along with him while trying to hold your body up on your wobbly knees.

Jake looked down at you and scrunched his nose again. "You look so fucking good down there."

"I know." You agreed.

Jake winked at you, then he told you how you were the unbelievable one. He adjusted himself in his boxers, apprehending the temperature shock that awaited him, but you pushed his hands out of the way.

You licked over his puffy, red abs in a long stripe. You tasted his salty sweat on your tongue while you kept going for as far as you could.

You earned a loud grunt and helping hands to pull you back up on your feet. "You're not shy now, huh?" He smiled from ear to ear while he watched you dress up too. Jake promised himself that he was not going to let this be the only time you licked his sweat like that. You could not get away with doing something so hot.

You caught him staring so you stole a quick kiss from his lips as to not take an even longer and more suspicious amount of time before sending Jake back to his fitness team.

"Don't worry, baby." He tried to reassure you, which worked for a split second. "Everybody already heard you while you were cumming. I'm sure they won't mind if we take a little more time." Jake held your jaw in his hand and planted a long kiss on your lips, making sure you did not wiggle away from him just yet. He called the shots, or so he liked to think, and only pulled away when his named was called out again.

You shooed him away, laughing along.

"Go back to the house and wait for me there, yeah?" He started to jog away from you and exited the gazebo. "I'll need something to warm me up afterwards." He turned around to wink at you and he disappeared from your sight. You could still hear his mischievous giggling while you collected your senses, until the noise was replaced with the group of men loudly discussing the amount of ice to put in the makeshift bath.

You picked up the towel from the floor, hiding the evidence that the drops of his cum left behind, and you grabbed your phone from where Jake left it. You squinted when you noticed how it was propped up against a boxing glove, aimed in the direction where Jake fucked you. You gasped audibly when you discovered that your phone was recording the scene the entire time. You held your phone tightly in your hand and walked out of the gazebo, heart racing and heat radiating from your core.

Jake was right: he would need something warm to help him recover from the ice bath. And with this little video of yours... You knew exactly how to keep his favourite set of holes ready.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you

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acupoftaewithsomesuga · 1 month

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Cat and Mouse • San Choi

san x fem!reader

summary• on your routine Saturday game nights you and San get bored of the board games. San proposes the idea of playing a childish game of hide and seek.

warnings• Smut, passionate sex, dom! San, sub! Reader, boyfriend San, light BDSM (blindfold), pet names (daddy, babygirl, baby, princess), oral (f! receiving), overstimulation, breeding kink *let me know if i missed something*

videos/audios to view before you read•

wc• 3k

a/n• this is based on a dream about San I had a few nights ago. This story plays out word for word but instead, my alarm goes off when San finds me. Mind you my alarm is Crazy Form so all I heard was Hongjoong telling me to get up lmao. I hope you like this short smut! Please give me some requests girlies! My inbox is always open and you can also send in requests anonymously! I love y’all enjoy :)) masterlist💜

taglist 💜 @joongss @mingisdoll @st4rhwa @sugarnspice630 @joongiesmoon @sanipan @no1likevie @woohwababes @hongjoongswife1 @blackb3ll @staytiny23 @ccalyse

“Once I hide I put this on?” you questioned as you held the black lace fabric in your hand, running your fingers through the pattern. You looked up waiting for San’s response but were met with a grin that defined his dimple. All you could do at the moment was giggle and shake your head. You knew what San was trying to do, but he had to work for you first. “Get in your hiding spot, cover your eyes, and listen to my voice,” San said, tapping his index finger on your nose, causing you to scrunch it. You nodded in agreement and stood up. “Close your eyes and start counting then Sannie,” you said, waiting for him to close his eyes so you could run off. San turned his back to you and placed his hands on his eyes. “20, 19, 18,...,” San counted down as you watched him closely, making sure he didn’t turn around to see what direction you were going in. You hurried and darted through the living room and to the kitchen. “14, 13, 12,...,” San’s voice echoed through the room as he shouted louder for you to hear. You made your way to the hallway and looked at your options carefully. You couldn’t hide in the bedroom that would be too obvious. The bathroom also wasn’t an option either. Nor the office since there isn’t anywhere to hide. “8,9,7,...,” You opened the door to the guest bedroom, shutting it softly. You then opened the closet door, closed it behind you, and sat on the floor. “4,3,2,..” You heard his muffled shouts as you took the blindfold in your hand, placing it on your eyes, and tying it tight from the back.

Your heart was racing as the house fell silent. All that you could hear in that moment was the thud of your heart. You heard San’s footsteps walk through the house as he was making a clicking sound with his mouth, as if he was calling for an animal. “Y/n-ah, where are you baby?” You heard him say from afar. You heard him get closer, it sounded like he was in the hallway. “Hmm. Which room would you go in? You wouldn’t be in the bedroom, that is too easy. And there isn't anywhere to hide in the bathroom or office. So you must be here.” You covered your mouth as the guest bedroom door swung open. You could hear his feet grave the carpet as he looked in the room. You heard him slide against the ground as he looked under the bed. He got back up off the floor and you heard an audible chuckle come from him that formed a shiver to run down your spine.

You felt the closet door swing open as the draft breezed through your whole body. “Found you babygirl.” his words cut through you like a knife causing you to whimper. “You look so precious like this baby, the black lace compliments your skin tone beautifully,” he expressed, reaching down and running his thumb against your cheek. “How did I get so lucky hmm?” he said, his face being close to yours. You felt your blood rush to your core at the thought of him fucking you while you were blindfolded. The thought of not knowing what he would do next turned you on drastically. His fingers then caressed your chin, pulling your head up. Even though you couldn’t see you could imagine his expression, him smirking and his eyes hooded at the sight of you. “Should we go to our room? Or do you want me to please you here in the guest room princess?” Your mind spiraled at his words. The thought of him having his way with you while you were blindfolded made you lightheaded. “In here please.” You said softly biting your bottom lip. You reached out, filling for his face and then cupping it. You pulled him closer and felt his lips against yours. Your lips danced along each other as your thumb caressed his cheek. A slight hum came from San as he pressed deeper into the kiss, loving how you tasted. The kisses were slow and sloppy causing a tint to form in San’s sweatpants. You loved how he was biting onto your bottom lip and holding your head up with his fingers. His actions were so simple yet so effective, causing you to whimper for more.

San chuckled and pulled away “What is it, sweetie? You can’t wait?” He teased, you pouting in response. You felt San’s thumb move from your chin to your lips, he pressed slightly against them. Involuntarily you parted your lips and let his thumb slide into your mouth. You suck softly as your eyes roll back thinking of his dick replacing his thumb. “Good girl,” he cooed, watching you desperately suck on his finger. He removed his thumb from your mouth and rubbed his fingertip over your lips, causing you to kiss them. You felt San’s arms wrap around your body as he pulled you up off your knees. He peppered kissing onto your face as he guided you around the room. His arms then wrapped around your butt as he lifted you from your feet. He held onto the back of your head with one hand and kept you steady with his other arm. You felt him lean forward and place you on the soft bed.

You could feel his presence towering over you and staring at you. You reached out and made contact with his biceps, running circles on his skin, feeling goosebumps form on his arm. “I love it when you touch me like that, so delicate,” San whispered in your ear, followed by his lips making contact with your neck. You felt his tongue run laps on your skin before kissing it, making a whimper escape your lips. He bit softly on your skin causing you to reach for his head, running your fingers through his hair. He saw this as an invitation to keep going, forming multiple hickeys along your neck. “San please baby, I need more,” you begged wanting him inside you, making you cum for him. “Hold on, be patient for me princess,” he responded, making you wine in disagreement. You felt San get up from on top of you and run his fingers down your side. You felt him pull up your shirt exposing your chest to him. You felt San’s fingers cup your chest followed by his thumb flicking your hard nipple causing you to moan loudly at the sudden sensation. “You’re so pretty for me baby.” The way he praised you made you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your juices seep through your panties.

You grabbed onto the sheets and his arm as he continued to tease you. He then leaned down, his tongue making contact with your other nipple. You moaned out and scrunched your eyebrows together, grabbing onto him tighter. Your pussy was throbbing, so ready to be touched to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. “D-daddy please,” you begged, wanting him to fill you up with his cock. All you could hear was the sound of his mouth smacking against your sensitive nipple, sending you over the edge. San removed himself from your chest and trailed kisses down your stomach, making contact with the hem of your shorts. In one swift movement, he pulled down both your shorts and panties, exposing you to the air. You feel his hands run up the backs of each thigh, moving your knees to your chest. “You're soaked babygirl, I can see you dripping,” he breathed, biting onto his bottom lip. You involuntarily grabbed onto the back of your knees, spreading your legs wide for San. “Good girl.” He heard him say as he looked at you with a smirk on his face. Your fingers dug into your skin as San reached for your sensitive core, lapping his fingers against your soaked pussy. He made direct eye contact with your body as he watched you squirm at his touch. His fingers ran from your entrance to your clit, causing his fingers to be coated with your juices.

San removed his fingers for a moment and you heard him hum, assuming that he put his fingers in his mouth to taste you. You felt San kiss your inner thigh followed by his lips and nose grazing your core. You could feel his breath against your skin, driving you insane. You felt his tongue spread your lips apart and flick against your sensitive clit causing a slight moan to escape your lips. His tongue slowly lapped circles around your throbbing clit as he looked up at you. Your lips were parted, your eyebrows were crunched together, and your nails were pressed against the back of your thighs. He started to flick his tongue at a fast pace causing you to arch your back. “San please,” you begged, wanting more from him. You then felt his lips wrap around your clit as he started to suck. A broken moan came from you as you felt your core throb with excitement. San kept alternating from flicking and sucking, sending your whole body into shock. His face was deep in your pussy and he was eating like he hasn't eaten in weeks. You could feel how eager he was to please you and that sent you into a spiral.

You reached for San’s head, pushing it down further into you, rocking your hips back and forth on his face. “Fuck you taste so good baby,” he said against you pussy causing you to whimper. “I don’t want to stop,” he breathed, pulling you closer to his face by your thighs. The slurping noises echoed through the room as San continued to suck on your sensitive clit. You bucked into his face as you felt yourself getting close to releasing. You tugged in his hair as his tongue rapidly flicked your clit, causing you to moan loudly. You were so close as you felt the knot in your core almost pop. “San- holy shit!” you screamed, releasing all over his face. You continued to moan as he sucked on your clit once again, causing your body to shake. You attempted to close your legs but San forced them open, lapping his tongue rapidly on your sensitive clit. You let out a loud moan, causing it to echo through the house. You let the pleasure consume you as San held your legs open and continued to suck on your pussy.

San removed himself from your core and watched as your body jerked from the overstimulation. You then felt him get off of the bed and heard his sweatpants slide down, the sound of the fabric ruffling and being thrown across the room. You felt yourself sink into the mattress as San climbed over you. Both of his hands were on either side of your head as he towered over you. You felt his lips make contact with yours, tasting yourself on his lips. You could feel how wet his face was as you placed your hands on his cheeks. You felt the tip of his dick touch your stomach, the precum dripping and landing on your skin. You both moaned into the kiss as you reached down and stroked his cock, running your thumb against his tip. “Fuck me please, I can’t wait any longer baby,” you whispered, pulling away from the kiss. With that, San placed one more kiss on your lips and moved his thighs under yours. “Anything for you babygirl,” he responded, rubbing his shaft against your core.

He took your legs and rested them on his shoulders, kissing them gently. San then pressed his tip inside of you, watching as your face changed. He looked down and watched as he trusted his dick inside of you, stretching you out. You threw your head back at the sudden feeling of him inside of you, clenching onto him. He let out a grunt trying hard not to instantly cum inside of you. “You are always so tight for me fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. You nodded your head eagerly in agreement, followed by a slight whine. San then looked back down and grabbed into your thighs, starting to pump slowly into you. You felt his dick slide in and out, caressing your insides causing your head to spin. You were still sensitive from the overstimulation that you quickly felt a knot form in your core.

San could feel you getting tighter around him, signaling him to thrust faster into you. He increased the speed causing you to moan loudly and him to say your name. He pounded rapidly into you causing wet squelching noises to emanate from your pussy. The bed was squeaking violently, the headboard slamming into the wall. The room was filled with the loud smack of your skin making contact with his. Your fingers were gripping onto the sheets as you moaned his name loudly. You felt his hands caress your thighs as he fucked you, occasionally squeezing them. San couldn’t stop staring at how beautiful you looked like this. Your eyes blindfolded, you focusing on the feeling of him fucking you. Your mouth open, moaning his name along with broken moans. Your breast bouncing up and down as he rammed into you.

San was repeatedly hitting your g-spot causing you to squeeze tighter around him. You wanted to hold off from cumming for as long as possible but your body was being pushed into overdrive. San then suddenly moved your legs off of his shoulders, letting them fall to his side. He held onto you, putting his hands behind your back, lifting you up, and pulling you close to him. You were now on top of his lap as he thrusted into you. You placed your arms around his neck, propping yourself up. He buried his head into your neck, biting softly on your skin. He held onto your waist while his other hand rested on your back. The feeling of him fucking you in this position couldn’t be described. The way his dick was hitting your g-stop was incredible, feeling every inch of his dick deep inside of you. “I love you, baby,” he breathed as he thrusted up into you. You were lost for words but responded “I l-love you- Sannie.” Your fingers gripped his hair tightly as you felt your orgasm coming. “San- fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You yelled, feeling like you were going to explode. “Cum for me baby, cum all over me,” he breathed as your pussy clenched tighter around him. “SAN!” you moaned, throwing your head back as you came. You felt your core twitch around him as he continued to thrust slowly into you. You started to grind slowly against him, making his tip kiss your cervix.

You were both breathing rapidly as you grinded against him, making sure he didn’t pull out of you. You removed your arms from around San’s neck and reached for your blindfold. You untied it and let it fall from your eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness of the room. You looked at him and saw his beautiful smile looking back at you. His hair was wet and messy and beads of sweat were rolling down his cheek. You caressed his cheek with your thumb and kissed him passionately. You looked down at the blindfold on the bed and picked it up. You took the blindfold and wrapped it around San’s eyes, tying it in the back. “It’s your turn baby,” you whispered in his ear. You kissed on his neck softly as he ran his hand across your back. He hummed as your teeth latched onto his skin, sending a vibration through you. You got up slightly so San could lay his legs down flat, instead of resting on his knees.

Once he was sitting on the bed you pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him down on the mattress. You ran your hands down his arms and guided his hands to your waist. He held you tight as you started to grind against him. You put your hand on his chest and started to bounce up and down. You saw him bite his lower lip and his eyebrows scrunch together. “Fuck, so good,” San moaned, gripping onto your hips tighter. “Just for you Daddy,” you breathed, looking at how sexy he looked like this. “I want you to fill your princess up, show me how much cum you can fill me with,” you demanded as you bounced faster on his dick. San dug his hands further into your skin as he moaned your name. You clenched yourself around him tighter watching him lay his head back as long moans escaped his lips. “Just like that baby,” he moaned, moving his hand to rub your thigh.

San was moaning and grunting loudly, they were piercing through the walls. The bed was creaking as you rode him faster, watching how he reacted. You felt him twitch inside you signaling that he was close to cumming. You saw him grab onto the sheets as his mouth fell wide open. “Cum in me daddy,” you moaned, leaning down and kissing his cheek. “Y/N!” he moaned as you felt warm liquid fill your pussy up. You slowed down as you felt him jerk under you. You could feel his cum run down your thigh as you removed him from inside you.You then laid on his chest and moved his wet strains away from his face. You felt his heartbeat as you ran circles on his chest with your finger tips. “Sannie, are you okay?” you asked, looking up at him. You reached your hands up and unraveled the blindfold off his eyes. You both made direct contact with each other and smiled. He wrapped his arm around you and placed a kiss on your lips. “We should play hide and seek more often,” he laughed, causing you to roll your eyes and giggle as well. “As long as you are hiding next time,” you said, booping his nose with your fingertip.

#ateez #atiny #san ateez #san smut #ateez smut #san x reader #kpop #kpop smut

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azsazz · 2 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 24)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,511

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Masterlist]

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Things slowly begin to enter a new normal.

You go to class, see your friends, and spend most nights with your boyfriend, licking, teasing, tasting each other on every available inch of skin you can find. The five of you hang out as a group and you’ve never been happier.

You’re even passing art history, thanks to Azriel’s fool-proof system of studying; a sexual favor in exchange for every correct answer you give.

For the most part, everything seems like a dream. Compared to the beginning of your year, it is. There's still that niggling feeling inside of you that you just can’t seem to get over, though. As you sit in the art building working on your project for Alis’ class, you’re not entirely sure what to do. It’s the last assignment before the semester ends and you’ve started and restarted the drawing three times already, all of your attempted creativity fizzling out within hours.

Now, with only two days to go before it’s due for critique, you’re on the cusp of tears. It’s not from lack of trying, but because you’ve been forcing yourself to tap into your inner creative and find your muse. You want to create something that you’re proud of, but there’s nothing for your heart to grasp onto, no genius ideas that make you want to pour your soul onto the paper.

You’re starting to think that you might fail this class.

Feyre had offered to tag along, but she’s already finished her project fairly quickly after the assignment was given out, and things have been a bit awkward between you and Lucien since he found out that you and Azriel are officially dating.

Naturally, the event had occurred after one of your drawing classes. It almost felt like deja vu, with the way Azriel was waiting outside of the building. This time, you were more than happy to see your boyfriend, who was leaning up against the side of his motorcycle, helmet tucked under his arm with a second one perched beside him.

You could admit that you’re starting to enjoy riding on his motorcycle with him. He’s even taken you to his favorite spot where he often goes to draw or think, escaping the stressors of his life back on campus such as his father pestering him about the buying building he lives in. He hasn’t responded to a single text message.

“(Y/N), hold up a minute,” Lucien said, stopping you from going down the stairs of the building to meet your boyfriend with a hand on your shoulder. Feyre continues downward after you gently wave her on, but you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes narrow.

“What’s up, Luc?” you ask, although you already know what he’s wondering. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that whatever you and Azriel had started out as is now the complete opposite. He’s no longer your infuriating neighbor, but the boy you you’re slowly starting to fall—

Thankfully, Lucien interrupts the thought before you can dwell on it too long. “What’s going on with him?” he asks, jerking his head to where Feyre and Azriel are talking quietly. The latter watches you and Lucien’s exchange intently. “I thought you two hated each other, but now you’re hanging out with him all of the time? Did I miss something?”

A pang of guilt gnaws at your stomach. You feel bad for not telling Lucien about your newfound romance with Azriel, but you’ve been wanting to tell him over lunch or coffee, but with the end of the semester projects and tests coming up, the both of you had been too busy to properly hang out.

Your cheeks heat and it’s hard to look him in his eyes when he looks so confused. “Yeah, um, Azriel and I are sort of dating now.”

Lucien frowns, “Sort of?”

“We are,” you shake your head, answering more solidly this time. “We’re dating.”

You don’t miss the hurt that flashes through his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sigh, kicking and digging the tip of your shoe into the concrete for something to focus on. You don’t like the way that Lucien is looking at you, like you’re no longer his friend, which isn’t the case at all. Sure, you know that for whatever reason he and Azriel don’t see eye-to-eye, and you can admit that you’ve only fed into that storyline by spending most of your time these days with Azriel and not taking the proper time to check in with your friend, but right you feel like you’re the one at blame for not reaching out.

It seems as if Azriel has had enough, pushing up from his motorcycle to ascend the stairs. His strides are long, sure, and his spine straightens with each step closer he takes, shoulders widening and chest puffing.

“Hey, princess.”

“Azriel,” you greet with a nervous smile, accepting the way he tucks you into his side and presses a kiss to your cheek. His hand is firm against your hip and you enjoy the way he feels, the way he allows you to siphon some of his strength for this conversation. “This is Lucien. Lucien, this is Azriel.”

The two boys stare at each other, sizing one another up. It makes you shift on your feet but Azriel’s hold only tightens, showing you off, staking his claim.

It’s awkward, to say the least. Neither of them greet each other and it's as if they’re both waiting for the other to look away first so the other can snap at their neck like a rabid dog. You shoot a look towards Feyre but her head is buried in her phone, an enormous smile on her face, completely oblivious to the pissing contest that’s happening up the stairs.

A muscle ticks in Lucien's jaw before he rips his gaze away from Azriel to settle back on yours. He gives you a single nod, and you’re not sure how to feel when his throat works around a swallow, his normally honeyed voice coming out rougher. “I have to go, actually, before I’m late. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”

“Lucien,” you call, but he’s already turned down the stairs and is brushing past Feyre, whose eyebrows furrow with concern at the sight of your friend. She tries to speak to him but he brushes her off gently, and when her heavy blue-gray eyes settle on you, you deflate into Azriel’s side.

You feel similarly to how you did then, defeated and glum. The piece of drawing paper before you is filled with the darkness from your charcoal, your fingers coated in the chalky substance, and the shapes you’d been sketching stare back at you, taunting you, because no one is going to be able to finish this except for you.

It’s a fairly simple task, to draw yourself as some sort of hybrid, but as you look in the mirror hanging to your left, you can’t seem to figure out what kind of creature resonates with you. Feyre had drawn herself as some sort of beast, her true self, she claimed. When you had asked Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel what they had done when they took their drawing classes, Rhysand said he drew himself with dragon features, Cassian morphed himself with a grizzly bear, and Azriel had drawn himself with the bat wings inked across his back.

The last time you spoke with Lucien before your relationship became strained, he’d been drawing half of his face as a fox, and you’d seen one of the other girls in your class, Vassa, you think her name is, drawing herself as a phoenix. Everyone seemed to light up with their ideas immediately when Alis had announced the final project, and you had only ducked your head, unsure of what to do.

Voices trickling down the hall startle you from your thoughts. You set your chalk down as you recognize the tenor, the laughter echoing around the silent building. Azriel and Cassian appear in the doorway to the classroom. Cassian’s splattered with clay from having been working on his own final project of the year, something he’s been boasting about but refuses to tell anyone what it is, and the smile that lights Azriel’s face when his eyes connect with yours is perfect.

You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders had been, but the way they deflate at the sight of him makes you realize just how tired you are. There isn’t much time left until your project is due, and you’re sure to remind yourself that once again, you need to focus.

But the way Azriel’s eyes drag down your hands, coated in soot from the charcoal, flaring with heat, you’re forgetting your deadline and the project you’ve barely started completely.

“Hey, princess,” Azriel greets, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but to slant against him a little, your energy from your long night sapped. His hand caresses your cheek and he frowns a little, examining your exhausted and frustrated state.

Your heart flutters at the warmth, at the care he shows you. How he isn’t afraid to hide his hands from you because you’ve spent night after night showing him just how much they mean to you.

“Hi,” you reply with a soft yet strained smile, you turn to Cassian next. “Hey, Cass.”

“Hey (Y/N). How’s the art project coming along?”

You sigh, leaning further into Azriel’s warmth. “Not amazing, if I’m being honest.”

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, “It looks like you have a solid start.”

You crinkle your nose, examining your paper. It looks more abstract than anything, and you wonder for a moment if Azriel’s just being nice about it. But you know him better than that, and he would never tease you about a craft so dear to both of your hearts.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you groan.”I’ve started over three times.” All you want to do is throw your head in your hands but you don’t want to get chalk all over your face, unless Azriel is the one putting it there. Naked.

Maybe having sex will help get your creativity flowing?

Your boyfriend frowns for a moment, examining your work. You can see the cogs turning in his head, how he might help you figure out what to draw for your project. Of course, you could easily draw any animal mixed with yourself, but you really want this one to have meaning behind it.

“Why don’t you take a break and we can all grab something to eat?” Azriel suggests. “A break might do you some good, and Cass and I were going to head over to Ritas.”

A hot waffle and a large milkshake sounds absolutely superb right now, to be honest.

You stare at the paper before you. You really should stay and put in a few more hours of work, but at the same time you can’t stand to stare at it any longer.

Two more days. You still have two more days.

“Yeah, I could use a snack,” you agree, picking up your pencil box from the floor and tossing your sticks of chalk into it. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.” You stand from your art horse, eyeing the mess of black. “You should too, Cassian. You’re covered in clay.”

He only grins and you—once again—regret saying anything to him. “The ladies like it dirty, (Y/N). But you know a little something about that, don't you?”

You try to force the warmth from your cheeks as you think of just how thorough Azriel had been the last time he drew you. How up close and personal he’d gotten with his stick of charcoal, how up close and personal he let you get with some paints you’d bought.

Sometimes you love being an artist.

“Fuck off, Cass,” Azriel gripes, flipping your large sketchpad shut. He helps you pack your things while Cassian snickers, and his eyes are hot when you rub your hands together, trying to dispel the dust from them. He slings your backpack over his shoulder and your sketchpad under his arm while you dart off to wash your hands before Azriel can get any ideas.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is…bustling for a Friday night.

It looks completely different from when you’d been here last. No sign of the irritable waitress, no sign of anything really, you’re unable to see through the mass of the crowd, stuffed in booths and gyrating in whatever open space is left.

The lights are low. A colorful disco ball spins in the center of the diner that you hadn’t even noticed your first time here. Spots of color percolate around the room, seeming to guide the students on the little dancefloor as they sway their bodies, the tables lined up against the walls for this purpose.

“Rhys and Feyre are on their way,” Cassian says, reading a message on his phone before swiping at the screen. You don’t see the way that his eyes darken at whatever notification pops up because Azriel’s tugging you through the crowd.

The air is hot with bodies and laughter and as you make your way through the throng of people, you’re glad Azriel had talked you into a quick pit stop at the apartment to put your things away, as if he had known the diner would look like this tonight. He must spend more time here than you thought because he eases through the crowd, shoulders lax, letting the clubby music pouring from the jukebox wash over him.

“Are you sure this is Rita’s?” you call over Azriel’s shoulder, genuinely confused to how the dingy daytime diner has turned into this delightful nighttime dance party.

He tosses you a smile over his shoulder that makes your heart flutter.

“It’s where all of the cool kids go before and after the bars,” Cassian teases when Azriel finally finds an empty spot for the three of you to stand. He’s scouring the restaurant as if he’s looking for someone and returns his hazel gaze to you with a lazy grin. “C’mon, (Y/N), it’s like you don’t even go here.”

You roll your eyes, grumbling a little as Azriel pulls you to his front, settling his hands on your hips. The music is surprisingly loud but it’s good, causing you to roll your hips a little with the rhythm. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you can feel the interested bulge in his pants as his breathing turns heavier with your motions.

“Spent most of my time at house parties last year,” you answer, shouting over the volume of the bar. “I’m hardly of drinking age, lest you forget.” You lean towards Cassian so he can hear you, pressing your ass further into Azriel’s cock. His thumb sneaks under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

As if he isn’t the one that brought you here, he seems to have changed his mind fairly quickly.

“In that case, allow me to buy you a drink, my lady,” Cassian bows a little, taking his time eyeing the lower region of a girl that passes by. “What are you having?”

You shrug, no longer in the mood for a milkshake. You scan the crowd, flickering over everyone on the dancefloor as you mull it over. “Something with rum,” you answer, and you don’t even think he’s listening anymore as the girl gives him a salacious smile over her shoulder and he starts chasing tail.

“Think he’s coming back?” you ask over your shoulder. Your squeal is eaten up by the changing of songs as your boyfriend spins you abruptly in his arms, plastering his hips against yours in a slow grind that matches the heavy bass that makes the crowd cheer in excitement.

“Don’t care,” he breathes into the shell of your ear. He follows his words with a nip at your lobe and you bite your lip, winding your arms around his neck.

“Azriel,” you tut, but you can’t stop looking at his lips. His stare is hot and his hold is demanding, keeping you glued to his front as you grind your hips against his teasingly. “Cassian is your friend.”

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips right now, princess,” Azriel all but growls, golden eyes igniting.

“What do you want?” you ask breathlessly, your nipples tightening into pebbles beneath your shirt.

You’re thankful no one’s eyes are on you right now, all lost in their own conversations or dances with their partners. You don’t think it would matter if they were looking anyway, because you’re so focused on Azriel and the way his body reacts to a simply press of your body against his, warmth flooding you the way it always does when he’s around, that you might need that drink poured over you to pull your attention from him.

“First, I want to take you home,” his hand strokes a long line up your spine and he buries it in the hair at the nape of your neck. You gasp at his firm hold, arousal dripping to your core when Azriel uses that hand to guide your head away from him to suck at your neck. You arch into him, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Then, I’m going to strip you of all of these clothes,” his free hand grabs a handful of your ass and your approving hum sounds more like a moan. “And I’m going to ask you to ride me, princess. I want you to guide my cock into your tight, drenched pussy and take what you want, because you’re my needy girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” your nails rake down the back of his shirt.

“And when you’re cumming on my cock, squeezing me tight, I want you to—”

“Your drinks,” Cassian says gruffly, shoving a cup between you and Azriel. It forces him to stand straight, glaring absolute daggers at his best friend but it seems to bound off of Cassian’s shoulders easily, because he looks just as pissed.

You’re still a bit dazed, so it takes you a moment or two to figure out what’s going on. Azriel won’t let you leave your position, can’t let you leave your position because his boner if full on fucking raging right now, but he does allow you to turn around again, taking the drink from Cassian to quickly take a sip, trying to quench your parched throat.

“Thanks,” you say but Cassian hardly acknowledges it, passing a beer over to Azriel. He had two still clenched firmly in his free hand but he takes one and slams it back quickly, emptying its contents before Azriel’s even had a sip of his own.

“You okay, Cass?” Azriel asks, his hand sliding protectively over your hip. There’s no need to protect you from Cassian, but even you can admit as you shift from one foot to the other, that it’s weird seeing him like this. Not as carefree as he normally is.

“Fucking dandy,” Cassian grunts, hazel eyes grazing down where you and Azriel are still pressed tightly together. He looks away just as quickly and you think you see his lip curl a little.

Azriel stiffens behind you.

What the hell is going on with him?

Before you have the chance to ask or Azriel has the chance to bait him, Feyre’s pushing through the crowd, towing Rhys behind her. One girl glares at her as she passes but Feyre doesn’t seem to notice, eyes lit with happiness when they finally reach your little group, unaware of the clouds of tension bubbling around the three of you.

Cassian makes an effort not to choke down his entire second beer but it’s all too tempting. He takes a deep sip so he doesn’t have to speak.

“Hey,” she greets, cheeks a little flushed already. Rhysand and she must have been drinking before they came out. Or had sex.

“Hi,” you respond, trying to keep your grip on your cup relaxed. Cassian is acting strange. You glance up at him again but he’s avoiding eye contact with everyone right now, glaring into the mass of people. Yup, definitely avoiding looking at any of you.

“Rhys,” you hear Feyre say as you share a confused look with Azriel. His brows are pulled tight as he examines one of his best friends. He’d seemed fine back at the art building, his normal cheery and cheeky attitude threatening to drive him up the wall, so what happened between then and now? “Will you go get me a drink, please?”

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he agrees, but Cassian’s already shoving past him, muttering how he’ll get them drinks. Rhysand’s mouth parts but Cassian has already disappeared into the crowd. Well, as much as any six-foot-five man can disappear. “What’s his problem?”

Azriel shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer. “If we only knew.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel/reader #tattoo arstist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au

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goldsainz · 10 months

Text

OVER THE YEARS — one shot.

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

MASTERLIST.

request: “omg hi i have a request for oscar piastri a social media au something showing their friendship over the years maybe through b'day posts/something else (you decide) basically like childhood friend to lovers social media au pls !”

NOTE: first oscar piece ever!! the format of this is a bit diff but that’s just bc it’s kind of only insta… thank you sm for requesting, i hope that this is what you wanted and enjoy! (this has no faceclaim btw)

APRIL 06, 2019

liked by oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri and 2,687 others

yourusername HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEST FRIEND WHO JUST TURNED 18!!!! cannot believe i’ve known you for 12 of those years…

view all 40 comments

oscarpiastri Was the last picture really necessary…

⤷ yourusername yes, yes it was 😁

oscarpiastri I was a pretty cute kid actually

liked by yourusername

APRIL 06, 2020

liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 3,185 others

yourusername 19 years old and he’s still acting like he’s 10!! oh also, happy birthday 🥳

view all 56 comments

oscarpiastri Was the happy birthday an afterthought or…?

⤷ yourusername was i really that obvious?

⤷ oscarpiastri I see how it is then🙄

arthur_leclerc I’m gonna need more of these pictures

⤷ yourusername your wish is my command

⤷ oscarpiastri Y/N NO

APRIL 06, 2021

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 6,279 others

yourusername selfie time for the birthday boy! 20 has looked better on others, but you’ll get there ❤️

view all 94 comments

oscarpiastri Wow!

oscarpiastri I send you these pics in confidence and they end up on Instagram… Can’t trust anybody😔

⤷ yourusername not really private if they’re in a group chat🤷‍♀️

⤷ oscarpiastri Watch your back for your next birthday post… You never the content I might get

arthur_leclerc You two look really cozy in that second picture!!

⤷ yourusername shut up, frenchie

APRIL 06, 2022

liked by carla.brocker, oscarpiastri and 10,836 others

yourusername happy birthday to this guy 🫶

view all 162 comments

oscarpiastri 🫶🫶🫶

liked by yourusername and 10 others

oscarpiastri Will I ever get some decent photos in these posts?

⤷ yourusername hm… no!

oscarfan1 who is she??

⤷ oscarfan2 she’s oscar’s childhood best friend i think

⤷ oscarfan3 i thought she was his gf, cause she’s always in the paddock with him

⤷ oscarfan2 nope, just friends from what i know

APRIL 06, 2023

liked by landonorris, zhouguanyu24 and 34,091 others

yourusername happy birthday to my boy friend (my best friend who’s a boy but also my actual boyfriend)!!! you’ve done so much in all these years, you’re even in F1 now, and i’m happy to have been through it all 🤍 i included some good pics but just because the fans need them 😁

view all 512 comments

oscarpiastri Aww… Is the beautiful girl single?

⤷ yourusername no… but you’re pretty cute so call me :)

⤷ oscarpiastri 🙃🙃🙃

oscarpiastri21 how i love them

oscarfan22 THE MCLAREN GLOW UP OMG

landonorris There are children on this app…

⤷ yourusername WE’RE YOUNGER THAN YOU???

⤷ landonorris And yet I have more decorum🙄

oscarpiastri23 they’re so cuteee

JULY 09, 2023

liked by oscarpiastri, yukitsunoda and 51,684 others

yourusername P4! there is so much i could say, but all that matters is that i am incredibly proud of all that you achieved and will achieve

view all 775 comments

landonorris If I speak…

⤷ yourusername don’t❤️

oscarfan31 the most unproblematic and cutest couple on the grid

oscarpiastri I love you 🫶

⤷ yourusername I love you 🫶🫶

⤷ oscarpiastri I love you 🫶🫶🫶

oscarfan32 I LOVE THEM SM

oscarfan33 y/n pls know that we love you

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munson-blurbs · 6 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Summary: A trip to the thrift store becomes overwhelming for Harris, and you and Eddie have to work as a team. But the real test of your relationship's strength is the crisis that unfolds days later.

Warnings: financial insecurity, school lock-in, missing child, police presence, mention of kidnapping, mention of drug addiction, blood (no gore)

WC: 8.5k

Chapter 19/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie has already been awake for two hours when the phone rings. One part of parenthood that he hadn’t anticipated is that children do not understand the concept of weekends. Harris had flung himself out of his racecar bed promptly at 6:30 in the morning, crawling under Eddie’s sheets and poking his nose until he woke up.

“Har, go back to sleep,” Eddie had grumbled, the last word extended in a whine. One cheek was smushed against his pillow, muffling his complaint. “It’s Saturday; you don’t have school.”

In response, Harris pursed his lips into a perfect pout and used his thumb to peel Eddie’s eyelid open, getting as close to his face as possible. His morning breath was tinged with the scent of chocolate; Eddie groggily made a mental note to better supervise his nighttime teeth brushing routine.

“‘M hungry.”

That’s how Eddie finds himself pouring his third cup of coffee while his son keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching Doug stutter and stammer in front of Patti. Eddie smiles, a blush creeping into his cheeks when he realizes that that’s probably what he looks like around you.

“‘Lo?” He cradles the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, wincing as he clumsily clinks the carafe into place. There isn’t enough coffee left to slosh over the side, a small miracle in and of itself, although he’ll have to brew some more if the caffeine doesn’t kick in soon.

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is sleepy yet sweet, smoothing all the creases of the morning. “Did I wake you up?”

Eddie laughs and takes a sip from his favorite mug, the one that proudly declares #1 Dad. It’s stained and chipped, but he’ll never throw it out. Wayne had bought it for him on his very first Father’s Day; ironically, Eddie had bought him a #1 Grandpa mug that year, probably from the same kiosk at the mall.

“Not even close,” he says, tongue flicking to the corner of his lip to catch the drip of coffee that’s pooled in the crevice. “Someone was up bright and early this morning.” His gaze flits over to the bowl of Cheerios snug between Harris’s criss-crossed legs, mostly uneaten despite his earlier protests that would make an outsider believe he was starving. “How was your sleep?” he asks, swinging back to your conversation.

You switch the phone from one ear to the other. “It was good. Would’ve been better if you were next to me, though,” you add, twirling the cord around your forefinger. If you could, you would capture the safety of his embrace and bottle it, releasing a bit each time you craved his gentle touch. “I might’ve even let you be the little spoon.”

He balks at this with a playful scoff, nearly spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles, licking the side of the mug before the bitter liquid can slide off and hit the ground. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Admittedly, his skepticism is rooted in truth; whenever you do get the chance to cuddle in bed, he’s always the one wrapping his arm around your waist, often taking the opportunity to snake a hand up your shirt and let the pads of his fingers brush over your breasts. It isn’t always a display of sexuality or desire–though you can’t say you mind that–but a connection, a way of ensuring that you stay close.

“Just a few more weeks until we get to find out for ourselves,” you tease, though he needs no reminding. Only sixteen days remain until you officially move in together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s counting down. “Speaking of which,” you continue, glancing at the clock, “I was wondering if you and Harris wanted to do some furniture shopping for his new room.” You knew that he would be keeping his racecar bed; it’s unlikely he’ll part with it until he’s outgrown it completely. “Y’know, a new dresser or nightstand or something.”

There’s an extended pause on Eddie’s side of the line. You think the call dropped and are about to hang up and redial when you hear him say, “I, um…I don’t get paid until next week…” He nervously scratches the countertop with one fingernail.

“Oh.” You grapple with a response, trying to strike a balance of empathy without condescension. “Well, I was going to surprise you, but I sold some of Grandma’s old—”

“No way,” Eddie interjects, firmly but not harshly. “I’m not having you spend your money on me. We can just wait until payday.”

“I want to buy this for Harris. I…I probably should have cleared out Grandma’s room months ago, but I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but it felt wrong because I had nothing to put in its place.” You don’t care that you’re babbling on, forging ahead with your impromptu monologue. “It would’ve been too empty, but with you and Harris here, it won’t be empty anymore.”

Eddie tucks his thumbnail between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he prods, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

“Positive.” You’re much more assured in your reply. “If she knew Harris before she got sick, she would’ve spoiled the hell out of him, anyway.” The moment she saw him happily digging into the Oreos, she would have ensured that the cupboard remained stocked with Double Stuf. “In a way, s’like she gets to spoil him now.”

You can sense Eddie’s resistance tempering with an audible exhale. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure,” he muses, buying time to process the influx of emotions flooding his body. There’s the obvious gratitude that you’re so eager to take care of his son, but it’s cut with the insecurity of him not being able to do so. If you’re going to buy Harris furniture, it should be because you want to, not because he can’t. What if you hold this against him? What if, in the future, there’s an argument and you fire back with a retort about his shortcomings as a father?

Except…you have never done that. Ever. Not that night in the emergency room, or when you’d found out about the CPS report filed that evening. Not even when Eddie had made it his personal mission to tear you down, pulling insults from the depths and hurling them at you with reckless abandon.

You hadn’t brought up the way he’d helplessly panicked when confronted with the possibility of Harris’s learning disability, or how he’d let anxiety overtake him when he officially received a classification. With everything the two of you had endured, you’d never once echoed his anxieties about his parenting abilities; it was quite the opposite. With you by his side, he feels as though he can take on whatever challenge life chucks at him.

“Eds? Is everything okay?” Your tone is thick with concern; Eddie realizes that you probably think you’ve upset him. “We don’t have to go—we can do something else, or—”

“Sweet girl,” he says in one exhale, both to reassure you and to remind himself that you’re his, and he’s yours. Love surges through the phone lines when he speaks. “We can pick you up in an hour, if that works? I should be able to wrangle Harris by then.”

“Y’sure?” And, Christ, how his heart sinks when you shrink inward, reflexively making yourself smaller when you’re worried that you’ve offended someone.

Eddie doesn’t answer you directly, instead, calls out his son’s name. “Hey, Harris?” He frowns when Harris completely ignores him in favor of watching the cartoon. Using his free hand, he cups his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, amplifying his voice. “Harris Wayne Munson!”

The sudden sound jolts him out of his TV-induced stupor. “Huh?”

“Go get dressed and brush your teeth; we’re gonna go shopping with Ms. Sweetheart!” Eddie grins as Harris turns to him with a wide smile of his own. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Harris jumps up without further hesitation, inadvertently tossing his bowl from the makeshift table of his legs. Milk splatters, instantly soaking into the carpet, and the Cheerios topple out and land in a soggy pile. “Nooo, my bref-ist!” His big eyes well up with tears. “Daddy, you made me drop my bref-ist!”

“You, uh, wanna deal with that?” You can’t hide your amusement at the usual Munson chaos.

“Probably should, huh?” Eddie jokes back, stretching the phone cord as far as he can and reaching for the paper towel roll. “I love you, babe. See you in a bit.”

“I love you, Eds,” you tell him. “And Harris, too, of course.”

Some more static and shuffling; then, an energetic voice greets you. “Hi Ms. Sweetheart! Daddy made me drop my bref-ist,” the little boy reports.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Har.” You’ve perfected the art of mustering up sympathy for children’s not-soearth-shattering issues, a skill that every preschool teacher must possess. “Why don’t you help him clean up? That way, I can see you even faster.”

Harris pauses, mulling over his options. “Yeah, okay! Gotta go! Bye!”

You hear the clunk of him struggling to replace the phone on the hook, followed by Eddie saying, “Let me say good-bye before you hang—” click.

Pulling your own receiver from your ear, you stare at it with mild amusement. Never a dull moment with my boys.

Your boys drive up to your building just over an hour later. You stand up from the bench outside the entrance and smooth down your shorts where they’ve creased.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Eddie lets the pet name roll off of his tongue. He wants to kiss you as you slide into the passenger seat, but he withholds his affection for Harris’s sake. It seems silly, considering you’ll all be living together, but he doesn’t know how his son will react to the romance aspect of it. Will he be happy? Excited? Disgusted by any display of affection?

You give his hand a subtle squeeze, turning around to greet Harris. “Ready to shop till we drop?”

“Till we drop?” Harris wrinkles his nose, glancing between you and his dad. “Why would we drop?”

“It’s just an expression,” you explain, catching a glimpse of the smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Just means that we’re going to shop until we’re too tired to shop anymore.”

“I never get tired,” Harris declares, sticking his legs straight out so his flexed feet push up against the back of the driver’s seat, nudging Eddie slightly forward. “Grampa Wayne calls me an ‘Energizer Bunny.’” He bounces up and down in his booster seat to prove his point.

Eddie reaches his right arm around, keeping his left firmly gripping the wheel, as he moves Harris’s feet from where they’re planted into his lower back. “So, Har,” he starts, easing his weight onto the brake as he approaches a red light, “we’re gonna look for a new dresser for you, and maybe a nightstand.” He takes a deep breath as he delivers the news: “That means we’re not making any pit stops for toys. Got it?”

You want to interject, to let Eddie know that you don’t mind splurging on a small treat for Harris, but you bite it back. Whether or not you have the spare funds is irrelevant: this is the boundary he’s set for his son, and you have to respect it, regardless of your desire to spoil him.

Harris, however, does not accept the announcement as readily. “Not even, like, a little one?” he presses, holding his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Even if I’m really, really good?” He gives a hopeful smile, eyes blinking expectantly.

Eddie looks at you, serving as your cue to provide your input. You nod your approval, trying to hide your delight in being asked to make a parenting decision, regardless of how menial it may seem. He peers up through the rearview mirror at his son’s waiting face. “If you’re really, really good,” he acquiesces, features pinching into a grimace when Harris’s exuberant squeal echoes through the sedan. “You have to use your inside voice and stay next to us the whole time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harris confirms. “Deal, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Deal.” Laughter bubbles up inside you and you let it spill out uninhibited. You know that telling a child he can get a toy is an easy part of parenthood, but you silently swear to never take for granted being included in that choice. Harris joins you, though he’s not quite sure why he’s laughing, but your joy is contagious.

You lean your head against the car window, listening to the buzz of the radio filling the silence. Harris hums along, more on-key than the average five-year-old, which you can safely attribute to him having a musician for a dad.

“I’m not getting a new bed, right?” Harris says with sudden urgency. “Because I wanna keep my racecar bed.”

“Mhm,” you affirm, smiling when Harris relaxes back against the headrest. “Your racecar bed will be in your new room, don’t you worry.”

“Okay.” That response satisfies him until he thinks up another question. “An’ you’re bringing your bed, Daddy?”

Eddie chuckles as he pulls into the Goodwill parking lot. He picks a spot close to the store, right next to a green Ford with a faded “Clinton ‘96” bumper sticker. “Um, no. I’m not bringing my bed.”

“So are you getting a new bed?” His eyes dart from side to side as he assesses the size of the car. “Where’s it gonna fit?”

“I’m, uh, not buying a new bed, either.” Eddie kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, swiveling to face Harris, who is more confused than ever. “Ms. Sweetheart and I are going to share her bed.”

Harris kicks his feet, processing this new information. “But you didn’t get married yet,” he points out, “so how can you share a bed?”

You rest your palm on Eddie’s forearm in quiet reassurance. “Some people share a bed before they get married,” you explain simply, knowing that less is often more when talking to young children.

“When are you gonna get married?” he asks, more curious than meddling. “Because it’s taking forever. My friends’ mommies and daddies are already married.”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Harris essentially referred to you as his mommy; instead, he slowly exhales. “I’d like to marry Ms. Sweetheart someday, and I think she’d like to marry me, too.” He looks over at you with a sheepish grin, and you give his hand an agreeing squeeze. “But, for now, we’re just going to try out living together. How does that sound?”

“I guess that’s okay.” Harris isn’t completely thrilled with his dad’s response, but he relents anyway.

“While, we’re, uh, on the subject,” Eddie continues, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he carefully considers his words. He chews on the inside of his lower lip. Is he really doing this? Is he opening his son up to this relationship? “You know that Ms. Sweetheart and I love each other very much, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes,” Eddie continues with only some trepidation, “sometimes, when grown-ups love each other a lot, they hold hands o-or kiss. Would that be weird for you? If Ms. Sweetheart and I held hands, or kissed?”

You avert your gaze, partly from bashfulness but mostly so Harris doesn’t feel any pressure from either of you.

The little boy looks at the car’s ceiling, centering his focus on the overhead lighting. Finally, with utmost certainty, he declares, “just no tongue-kissing.”

You snort out a laugh while Eddie goes bright red and sputters, “where did you learn about that?”

“Young and Restless,” Harris reports nonchalantly.

Eddie rubs his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his lids until his vision blurs. “Remind me to tell Wayne to stop letting him watch the soaps,” he grumbles to you, turning back to his son. “Yeah, no tongue-kissing.”

You easily lace your fingers with Eddie’s as you walk through the front doors of the Goodwill. Harris starts making a beeline for the toys, but Eddie uses his free hand to pivot him in the direction of the furniture department. Harris huffs but complies, trudging alongside you.

There’s a bright blue nightstand on display that immediately catches his eye. “Look!” he points, smiling so wide that all of his baby teeth are on display, “can I get it? Please?”

Eddie smiles warily, flipping over the white tag hanging from one silver drawer handle. He breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees the price is within the range of what he’d like to spend; rather, what he’d be comfortable asking you to spend.

“Looks like we’ve got a winner,” he says, posture straightening with the announcement. He runs his fingertips over the surface, checking for any chipping paint or splintering wood, but the finish appears to be intact. “I’ll go tell someone to set it aside for us.”

He sets off in search of an employee, leaving you alone with Harris. You swallow the nervousness building in your throat. You spend nearly every day taking care of children, but you’re suddenly inundated with the memory of losing him at the flea market. Those few minutes when you couldn’t locate him were some of the scariest of your life.

And yet, it hadn’t prevented Eddie from giving you another chance.

“Are you excited to move in with me, Har?” you ask, reaching out to ruffle his curls.

He nods, then looks straight up at you so that you’re staring at his nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart?” The position of his neck changes his voice’s pitch so it’s froggy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Can you marry my daddy?” His eyes shine with potential. “And then you can be my mommy for real?”

You crouch down to his height, heart melting at his request. “Harris, I love your daddy very, very much. And I love you very, very much, too.” You poke his nose gently, and he giggles. “Being married is a big responsibility—”

“‘Sponsibility?”

“Mhm. Responsibility. It means a really important job.” You slide your heart pendant across the chain on your neck anxiously. “And your daddy and I want to make sure that we’re ready for that kind of responsibility before we do anything, okay?”

Harris nods, but you can tell from his crinkled nose and furrowed brows that he doesn’t fully understand. You can’t blame him; it’s an abstract concept, one that even you often have trouble comprehending. “But I can tell you one thing: whenever your daddy wants to propose, I’ll say ‘yes.’” You smile at the thought of Eddie asking you to be his wife.

“Is that where he gets down on one knee and asks ‘Will you marry me?’” You’re about to respond when he adds, “and then someone runs in and yells about being their long-lost ‘dentical twin?”

Yeah, no more soap operas for Harris.

Finding a dresser proves to be a much more difficult task than picking out the nightstand. Everything that Harris likes is out of budget, and everything within budget is too worn down or small. There’s one that’s in good condition and isn’t too pricey, but it’s covered in hand-painted unicorns.

“That’s for girls!” Harris groans, stomping his feet. The last word is stretched in a whine. “I can’t have girl stuff!”

“We can paint over it. Whatever color you want,” you quickly jump in, trying to avoid a meltdown, but your efforts are fruitless. Fat tears stream down his cheeks; he’s already determined that the dresser is tainted.

“No! No, no, no!” he howls, throwing himself on the floor. He smacks down on his tailbone, fanning his tantrum’s flames. He quiets for a moment, too shocked to cry, but then he’s screaming louder than before.

It’s as though he’s lost control of his body, arms and legs knocking into the lower shelves without care. You can’t block him in time before he knocks over a lamp—a Nickelodeon-themed one that would have been perfect in his new room, ironically—and it shatters on the ground. Ceramic splinters, scattering across the linoleum like roaches in the light.

People start to stare, some with sympathetic looks, and some glare angrily at the child daring to interrupt their shopping. Eddie’s face blazes, vision swimming as he wracks his brain for a solution.

You’re faster, slapping a few bills into Eddie’s palm and jolting him from his thoughts. He watches you scoop Harris off of the floor, trying to avoid his flailing limbs.

“Go get the nightstand and pay for the lamp,” you tell him, straightforward and precise. “I’ll get him to the car and calm him down. Keys?”

Eddie blinks, the information swirling around him but not quite penetrating the surface. It’s when you hoist Harris onto one hip and balance his weight in one hand, using the other to make a ‘gimme’ motion that it registers.

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Eddie fumbles for the car keys and tosses them to you, the two of you working in tandem. A well-oiled machine. You nod gratefully, wincing as Harris’s foot makes contact with your thigh. “I’ll be right out.”

You’re able to bring him to the car, struggling to unlock it and hold on to Harris. After a few failed attempts, you manage to open the passenger door and sit him on the seat.

“Harris, hey, Harris?” you start, keeping your voice soft and even while trying to pull his attention. His sobs are slowing down but he’s definitely breathing too rapidly for your comfort. “Hey, bud. You’re okay, all right?” You extend your hand and he tentatively places his own palm on top of it. “You wanna give my hand a squeeze?”

He does it, the motion grounding him enough that he can focus on your body in front of him. You don’t want to touch him, knowing that his senses are already overstimulated from the tantrum. Instead, you relax as his squeezing grows stronger and his breaths gradually even out.

“There ya go, Har. Just like that.” You smile warmly. “That was a really big feeling, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice shakes and hiccups. He swipes at the tears on his cheeks, smudging them into his skin.

You reach into the center console and grab a tissue, wiping the mucus from his nose and lips. “Good as new.” With no trashcan nearby, you shove the used Kleenex into your pants pocket. “Can you tell me what made you so mad in there?”

“D-Don’t want girl…girl st-stuff,” he stutters through ragged breaths.

There’s a time and place to discuss the optics of categorizing interests into ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ but you know better than to have that conversation now. “Oof, that’s why you were angry! That’s a lot to handle.” You gingerly tuck a curl behind his ear. “But, Harris, did you see what happened when you started hitting and kicking?” He shakes his head. “Well, you knocked over a lamp and it broke. You could have gotten hurt, or someone else could have gotten hurt.”

Harris’s face falls as you speak, absorbing what you’re explaining. “I-I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles. “‘M sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you sigh, “sometimes, when we have big feelings like getting angry, we do things we shouldn’t without even realizing.” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you consider your words. “Do you want to hear what helps me when I have really big feelings and I can’t scream and cry?”

“Mhm.” He nods again, little tongue peeking out to swipe up the tears above his mouth.

“I take a deep breath and close my eyes,” you start, demonstrating both actions. Inhale for three, exhale for three, and repeat. “And then I picture myself being in my favorite place in the world.” You smile at him, blinking back the sadness that comes with memories of holidays at Grandma’s. “Wanna try it together?”

Harris responds by closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. “Good job, Har,” you softly praise him. “Now breathe out; make sure you’re thinking of your favorite place, okay?”

“Thinkin’ about the zoo,” he whispers, voice raspy from shrieking for so long. “Daddy taked me there and we saw so much animals.”

“Zoos are a lot of fun,” you agree with a laugh. “I’ve never been to the one in Hawkins. Maybe we can go over the summer?”

“Yeah! I wanna show you the flamingos!” His grin stretches across his cheeks “Do you like flamingos?”

Like most people, you don’t have a strong opinion on flamingos, but you respond with an enthusiastic, “I love them!”

“Love who?” Eddie’s voice breaks into the conversation. He’s rolling out the nightstand in a cart, keeping one hand on top of it to hold it steady. “Me?”

You laugh, opening up the back door so he can wedge the furniture next to Harris’s booster seat. “Yes, Eddie. I love you very much, don’t worry,” you tease, seizing the opportunity to inconspicuously check him out. His biceps flex as he maneuvers the nightstand, and you have to tear your gaze from his denim-clad ass when he stands up and triumphantly wipes his hands on his pants.

“C’mere.” He pulls you in, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout and planting a smacking kiss on you.

While you giggle, Harris is not as amused. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans.

“No tongue-kissing!”

You’re wrapping up storytime, your students fidgeting with their shoelaces—some fidgeting with their friend’s shoelaces—eager to move onto the corresponding art activity Will has planned.

“Okay, we’re going to use our walking—” Your announcement is cut short by Principal Sinclair’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. Her tone is typically warm and excited, but the way she speaks so sternly sends chills through your entire body.

“This is a lock-in. All staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified. I repeat, all staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified.”

You breathe out, though you’re still concerned about the cause of the lock-in. It’s usually some kind of medical issue that requires emergency services to have unblocked access through the halls. You hope that whatever it is isn’t life-threatening.

Will locks the door wordlessly, and you repeat your directions to the class. The kids walk to their seats, asking non-stop about what a lock-in means.

“We just have to stay in the classroom,” you find yourself repeating, losing patience with each iteration. You’re thankful for small miracles; your class has already gone out for recess, which means you don’t have to break that news to them.

Will is helping the kids glue multicolored strands of crepe paper in the shape of a rainbow, complete with cotton ball clouds. You’re unclogging a bottle of Elmer’s when the classroom phone rings, startling you. You place the glue bottle on the table, promising Joshua that you’ll be right back, and answer it.

“Hello?”

“We need you to come to the office immediately,” the secretary’s clipped voice informs you. “Bring your personal items. We’ll send someone to assist Will.”

Stupidly, you nod before remembering she can’t see you. “Y-Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” You hang up, tell Will the plan, and bolt out the door.

What the hell is going on? Why are they having me break the lock-in to go to the office? You hike your purse higher up your shoulder, trying to ignore the dread pooling in your stomach and creeping up your throat.

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong.

Your feet can’t carry you fast enough. You nearly stop breathing when you see Eddie pacing in the lobby, Marion and Paula standing off to the side and speaking with Chief Hopper. The two teachers wear matching worried expressions.

As soon as Eddie spots you, he’s charging over. “Oh, thank God,” he murmurs, throwing his arms around you and hugging you tight. You can feel the tears falling from his eyes, wetting the crook of your neck. His hands squeeze against your back and your shoulder blades as his body is wracked with sobs.

You weave your fingers through his hair, holding him as close as you can. You’re desperate to know what’s going on, but you doubt he could explain if he tried. Instead, you continue comforting him while Principal Sinclair walks over.

Her strides are long and purposeful, and she meets your own terrified gaze with her own. “Harris went missing during recess,” she says quietly, “and Mr. Munson let us know that you might be an asset in locating him.”

Harris went missing. Bile inches up your esophagus and you swallow it, wincing at its burn. “Why would he—” You stop mid-sentence; his motive is not important right now. All of your focus needs to be on finding him.

Chief Hopper approaches you and Eddie, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder with two fingers. Eddie looks up, wipes his face with the heel of his palm, and clears his throat, but a fresh batch of tears threatens to spill over anyway.

“We’ve just collected statements from his teachers,” Hopper reports, looking down at his notepad. “They said that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that Harris was just playing with his friends one moment and then gone the next.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, something had to have happened.” Harris had wandered off plenty of times, like at the flea market. The difference was that he was easily found. “If you haven’t found him, then he’s either hiding, or someone…” The thought is too painful to finish.

Hopper looks over at the principal. “You’re certain that the playground is secure?” He asks her, not accusing, but waiting for confirmation.

“Yes, absolutely secure,” she affirms, nodding her head. “The gate can only be opened from the inside, so no one can access it off of the street.”

You know this, of course, but it doesn't bring you closer to finding Harris.

“We’ve taped off the playground,” Hopper continues, “and we’ve got a search squad going now. Considering that Harris has been diagnosed with a disability, we’re beginning this investigation right away.”

“Mr. Munson,” a second officer chimes in, “is there anyone who would be inclined to take your son? Perhaps a non-custodial parent or an estranged relative?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “His mom, um, isn’t in the picture. Never has been.”

Hopper cocks one brow. “Never?” he asks disbelievingly. “How soon after he was born did she relinquish her rights?”

“She, um,” Eddie swallows, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, “she never did. Never relinquished her rights, I mean. She just kinda split.”

“So there was no formal agreement that she could no longer be involved in Harris’s life?”

“N-No,” he stammers, shame seeping from every pore. He’d always meant to start the legal proceedings, but that takes time and money…and maybe a small part of him had always hoped she’d come around and do the right thing.

He looks over at you now, the way you’ve stepped into a mothering role like a puzzle piece. Like any parent, you’d made some mistakes, but you’re also the most compassionate person Eddie has ever known.

He thinks of the times he’d tried to make his ex get clean, to want to get clean, and to be there for Harris. The weight of disappointment caused his chest to ache every time she’d mumble, “I’m gonna, but not right now” or “I don’t need help.”

Perhaps it’s unfair to compare the two of you; after all, you hadn’t struggled with addiction. But Eddie can’t help himself. You’d loved Harris before you’d even loved him, he realizes. And he’d never had to ask you to.

“Do you have any contact information for her?” Hopper taps his pen against his notepad. “Nine out of ten times in these situations, the child is with someone they know.”

What about the ‘one’ time? What happens then? Heat pulses in Eddie’s cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t need Hopper to answer the question; he already knows what that means.

“It’s from five years ago, so I don’t know if it’s still accurate.” He stumbles over his words, thinking about the last time he’d called her; it was the invitation to Harris’s birthday. “I don’t know it by heart, but I have it in my address book at home.”

Hopper gives a brusque nod to his colleague and to your boss. “We’ll give you a lift. And, uh, it’ll be good to set up your place as a home base.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Eddie mumbles, simply going through the motions without processing them. He’s on autopilot, a robotic version of himself. If he was able to fully absorb his surroundings, he would note the irony of him sitting in the back of the cop car because they’re helping him instead of escorting him to the county jail.

You don’t let go of his hand the entire ride there, your thumb rubbing the soft hairs on his knuckles. “We’re gonna find him,” you whisper reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

But Eddie is too embroiled in his own thoughts, imagining every possible tragedy that could have befallen his son. As soon as Hopper pulls up to the apartment complex, Eddie is flying up the stairs, two at a time, unlocking the door as fast as he can. You run in behind him, watching as he flings loose papers and pens from a kitchen drawer. He’s kicked over the boxes he’s already packed; clothes and some of Harris’s toys are scattered across the floor like a poorly-designed booby-trap.

He holds up the tattered black book, flipping through it until he lands on the right page. “Here. Right here.” He frantically points to an entry at the top, fingertip jabbing into it over and over.

Hopper takes the book from him, careful not to rip the already weathered materials. He dials the digits and frowns when he’s greeted by the automated we’re sorry, this number is no longer in service, far too chipper for the circumstances. He tries once more in case he dialed incorrectly, but he gets the same message.

“Disconnected,” he says gruffly, hanging the receiver with a clank. “Is there anyone else?”

Eddie can only shake his head somberly. If Wayne got Harris from school early, he would have told him. He wasn’t even sure how much of Harris’s maternal family knew of his existence, let alone his location. If someone took his son, it was more than likely a complete stranger.

Hopper’s walkie crackles with static; you and Eddie stiffen with anticipation. “Hey, Chief?” comes from the garbled voice on the other end.

“I’m here.”

“We’ve got a kid here at the school who says he spoke with Harris Munson right before he went missing today.”

Eddie stands up, walking closer to Hopper. Part of you expects him to grab the walkie and try talking straight to the other officer, but he doesn’t.

Hopper presses the small black button and speaks. “Copy. Does he know where we might locate him?”

There’s a deafening silence for a few moments; no more than ten seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime. Finally, there’s some information: “No known location; just says that Harris told him he was having ‘big feelings’ and needed to go to his favorite place.’”

“The zoo,” you murmur aloud, drawing confused looks from both men in the room. “When he got upset on Saturday—at Goodwill—I taught him to do some deep breathing and picture being in his favorite place, and he told me it was the zoo. But I…” you swallow, furrowing your brows, “I told him to picture it, not actually go there.”

“Zoo’s too far for him to walk, and no bus driver is going to let a kid that young ride by himself,” the chief points out.

You nod, biting your lower lip. “He might not be at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get there.”

Hopper thanks the other officer and turns to you and Eddie. My guys are deploying the search party as we speak.” He takes a deep breath and makes direct eye contact with you and Eddie. “We’ll do everything we can to bring your son back safely.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands, collapsing back against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor.

You look over at the police chief. “Can we help? Join the search…or something?” Anything besides sitting around and waiting for answers.

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an officer stationed here in case Harris comes home.”

You nudge your foot against Eddie’s. “C’mon, babe.” You try to keep strength behind your words, to be what Eddie needs right now, but it gets harder with each passing second. “We’re gonna go look for him.” He looks up and notices that you’ve extended your hand, and he takes it, pulling himself up.

He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you and Hopper out the door. He’s gnawing on his lips so violently that some skin peels off between his teeth; flecks of blood dotting his usually perfect mouth.

“We’ve got some time before sunset, so that’s on our side,” Hopper says as he drives back the way he came. “We’ll start in the woods near the school, and we’ll move from there.” He peers back at the two of you through the rearview mirror with a determined gaze.

“My uncle,” Eddie says suddenly, no certain expression on his face. He’s practically catatonic when he talks. “I want Wayne to wait at the apartment. I need to tell him…” If Harris does return home first and sees police officers surrounding the place, he might get scared and run off again.

Hopper scratches at his beard. “We’ll let him know, all right? Don’t worry about that.” He radios the instructions to a colleague, who confirms them and signs off, before pulling into a grassy area and killing the engine. “Let’s go. If Harris is going to come out for anyone, it’ll be you two.” He slams his door and then helps you and Eddie out of the backseat.

Before you can even begin, you hear a group of people shouting Eddie’s name. You look over to see Jeff, Jess, and Robin waving and walking towards you.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Robin says, giving you and Eddie a hug. “We’re gonna help you, and we’re not leaving until we find him.”

Jeff offers a tight smile, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re here for you man,” he promises, sincerity in its purest form. “Viv is gonna stop by later and I’ll take care of Ettie.”

It’s a kind gesture, but Eddie’s stomach sours at the thought of still searching later. He needs to know that his son is safe now.

Harris’s name is echoed over and over, bouncing off of trees and shaking the leaves as you and your friends call out for him.

“Harris!” you cry out, throat raw from your constant shouting. “Harris, it’s Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Harris!” Eddie’s voice is even louder than yours; the power behind it is palpable. “Harris, it’s Daddy! Please come out! You’re not in trouble!” he adds, cognizant of the little boy’s fear of making people mad.

Every squirrel that darts across the forest floor has you whipping your head around, heart leaping at the prospect of Harris emerging from where he’s hiding.

He has to be hiding; your mind won’t let you imagine what could happen if the wrong person saw him walking by himself, determined to get to the zoo…

“Harris, Aunt Robin and I will buy you any toy you want!” Jess yells. “And all the ice cream you can eat!”

The five of you take turns making promises to nobody; they’re secrets shared with the wind. Each unanswered call leaves you feeling more defeated, especially with the sun hanging lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, leaving Harris even more vulnerable than he already is.

Will joins the group a few moments later, bringing granola bars, water, and flashlights. You can only stomach about a quarter of your snack, having completely lost your appetite. Eddie doesn’t even bother to eat, fueled by adrenaline rather than food.

“Principal Sinclair is also looking,” Will tells you and Eddie. “She’s with Lucas and Erica over at Merrill Wright’s farm. It’s closer than the zoo, but he’s got some animals, so they wanted to check there.” He pauses, casting his eyes down for a second before looking at Eddie. “Everyone’s helping out with this. They all want to find Harris.”

Tears well up along Eddie’s lash line; he blinks them away to keep his vision clear. “Thanks, man.” He coughs to clear his throat, emotions forcing their way through. “That means a lot.” For a moment, he sees Will as he was when they first met: an overwhelmed little freshman, unsure of his place in high school, let alone in the world.

What if Harris never gets the chance to find himself? What if he doesn’t get to grow up and learn new things, make his own mistakes, figure out who he is?

You put an arm around Eddie, unknowingly pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. “Can you try to drink some water? Please?” You know better than to nag him about eating right now, but the last thing he needs is to get dehydrated.

He cracks open the bottle and takes a few sips, not realizing how thirsty he was until the liquid covers his tongue. He downs it all without taking a breath, the plastic crinkling as he siphons out every last drop of water.

“Take mine,” you tell him, offering it with the best smile you can possibly muster, but he shakes his head.

“You need it, too.” He’s not wrong, but you have no issue letting him drink from your bottle if he’s still thirsty.

You take a sip and pass it to him. “We’ll share.”

Another hour passes, the pink and orange hues becoming deeper purples and reds as the sky darkens with night. Some people start to call it quits, returning home to their own children, breathing secret sighs of relief that they have children to return home to. Your group remains intact; no one is even considering leaving until they physically cannot move any longer.

With just overworked flashlight bulbs illuminating your path, you continue trudging through the woods. Hopper’s shift was over hours ago, but he’s steadfast in his pursuit to find Harris.

Eddie’s exhausted physically and emotionally, feeling like every part of him has been drained and can never be replenished. His son is missing; he might have been kidnapped, and he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see him again. All he wants is to hold him again, to hear his little laugh as he tells a cheesy joke he learned at school, to watch him sound out new words or draw a picture or just fall asleep in his own bed.

Hopper’s walkie crackles; he clutches it tight and holds it so he can hear it clearly.

“Chief, we may have a sighting.”

A light flickers behind Eddie’s eyes; he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help himself. He listens intently as the other officer relays the information.

“Doris Driscoll just went outside to let her cats in for the night, and when they didn’t go inside, she went looking. Found them behind a bush, eating crackers out of a little boy’s hands. He told her his name is Harris. Matches the descriptions the father provided.”

Eddie grabs your hand, gripping it with whatever strength he has left. You feel a surge course through your veins as Hopper motions for you to follow him to his car. He turns on his siren and guns it down the road, swerving in and out of traffic to get to the old woman’s house as fast as he can.

Please, please let him be here, you silently pray, subconsciously screwing your eyes shut and holding your breath. The only thing worse than not knowing where he is might just be a false alarm that he’s been found.

Hopper slams on the brakes behind an ambulance parked in front of the Driscoll residence, their open doors allowing the fluorescent lights to stream through. Eddie watches, wide-eyed, as an EMT wheels a stretcher over to it.

A stretcher carrying Harris.

“Harris!” Eddie cries in simultaneous relief, exuberance, and fear. He instinctively reaches for a door handle, quickly remembering that he’s in a cop car and had to wait for Hopper to let him out from the outside.

You’re already crying; everything you’d been holding back to maintain a solid resolve for Eddie is crumbling as soon as you’d seen his son. You scramble out of the car, right behind him, and run to where the emergency technicians are treating Harris.

He’s awake and alert, and he spots the two of you right away. “Daddy! Ms. Sweetheart!” He tries sitting up, but a technician gently guides him to lay down again. “No, that’s my daddy and my almost-mommy!” he protests. “I gotta see them!”

You and Eddie reach him at the same time. He’s covered in dirt; it’s smudge along his cheeks, his arms, and his legs. He’s even managed to get some on the tip of his nose. Some blood is smeared on his right knee where he’s seemed to have scraped it, and the EMTs spray some antiseptic on it and apply a bandage before he can even feel the sting.

“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth, and he puts his palms on his son’s cheeks and presses kisses all over his face. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He turns to the technicians, worry pinching his brows together. “He’s okay, right? There’s nothing wrong?” He pushes some of Harris’s damp curls from his forehead. There aren’t any visible bumps or bruises on his face, which eases a bit of his nerves.

One technician nods. “Right now, it seems like he’s just got some minor lacerations, but we’ll run the gamut of tests to rule out more severe injuries.” She looks over at the police chief, who stands a few yards behind you. “We’ll take it from here.”

Hopper gives a small, sad smile; it’s then that you remember that his own child had passed away nearly twenty years ago. She was only a little older than Harris is now.

Eddie follows your gaze with red-rimmed eyes, the realization setting in for him, too. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, just loud enough so Hopper can hear him. Hopper nods, placing his hat atop his head before walking away.

The EMTs check for any broken or sprained bones, shine lights into Harris’s pupils, and ask him a few simple questions to assess for a concussion. “We’ll have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” they say to you and Eddie, “but barring any extenuating circumstances, you should be able to bring him back home tonight.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie breathes, crouching down a bit so he’s eye-level with his son. “Har, can you tell us why you ran away from school? You’re not in trouble; I promise.”

Harris looks down at the blanket draped across his lap. “I had really big feelings, and I tried thinking about the zoo like you told me,” he glances at you, “but then the feelings didn’t go away, so I decided to go there.”

You take his small hand in yours. “What were the big feelings?” you ask gently, free of judgment and filled with concern.

He thinks for a second, then states matter-of-factly, “Mad and sad.”

“Mad and sad?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his free hand. “‘Cause of Ms. Marion and Ms. Paula.”

You freeze, trying to regain your composure before Harris can pick up on your uncertainty. “What happened with your teachers, Har?”

“They were saying mean things about you and Daddy, and it made me mad and sad.”

At the sound of his title, Eddie speaks up. “Mean things about us?”

“Yeah, like, that Ms. Sweetheart is probably teaching you how to read, too,” Harris explains, “and I said that they’re lying, that you’re really smart and read to me all the time. And that Ms. Sweetheart isn’t your teacher; she’s my almost-mommy.”

Eddie clenches his fists, veins prominent as his body goes stiff. His anger isn’t at the insult, but at the way they could speak so brazenly about a child’s family, disregarding the hurt it causes. He doesn’t care what those women think of him, but he’s furious that they upset Harris.

“They keeped laughing and telled me to go play,” Harris continues, getting choked up at the memory. “I tried to do my breathing and my favorite place remembering with Charlie, but it didn’t work. And I got lost going to the zoo–the real zoo, not the one in my imagination–so I hided with the cats until the nice lady found me.”

You and Eddie share heartbroken looks, pushing aside your respective emotions as you tend to the little boy laying in front of you. “Get some rest, Har Bear,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You had a long day.”

He falls asleep after a few minutes, constantly checking to make sure that the two of you are still by his side. As soon as his breathing steadies and his eyes remain closed, Eddie turns to you, exhausted and running on fumes. Wet brown doe eyes pleadingly gaze at you, lids heavy with sleep. You wrap your arms around him, unable to get close enough. He moves slowly, every action a delayed reaction, but he gradually embraces you, too.

“Stay. Please.” The words are muffled by the way his mouth is mashed into your scalp, but you hear them perfectly fine. “And if we get to go home tonight, come back with us. I need you both close to me.”

“Of course.” Your own lips press against his perspiration-soaked shirt collar. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You pull back ever-so-slightly, brushing tears from his cheeks. “He’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, and we get to keep spoiling and loving him.”

Eddie absorbs this as best as he can, mind still spinning as the adrenaline crash hits. There’s so much he wants to say, but for right now, he just carves out space in his body for yours. Your light whisper keeps him grounded, pulling hi away from the spiraling that usually overtakes him in times of crisis.

“I’ve got you.”

#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 angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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nocreativityfornames · 3 months

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Everything we know about Michael so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He's an high-ranking angel from the Celestial Realm, more specifically a Seraph. (nb: 18-2 and nb card: Luke - "I can do it too!")

➤ His love for sweets is the reason Luke took interest in baking. (swd: 5-12 and 23-5)

➤ He and Lucifer were equals in the Celestial Realm and no other angel shared the same status as them. Simeon referred to them back then as "the two great leaders of the Celestial Realm's legion of angels." (swd: 23-7) But currently Michael carries that position alone. (swd: 23-5)

➤ He was supposed to meet MC when they visited the Celestial Realm with Solomon but couldn't because a secret spring suddenly started drying and Michael had to go there to investigate the situation. (swd: 23-7)

➤ He used to be Mammon's mentor and tried his best to train the white-haired brother while in charge of him but wasn't able to figure out how to handle him and eventually went to Lucifer asking for help. And since Lucifer was somehow able to get Mammon to listen to him, he ended up taking over Michael's role and became his mentor instead. (swd: 27-19)

➤ He was originally the one in possession of the Ring of Wisdom but gave the ring to Solomon at a time when the human was feeling "lost" and Michael wanted to help him. (swd: 29-5)

➤ During MC's 2° stay in the Devildom when Diavolo was keeping secret from everyone that their powers had become a threat to the three realms, Michael sent the prince a message through Simeon, warning him that if whatever he was keeping a secret affected the Celestial Realm, angels wouldn't hesitate to intervene. (swd: 31-16 Hard Mode)

➤ He's the one who found the Ring of Light, counterpart to the Ring of Wisdom that Lucifer had lost during the Great Celestial War (swd: 37-9), and quickly noticed it was missing when Simeon stole it to give it to MC ( since it was the only other way to control their powers ), shooting the other angel a text stating that they needed to have a "good, long talk" and that he wanted to see him as soon as possible. (swd chat: M, "untitled")

➤ When MC was given the Ring of Light and fell unconscious because of it, Michael appeared to speak with them. And during their talk, the seraph told MC that he had pictured them to be truly wicked person due to being so well-liked by the brothers, but that he had been proven wrong after meeting them. (swd: 38-17)

➤ In that same conversation, Michael confessed to being jealous of MC. He told them: "I must admit that I'm jealous of you, MC. I wish I could have been more like you. Because I loved Lucifer and his brothers, and I lost them. Perhaps things could have been different..." (swd: 38-17)

➤ When asked, Satan explained to MC that Michael was the opposite of Lucifer appearance-wise but that they felt like twins at the same time. And when Mammon brought up Michael's adoration for Lucifer, Satan chimed in saying that in his opinion the reason Michael liked Lucifer so much was because he was the embodiment of everything he wanted to be but couldn't. (swd: 43-19)

➤ He would be the one having meetings with Diavolo when the prince took over the kingdom if he hadn't thrown the responsibility onto Lucifer in the last minute, making Michael in a way the stepping stone that led Lucifer to question his faith and start having doubts about God and the Celestial Realm in general. (swd: 44-15)

➤ When MC ended up in the past Celestial Realm through a dream Solomon sent them to accidentally by feeding them his food, Michael was the one to bring them back home. The angel told MC that they and the brothers would likely forget what happened in the dream but that it would still have an effect on all of them and he would keep an eye on them to make sure that said effect didn't have negative consequences in the future. (swd: 44-18)

➤ Luke told MC that he often found Michael in the hall where the brothers' portraits used to hang staring at the empty space, lost in thought. According to the small angel, Michael to this day still deeply misses the brothers and has regrets about the war. (swd: 49-15)

➤ He was the one to cast out the brothers from the Celestial Realm and send them to the Devildom. (swd: 50-7)

➤ According to Mammon, Michael and Simeon must've pulled some strings behind the scenes to get Luke to participate in the exchange program and be able to visit the Human World with Simeon because, with his low ranking, he'd never be the one chosen for those sorts of things and the Avatar of Greed is convinced that they're doing this because they want Luke to experience life outside the Celestial Realm, see that there's more out there than heaven, and stop thinking that angels are perfect beings who can do no wrong. (swd: 50-10)

➤ He's knowledgeable on constellations and likes them so much he had Raphael rebuilt a whole room so Human World constellations could be seen even from the Celestial Realm. (swd: 52-7) He also taught Mammon about them when he was still in his care, and later on taught Luke as well. (swd: 50-12)

➤ It was actually he who went into the Devildom and told the brothers that they had been forgiven by God and had to choose between staying in the demonic kingdom ( and making an enemy out of heaven ) or coming back to the Celestial Realm and leaving Satan behind. And in a conversation with Raphael, Michael said the reason for his disguise was that he was worried about what could happen if he showed up as himself. But Raphael quickly rebutted that by saying that the true reason Michael didn't go as himself was because he wouldn't know how to act around the brothers. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

➤ Still disguised as Raphael before going back to the Celestial Realm, Michael told Luke that he wasn't surprised that the brothers didn't accept his offer to go back to heaven and actually knew that would be the outcome of it. He was also surprised not too long after when Luke, not knowing it wasn't Raphael who he was talking to, pointed out that Michael seemed sad and lonely whenever he was staring at the wall where the brothers' portraits used to be. Michael's exact response to the younger angel's words was: "...I didn't realize that's what people thought.” (nb: 20-A)

➤ When asked by Raphael if he planned to attend RAD in the future, Michael avoided giving an direct answer and left. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

#there are some things here that have not been “confimed to be him” because he was under the name “???” during the scenes but #I added them here anyway because we all know it was him at this point #! there might be stuff I didn't add because I couldn't remember so tell me if you notice something is missing !#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me michael #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me raphael #obey me #obey me lorebible #☙ no creativity for names ✾

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xerith-42 · 3 months

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Some things we may have forgotten

I've been rewatching MCD and taking extensive notes on it in hopes that I'll never have to watch it again and this is just a list of things that I don't see mentioned or brought up very often/ever that we should talk about and think about more

In the first episode Garroth tries to attack Vylad (angst potential) and Vylad literally just combat locks him by logging out of the game. This is objectively funny and should not be rewritten in any capacity. This should be canon as it is in every universe.

Aphmau's cat Meowki gets randomly killed in Episode 12 by a skeleton while Kiki is right upstairs. Just saying, there's some angst potential there.

In episode 11 Garroth reveals that he knows some medicine. Pretty sure this is never brought up again, but we could always bring it up.

Logan is apparently good with a bow while Zenix is trash at it despite being a self proclaimed "expert archer" which I think is very funny (I know this is part of Zenix's cover but what if we took it seriously it would be so funny)

Zoey is originally from the river village, as is Donna. Pretty sure they retcon that for Zoey, but I like to think the two of them could have been friends before Phoenix Drop.

Garroth actually almost dies in episode 15. Like Dr. Doctor says he will probably die soon at the start of the episode. And he doesn't get healed until episode 20. He literally spends 5 episodes laid up in bed dying.

Brendan's at his side probably angsting the entire time I'm just saying if you want sad gay fanfics, it's sitting right there!

Azura and Garroth were friends as kids??? Hello???? I think this is just a massive plot hole considering what Garroth's actual backstory ends up being asjfgshjdfgjk

Okay but if we twist it a little bit, they were friends as kids as in like at the guard academy??? Bc they're like vaguely teenage/young adult so maybe that's what she means? In which case I wanna think about that more because childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite romance arcs ever. But is it really childhood friends if you met when you were like... 18?? And you're in your like mid to late twenties probably, I wouldn't really classify that as childhood friends.

WAIT IT GETS WORSE!

I don't... I don't even have a joke here, this is just a massive plot hole. Like all of this is just not true to Garroth's backstory as we know it. Grew up in the same village? You mean O'Khasis?? Where Garroth also FAKED HIS DEATH????

I literally don't know what to say to this I was just trying to find silly little facts to try and incorporate into my rewrite and instead I found a massive gaping plot hole

Moving on, in episode 19 when Aphmau confronts Zenix and they fight, he actually apologizes to her. As if he regrets having to hurt her for the sake of his/the Shadow King's goals.

The Lord of Brightport says the Shadow King "used to be a lord". Which like... Okay, I can bend backwards a few ways to say that he could be referring to how Shad started Falcon Claw, but how the fuck does this dude know that??? I feel like Laurance constantly just stumbling into plot holes by complete accident

Dale is apparently a Garmau shipper, going as far as to ask Aphmau if she plans on hooking up with Garroth. I like to think that he and Molly have a bet going for how long it takes for one of the two of them to finally fess up.

Raven's mom tried to eat him??

Okay then.

#minecraft diaries #text post #aphblr #aphverse #garroth ro'meave #laurance zvahl #screenshots #silly post #I just think we need to talk about these more #aphmau #mcd zoey #mcd logan #mcd brendan #mcd kiki #my beloved #this post is a mess #most of my posts are though #it's part of the fun

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incognit0slut · 3 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (19)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering) A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

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rogersandclarke · 6 months

Text

mutual 1: see the thing about obi wan is that even if he could get pregnant he would do a force-abortion on himself because he believes that strongly in adoption

mutual 2: do you think matt damon was seething and coping when j-lo dropped "dear ben" or do you think matt and ben were still hooking up at this time? essentially if the album dropped in 2002, the bennifer engagement is nov 2002-january 2004, and matt gets married in 2005,

mutual 3: my ebay bidding war for paul reubens's spit in a jar is going really well due to the psychic attacks i've been sending to the other bidder

mutual 4: local authorities wont let me into this abandoned hoarder house in rural wyoming. dies horribly. #i love drunk driving

mutual 5: listen ive studied rpf for years you dont understand. the homoerotic undercurrent of britpop is a different breed than what george and bob had going on. theres a playful aura facilitated by the early 90s

mutual 6: i am going to pound philip seymour hoffman into the ground so lovingly

mutual 7: im doing crazy things to davy jones pussy over here

mutual 8: thinking of writing my thesis on the evolution of rpf #no don't look at my lb diary yes i watched 10 martin & lewis movies this week

mutual 9: you see robbie and bob were having on and off trysts ever since robbie stopped him from killing himself in 1966 but it took martin scorseses tender devotion to show robbie how unhealthy that was

mutual 10: thankfully neil young started estrogen in early 1970. otherwise she never couldve made harvest

mutual 11: how minutes of semi-truck sound effects do you guys think i can play on my radio show before people start tuning away

mutual 12: put this post underwater sorry. but i just feel so angry when people post about their mutuals like they're people they never talk to. i've moved to different countries three times for my mutuals.

mutual 13: [picture of orson welles and anthony perkins laughing on the set of the trial] do you think they ever fucked #hot! #who said that

mutual 14: i think i could fix norman bates if we got married and adopted the eraserhead baby together.

mutual 15: [picture of a computer fucking itself]

mutual 16: m sooooo girl drink drunk daveeeeee

mutual 17: eroticism of the machine? uhhh yeah only if the machine is a sexy car #STOP PUTTING THOSE COMPUTER PICTURES ON MY DASH

mutual 18: my warriors in maine are one step closer to slipping cocaine back into stephen kings food so he can be a good writer again

mutual 19: you don't understand. walton goggins isn't just gay in the show. he also walks gay in real life. you have to understand this.

mutual 20: im going to kidnap mike stoklasa and only release him when he makes a post coming out as bisexual

EDIT: ETHAN LET ME POST THIS: mutual 21: do you think lana del rey and joan baez are hooking up. why is lana with her everywhere and introducing her documentary and doing all these things. we KNOW joan is bisexual. do you think

#WITH WES BARSTOOL BLUES AND SAMMY COLUMBOSUNDAY! WE MADE IT #sk #happy matt damon tuesday

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apomaro-mellow · 7 months

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Wrong Number 2

Someone said they liked when authors put their super-specific jobs in fics so I hope ya like Steve havin a (kinda romanticized) past job of mine.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt like the stereotypical young person who was always glued to his phone. Every time it made a noise or vibrated, his arm shot out like lightning, hoping with every fiber of his being that it was the mystery number.

It had been about five days since he'd sent that first message and he'd been worried about their conversations being stale. But that wasn't an issue. The only times their talks lulled was when they went to bed.

And even that was after texting late into the night. Steve would watch the clock go from 9 to 10 and promise to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. And then it would be midnight and what was a few minutes after that? Then he'd look up and it would be 2 in the morning.

Texting this guy had become the highlight of Steve's days. To the point where he didn't even realize Friday had come until one of his students mentioned it.

Then, purely out of habit, he asked: "Any weekend plans?"

"I've got a soccer game", Zach answered.

"My parents are having date night", Belinda said.

And normally Steve himself would be thinking about going out and finding someone for the night. But the idea hadn't come to him for once. He knew why, but he didn't fully process it until he got home to Robin, who was in the middle of cooking breakfast for dinner it seemed.

Steve was in the middle of replying to a text sent during lunch.

(12:15) I just realized you know about my off the wall job (12:17) But I have no idea what your 9 to 5 is (12:18) Your legally required to tell me if ur famous (12:18) Not bc im a clout chaser (12:19) But bc I might not have a clue who you are

[4:13] Not famous. Don't worry. I'm a teacher.

(4:15) As a former student I apologize

Robin opened the cabinet, looking for pancake mix. “Are you and that girl still texting?”

“Me and the who?”, Steve looked up from his phone.

“That girl? I assume you're finally setting up a date for this weekend?"

"She-" Steve racked his brain for a good excuse. But it was hard to do when the person who knew him the most was staring right at him.

"Whatever flaws of hers you're about to make up, I'm gonna call bullshit because your phone hasn't stopped pinging for days." She started mixing the pancake batter.

Steve looked down at the words on his screen. The one flaw of this guy was that they couldn't meet in person. But maybe it was time to close the distance just a bit.

"She's shy. Might just text a bit more before she's ready."

[4:19] No need for sorries. All my kids are great. But that's probably because I teach their favorite class.

(4:21) Oooh their favorite? (4:21) It's gotta be something like art rite? (4:22) Or are you being a smart ass cuz you teach like calculus or something?

[4:23] I teach cooking 😛

(4:23) Oh shit. (4:24) You're actually the favorite

[4:25] Toldja. Hey quick question and then possibly many more questions.

(4:26) Go ooooon

[4:27] How would you feel about spending the night playing 20 questions? Like are you free tonight?

Eddie bit his lip as he looked at Steve's words. He had picked his shifts this weekend to make sure he had plenty of time to talk to Steve. Which meant he was in fact free tonight. He replied as such and Steve said he wanted a little time to take a shower and then he'd be ready.

And because he was a little shit, Eddie took advantage of him being away from his phone.

(4:35) Since you're in the shower, I'm taking the first question. Boxers or briefs?

[4:54] Cheater. And I prefer boxer briefs. My turn?

(4:55) Go for it

Eddie was curled up on his couch, tv low and in the background as he waited for Steve's question.

[4:55] What's your name?

(4:56) THATS your first question? (4:56) Wait we've been texting for days haven't you saved my number? (4:57) What do you have me as?

Steve bit his lip, wishing he could lie to this guy, but he couldn’t. Instead he sent a screenshot of his phone.

(4:59) Misty? That’s the name of the chick?

[5:00] Yeah. But I guess I should put your actual name now, right?

It was a gamble. But this guy already knew Steve’s name. And by this point they’d been texting for nearly a week. He just wanted to know his name. He pushed back the part of himself that said he needed to know.

(5:00) It's Eddie.

Eddie. The guy he'd been talking to was named Eddie. Eddie with the long curly hair and the chunky rings who threw axes for a living. He was a far cry from the soft girls he usually dated. Or the preppy guys he usually dated.

(5:02) Favorite bug?

The question threw Steve for a moment but he decided to humor him.

[5:04] Bees 🐝I like how fuzzy they are. And I like honey. [5:05] What rings do you have?

A couple minutes later, Eddie replied with an image. It was taken from above and showed his hands lying flat on a coffee table. Steve zoomed to make out the details of each ring. He was also able to see a watch and a couple of wristbands on him.

[5:08] How did you take that picture? With your mouth? 🦭

(5:09) Did you did you just compare me to a seal???

[5:09] What other animal catches things in their mouths?

'I can be an animal with my mouth'. Thankfully, Eddie's fingers weren't as fast as his brain and he didn't send that to Steve. Eddie had in fact put his phone in his mouth the take the picture, having a real 'no thoughts, head empty moment' when Steve asked about his rings.

Steve was letting his own mind wander as he gazed at the picture. Eddie's hands were...his hands were...well they were-

(5:10) Favorite youtuber?

The adoration of Eddie's hands were interrupted by Eddie himself as their question and answers continued. The picture continued as well. Steve sent pics of his favorite pair of shoes, his hair products, and of his neck when Eddie said he didn't believe he had all these moles.

Eddie had sent pictures of one arm, covered in tats, his acoustic guitar, and a super worn copy of Peter Pan.

The hour was growing late and both of them were feeling more bold but at the same time hesitant because it felt like they were close to crossing a line.

Needing an outside opinion, Eddie consulted with The Council (the discord server with his band mates) about whether or not he should shoot his shot. Gareth told him to go for it, what harm could it do? Grant said to do it because it could potentially be the funniest catfishing story. Jeff agreed that he should, if only because their guitarist getting murdered would be a great back story.

With their unanimous approval, Eddie decided to start actively flirting with Steve.

(8:37) Soooooo ya like jazz?

[8:38] I do actually. I really love the piano.

Okay, that one was just practice. Be smooth. Be suave. None of that was in Eddie's wheelhouse but thankfully nothing he said turned Steve away. He always seemed just as eager to reply back.

(9:10) What's your oldest piece of clothing?

Eddie was thinking of his own oldest article a t-shirt that had started out overgrown on his tiny eight year old body but he'd grown into and kept over the years. It was super faded but filled with the memory of the first time he spent more than a couple of days with his uncle.

[9:12] I'd show you, but I'm wearing them right now.

Steve had closed his bedroom door before sending the text. There wasn't anything scandalous but it seemed like it could very quickly veer into that territory. All Eddie had to do was ask. If he wanted to see them, Steve would show it.

'I would like to see it.'

(9:12) I would like to see it

Eddie knew it could be anything. Maybe a holey sock. Or maybe he also had a super faded t-shirt with deep sewn-in memories as well. Maybe he was wearing a class ring?

[9:14] image.jpeg

Eddie was treated (and goddamn what a treat it was) to Steve Harrington's bottom half, barely covered in shorts with a school's logo on them. Thick thighs covered in hair. And a bulge that was there. It was very there. Eddie couldn't overstate how there it was.

He palmed his own crotch before remembering he was looking at a guy's junk and about to jerk off to it in his living room. And he had yet to answer. What was the most respectful way to say 'humina humina humina-wolf whistle-awooga'?

(9:16) Are you trying to kill me Steve?

[9:17] Do you like it?

'Awooga.'

(9:18) ❤️‍🔥 🔥 🥵

Eddie tried to think of any other way to tell Steve how hot he made him but it felt like typing words just wasn't enough.

(9:19) Can I do something insane? (9:20) And feel free to ignore me if it's too much

Steve was lying in his bed, phone of his charger now. Nothing Eddie could do would be too much. He could knock on his door and he would let him in.

[9:21] Go ahead

A second after he sent that, Steve's phone started to ring. It was Eddie. He stared for about five seconds before picking up.

"Hey."

If possible, Steve melted more into his bed. Eddie's voice...he didn't know what he expected but it wasn't that. He said one word and Steve wanted to wrap himself in it.

"That was pretty naughty of you, sending me that pic. I could show up to your school."

"You'd be a few years too late. These are my oldest shorts, remember?"

"Tiniest shorts maybe."

Steve laughed and Eddie was on cloud nine. He was so lost in bliss, he miscalculated and fell off the couch.

"What was that?"

"I uh, I fell. Off my couch."

"Did you fall hard?"

Eddie beamed as he got up and turned off the tv. Now that he had his voice, all he wanted to hear was the man on the other line.

"Oh super hard."

Steve let out a sound from the back of his throat and he wondered if Eddie had heard it. It was honestly amazing how the smallest things got him going. Or maybe he was just that into Eddie.

"You still there Steve?"

....."Yeah. I'm still here."

Part 4

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#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #i wanted this out this past weekend #but had other things #anyway i used to work as a culinary instructor #it was for summer camps and after school programs #but my dream was to do it full time at a nice school #ohh the dreams we have in our youth

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