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feeder86 · 5 days

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Aaron's Empire

“Yes?” Aaron asked abruptly, seeing that Kirk was calling him yet again.

“He says he’s full already,” Kirk replied. “He’s only had three doughnuts and now he just wants to sit and watch a movie.”

Aaron sighed. As one of his newest recruits, Kirk was more than a little needy when it came to applying the skills that Aaron had tried to instil in him. Every year it seemed like there were more and more guys moving to the city with a kink for fattening up. Although Aaron hadn’t liked it, it had always been necessary for him to outsource to other feeders when he became overrun. He simply did not have the time to tackle all the boys who got in contact with him, desperate to be fattened and submit to him.

“Did you try the trigger words?” Aaron asked. “I made a list of the nicknames Jay gets the most aroused by. They’re all on the file I sent you: ‘Fatso’, ‘Piggy’… I think he even got pretty hard at ‘Lardass’ as well,” he rambled on, trying to recall his observations from the initial feed he had done himself with Jay, three months back.

“I tried them,” Kirk shot back. “Can you come over? I really don’t know what else to do.”

Sighing in frustration, Aaron ended the call. On paper, Kirk looked set to be an awesome feeder: good looking, athletic and masculine-looking. He was one of the star players in the college football team and seemed to have that natural air of authority about him. Feeding a short, little chub like Jay should have been simple. But this was the fourth time he’d got in contact, wanting more support. Perhaps he would make a good feeder one day, but that still seemed like a long way off.

“Thanks for coming,” Kirk smiled, opening the door to Jay’s apartment and seeing that Aaron had picked up a couple of pizzas along the way. He was whispering, having not told Jay that he had needed to get Aaron over to help him.

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Aaron asked, indignantly, seeing the feeder’s attire. “What is with that sweater?” “It’s cold out tonight,” Kirk mumbled back.

“So?” Aaron grumbled, taking his own shirt and pants off as soon as he was through the door. “If you want these fatties to eat, you sell them the fantasy,” he pointed at his own staggeringly built and athletic body. “They don’t need the wholesome ‘boy next door’ look putting them off,” he sighed, still amazed by how average such a sexy guy could look in something so ill-fitting. “And would it kill you to put some product in your hair?” he continued, noticing that Kirk must have come straight from the showers after his football training.

Kirk nodded, seeming to agree that he hadn’t made enough effort. He followed Aaron’s lead, removing the offending sweater and taking off his pants, despite the slight chill in the apartment. Then he went to the tap and brushed some warm water through his hair to fluff it up a little.

“Hello there, Fatso!” Aaron smiled, leading the way into the lounge area with the pizza boxes.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight as well!” Jay smiled, actually getting up from his chair. Back when Aaron had been feeding the guy himself, the chub had been well trained to stay sitting on his blubbery glutes the entire time he was there. His shirt wasn’t even off and he was wearing actual slippers on his feet, like an old man. Had Kirk really tried to initiate a kinky feeding session when the pig wasn’t even stripped? Just how many other rules like this had the boy been letting slide?

Aaron pulled Jay into a passionate kiss. He allowed both of their hands to roam freely, and by the time they came out of it, Aaron had successfully removed both Jay’s shirt and pants. “You’re looking so big now!” Aaron smiled, taking in Jay’s fattened physique: 350 lbs of tits, belly rolls and blubber.

“I’ve gained another 2 lbs since I saw you last!” Jay boasted, grinning with pride.

Aaron smiled, despite the irritation he felt. Two pounds in an entire month? Did he really think that was acceptable? Did Kirk not challenge him on such mediocre gains? After all the hours Aaron had put in training up the guy’s appetite, back when he was little more than a twink, a two pound gain should have been just a normal part of life for him now.

“Kirk tells me you’ve not got much of an appetite tonight?” Aaron went on, sitting the fat boy back down in his chair, where he belonged. “Is there any reason why?”

Jay looked a little awkward, but smiled as he saw Kirk coming to stand beside Aaron; his toned athlete’s body now on show. “The truth is,” Jay mumbled, “I’ve got my dad and step-mom coming to stay with me this weekend. My dad’s always been somewhat critical of me since I started getting fat. I guess it sort of dampens the appetite,” he sighed.

Aaron nodded sympathetically. “I understand,” he smiled sweetly. “Thank you for being so open with me. It must be incredibly hard for you. As kinky as it is to get this fat, explaining it to your family is never easy.”

“That’s it,” Jay agreed, visibly relaxing now he had shared his concerns aloud. He sat back a little more in his chair and rubbed his tummy. “It’s hard to eat tonight when I know my dad is going to be even more disappointed in me.”

Again, Aaron smiled. He tapped Kirk’s tight butt, silently ordering him into his position, behind Jay’s chair. The next movement was about to begin.

“I really do understand,” Aaron offered lovingly. “As you can imagine, I see it time and time again with all my boys.”

Jay smiled back, with little comprehension of how many guys across the city were actually fattening up under Aaron’s watchful eye.

“But, do you know who doesn’t care?” Aaron asked next, slipping off his underwear and letting his erection spring out. “This guy here,” he pointed at his already pulsing hardness. “He couldn't give a shit about all that sort of crap. The fat boys whinge about how full they are, or how none of their clothes fit. They bitch about their families, their friends not being supportive. They talk about how much they sweat now, how out of breath they get…” Aaron went on, rubbing his boner and seeing that Jay simply could not take his eyes off it. “But this guy…” Aaron emphasised again, “...he just couldn’t give a fuck! He actually gets off on it; their complaints and genuine concerns. He just wants to see them eat and grow, fatter and fatter every single day.”

Aaron nodded to Kirk, letting him know that it was time to tap the newly aroused fatty on the head, ordering him to start sucking. Then, only a few seconds later, Jay’s mouth enveloped as much of Aaron’s dick as possible, moaning with lust as he did so.

Kirk, who was now rubbing Jay’s back encouragingly, looked across at Aaron, clearly impressed at how quickly he had turned the situation around. However, Aaron merely stared back at him in annoyance. It wasn’t just the fact that Jay had always been so pathetically weak at giving blow jobs, but why hadn’t Kirk done this? How many times had he been told these strategies to get the pigs eating when they were less keen? Sometimes their mouths just needed a little warm up; a little lubricating. “Go get the pizzas,” he ordered sternly, about to begin yet another demonstration of how to stuff a pig to his absolute limit.

After that evening, Aaron assigned Jay to another of his feeders, hoping that Jay was simply a poor fit for him. In his place, he gave Kirk a new and highly motivated second year college student who had impressed him a lot when he’d interviewed him about why he wanted to be fattened up. Perhaps seeing the fattening process from scratch might give Kirk the kick up the ass that he needed.

“Five pounds?” Aaron asked, feeling exasperated. “You’ve had three months and that;s all you’ve done to him? He’ll lose that in no time now he’s gone home for the summer!”

“He had exams and stuff, though,” Kirk tried. “I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Oh, come on, Kirk! How many times have I talked to you about stress eating? You missed a golden opportunity to really push some weight onto him there! He also tells me he’s working on a farm over the summer. How the hell did you let that happen? You know that’s too much exercise!”

“I didn’t really think it was my place to say anything…” Kirk mumbled, realising that he had messed up yet again.

“You’re the fucking feeder!” Aaron shouted, finally letting his frustration get the better of him. “Of course it’s your place to say these things to the pigs!”

Kirk sighed, disappointed with himself. “I’ll do better when I see him next. I promise.”

Aaron shook his head in disappointment yet again. He liked Kirk, he really did. He had all the hallmarks of a good feeder, with a pretty face that made everyone stop and stare. He had the sex appeal to make a guy eat if he really wanted them to. But his application of the basic feeder principles and training were utterly lost on him.

“Look, let’s just take this time as a little breather,” Aaron suggested. “I have some time off at the end of this month. You can come over to my place and we’ll do some little role plays and scenarios; stuff that should help you when your pig gets back for the new semester.”

Kirk nodded gratefully, knowing that he still had so much to learn.

“So, what is a feeder’s main objective?” Aaron asked a couple of weeks later as he led Kirk into his apartment.

The question clearly caught the football player off guard and a long pause followed before he finally answered. “That the pig eats everything we give them,” he offered, seeming confident.

Aaron shook his head. “You’re thinking too short term,” he shot back. “A feeder’s goal is, and always will be, the results: the tight pants, the fat gains, the number on the scales. That’s all that really matters. There are different ways to get there: meal plans, submission, dominance, you name it. But the feeder’s goal is always in the blubber he can pack onto his prey. Is that clear?”

Kirk nodded.

“That means that it really doesn’t matter if you never even use some of the strategies we’re going to revise today. As long as you get the results, that’s all I care about.”

“Okay. That makes sense,” Kirk agreed.

“Feeding is a sensual exercise,” Aaron began, taking his shirt off and removing his pants; still pumped from his gym workout that morning. “You’re never going to feed a pig to his full capacity unless you get the support you need. So where do you find that support?”

Kirk, who had been following Aaron’s lead and undressing, sat himself down in the guy’s feeding chair and pondered the question. “You mean I should call you?” he asked.

Again, Aaron sighed. None of this information should have been new to him. “No, Kirk! The best feeder a pig’s ever going to have is always right between his legs.” He reached out, holding the football player’s semi. “It’s the reason he first fell into gaining and it’s the thing that led him straight to you, so always make sure that you use it in the most effective way that you can,” he explained, rubbing Kirk’s dick until it stood firm and erect. “If fatty stops eating or starts slowing down, give some attention to this thing and you’ll soon see him getting hungry again.”

“Should I suck it?” Kirk asked keenly.

Aaron frowned at the silly question. “It’s entirely up to you. Just…get it hard and keep it that way. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Kirk settled a little more into his chair, enjoying this training more than the other sessions he had had with Aaron. He’d always done better with practical exercises, rather than trying to memorise the theory behind principles.

“Now, most of the time, your pig will buy his own food that he wants you to feed him. But, if ever you’re doing it, you’ve got to choose it all very carefully, thinking about the feeder’s goal… which is?” he quickly questioned.

“The results!” Kirk parroted back to him, pleased that he had remembered something at last.

“Exactly,” Aaron nodded, now pointing to the vast selection of food he had set up on the coffee table for his date with a long-term fatty who was coming over later. “Everything here is from the list I sent you back when you first started. These particular brands are all staggeringly high in calories and quickly digested.” He looked at Kirk’s blank face. “I’ll email the list over to you again then,” he simply stated, deciding not to pull Kirk up on his lack of studiousness.

“What would you start with?” Kirk asked, seeing it all spread out and presented so nicely.

“Well, that depends on your fatty’s preference. You should know what his favourites are; the things that are best to get him started. For example, what is it that catches your eye the most?”

“The cream cakes,” Kirk replied instantly.

“Very well,” Aaron smiled, picking one up. “Before I start, I look down. Is his dick hard? Yes. Are his eyes fixed on the food? Can I make him salivate?”

At that moment, Kirk swallowed a build up of saliva in his mouth.

“Pigs love to be played with. And, at the start, that’s fine. You can waft it under his nose,” he demonstrated comically. “You can dip your finger in the cream and tap it on his piggy little snout,” he joked, doing just that with Kirk. “But when the time comes to feed, you let them know that you’re serious,” he stated sternly. “Because this isn’t a game, is it? And you can’t let the fat boy treat it like one.”

Kirk slowly nodded his head.

“You get their eyes fixed on you now,” Aaron continued, ensuring that Kirk was doing just that. “They realise, you are the feeder. You are the one they are doing this for. During this time, only the two of you exist in the entire world. Pleasure and greed are the only things that have any consequence now. Nothing else.”

Kirk was absolutely silent, taking all of the information in like never before. He looked entirely fixed within the mindset of the boys he would someday feed. Out of a simple curiosity, Aaron brought the cake a little closer to the guy’s mouth, hardly believing that the jock’s jaws were unhinging. His mouth gaping open, Aaron pushed the cake beyond the point of no return, until it squished and fell upon Kirk’s tongue.

Suddenly Kirk was chewing, with his cheeks filled with cream. Had the guy completely misunderstood the concept of role-playing? Sure, the boy was always prettier than he was intelligent, but feeders didn’t do this. This food wasn’t for him. Yet his hardness throbbed every bit as much as the countless others Aaron had done this to in the past.

“Now you praise your pig,” Aaron explained, deciding to take the strange turn all in his stride and act like this was as he had planned. “You tell him how greedy he’s being; how large and fat this will all make him; how he’s going to struggle to get into his pants tomorrow.”

Kirk moaned with pleasure as the last of the cake was pushed into his mouth. He licked Aaron’s fingers clean; his greedy eyes now turning to the other items on the table. Intuitively, Aaron reached across and found the next item, holding it until it was ready and then pushing it deep inside the athletic boy’s mouth.

“Your pig is going to get thirsty pretty quickly, so you need your drinks to hand. These need to be equally high in calories,” he smiled, cracking open a can of soda. “Not too cold,” he stated cautiously. “Everything should flow. We hit them hard and fast while they’re in the zone.”

Kirk took the can of soda and chugged it in one.

Still determined not to show even the slightest bit of surprise, Aaron simply continued his tuition. “Don’t be tempted to just feed the pig what he likes,” he cautioned, seeing that Kirk’s eyes had fallen back onto the cream cakes. “We want to keep mixing up those flavours and textures, pouring in the liquid calories and making the pig wait for those favourites.”

Kirk nodded, accepting whatever was fed into his mouth.

“Always, ALWAYS keep an eye on his dick,” Aaron insisted, taking his hand to Kirk’s hardness and rubbing it for short, gentle periods. “He’s going to want to climax, but it’s your job to make him wait. You do not let him touch himself! His dick belongs to you. You call the shots. And the pig isn’t getting his pleasure until he’s completely stuffed.”

At this, Kirk seemed to redouble his efforts, eating faster and greedier than even before. He’d slipped perfectly into the role; indistinguishable in his apparent lust to feed. His stomach was bloating up, yet still he feasted.

“By this point, your pig is going to be completely disoriented. He’s lost track of what he’s eaten and he has no idea what’s coming next. He’s already massively overdosed on calories, but because of the speed you’re delivering it all to him, his brain hasn’t caught up yet. This is the stuffing ‘window of opportunity’, and you’ve got to push the fatty hard until it closes.”

The food on the table was quickly disappearing. It had been a few months since Aaron had fed a young athlete of Kirk’s stature; almost forgetting how much boys like this could gorge.

“You’ll know when it’s time to stop. The pace slows and they wince at the stretch. But any sign of heaving and you’ve already taken it too far,” Aaron stated. “You make them look you in the eyes again as you take their dick in your hand. You make them say ‘thank you’ for doing this to them, even though they might, even now, be starting to regret how much they have eaten. You tell them what a greedy pig they have been; what all those calories are going to do to their body.”

Kirk was already pulling a face as he felt his orgasm building.

“Now you make them rub their big ol’ tummy,” Aaron ordered, grabbing at Kirk’s limp wrist and placing the boy’s large hand on the top, and most swollen part, of his bloated stomach.

Immediately, the jock’s hand began to explore that new, tightly-packed and solid shape; all so beautifully timed as his pleasure was about to peak.

“And as tough as it is to admit… this moment… the fatty’s actual climax; it’s really not about the feeder,” Aaron whispered now. “It’s about the pig realising what he’s done to HIMSELF; how completely fucked he is for getting so turned on, eating like he has for you.”

Kirk’s breathing was so erratic, with short, squeaking moans escaping from his lips every couple of seconds.

“You make the fat boy look you in the eye. Do what you want inbetween. You can make him promise to get fatter for you, make him oink like a pig, or force a final doughnut into his greedy little mouth; it really doesn’t matter,” he breathed, holding Kirk’s stare with a vice-like grip. “Just let the pig know that you see him for exactly what he is; that he can’t hide it anymore. That he is, and will always be, your greedy hog.”

A massive jet released from Kirk’s crotch, followed by several others, until an almost unfathomable amount of the boy’s excitement had covered his chest and splashed itself all over Aaron’s feeding chair. Yet more stains that would never come out.

Kirk’s charge was assigned a new feeder when he returned to college after the summer. Aaron had made the decision that the boy, who had been so keen to fatten up when Aaron had interviewed him, had been messed around enough by an inadequate feeder. In fact, Aaron had come to realise that Kirk wasn’t even that. Sure, Aaron had flipped feeders into gainers in the past. He even joked that most feeders came with an expiry date, when it would all become too much for them and they’d long for the blubber to be added to their bodies instead. But, Kirk was such a simple boy. Did he even realise yet that he was destined to become a fatty?

“I’m guessing you’ve played some good football in your time,” remarked Kirk’s football coach, heading over to speak to Aaron after he had seen the guy watching his boys play.

“Is it that obvious?” Aaron smiled, knowing that most people assumed he was some sort of football player, given his statuesque height and build. He shook hands with the guy, knowing just how to handle men like these, immediately inventing a backstory for himself in the game that would give him a lot more credibility with the coach. He folded his arms in the same way as him, mimicking the body language and slowly engaging the man enough so that he visibly relaxed more in his company; believing every word he said.

“So just one little broken ankle and that was your entire future NFL career gone?” the coach asked, full of sympathy.

“I think about it every single day,” Aaron lied, shaking his head bitterly. “But you’ve got some decent talent on the field here,” he smiled, pointing to the spot where all the young guys had last stood before heading in to shower.

“They’re okay,” the coach agreed, sounding unconvinced. “We’ve certainly had stronger teams in the past.”

Aaron nodded, as if he knew what he was talking about. “There was one who really caught my eye; the really tall one who spent most of the time over there,” he pointed.

“Kirk?” the coach asked. “Yeah, he’s a good player. Not necessarily the brightest guy I’ve ever come across. He’s quite versatile and plays in a variety of positions. I wouldn’t say he exactly excels in any of them though.”

“Have you ever thought about playing him as an offensive tackle?” Aaron asked. “From what I saw today, he looks more suited to that than anything.”

At this, the coach winced. “You should see some of the guys from the other teams in our league who play in that position. Kirk may be tall and strong, but he’d be dwarfed if he had to go up against them.”

“Bulk him up then,” Aaron shrugged, deciding to lift his arm and show off his bicep. “It’s what my coach did for me. It was the best thing that ever happened for my career. Before the ankle…” he added.

The two men discussed the idea for a little while longer, but Aaron had no intention of hanging around just in case Kirk came out and came over, giving the game away that they knew each other. Instead, he simply planted the seed and left it there to grow.

“When am I getting a new pig?” Kirk asked a couple of weeks later, settling into Aaron’s feeding chair.

“When I think you’re ready,” Aaron lied. “Which reminds me,” he smiled, pulling out his phone and playing a video to the football hunk. “Your last assignment’s new feeder sent me this. He’s getting great results with your old pig. Look at the blubber in that tummy now. His six pack is completely gone!”

“He looks completely different!” Kirk marvelled.

“That’s not even the best part,” Aaron chuckled, waiting for the section in the video when the pig turned and bounced his butt cheeks. “His new feeder says he’s never seen anything like it. It’s like the muscle just completely vanished and been replaced by pure blubber. Look at those thighs too! He’s going to be so bottom heavy!”

“That can’t be the same guy,” Kirk protested. “He didn’t gain like that for me.”

“Well, it’s all about finding the right technique that works for your pig,” Aaron explained, undressing himself and grabbing the supplies from the kitchen.

Kirk had followed his lead, kicking his shirt, sweatpants and underwear to the side and sitting himself back down again. An obvious coating and ring of light blubber sat around his middle from all the sessions Aaron had conducted with him in the last few weeks, but it wasn’t time to acknowledge that with him just yet.

“This is the shake and suck technique,” Aaron went on. “It’s the method that helped your old pig get that huge ass of his. I made this shake up this morning, so it’s had plenty of time to lose the chill.” Aaron heaved, lifting a huge gallon container of thick liquid and putting it on the coffee table with a bump. “You’ve had it plenty of times before. You know what’s in it,” he smirked.

“Yeah, but…” Kirk mumbled, looking at the size of the container. “I’ve only had the odd flask of it when we’ve been training. No one could drink that much of it.”

“That’s where this funnel comes in so handy,” the feeder smiled, lifting it up for Kirk to see. “It stops the pig from ending the chug the moment he starts to feel a little uncomfortable, and so it gives us a lot more control over how much we want the fat boy to take down.”

Kirk’s erection had returned. His legs twitched and he looked down suggestively at it. “What about the sucking part of this method?” he asked, knowing that no one gave a blow job like Aaron.

“It’s called the ‘shake and suck’ technique,” Aaron laughed. “As in… one BEFORE the other!” he teased, noting that Kirk appeared aroused enough to begin. “All you need to do is hold this flask, like this,” he instructed, resting Kirk’s head backwards into the chair at the same time. “Then just, chug away until the funnel is emptied.”

From his position, standing behind the feeding chair and looking over Kirk, Aaron could fully appreciate the gentle loss of definition in the boy’s stomach muscles. Today’s session was going to do so much more serious damage! He lifted the container and let it glug outwards, filling the funnel held steady by the athlete underneath. Just as instructed, the naive boy began swallowing it all up, even as Aaron continued to pour; never letting it get below half-way.

At the first break, Kirk moaned loudly, rubbing his enlarged stomach. Then he burped, long and coarsely, until he at last felt more comfortable. “Fuck!” he sighed. “How much of that stuff did you just pour in? I thought it was never going to end!”

“There’s plenty more, don’t you worry!” Aaron laughed, turning so that he could feed his own erection into Kirk’s mouth. “This is something you can only do at the start of this technique,” Aaron explained. “And you’ve got to go gentle. You can’t be making your pig gag when there’s all that fattening liquid in his stomach.”

Aaron could tell that Kirk was at last starting to learn some of the blow job skills he’d been taught in recent weeks. Aaron exhaled and felt his eyes widen. Shit, this guy was actually pretty good!

“And that’s enough of that,” Aaron smiled, pulling out before he lost his composure. “Back to business!” he ordered, placing the funnel back into Kirk’s hands. “This second chug has to be shorter, and the next one will be shorter again,” he explained, already pouring from the now considerably lighter container and looking down to check that Kirk’s hardness wasn’t faltering.

At the end of the second chug, Kirk moaned once more and gave off a long fog-horn like burp. However, this time his stomach was so rounded and stretched, actually resembling a belly for the first time. Without even prompting, Kirk’s hands began exploring it as Aaron engaged in a gentle first suck in his crotch. Not that Aaron would ever have told him, but already over two thirds of the gallon of gainer shake was gone.

“Depending on your pig, this method can take all day. And that’s fine,” Aaron nodded. “The main thing is, we want that shake inside them.”

Automatically, Kirk rested his head back again the moment he felt ready. The third session began and Kirk was soon enjoying the rewards of having Aaron’s lips around his erection once more.

“A pretty effective technique, huh?” Aaron laughed, just stopping as Kirk seemed about to climax.

“Let’s finish this thing!” Kirk grunted, throwing his head back and knowing that the end was near. Fuck the consequences. He needed that orgasm soon.

“You want me to take on another pig?” asked Jack, one of Aaron’s most capable feeders, a few weeks later. “That’s two in the last six weeks!”

Aaron nodded apologetically. “I know. I would do it myself, but I just don’t have the time. His name’s Peter; twenty-two, already chubby; great little appetite when I interviewed him. He wants pushing hard, and he’s kinky as fuck. I think you’ll have a lot of fun with him,” he summarised, showing Jack a picture before sending over the contact details.

“Cute!” Jack smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay with letting me have all the fun?”

“I just know you’ll do a great job,” Aaron chuckled, slapping the guy on his back.

Jack simply smiled back knowingly. “I bumped into Kirk the other day. He told me you haven’t given him a pig in months.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Well, there are reasons for that.”

“You’re flipping him, aren’t you?” Jack pressed. “Kirk tried to tell me that his coach is bulking him up to play a new position on the field, but there’s no denying your handiwork on that little paunch of his. That’s where most of your time is going these days, isn’t it?”

“Possibly,” Aaron smirked, liking how direct Jack could be at times. “I’m throwing everything at him and I’ve yet to find a single one of my moves that doesn’t work on him.”

“Does he realise?” Jack asked.

“What do you think?” Aaron laughed, knowing that he didn’t need to hide his wicked side with a guy like Jack. “I’ve even got him writing up an assignment for me on the ‘feeder training’ he’s had in the last few weeks! He’s coming round this evening for the ‘Funnel, Fuck and Flip’ exercise.”

Jack chuckled. He’d only met Kirk a handful of times, so could hardly pity the guy if he had fallen into one of Aaron’s typical games. “So when are you going to make your move on him?” he asked.

“Soon,” Aaron smiled. “He’s almost ready now… Just one last little push!”

Later that evening, Kirk bent himself against the table with his legs stretched. His stomach was hard and swollen with gainer shake, drooping down as his head was held only inches above a decadent three-layered chocolate cake.

“Not many guys can hold an erection like I can,” Aaron explained, having pushed himself inside Kirk’s tight butt hole with a lot less wincing from the athlete than in previous weeks. “So don’t worry if you struggle with this move when you’re feeding a fatty this way.”

“Okay,” Kirk mumbled back, breathing deeply as his body tried to get used to the sheer size of Aaron’s thick hardness inside of him. “I think I’ll be ready in a second,” he whispered.

“Good,” Aaron replied, trying not to laugh. He leaned a little more over Kirk’s broad back. “Now, messy pigs adore this one. All I’m going to do is gently lower your head into the cake before I start fucking you.”

“So the pig has to try and eat whilst he’s getting pounded?” Kirk asked.

“That’s the idea,” Aaron smirked.

“Is that even possible?” Kirk asked again.

“I guess you’ll soon find out,” Aaron chuckled, checking that Kirk was ready and then pushing his head gently into the cake so that his entire face was covered in frosting. “Good Piggy!” he called out, already starting to fuck him. Despite the many fatties he’d worked on over the years, few were ever as thrilling as this!

A few weeks later, Kirk had arrived at Aaron’s in a somewhat distracted mood. “Coach says I’ve put on too much fat in my bulk, and that it’s affected my performance on the field.”

“Of course you have,” Aaron shrugged, getting himself undressed as Kirk did the same. “How else am I supposed to teach you about how to tease a fat ass properly? You can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.”

Kirk seemed to consider this.

“Now is the time when you can really get to grips with your pig’s trigger words. Some of them love being called out on being a pig, whereas others are not keen. Some don’t even like teasing at all.”

“So you ask them what words they like to be called?” Kirk asked.

“No,” Aaron sighed, wondering how he ever thought that Kirk could make a good feeder. He simply had no intuition at all. “You try the words out and see what works best. Which ones suit them? Which ones get them the hardest? That’s the way I figured out yours.”

“I have trigger words?” Kirk shot back in surprise.

“Of course you do. All FAT BOYS do,” Aaron smiled, poking Kirk in his doughy middle, making the guy’s hardness bounce. “‘Fat Boy’: the name works on you every time. I never could have got you to complete that pot of whipping cream last week without it.”

“Fuck!” Kirk marvelled, perhaps realising for the first time just how much Aaron had actually burrowed into his head. “Are there more?”

“Of course there are,” Aaron nodded. “There are movements too. Like when I cup your glutes and give them a little bounce,” he demonstrated, giving Kirk’s butt cheek the lightest of wobbles. “See?” he asked, nodding down at Kirk’s weeping erection. “You’ve been so firm and athletic your whole life, this is a completely new experience for you. The feeling of fresh fat invading your body. It’s why being called a ‘fat ass’ works so well on you too.”

Aaron kissed him deeply as he continued to jiggle the boy’s glutes. Kirk’s breathing was hot and heavy; more aroused than ever he had been so early into their sessions. This was new and exciting.

“Few people would spot it in you; partly because you're so broad and muscular. But you’re also a very submissive boy,” Aaron continued.

“I am?” Kirk asked. “I thought feeders had to be mostly dominant?”

At this Aaron sniggered. “Oh, come on, Kirk!” he smiled, still bouncing the soft glutes. “You’re no feeder.”

Kirk closed his eyes to appreciate the feeling of his jiggling butt cheeks. “What am I then?” he whispered, sounding like he was finally ready to hear the truth.

Aaron placed his mouth right next to Kirk’s ear and whispered back, deploying the boy’s ultimate trigger word.

“You’re my big, fat HOG!”

Just like that, Kirk moaned like he had been shattered into a thousand pieces. He pulled Aaron into him and kissed him with more passion than ever before.

“You’re going to quit football for me,” Aaron demanded, immediately seizing the moment as Kirk had surrendered himself; a part of him released and fully conscious for the first time.

“I’ll do anything!” Kirk agreed, allowing himself to be pushed into the feeding chair; another stuffing about to commence.

“Good!” Aaron grinned. “Because you’re moving in here with me too. I’m taking a six month sabbatical from the other fatties. I want to see what I can do when I just devote myself to one little hog, twenty four hours a day. How far can I take them?”

Kirk looked down at his stout little belly and his eyes filled with lust. “I’m all yours!”

#gainer stories #gainerstory #gayfeedee #gayfeeder #gainer story #gainerstories #gainerfic #gainer fiction #gainer fic #gay feedee

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chaoticace2005 · 1 month

Text

Why Sir Pentious got redeemed:

1. He was killed so his soul got re-evaluated (if so what happens to all other Sinners who die?)

2. He got redeemed a millisecond before Adam killed him, the intent of sacrificing himself being enough to get into heaven

3. He was destined to be redeemed when he put his pride away and confessed to Cherri

4. Being in Heaven or Hell is based on whether or not you believe you’re a good person. At that moment his opinion of himself shifted enough to qualify for Heaven.

5. He racked up enough good points to be redeemed, as did Angel, the only reason he’s there and Angel isn’t is because Valentino owns Angel’s soul.

6. Susan owned Sir Pentious’ soul, keeping him tied to Hell. She died at that very moment though, releasing him.

7. Susan is a bad bitch and can’t die. But she saw how stupid he was about to be and was like “I give up”, releasing him.

8. The universe knew that Adam was going to die and there always has to be one Alex Brightman in Heaven. They couldn’t take Fizzarolli because they don’t want to deal with Asmodeus, so they defied their own rules and took Sir Pentious.

9. He didn’t get redeemed. His design was just re-used and this is a totally different Winner, the story just ended like this to give us hope

10. He didn’t get redeemed, this is Charlie’s hope of what did happen because she can’t accept his death

11. All of Hazbin is a story being told by Frank, and he added his boss going to Heaven because that’s what he believes happened (either a conspiracy theory or that’s what the Hazbin crew told him.)

12. Using a war machine to kill people was the last sin he needed to repent for, the fact he was redeemed before Adam’s blast is just luck.

13. Adam’s blast beamed Sir Pentious up to Heaven

14. Adam’s blast is actually a de-Sinner, usually it kills people but because Sir Pentious didn’t have a lot of Sin-juice he was reborn

15. He chose that moment to convert to a born again Christian. He was born again.

16. He sneezed and an angel blessed him

17. This was another “fuck you” from the universe: he kissed the girl he liked and made a family only for it all to be taken away

18. It’s a Good Place situation where he thinks he’s in Heaven but it’s really not and this is just extra torture.

19. He’s in purgatory and this is what he’s dreaming.

20. It’s a test by the higher ups in Heaven “OH you think heaven is good for Sinners? Wrong!” Then they chose a guy who was starting to find happiness in Hell to prove their point that Sinners can’t find joy in Heaven

21. His death was so anticlimactic the universe felt like it had to give him a second chance.

22. Vox is a heavenly official in disguise (the TV is just a mask.) And told him back in episode 2 to kill himself, Sir Pentious sacrificing himself fulfilled that wish, so the universe redeemed him for fulfilling Vox’s challenge

23. Lilith ex-machina came in last minute like a girl boss and saved his ass. Her powers transcend time.

24. That’s Sir Pentious’ clone, which Pentious had programmed to be released the second he died (there may be tons of Alex Brightmans in the world, but there can only be one Sir Pentious.)

25. Charlie learns how to redeem Sinners in the future. She also learns to time travel, so she grabs Sir Pentious at that last second before he died, helps him get redeemed and then chucks him back into the timeline because screw the consequences.

26. Alex Brightman got amnesia and said “H-huh?! Where-where am I?!” during recording. Everyone though he just ad-libbed a line and tried to make it fit in.

27. The Eggs are secretly gods. They blessed and saved Pentious before Adam could kill them.

28. Emily saw what he was about to do and pulled a lever. It was the right lever.

29. Last minute someone realized the play on words with Pentious’ name (Sir Repentious) and added this scene in

30. Alex Brightman was originally not going to return to the show, so Pentious and Adam died. Later things changed and he could return, but most filming had already been done so they took him aside and filmed that final scene separately and added it in.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #sir pentious #sir repentious #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #alex brightman #adam hazbin hotel #cherrisnake

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thelordofgifs · 4 months

Text

Ranking all the Kings of Gondor

Based on what, you may ask? Vibes. Let's go.

Eldacar. Twenty-first King. THE bestest boy in the legendarium. The hero of the Kin-strife, the archetype of immigrant child trauma, the exiled king, the vengeful father... we love him so so so much ok!!

Aragorn. First High King of the Reunited Kingdom. Yes I know your list would put him at the top but this is my list and I do what I want. Anyway he's wise and kind and "the hands of the king are the hands of a healer" and he's brave and clever and has an excellent fairy-tale romance going on and I am very much not immune to Viggo Mortensen covered in blood with unwashed hair.

Elendil. First High King. He's brave he's cool he's wise he DEFEATED SAURON. Love him.

Isildur. Second High King (co-ruler). Justice for my boy the movies did him so so dirty!! Anyway he saved the line of the White Tree and fought so so bravely and he did his best. I will not countenance Isildur slander actually.

Valacar. Twentieth King. Ranks this highly mostly because he's my blorbo Eldacar's father, but Valacar is cool! His father sent him to the Northmen to build an alliance and Valacar promptly fell in love with their chief's daughter instead. And then Vidumavi died long before he ever even became King and you have to wonder if Valacar feared he would outlive his children too :(

Aldamir. Twenty-third King. Also ranking highly mostly because of genetic proximity to my guy, but Aldamir is sooo tragic actually. He's a second son who never should have become King except his older brother was MURDERED and maybe he spent the rest of his life trying to live up to him!! Also he was also killed in battle which I am sad about. This family cannot catch a break.

Eärnur. Thirty-third and last King. This is the idiot who challenged the Witch-king of Angmar to single combat and was never seen again, but I have a soft spot for him on account of. that was really sexy.

Eldarion. Second High King of the Reunited Kingdom. We don't know much about Aragorn and Arwen's son, but movie!Eldarion is very cute which is enough to earn him a high rank.

Rómendacil II. Nineteenth King. An all-round competent guy who ruled as regent for years for first his lazy uncle and then his lazy father. Built the Argonath!! Also he's Eldacar's grandfather which again earns him points.

Eärnil II. Thirty-second King. Ended up with the crown after his predecessor and both his sons were killed in battle (although NOT his daughter. JUSTICE FOR FÍRIEL). Anyway Eärnil strikes me as a decent guy who was doing his best. Props to him for taking pains not to alienate the Dúnedain of Arthedain.

Ondoher. Thirty-first King. The aforementioned predecessor, who is mostly ranked highly because I feel bad that he died :( and he tried to ensure Gondor would still have an heir to the throne if he and his eldest son were killed! But his youngest son joined the battle in disguise and got killed anyway!

Minardil. Twenty-fifth King. Another tragic one, he was Eldacar's great-grandson and was slain in battle by the descendants of Castamir. I am upset about this.

Meneldil. Third King. We don't know much about him, but he was the first solo ruler of Gondor and also the last child born in Númenor before the Downfall, which is cool.

Telumehtar. Twenty-eighth King. Finally got rid of the last descendants of Castamir, excellent work.

Calimehtar. Thirtieth King. Defeated the Wainriders attacking Gondor in a great alliance with the Northmen, which we love to see. Also he built the White Tower of Minas Anor! Good for him.

Anárion. Second High King (co-ruler). He was initally a lot higher on the list because I feel for him always being overshadowed by his father and brother, but then I learned he was killed by a THROWN ROCK which is kind of pathetic ngl. Sorry, Anárion.

Tarondor. Twenty-seventh King. Had the unenviable task of rebuilding the realm after it was ravaged by the Great Plague, but unfortunately he moved out of Osgiliath for good (which makes me unreasonably sad. I love Osgiliath) and also allowed the watch on Mordor to lapse for good.

Eärendil. Fifth King. We don't know much about him, but his name is nice.

Anardil. Sixth King. We don't know much about him, but his name is also nice.

Telemnar. Twenty-sixth King. Died in the Great Plague, sad for him I guess.

Narmacil II. Twenty-ninth King. Slain in battle with Wainriders, made no impression on me at all.

Siriondil. Eleventh King. We know very little about him, but that's a good name.

Cemendur. Fourth King. Boring and doesn't even have a good name.

Turambar. Ninth King. Mainly this low down because THAT'S A TERRIBLE NAME WHAT ARE YOU THINKING.

Hyarmendacil II. Twenty-fourth King. Defeated the Haradrim in battle, good for him I guess.

Atanatar I. Tenth King. No personality. I don't like his name either.

Rómendacil I. Eighth King. Defeated some Easterlings in battle, but apparently not very well because they later killed him. Oh well.

Ciryandil. Fourtheenth King. A Ship-king, and I don't like Ship-kings (mostly because Castamir tried to be a Ship-king).

Ostoher. Seventh King. Didn't do much, although he started the practice of the King spending his summer in Minas Anor. Good for him? I guess?

Eärnil I. Another Ship-king. Died in a great storm, which is one of the perils associated with being a Ship-king!

Calmacil. Eighteenth King. Generally incompetent. Gains a couple of points for being Eldacar's great-grandfather.

Narmacil I. Seventeenth King. Also pretty incompetent. He let his nephew do all the work of ruling for him.

Atanatar II. Sixteenth King. Lived in indolence and splendour, and neglected the watch on Mordor which was not very wise of him!

Hyarmendacil I. Fifteenth King. Ok he actually sucks. The King who defeated the Haradrim and instituted the practice of taking their sons as hostages to live in the court of Gondor.

Tarannon. Twelfth King. The first of the Ship-kings, also known for his loveless marriage to his wife Berúthiel who gets blamed for everything for some reason.

Castamir the Usurper. (Technically) twenty-second King. Should not be on this list and is here purely so that I can say. FUCK. THIS. GUY.

#lotr #eldacar #aragorn #elendil #isildur #valacar #not tagging all of them #this took me most of an afternoon please admire

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lemon-boy-stan · 5 months

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May I request Childe, Kaeya, Diluc, and Thoma with a tsundere s/o who is trying to work up the courage to tell the guy that they love him for the first time?

Tsundere reader telling Genshin men "I love you" for the first time

Tsundere: Tsundere is a Japanese term for a character development process that depicts a character with an initially harsh personality who gradually reveals a warmer, friendlier side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun tsun and dere dere.

Genre: fluff! Enemies to lovers. Warnings: none. A/N: anon asked for Thoma, but I haven't met him yet so I'll do my best!! Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Thoma. Also, apologies, I didn't realise these would end up being so long. Hope you like it anon!

DILUC

Honestly, you both hated each other. Diluc was not the kind of person who got close to people. He didn't look fondly upon rule-breakers either, and you just seemed to bring trouble with you everywhere. His fondness for you, however, grew over time, in battle, where you'd come running to him for help.

Of course, despite your snarky remarks to him, Diluc never minded saving your butt. "Master Diluc, always such a show-off," you'd tsk loudly, making him grin and roll his eyes. "Of course, I'm only a show-off for you, my dear." Diluc would attempt to kiss your hand. You'd grab his wrist, flinging to the ground.

It didn't help. Diluc was helplessly in love with you. And what Diluc wanted, Diluc got.

You'd been feeling differently towards the man, but you didn't know what it was. He made you laugh, more than you wanted to, he made you extremely shy, he made your cheeks all red. It was only in battle did you realise what you felt.

A surge of panic shot through you as Diluc fell to the ground, sword clattering. You let out an elemental burst, defeating the remaining enemies, running to his side, lifting him up. "Master Diluc, no! You can't die now. You can't. You can't die, I love you." Tears falling onto his face.

Diluc stirred, smiling up at you. "I'm sorry, my love, say that again?" Smirking, making your ears go red. "I will throw you off this cliff if you ever do that again!" You shrieked at him, pulling him close and hugging him. He laughed softly, "I highly doubt you'd ever be able to throw me."

KAEYA

The Cavalry Captain. He was the most annoying, insufferable person you'd ever met. And he seemed to THRIVE when annoying you. He knew you could probably beat him up if you tried hard enough, but that didn't stop him from challenging you to duels and fights (much to your despair, you always lost in sword-fighting).

You thought Kaeya was just naturally competitve. You thought your persistence in trying to do better than him, impress him, was just because of his personality, not because you liked him. Soon, your friendship, or rivalry, turned into a relationship.

Most of the time with your friends when you'd bicker, it was always the two of you joking around. But this time, the argument blew up Angel's Share. "For the love of..." Diluc rolled his eyes, "can one of you just tell me what's going on so you stop causing a scene?"

You puffed your cheeks, eyes watery. Kaeya rolled his eyes too, "she's overreacting, as usual. It's perfectly fine. She thinks something will happen to me, but it won't, I always end up lucky." You crossed your arms, making a loud, defiant noise.

"I don't want him to go!" You shrieked, glaring at Diluc, "it's too dangerous and he'll get himself killed and I -" Diluc cocked his head, amused. "Yes, Traveller?" You bit your lower lip, not daring to look Kaeya in the eye. "And I love him," you whispered. Diluc's eyes widened. There was a loud crash next to you and you jumped. Diluc grinned, covering his mouth to hide his laughter, "I think my brother loves you too."

Kaeya had fallen off the stool, and was lying on the ground.

CHILDE

There was just something about him that made him punchable. Maybe it was his daring personality, his lack of care, his flare for rule-breaking. Or it may just be his face. Anyhow, whenever the two of you were together and whenever he let out a "hey, girlie" from his mouth, you'd put him in a headlock or kick him in his crotch.

This apparently did not stop him from being helplessly in love with you. Often Tartaglia found himself reciting ways to ask you out in the mirror. And, when he enacted on them, often you'd punch him.

And although you would never admit it to yourself or anyone, you'd grown a strong fondness for the boy, a crush even, and you finally had the courage to ask him out.

Pretty soon, your relationship was in full swing.

Childe went out of his way to spoil you, bringing you the best foods, taking you to the most expensive places on dates. It was on one of these dates, where he truly shocked you, presenting you with a gift that was so beautiful you cried.

"Archons, Childe!" You gasped loudly, for once at a loss for words. Tartaglia bit his lip, "why? What's wrong? Do you not like it? I can return it..." But you shook your head, letting out a defiant noise, putting it on. "No! I love it so much. I love you so much, Ajax." And Childe almost fell of his seat as he stuttered out the words, "I love you, too."

THOMA

It was obvious. A little too obvious. Anyone and everyone knew, even you. Thoma was, undeniabally head over heels for you. And you? You despised him. He was just trying too hard!

He was always coming with you on commissions, following you around since the day you met so much that your friends had called him your shadow. It was only when he saved you in battle did you finally feel something for him.

"You're so rash," he murmured, placing bandages on your arm. You giggled softly, feeling a bit drowsy and silly from the medicine. "You're so cute, Thoma!" You giggled, booping his nose. He scrunched his face and you giggled again.

"I love your hair," you sighed dreamily, "mm, love when you look after me all the time. Love when you save me, love... love you... Love Thoma soo much!" You squeaked, slapping your hand over your mouth at the last part. Thoma froze, shell-shocked. You giggled again, pulling him close. "Oops! I um, I didn't mean to say that!" Pressing your lips against his.

He chuckled, "mm, and I'm sure you didn't mean to do that either, honey."

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

I'M SORRY THESE WERE SO BAD AND CRINGE 😭😭😭

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turtletaubwrites · 3 months

Text

Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader (with a powerful/unique sword)

Thank you anon for this request! I'm still getting the hang of headcanons, so I hope you enjoy these! (Also ty to my partner because he loves Zoro and swords, and wanted to share a couple thoughts) 💚

Summary: Headcanons and drabble for Zoro with a partner that is a strong swordsman with a powerful and unique sword

Word Count: 544

Rating/Warnings: SFW, GN!Reader, Fluff, (Maybe some Angst if you squint), Swearing, Kissing, Mildly Suggestive, Implied/Brief Descriptions of Violence

A/N: Imagine Zoro nerding out with someone who shares his biggest only interest. And then they kiss 🥰 I need to see it

Headcanons

Sparring!! Oh hot damn, the sparring is so good! The playful competition between you both makes you push yourselves even further.

That heat can lead straight to the bedroom. Or really wherever you happen to be sparring, if you’re comfortable. Hearts racing, adrenaline filling your veins. He loves the way you challenge him. He loves the way you taste after your blades have met.

There may need to be boundaries set, especially depending on your goal. If it’s also your goal to become the world’s greatest swordsman, it may lead to more exciting and playful banter, sparring, etc. But it may lead to issues when it comes to decisions, i.e. which one of you will challenge the most powerful swordsmen in battles. (Or the inevitable circumstance of one of you truly beating the other.) It could be a playful rivalry, it could go sour, or it could be a mix of both that you’ll have to work through together.

Since you happen to possess a very powerful sword with unique abilities, Zoro will never stop suggesting you let him give it a try. It’ll come up in so many conversations, and he’ll try to convince you to give it up in a bet. You never do.

You might occasionally use the three sword/overcompensating jokes, but only if he was really being a little shit. He'd make you pay for it though.

Oh the cute sword care moments!! It’s like a mini vacation, you both hide from the rest of the crew and silently take care of your blades. Your deep breaths match up as you run your fingers along the cool metal.

“Hey, babe. Want me to take care of that one for ya?” “You’re not touching my sword, Zoro.”

Endless competitions. Some are breathed against your ear in a husky tease as you’re about to fight a hard battle. Some are yelled over the heads of your crewmates as a slew of enemies come charging forward.

“Bet you can’t kill that guy, faster than I get those three over there.” “Oh, fuck you, babe. I’ll get these five before you shut your stupid mouth.” “Wanna bet your sword on it?”

Drabble

“So, how many did ya get,” Zoro teased, coming up behind you to wrap his sweaty arms around your waist.

The battle had barely ended, and your breathing was still ragged, but you managed to sigh.

“I didn’t agree to that bet, babe.”

“I got twelve. No way you got more than that.”

“Wow, you’re really bragging with that number,” you laughed, turning in his arms to see his eyes narrow.

He sucked his teeth, touching his forehead to yours before his voice came out low and dangerous.

“How many?”

“You’re not getting my sword.”

He kissed you then, pressing his body against yours. You melted into him, the heat of the battle still flowing through you. Your fingers felt almost tingly as you wrapped them around his neck.

Breaking apart just enough to catch your breath, you saw that little twitch at the corner of his lips.

“How–”

“You’re never touching it, asshole,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you walked away. You grinned at the sound of him huffing behind you.

“FINE, no sword! Just tell me how many you got!”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I love this request so much! Zoro is such a fucking nerd. He'd have the best fucking time sparring with his partner 💚

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #turtletaub hcs and drabbles #zoro headcanons #x reader #fic requests #mine #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece drabble #zoro drabble #zoro x gn reader

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makeitmingi · 9 months

Text

Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 6]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.1K

There was a skip in your step as you approached KQ Entertainment today. In today’s work, you were going to record the guide vocals for a few of your tracks. You entered the building and waited for the lift. When it reached the producing floor, you stepped out.

“Thanks, Maddox hyun-” Hongjoong, who was exiting Maddox’s studio stopped in his tracks. You froze too, eyes scanning him.

“I wore it first!” You were quick to blurt it out. You and Hongjoong were basically wearing the same outfit; black ripped jeans, a striped turtle neck inside and a red leather jacket over.

“No, I wore it first. You copied me.” Hongjoong scoffed, stepping closer to inspect your outfit.

“Is this the same jacket? Cause I got mine at the corner shop in Insadong.”

“Corner shop in Insadong.” The both of you said at the same time. You both burst out laughing, what were the odds that you were wearing the same outfit and the accent piece was from the exact same shop.

“Joong, you left your- Woah.” Maddox stopped, seeing the two of you. He handed Hongjoong’s notebook over to him.

“You guys should take a picture.” He laughed. You were fine with the photo, knowing that Hongjoong wouldn’t post it online, so you handed your phone over to Maddox. You stood next to Hongjoong and Maddox took the picture. He did the same on Hongjoong’s phone, just that Hongjoong wanted you to have matching poses.

“No copying me next time, understand? It’s good to be original.” Hongjoong put a hand on your head, shaking it lightly with a baby-like teasing tone. You frowned, glaring at him. You slapped his hands away.

“Excuse you, you copied me. I know I’m cool but stop trying to copy my style.” You slapped his arm.

“Yah, you can’t hit your elders.” Hongjoong scolded.

“Yes, I can! Watch!” You reached over to flick his forehead. His eyes widened in outrage as he threw his entire body weight over you, putting his arms around you as you squirmed.

“Ack!” You choked. You broke free and ran down the hallway, making him chase you. The both of you burst out laughing.

“Mingi! Help me! Protect me! Hide me!” Seeing the tall boy emerge from the lift, you ducked behind him and held him in front of you.

“W-What’s going on? Indigo?” Mingi was utterly confused as to why you were using him as a human shield against his captain. Hongjoong tried to reach for you and you both ended up running around Mingi.

“Hyung, you told us not to bully Indigo. You can’t do the same.” Mingi decided to help you against the captain. Being so much taller, he was able to help you block Hongjoong off. Since you couldn’t stick your tongue out at him, you shot him a peace sign, having successfully turned Mingi against him.

“Mingi, you’re my favourite.” You hooked arms with him. You didn’t realise your actions made Mingi flustered.

“As happy as I am to hear that I am your favourite, I don’t want Wooyoung to know that and kill me.” Mingi chuckled sheepishly, covering his red ears.

“It’s a secret then.” You giggled and Mingi nodded his head. Hongjoong stared at the two of you, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t believe his own team member, a brother, would betray him.

“I’ll happily tell him that he isn’t your favourite.” Hongjoong scoffed and you squinted your eyes at him, mentally challenging him.

“I just realised that you’re dressed the same.” Mingi pointed out, looking at you and the captain.

“He copied me. Then when I called him out, he got upset, that’s why he started chasing me.” You explained with a disapproving shake of your head. Mingi nodded slowly, understanding your words.

“You are such a liar.” Hongjoong stuck his tongue out at you.

“Don’t listen to him, let’s go Mingi.” With your chin up, you marched away with Mingi, leaving Hongjoong behind.

“Wait, go where?” Mingi scratched his head, still a little lost. As you led him away, he turned and waved to Hongjoong, who scoffed. You ignored his question and walked with him until your studio. You keyed in your passcode and finally entered the room. Mingi stood in the hallway, unsure of whether you wanted to invite him in or not.

“You can come in if you’d like.” You chuckled, realising he was standing there in the hallway awkwardly. Safe to say, you have grown very comfortable with the boys. There was no need for you to tiptoe or be wary of them.

Like Hongjoong said, they were harmless 5 year olds.

“You seem very happy today.” Mingi noted. Not that you were broody all the time, but he noticed your happier demeanour.

“Oh, I’m recording some guide vocals today for some tracks so I’m rather excited. It’s a break from the more technical producing and mixing.” You explained to him, turning on your system.

“But don’t you have to edit later?”

“Shush, let me have my moment. Don’t go crushing my little pockets of happiness.” You held a hand up to him to silence him.

“Actually... are you free later today? Do you want to help me record the rap for my guide? San is coming in soon to help with some vocals.” You turned to him with a sparkle in your eye. Mingi took his phone out, scrolling for a bit.

“I’ll be free after lunch.” He informed.

“Great! I’ll see you then. I’ll send you what we’re working with for you to practice. And don’t worry about the lyrics, it’s just a guide.” You eye smiled at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, I guess.” Mingi smiled and waved back before exiting your studio. Once the door closed, you put your headphones on and became serious as you did your work. It was a good laugh that you had with Hongjoong this morning but now it was time to focus.

“Ah, ah. Testing.” You spoke into the mic as you set up in the recording studio. You’ve never worked in this recording studio before.

You didn’t have a nice enough voice to record the track but you did record your own vocals to send to San for him to practice. After much contemplation, San’s voice was the best to fit this part compared to Jongho’s.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You replied.

“Hello.” San smiled with a bow as he entered. You looked up from your screen and waved to him.

“I brought you coffee. Oh, and a cookie. I hope chocolate chip is fine.” San slid into the seat next to you, putting the tray of coffee down. He took your coffee out and place the bag with the cookie next to it.

“Thank you, San. I needed this. And thank you for doing this for me.” You giggled and took a sip of the coffee.

“No problem at all. It’s always fun to be in the recording studio.” He had a kind smile.

“Okay, so before we begin, do you have any questions for me? This is just guide vocal recording so I’m sure you know that the lyrics don’t matter. I’m more concerned about matching the pace and tempo, getting a feel for it. See if the song can come together cohesively or whether there needs to be any changes to it.” You asked him.

“Actually, I have one question. Your voice in the sample you sent me was good, Indigo. Why don’t you use your own vocals?” He tilted his head.

“No, I don’t think my voice is very good. Plus, I have this thing about hearing my own voice, I’m not a fan of it. I think your voice is better and suits this piece better.” You laughed.

“Well, thank you for choosing me.” He put a hand on his heart.

“We can start whenever you’re ready.” You told him. He stood up and went to the recording booth, putting the headphones on.

“Can you hear me?” You spoke into the mic.

“Yes. Loud and clear.” He gave a thumbs up, adjusting the volume on the panel. You waited for him to do some vocal warm ups then he took his phone out to refer to whatever notes he took.

“We will start with the bridge and chorus first.” You told him. San, just like the Ateez members, was very hardworking and focused right from the get go. Even if this was just guide vocal recording, you could tell that he was giving it his all, as if this was a real recording.

“Playing back.” You said and played the recording for both and him to listen to. San took some notes on his phone.

“Can I record the chorus part again? I think I should change the tempo for the last two lines.” San spoke into his own mic.

“Sure. Cue yourself in with the bridge.” You instructed, playing his recording of the bridge to him. He had his phone in one hand to refer to his lyrics and notes. You bobbed your head along.

“Good job. Playing back.” You played the track for him. From the look on his face, you could tell he was so much more satisfied with the re-recorded part.

“Who is doing the rap part?” San asked.

“Mingi said he can come in and do it for me later.” You informed. The rest of the guide was recorded in parts, making it easier for you and San to make edits and adjustments when necessary.

“There’s a pause there, so no need to rush into it. Wait for the guitar to pick up again before starting.” You said.

“Okay, I’ll go again.” San nodded.

“Okay, nice. Let’s have a break. Thank you for your hardwork.” You spoke. San nodded and bowed, putting the headphone back on the stand. He appeared at the door again, taking a seat beside you to sip his coffee. He curiously peered at your computer screen, watching you arrange and adjust the vocal pieces together with the instrumental.

“Wow, this is cool. Actually, I’ve never really recorded guide vocals before. Hongjoong hyung produces with Edenary and they do the guide vocals since he can sing and rap.” San explained.

“I used to record my own guide to send out but I really don’t like it. That’s why I asked if you and Mingi would be interested in helping me.” You said.

“Anytime I’m free, I’ll help you. I’m having fun and I get to learn about this whole process too.” He grinned.

“Do you think this is an Ateez song?” San asked.

“You never know. I just have these pieces and if I think they fit the concept, I’ll submit them in. Whether the company decides to choose them is out of my hands.” You said and he nodded in agreement.

Before moving on, you and San chatted, sharing a little bit about yourselves. San was also kind and patient enough to tell you things about Ateez, as well as answer any questions that you had when you were researching.

“So, the Wanteez episode where you guys drank...” You started, eyes not moving away from your computer screen.

“Ah... What about that?” His voice slightly squeaked at the end of his question, making you snicker.

“Was it real? Like you guys were really drunk?” You asked.

“Yes, it was real. I don’t remember much from what happened in the episode, only when we re-watched it then we knew how it all went down. Plus, we watched the uncut version from the editors so it was a lot worse. But I do have to say I hold my alcohol a lot better than what was portrayed.” He defended.

“You were very cute during the yelling game. I agree that Wooyoung was mean in yelling to the point where you fell off the chair.” You laughed and turned your head to see him bury his face in his hands.

“I’m never doing that again. And I hate the yelling game or rather, I think I just hate people yelling at me. It’s scary.” He pouted.

“I’ll make sure no one yells at you if I’m ever there.” You promised.

“Thanks.” He blushed.

“Besides your adorable singing and snacking in the photobooth, Hongjoong wanting to go into the chair to go home was the highlight. He is such a dork.” You couldn’t contain your laughter as you remembered the scene.

“We don’t hold our liquor very well... Yunho and Jongho would be the best, I think. I can’t remember.” He scratched his head.

“Wooyoung seemed to be okay.”

“He either giggles a lot or gets angry or switch between the two. I’m sure you saw the episode where we all got colonoscopies and how his anger unleashed.” San said and you nodded your head.

“Who knew it was possible for you guys to be more chaotic than you are now? All you need to do is add some alcohol.” You scoffed.

“Or he could get touchy. Like how he kissed Yunho.” San added.

As you continued to get to know more about San, you realised that his tough appearance and powerful dance moves were just one aspect of him. He is actually sensitive, gentle and has one of the biggest hearts you’ve ever met. You could tell that he cares a lot about people, which softens your heart. You found his sulking pout very cute too.

“Thanks again for coming in. Have a nice day.” After the recording was all done, you bowed to San gratefully. You were going to part ways for him to go for his schedule. San reached out to hug you.

“Call me anytime. It was fun.” He laughed. You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, patting his back.

“Bye.” He waved and left while you went back to your studio.

“What should I eat?” You scrolled on your phone, looking for a place to get lunch from. Since you wanted to work and eat at the same time, you got some chinese food, which wouldn’t be too messy.

*DING DONG*

“Delivery.” You heard the deliveryman outside your studio door, the doorman must have let him in this time to give the food directly.

“Thank you.” You picked up your order and brought it into the studio as the deliveryman left. You ordered fried rice with black bean sauce and a small portion sweet & sour pork.

“Alright, where were we?” With your bowl in one hand, you sat at your desk and began to arrange the guide vocals. While San was recording, you had made notes of changes you wanted to make to the instrumental so you applied those changes and layered the vocals over.

“Better...” You nodded your head as you played back the track. While listening, you ate a spoonful of food.

When you were done with your food, you bagged up the trash and took it out, not wanting the food smell to linger for too long. You even sprayed air freshner in the studio afterwards.

“Hey.” Mingi appeared at your door just as you were coming back from using the bathroom.

“Come in. You’re early.” You chuckled, keying in the passcode.

“Yeah, my schedule ended early.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Since you were still editing, Mingi sat down on your couch to wait for you. He quietly looked around the decor of your studio. It was very minimalistic.

“Just let me finish this up real quick and we’ll start. Sorry.” You turned to bow your head.

“No worries, I’m early anyway. Please take you time.” Mingi smiled. He watched you put your headphones on and begin working. You bobbed your head gently, hand tapping against the desk.

“Tch, this isn’t it either...” You mumbled to yourself with a shake of your head. Then you lifted your head to look at the big monitor and began clicking with your mouse to move things around. Mingi usually watched the other producers and Hongjoong do this but seeing you do it was somehow mesmerising to him. You were so focused and in the zone.

“Okay, I’m done. Let’s go to the recording studio.” You stood up, stretching yours arms. Mingi nodded and waited for you to gather your laptop before walking to the same recording studio you used with San earlier.

“How was recording with San?” Mingi asked.

“It was good, a productive session. We managed to do quite a bit. You all are very hardworking.” You giggled.

“We have to be when our captain is such a perfectionist.” Mingi chuckled as he held the lift door open for you to enter. You walked in with a greatful bow of your head.

“But I think there’s passion and appreciation for the craft too. San was able to pick up corrections before I could and wanted to re-record parts he thought he could improve on, which is commendable.” You explained.

“Plus, he helped me learn some things about Ateez.” You added with a laugh.

“O-Oh? Like what?” Mingi grew a little nervous, wondering just how much San told you about them.

“Like how people call you Princess Mingi, especially Yunho.” You teased. Mingi immediately grew flustered, opening his mouth to defend himself but no coherent words seemed to form.

“T-That...”

“Relax, I’m just teasing. I teased San plenty too, especially with the drunk Wanteez episode. He turned to red when I brought up what happened. And if it is any consolation, I think you’d make a great princess.” You snickered. Mingi knew you were just teasing him but his cheeks burned.

“Anyway, I’m looking forward to recording this with you.” You told him as you entered the recording studio with him. Mingi watched you set up your computer and sat down in the seat San had.

“That’s a lot of pressure...” Mingi gulped.

“No, don’t be pressured. This is just a guide recording so like I said this morning, lyrics don’t matter. Just have fun with it.” You eye smiled at him.

“I just tried to follow the tempo and speed mainly, the words are gibberish.” Mingi scrolled on his phone.

“That’s fine. Don’t worry, Mingi. You’ve got this.” You tiptoed and patted his shoulder. Your soft, encouraging tone and pat on the shoulder seemed to melt all of Mingi’s anxiousness aaway.

“Alright.” Mingi nodded and went into the recording booth.

“Can you hear me?” You spoke into the mic once he had the headphones on. He gave you a thumbs up.

“Ready when you are.” You told him. From your side of the glass, you watched Mingi mouth and run through the lyrics and notes that he had on his phone. He took a deep breath before turning to you and nodding as the cue to start the track.

Series Masterlist

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neitherabaron · 1 year

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Really looking forward to the Chris Pine D&D movie, and I want to share some love for the original attempt at a D&D film from 2000!

Make no mistake, this is a so-bad-it’s-good film, with digital effects that are ropey as hell (especially when you consider that Fellowship of the Ring was already in post-production in 2000), a plot so disjointed it barely exists, (including a final battle that the main characters don’t even really take part in) and staggering levels of camp.

But it’s fucking charming.

Jeremy Irons (Scar from The Lion King) is the villain, an evil archmage who wants to overthrow an (not particularly benevolent anyway) empire with a plan that is never really clear but involves dragons?

Just look at this guy:

:readmore:

He walks about like that for the whole film, waggling his fingers slowly so you know he’s the baddie. He has an office where all the furniture and decor is made of human skulls and bones (a real location; I believe it’s a church somewhere?) and likes swooping his cape about. And Jeremy Irons himself is so bored, it’s hilarious. I seem to remember that in the dvd extras he’s interviewed alongside Gary Gygax and pretty much expresses open disdain for the whole process. He’s a serious actor! This is beneath him!

Elsewhere on the supporting cast, we have a henchman with spiky armour and inexplicably blue lips that are always pouting in a way that seems vaguely sexual; Tom Baker(!) as a wood elf Druid who only exists in order to say something vaguely mystic about dragons for 20 seconds before disappearing forever; and Richard O’Brien in full fey bastard mode as a camp thieves’ guild master who challenges the party to…find a crystal…in a deadly maze filled with traps and puzzles. Like in that game show he used to present…I forget the name. I wanna say Diamond Labyrinth? 😂

As for the party, it’s all delightfully one-note characters. We’ve got a rogue? bard? who goes from being a selfish dickhead to altruistic freedom fighter on a dime. Some dialogue suggests he’s some kind of chosen one, but the plot never actually explores or resolves that. Then there’s a wizard who doesn’t like poor people, an elf fighter who doesn’t like anyone, a dwarf who’s so out of it he barely knows he’s there and is never given any character motivation to explain why he’s travelling with these guys; and some dude called Snails, whose personality is…he’s scared? Basically Shaggy without Scooby.

These guys have to save a princess from Jeremy Irons, who wants to kill her because she has friendly dragons or something. But here’s the great thing: the party have very little reason to want to rescue her (most of them as non-mages are actively oppressed and even enslaved by the ruling mage class of which she is the figurehead) and they never actually *meet* her until the very end of the film, after the evil archmage has pretty much already been defeated - by the princess and her dragons btw, not the party, who basically teleport a magic wand to her and then just watch.

They rescue her because in order for the film to be a film, there needs to be an end goal, even if it’s totally arbitrary. And that’s what I love. Isn’t that just so reflective of a slightly haphazard campaign of Dungeons & Dragons with a party that’s hastily thrown together?

And there are more similarities that compound this feeling of watching some randoms play a home campaign. The plot as I mentioned is disjointed. It’s not a series of events that flows or has any kind of pacing - the movie is a series of 15 minute adventures that don’t really connect to each other or build to the ending. As if the director is a dungeon master arbitrarily stringing together modular adventure sourcebooks! Let’s storm a castle for reasons! Great, now let’s raid a tomb. No, I don’t know why. At one point a party member just bounces from the plot and is never seen again, just like that player in your group who never shows up and you all just move on.

It’s like the writers transcribed a home campaign, warts and all, into script form and then somehow successfully pitched it as a B-movie. Though the Chris Pine version will doubtlessly be a much better movie, Dungeons & Dragons (2000) is perhaps the most accurate possible dramatic presentation of D&D as it actually is in practice for most people playing it. What could be more charming than that?

#dungeons & dragons #D&D

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mcgnagallsarmy · 29 days

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Spuffy style Reading Challenge - #28: Alphabet Soup Challenge #2

At Ease by The Danish Bird [NC-17]

Even with her eyes closed, Buffy would recognise this place in a second, and for a moment she wondered if she truly had ended up in a hell dimension this time. One that had doomed her to an eternity of Doublemeat Palace workdays. Buffy felt her lips moving, heard her own voice speaking, and as she opened her eyes she decided that a hell dimension definitely wasn’t ruled out just yet. “Welcome to the Doublemeat Palace, how may I help – “ She stared into Riley’s scarred face as she completed her sentence. “– you.” Her mom, Sunnydale, her home, Spike – There are many things Buffy misses in her life, but if she had gotten the choice to revisit a day that had already passed, this would so not be it!

The Bad Penny by OffYourBird [R]

Six years ago, Buffy made a home in a new dimension with a Spike who defied every rule to be by her side. Now it’s time to put to rest unfinished business in her original dimension. However, a visit there quickly turns apocalyptic, and at the heart of it is the two vampires who set Buffy's original journey in motion, and both of them have a lot of explaining to do.

Christmas Date by bewildered [NC-17]

Christmas Eve in Cleveland, 2004. Holiday request from Dark. Squeaking it in for the end of the Christmas Season. (It's only the 9th day of Christmas! That counts!)

Drive by Holly [NC-17]

Freshly turned and very grumpy about it, Buffy finds herself in a weird place. One where her friends smell like food, her former mortal enemy smells like heaven, and the so-called love of her life has made it clear that killing her is on his to-do list. Throw in some overly zealous army guys and this is not Buffy's idea of a party. So she and Spike decide to hit the road at least long enough to figure out why neither of them can hit anything else. And since they're both single and free, well, Buffy wouldn't say no to a distraction from the never-ending laugh riot that is her life. And Spike can be very, very distracting. Good thing soulless vampires can't fall in love or she might be in trouble.

Embers by Dusty [NC-17]

Spike's the best boyfriend. He fulfills all of Buffy's fantasies. All of them.

Favor by EllieRose101 [NC-17]

Spike asks an impossible thing of Buffy––and is stunned when she says yes. Could he really have gone up in her estimation?

Golden Hour by kennedynoelle [R]

Response to a challenge set by emilise: Spike never came to Sunnydale during the first few seasons. The first time Buffy sees him is during The Harsh Light of Day, sunbathing on campus adorned with the Gem of Amara. Oh no, she thinks, the pit of her stomach dropping and sending tinglies all over, he's hot. They start dating, Buffy unaware that her new boyfriend is a member of the undead. Of course, she has to find out eventually…

The Halloween Series by spike_spetslayer [NC-17]

Buffy and Spike make an unbreakable pact during their first real confrontation in Season 2. Story includes spoilers from season 2 through season 7.

If I Loved You Less by MillennialCryBaby [NC-17]

How long had Spike been gone? 147 days. 148 at midnight. Except maybe today won't count?

Just to Reach You by Sunalso [R]

Post-Series. Spike and Buffy have been a couple for almost two years. The honeymoon is over and together they're discovering they still have a lot to learn about themselves, each other, and how this whole "normal" relationship thing works.

Kaleidoscope by Lirazel [PG-13]

"Can you tell me, is this love that I'm seeing?" One by one, the people in Buffy and Spike's lives try to add up the obvious.

Let it Burn! by Axell [Adult Only]

Her eyes followed the blood. Summers blood. She counted the drops. Ten. Then it stopped. If Dawn dies, I’m through. I don’t want to live in a world if these are the choices. Slowly, her head rose up. Their eyes met. Green and amber. A look passed between them then a nod. Her own voice echoed into her mind. I’m counting on you. To avenge her. Us. He made a promise. Until dusk will swallow them all.

Melting Fire by Freecat [R]

Set right after Dead Things. The night after, all he wants is talk. The night after, there’s nothing she wants less than talking. And suddenly they find themselves in another dimension; one that Buffy can’t leave. There’s only one way to get her out. A way with consequences.

Night Swimming by Geliot99 [R]

An unexpected heatwave in mid-March is reason enough for an impromptu pool party for the Scoobies. But when Richard takes a second stab* at winning Buffy's affections, Spike is all too keen to show her how much fun night swimming with a vampire can really be… *see what I did there? Set between 'Older and Far Away' and 'As You Were'

One Step Away by violettathepiratequeen [PG]

Spike knows the way she dances. Not even Faith in Buffy's body can fool him.

Pardon My French by Girlytek [R]

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to let Buffy perform a spell in French. Begins at No Place Like Home.

Quake by Holly [NC-17]

Following Tutor. Riley's kiss did nothing for her, which clearly means her night with Spike didn't take. But since the world is probably ending, Buffy decides one more lesson couldn't hurt.

Rock Solid by Passion4Spike [NC-17]

Buffy comes to some realizations about herself, the nature of her love, and her feelings for Spike on the eve of the biggest fight of her life, but will it be too little, too late? Spoiler Alert: No, it won’t.

Something Blue's Clues by cawthraven [PG-13]

Willow is just fed up with the way Buffy and Spike act around each other. What are they, five?

Timelines,Schmimelines by bookishy [NC-17]

When Buffy’s sent back to her first year of college to retrieve an artifact for the future, she ends up on the day of the first inaugural Christmas Party at Casa del Xander. Or, time travel meets its greatest match, and that match is alcohol.

Under The Influence by NautiBitz [NC-17]

A few nights after their engagement spell, Buffy has to watch Spike. Problem is, a psychedelic demon may have just spritzed her with a mind-altering substance. Will Spike seize the moment? Or will they just end up naked? HMMM.

Vampire In Charcoal by Geliot99 [NC-17]

Hiring out her mother's art gallery for classes had been a stroke of genius, but when the life model for the upcoming class comes down with the flu and an extremely unsuitable replacement is found last minute, Buffy is faced with a lot more of her nemesis than she was ever anticipating.

where the shadow ends by disco-tea [R]

For 147 days, Spike and Dawn grieve Buffy. This is a story of a vampire and a Key who try to cope with the loss of the one person who meant the most to them…and how they became a family along the way.

Xerox by Holly [R]

Spike and Buffy leave Angel a parting gift.

You Learn by bramcrackers [Adult Only]

When Buffy learns about Angel’s history with Drusilla, she can’t ignore how he seems to keep everything about his past to himself unless forced. How can she love someone she doesn’t even know? A trip to a local mage later, she’s plunged headfirst into Angel’s entire sordid history in a series of visions. And dealing with all of that would have been a hell of a lot easier if Spike hadn’t somehow been pulled into it, happy to add the color commentary.

Zero by kantayra [NC-17]

Trapped together in an icy prison, Buffy and Spike find one way to turn up the heat.

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #ficrec #reading challenges #elysianholly #dustyfics #tvylrswift #sunalsolove #violettathepiratequeen #bramcrackerswrites

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burntheedges · 6 days

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too late

Dave York x f!reader | 18+ | 4.6k words | masterlist | ao3

summary: Dave hasn’t see her in years, but he knew she would find him again.

a/n: this is for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! ok so my prompt was dark fic and "You should've pulled the trigger when you had a chance.” I've been calling this "baby's first dark fic" for days because it is 😭 and it's probably not that dark. but it's what I could do 🤷🏻‍♀️ it's also my first Dave fic. thank you to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta as always 💕, to @beardedjoel for reading over it and helping and being so encouraging 🧡, and to @goodwithcheese for giving me feedback and helping me make some changes 🧡

tags/warnings: darkish fic, assassins doing assassin things (including killing some guys, not described in detail), flirting, betrayal, seduction, one character drugs another without their knowledge (not for sex), guns, hidden intentions, smut: kissing, groping, manhandling, ripping underwear, pet names (baby, good girl), fingering (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (unprotected), creampie

...

Dave wasn’t someone who fidgeted, as a rule. He might seem to fidget, when necessary, as part of a cover or a ruse, but it was never unintentional. Every motion was planned, considered. Part of his work.

But when he fixed his cuff links just then, it wasn’t planned.

He’d looked up from his drink, turning away from the open bar to scan the room of wealthy socialites for his target. His eyes had cataloged the people he’d known would be there and skipped over them. He’d stepped away from the bar to set his drink on a high top table and, in a manner totally unlike himself, like some sort of amateur, he’d frozen. When his eyes had landed on her.

She’d been looking back at him.

She’d looked just as good as the last time he’d seen her, at least two years before (2 years, 3 months and 10 days, a voice whispered at the back of his mind). The dress she was wearing drew his eyes like a magnet and he’d remained frozen as he traced its lines before snapping his gaze back up to her face.

She’d smirked.

And then he’d blinked as a server had passed in front of her. She’d disappeared.

He’d cleared his throat and fumbled with his cuff links, off-kilter in a way that wasn’t like him. Wasn’t the way he did things.

Dave shook his head, trying to clear it. This wasn’t good. He needed to get back on track, or call it. And he didn’t want to call it.

“Boss?” He heard the quiet voice of one of his guys in his hidden earpiece and picked up his drink. “I said, target in the northwest corner of the ballroom.”

Dave turned slowly to his left as if he was looking for someone he knew and his eyes traveled over the target’s back.

She was standing right next to them. He resisted the urge to curse.

He hid the small movement of his lips behind his glass, and murmured, “foxtrot.” That was the code that would tell his men to pack it up and rendezvous in 48 hours at one of the safe houses. He could feel their surprise in the long pause before a response – they’d been prepping this job for weeks. But he couldn’t explain now.

“Understood.” The line went quiet and Dave started to casually make his way to the exit at the opposite end of the ballroom from where she still stood next to the target.

His exit went smoothly – this was easier than the job would have been, anyway – and he turned to head down the hall towards the entrance. The hall was starting to empty as people joined the party, but he could see a line of people waiting to come in at the entrance. He decided to take the side exit that would give him some cover as he made his way to the car his men had stashed in the parking deck two blocks away.

This turned out to be the wrong decision.

As he stepped onto the dark side street, he started to scan his surroundings as usual. Before he could do more than check the busy intersection with the main road to the left, he felt someone step up behind him and the unpleasant sensation of a gun in his back.

“Hello, Dave.”

…

2 years, 3 months, and 15 days earlier

There was someone else on the job.

Dave had seen the signs, but he wasn’t certain until now – someone else was after their target. He’d started to feel them like a shadow, a few steps behind his team as they planned and prepared. But tonight they’d gotten ahead of him.

One of his guys had gone for another routine check of the art gallery where the target would be hosting an event. They’d found the back door unlocked (sloppy, Dave muttered to himself). Whoever it was had left a clear path through the building for anyone who knew how to look, but had slipped out before Dave’s guy could so much as realize the problem.

Now they knew for certain. This new competitor might be an amateur, but they were after the same target.

Dave pressed his palms to his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Shit. Now they had to split their focus – the target, and whoever this asshole was that was mucking up the job. He didn’t have time for this.

In the end, though, it was easier to identify them than he’d even bothered to hope.

The gallery was hosting a different group 3 nights before the event, and so Dave and one of his guys were planning to go and do some recon while the place was crowded. It turned out the opposition had the same idea.

Dave was standing in front of some sort of art with a drink in his hand when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Someone was watching him.

He finished his drink and turned, as if he was looking for somewhere to put it down. As he scanned the room, he spotted them.

He spotted her.

She was standing with a small group, posture relaxed and open as she chatted with them. But he clocked her (and her thigh holster) immediately. Distantly he noted that she was incredibly attractive, though she was trying to hide it with her outfit and makeup.

Dave began to circle around the room towards the bar. He kept her in view as he got a new drink and began to move through the exhibits again. His path took him to her side of the room, until he stopped just close enough to hear her group’s conversation as he pretended to study the work in front of him.

“--you know how he feels about modern art.” Her voice did not betray any sort of tension – she was better at this than breaking and entering, at least.

He continued to eavesdrop, but the conversation wasn’t interesting. So he focused on her instead. As he moved slowly around her group, taking in the art, he realized he knew who she was – new on the scene, but he’d heard of her. He could tell she was aware of him, too. He wondered if she knew that he knew, if she was good enough to read him like he could read her.

She answered that question only a few moments later.

“Excuse me,” he heard her say as she turned away from the group towards the restrooms. When she was about 20 feet away, he turned to follow. Dave didn’t look at her as he walked.

But when he turned the corner into the long hallway with the bathrooms, she was gone.

“Looking for someone?” Dave didn’t give her the victory of startling, but it was close. She was standing behind him. He turned slowly and calmly to face her.

“Looking for the restroom,” he returned, voice mild.

She raised a single eyebrow at him and he pretended not to notice how attractive it was. “Oh, are we playing that game?” Her tone matched his.

“And what game is that?” Dave leaned against the wall next to him and crossed his arms.

She smirked and stepped closer to him. “The game, David York, where we pretend not to know exactly who we are. And why we’re here.” She was new at this, he could tell, even if she was affecting confidence. He leaned in and watched as her eyes drifted downward against her will. He didn’t smirk.

Ah, he thought, as a new path opened in front of him. He didn’t have to get rid of her, after all. And it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.

“Who’s pretending? I know your name, too. And I’ve known you were on this job for weeks.” He didn’t mention the fact that he hadn’t known she was his opponent until he recognized her in the gallery.

She was surprised but hid it well. “And you’re just talking to me now?”

Dave pushed off the wall and stepped towards her again, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Wanted to see what you can do, first. That was sloppy last night.”

He watched the corner of her mouth tick down, but she didn’t give into the frown. New at this, but not too new.

“I didn’t realize I was on a try out.” Her voice was stiff now. He didn’t smile.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Why you approached me tonight?” He watched her avoid admitting it. “Well, you did well in there. You’ve got some promise.”

She was angry now, he could see it slipping through the cracks in her facade. But she wasn’t angry enough to walk away from this just yet.

“Promise?” She kept her voice mild, anyway. That was good.

Dave just looked at her for a moment. He could see the tension in her body as she kept herself from fidgeting. She still had a lot to learn.

“So, what? You want to work together?” He let his skepticism show in his voice and watched as her spine stiffened in response.

She crossed her arms. “Look, Dave. You need me.”

He let his eyebrows raise slowly. “Oh?”

She nodded. “I know you haven’t figured out the approach, yet. That’s my specialty.”

He mirrored her and crossed his arms. She was right, but he didn’t show it. “Don’t need it. Plenty of chances when he’ll be alone.”

She shook her head as if he’d disappointed her. “You and I both know that’s harder to plan for. I can get him from the party. Guarantee it, instead.”

Dave regarded her silently. She seemed confident, and he’d just watched her perform – she was right that she was good at that part, at least. Just new to the rest of it and unable to learn on her own.

He stepped closer again and pressed one palm into the wall by her head. She blinked. He knew this was what she was hoping to see from him. It didn’t hurt that the attraction he felt was genuine – easier to make it believable that way.

“And what’s in it for me?”

Her eyes narrowed. He could see that she was interested, too interested, but wouldn’t admit it so easily. “Not that.” Her voice was flat. He allowed himself to smirk, finally, and watched the effect it had on her. “But I can guarantee you success. Something you can’t do on your own.”

That, at least, was partially true, based on what he’d seen. “Then what’s in it for you?”

She stepped around him and turned to walk down the hall. “A share of the payout.” And the experience she still needed on the job, but that went unsaid by both of them.

He watched her walk away and reached into his pocket to find the scrap of paper she had just slipped inside. A phone number.

Dave already knew he was going to call, but it was better to make her wait.

…

Two nights later, you’d finally been introduced to his team in preparation for the job.

He’d made you wait. It didn’t surprise you. You knew he thought you couldn’t read him, but you could see his interest in you well enough. But he had to pretend he didn’t want you, didn’t want your help. You knew the game.

But now you were involved and less than 24 hours out from the job. You heard footsteps approaching your little corner of their workspace and turned to find him leaning against the table behind you.

“You ready?” He affected the same mild tone he’d used when you first met, but you could see through it now.

“Of course.” You’d relaxed a bit and you knew he could hear the slight annoyance in your tone.

Dave smiled. “Good.” He stepped closer and leaned against your desk right next to your chair. You looked up at him, leaning back as far as you could. “You’re not bad, for someone so new at this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you for admitting it.”

He shook his head. “I knew that, from the night we met.” He tilted his head and lifted one hand to trace his fingertips down your jaw. “Might be interesting, having you around.”

You tried not to look affected, or at least not as interested as you were in that possibility. “For the job?”

He hummed and cupped your cheek. “And for after, maybe.”

You blinked. That was unexpected.

“After we see how this job goes, of course.”

You nodded slowly, surprised. You’d hoped for this outcome, when you approached him, but he’d seemed so aloof.

“You’re not just saying that because you’re attracted to me, I hope.” You tried for a teasing tone and his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I am attracted to you,” he confirmed, voice even and direct. It made you shiver. “And you’re attracted to me.”

Dave leaned down until his face was level with yours, only inches away. “But that’s not part of the job.” You blinked, staring at his mouth. “Why don’t you show me what you’re planning to do tomorrow. To get his attention.”

You frowned. “We already talked about it.”

Dave shook his head, standing up again. “I want you to show me, now.” You looked around and noticed everyone else had left. “That’s right, just you and me. Show me what you can do.”

He seemed serious. You stood and shook out your shoulders. You shifted your weight and fell into the persona you’d use the next night, the woman who would approach the target and lure him away.

As you took a step towards Dave, you saw his eyes widen a bit. Good.

“Well, I’ll make eye contact and flirt a little – make him approach me, not the other way around.” You raised one hand to trail your fingertips down his chest and you watched as he drew in a deep breath. “But I’ll let him talk to me and get me a drink, when he does.” You stepped closer and noticed Dave’s eyes dipped to your chest. “And when he flirts more, I’ll be impressed. When he compliments me, I’ll act shy, a little innocent.” You pressed both hands to his chest now and ran them upwards until you could link your fingers behind his neck. “He’ll lean in, and I’ll be flattered.” You leaned in to speak into Dave’s ear and watched his hands flex around the lip of the table he was leaning against. “In the end, all it will take is wide eyes while I place my hand on his arm or his chest.” You covered the remaining distance between you and pressed the length of your body against his. He was warm and firm – you could feel his strength. “And then he’ll feel like he’s in control when I leave with him.” You felt Dave’s hands come up to grip your waist and you bit back on a grin.

“And so he won’t be thinking of anything but me when I slip the drugs into his drink in the hotel room and let you in to finish the job.” You were whispering now and you could feel Dave’s cock hardening against your thigh.

You paused, and let your demeanor shift back to your own.

“Well?” You felt Dave’s hands tighten on your waist in his surprise at the normal tone of your voice. “What do you think?”

His arms slipped around your back and he pulled you closer before growling into your ear, “I think you’re ready.” And then he leaned back so that he could crush his lips to yours.

It was a searing kiss. It stole your breath, from the first moment – you felt it crash over you and vibrate down your spine.

You knew he wanted you. You wanted him, too, but you wanted in more, and this was your way in.

…

Dave watched without watching as she lured in the target at the party the next night. She was doing well, as she’d promised – with the shy looks and the lingering eye contact he could tell that the man was about two minutes away from giving in and crossing the room to talk to her.

He let his mind wander to the night before – he’d kissed her against the desk but hadn’t let it go any farther. She was gagging for it, he could tell, and he was going to use that to his advantage soon enough.

The target approached and fell for all of it. Right on time she stood up and began to walk towards the back hall. Dave made his way there slowly, following as they exited and walked the two blocks to the target’s hotel.

Everything went according to plan – the hotel, the drugs, the ambush. Dave killed the man in his bed and removed the evidence. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she pocketed the tech that was the real prize, smirking to himself before they all slipped out into the night with no one the wiser.

Dave was letting himself ride the high of a job well done when she followed him to his hotel room later that night, as he’d known she would. He softened his smirk into a smile before he turned around to find her right behind him at his door.

“Coming in?” he asked as he swung it open behind him.

“Are we done pretending you don’t want this?” She raised an eyebrow at him as she crossed the threshold, and he grinned.

“Yes, we are.”

…

Dave grabbed you by the waist and pushed you backwards into the door. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Wanted this,” he muttered into your neck before biting down, leaving a mark with his teeth. Your eyes widened. “You looked so good, baby, working the room.” He pressed hot kisses down your neck as he pulled the zipper down the back of your dress. It slid easily to the floor, leaving you in nothing but lace-trimmed underwear underneath. Dave growled. “And I know you wanted it too.”

He pulled you into a searing kiss and reached behind you to grab your ass, fingers twisting in the lace. You felt it tear in his hand before he ripped them off of you with a snarl. “Isn’t that right?”

Your legs almost gave out at the possessiveness in his voice. Yes, this – this was what you’d wanted since you first saw him. You’d known you would need to impress him and you could barely believe you’d succeeded.

“Dave–” you were breathing heavily and leaning against the door. His eyes swept over you and he grinned, wicked. “Touch me.”

“Oh, is that what you want?” His voice was dark and you shivered again. He was still fully clothed and it made you squirm with desire. “C’mere.”

He tugged you towards the bed and threw you down so hard you bounced. “I know you want it, baby. And I know just how to give it to you.” He crawled on top of you and captured your mouth in another kiss as his hand trailed down your stomach to tease along your slit. “Hmm, you didn’t get wet like this for him, did you?”

You shook your head. “No–” your hips stuttered as he nudged his fingers inside to tease at your entrance.

He rose up on his elbow to look down at you. “No,” he repeated. He smirked again as his fingers slipped inside. “Good girl.”

Dave worked you over quickly, drawing an orgasm out of you faster than you’d ever felt before. You were shaking as you felt it climb up your spine, shuddering as you fell over the edge, moaning as it swept you away.

When you blinked your eyes open, you found him smirking at you again. “You’re gorgeous when you come.”

The compliments, the way he’d spoken to you since you crossed his threshold – it was all starting to settle and warm something inside of you in a way that frightened you. You pulled him down into a kiss, ignoring it.

You reached down to tug at the button on his pants and felt him smile into your mouth. “Want something?” His tone was lighter, suddenly, and you wondered if this was what he was like when his walls were coming down.

“You know what I want, Dave.” You pushed at his pants until he assisted by tugging them down just far enough for his cock to spring forward, hard and big. You wrapped your hand around it.

He looked at you and smirked again. “Oh, good girl,” he leaned in to run his teeth down your neck and palmed your breast. Dave reached down and lifted your right leg, knee to your chest. “Such a pretty pussy,” he praised, and you sighed. “Let me see it.”

He urged you to hold your legs open, gripping behind your knees. It felt suddenly obscene, holding yourself open for his gaze as he kneeled before you fully clothed with his cock out. You felt yourself get wetter and knew he could tell.

He grasped his cock at the root and leaned forward to tease it through your folds. You looked down and moaned when you saw your own arousal glistening on the head of his cock.

“Well, baby, keep your eyes on me.” He notched the head of his cock at your entrance and started to push forward. You almost let go of your knees, reaching for him, but he stopped. “No, keep your hands there,” he scolded. When you got back into position he pushed forward again, all the way in until you were so full you felt your eyes roll back.

Dave grabbed your chin roughly. “Look at me.” His tone was commanding and you blinked until you could do as he said. “You keep your eyes on me.” It was an order. You nodded. He raised his eyebrows and shook your head by the chin.

“Um,” you cleared your throat and felt his cock throb within you. “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “Good girl.”

It was harder than you could have imagined, not closing your eyes when he started to thrust. It felt delicious, the way his cock filled you up and touched every part of you. But you did it. You watched him, eyes darting over his face and down to where your hips met and back up.

He watched your face the whole time, never looking away.

“That’s good,” he praised, leaning forward to kiss you. “Hold on tight.”

He sat back and grabbed your thighs where you held them open for leverage. His next thrust was harder and faster and so was the next. You keened.

“Just like that, baby,” he breathed. “Take it.”

You nodded, eyes locked on his as you held your legs open for him to fuck you.

“Look at you.” He picked up the pace. “So desperate for it, hmm? So beautiful like this.”

You blinked, and his brow furrowed. “Eyes on me.” You nodded, mouth falling open as you heaved in heavy breaths.

Dave released his grip on your thigh and moved his right hand to your pussy. “Now,” his voice was deeper than ever, “you’re going to come on my cock. And then I’m going to come inside you.”

You nodded, eagerly. He smirked. “Good.”

He worked your clit with his fingers until your legs were shaking in your grasp. The unrelenting thrusts combined with the way he toyed with you pushed you over the edge before you even felt it coming. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, and your next breath was a sob.

“Good girl,” he snarled, hips thrusting harder. He replaced your hands with his own and pushed your knees into your chest. “Now, watch.” You did and you marveled at the sight of him as he reached his own peak and lost himself inside of you.

He collapsed on top of you afterwards and for a moment neither of you did anything but breathe.

Dave flopped to the side, pulling out in a way that made you gasp.

“You know,” his chest was heaving just as much as yours and it made you smile. “I’ve never worked with a partner.”

“Well.” You turned on your side and ran your hand over his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt. “I think you could use one.”

He hummed, but didn’t answer.

A few minutes later he got up to get you some water, but you didn’t notice when he slipped something into your drink.

…

Early in the morning, Dave slipped out of bed easily, knowing you would still be sleeping off the effects of the drug for a few more hours. He dressed quickly and looked down at you, watching you breathe. He didn’t feel any regret – it had all gone according to plan, after all. Teasing you and drawing you in until you couldn’t help but follow him here, couldn’t help but believe he wanted the same things you did.

And so he’d gotten what he wanted from you. It was time to go.

He slipped the small hard drive from the pocket of your coat and removed all evidence of himself from the room. He left without looking back.

…

You went after him.

Of course you did. You’d woken, groggy, unable to open your eyes and feeling like you’d been hit with a bag of bricks.

“Dave?” You’d groaned, voice scratchy. You’d reached for him, but his side of the bed had been empty and cold. You’d opened your eyes, finally, and found the room around you empty of everything but your clothes, which had been folded neatly on the desk.

It had taken only a moment for the truth to set in, and you’d felt it like a dagger to the heart – he’d drugged you. He’d used you, taken advantage of your lack of experience, let you see what you wanted to see in him, and then left you here, alone. Your eyes had darted to your jacket, but you’d known even before you’d checked. He’d taken the hard drive, too.

No one had heard your muffled screams as you buried your face in your pillow. And no one had noticed when something that had still been soft hardened within you.

You’d been angry. And then you’d turned it into something you could use.

You tracked him and his team. Took out two of them. Followed them to the marina, to the boat they were going to use to escape.

Just as you were about to step onto the dock, you froze and looked down.

The red dot of a sniper rifle scope appeared on your chest. You whipped your head back up and found him, at the far end of the dock, rifle pointed towards you. He stood on the open deck of the boat. You could hear the engine start.

You couldn’t move. You just watched as the boat started to pull into the bay. But you saw the moment he decided not to take the shot.

Dave lowered the rifle and looked at you. You couldn’t see his expression from so far away, but you knew he was looking. You looked back until you couldn’t see him anymore.

…

Present day

“Hello, Dave.”

Her voice sent a shiver down his spine. Fuck, he thought. He’d known that this was coming, but not when.

He’d heard talk of what she’d been doing since he left her on that dock. She gained a reputation. He knew she was skilled, and now so did everyone else in the business.

Dave didn’t regret it, but he sometimes wished he could. He opened his mouth, “You–”

“Shhh,” she hushed him, leaning closer. “It’s too late for that. You should've pulled the trigger when you had a chance.”

...

a/n: how did I do? *hides*

tag list: let me know if you only want to be on the Maintenance Request list! @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites @fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes @islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @pigeonmama @littlevenicebitch69 @secretelephanttattoo @katareyoudrilling

#dave york x reader #writing challenge 2.0 #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york #x reader #too late fic

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sparkling-nov · 19 days

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HEY HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT THESE TWO FEMALE CHARACTERS HAVE IN COMMON?!

Their Both called Selfish, Mean, A Monster and the Real Villain For not Complying to their male antagonist's Selfish and Unfair Rules😍🤩

Princess peach is selfish and mean cause she cares about her Family and Community lives and Refused Bowser's *Forced* Marriage proposal.

Asha is selfish and mean cause she cares about her Family and Community wishes and wants people to be able to pursue their dreams themselves But King Magnifico Scams people out of their wishes and lies straight to their faces that he'll grent them but never will and won't let people pursue their dreams themselves either.

You don't know the Shock i felt when i find out that people really think princess peach was "too rude" Towards bowser and may i remind y'all, bowser in the movie is evil, like really evil, he killed one of his koopers cuz he knowledge the Possibility of peach Rejecting him, he Kidnapped Hundreds of Innocent people and Forced peach to Watch them Slowly Descend into Death! Like i was so Flappergasted when i saw people out right Ignoring or Sugar coating the things bowser did and Victim blaming or painting peach as the "real villain" all because she rightfully rejected bowser's Forced marriage!, then thats when i Thought to myself "wait...this reminds me of how people act Towards asha and magnifico!"

Bowser and King Magnifico Actually do have some Similarities Between them

They both sing a song that shows their """"""love"""""" for someone or something, being "Peachs" and "At All Costs" but they both have Selfish meanings to them.

They both went after a star that does NOT belong to them.

They both hit the person that they """"love"""" near the end of the movie.

They both get Imprisoned at the end, bowser in a jer and king magnifico in a mirror.

And if their Subjects don't Agree or Obey them then they will Hurt or kill them.

Now bowser is Worser then king magnifico in some cases with Destroying kingdoms, Forcing a woman to marry you or else he'll kill everyone she's love etc etc, but if anything that makes it worse, Because bowser did all of these Horrible Unredeemable things to princess peach and others only for people to Completely ignore or sugar coat for the Sake of "but...but bowser make cute sad face for 1 second 🥺" and "but bowser did everything for peach🥺" and also "BUT HE'S HOT" And making up Traumatic back stories for bowser as to why he kidneps princess peach Really does open my eyes that even if king magnifico was more "Threatening" it Wouldn't Matter because people Still find itVery Hard to Emphasize with the Female Character even with princess peach A Character who has been Around For Years and Suffering from the Abuse of Bowser for as long as her character has Existed Gets called a "Real Villain" for Saving her people, it all too much reminds me of How people React Towards King Magnifico and Asha,

People Excusing or Ignoring the Fact that King Magnifico locks up MOST of people's wishes Never to be Fulfilled or Given back While lying to Hundreds of people that he will grant them, All Because he let's people have free Houses is the same as People Excusing and ignoring the fact that Bowser Threatens peach to Agree with the Marriage or he'll kill toad All Because bowser sings a song about how much he """""Loves""""" princess peach and his Proposal starts off """""Gentle""""", Letting the Manipulative Male Antagonist off the hook Because he did something "nice".

People Calling Asha Selfish, Cruel and Evli Because she wants people and her 100 year old Grandfather to live out their wishes is the same as People Calling Princess Peach Selfish, Cruel and Evil Because she wants to keep her people safe and not Marry A Whole Terrorist, Vilifying the Female Protagonist for Challenging, Questioning, or Not Complying to the male antagonist's Selfish and Unfair Rules.

By the way I'm not saying Scaming People out of their wishes is the as Forced Marriage, no. I'm saying the way people Treat asha and princess peach are the same, the way people treat bowser and king magnifico are the same. Sometimes it just looks like A Male Villain is not really allowed to be a villain no Matter what Horrible things he does, just a guy who needs a hug when the in question Hero is female, And the Female hero is not allowed to be a hero, her Story has to be morally gray or just a Straight up bitch and the real villain no matter the Heroic things she does, Asha and Princess Peach actually are selfless and careing, they fought for their kingdoms and others but because their antagonists are Attractive man, the heroic things she did get Ignored and Casted aside.

#The princess peach ones are from a Comment section Under a Bowser Edit when peach calls him a monstar and the Video slowsdown on bowsers sad #face while a Broken heart Animation Appears #And the asha ones two are from Twitter and The others are from a Youtube Comment section #wish 2023 #disney wish #disney #wish disney #nintendo #super mario #mario bros #mario movie #the super mario bros movie #princess asha #wish asha #asha #king magnifico #princess peach

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spideyanakin · 2 years

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10 Things I Hate about you - Chapter 3

Eddie Munson x Harrington! reader

Synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - still season 1 Steve sry and he’s getting worst, underage drinking, angst at it's finnest

word count - 16k

proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

Monday arrived at the pace of a sloth.

In addition to the “no dating” rule, your parents had put Steve under house arrest for the next three weekends––which quickly backfired on everyone in the house that wasn't him. You never thought you would be grateful that Steve had spent every weekend with his friends. Since middle school, his absence always meant the house was quiet, peaceful, for a short period of time.

The entire weekend, your family endured Steve's constant complaining over his homework and the fact he was home instead of at Tommy’s or with any other of the popular douchebag boys. It only became intolerable when your mother ordered you to tutor him in order to 'make him shut up.’

It only resulted in you giving him all the answers or him copying your work, and no quiet reprieve was gifted in return.

You had fought Steve over the TV like the two of you were toddlers. You battled for the last of the leftover cupcakes you had baked with Dustin, and then Steve threw the Monopoly board in your face when you won. He always became too competitive when it came to games. When you suggested a “truce” game of Clue, he ripped the Mrs. Scarelt card when she had been the murderer you were searching for and not Professor Plum whom he had accused. It got to the point where you were debating drowning yourself in the pool that had just been cleaned from the debris winter had left behind.

"What did you say for the question on scene three?" Barb wondered as she reread through the text in question. Her eyebrows knitted together as she skimmed through the words carefully in an attempt to decipher the man’s prose.

"About the nurse?" You questioned and placed some of your textbooks into your locker. "I talked about how her role in the play is explicitly for Juliet's happiness, and I tied it in with what Mr. Arnold said about older women in Shakespeare being shown in a different light than the younger ones."

"Oh yeah…” She thought on the analysis, “that's good," Barb nodded and closed the book and looked blankly at the white cover and red writing.

"Barb," you spoke her name with a desperate tone as your locker door closed with an echoing bang and your palm met the metal.

"What?"

"Kill me now…” You groaned dramatically, perhaps with more emotion than she had ever seen you emit before. “I have to walk into class and sit next to Steve." Your words made her chuckle. "It's not funny!" You whined, hitting your forehead against the locker door. "This weekend was hell with him not leaving the house. I did half of his homework for him. Half!"

"Hey,” Barb stood straighter as she leaned on the locker beside your own. Her books held tightly against her chest, the red-headed girl gave a kind smile and hopeful eyes. “Look on the bright side! You only have a few hours and then the day’s over, you can go home and lock yourself away in your room."

"That long? I might pick up some ideas from the end of the book by then." As if on cue, the bell rang. You wanted to melt in your spot; become a puddle like the glob of spilled soda that threatened student’s pristine shoes right outside the lunchroom.

But your luck wouldn't have it. You had to sit in your usual seat, in the same boring English classroom, with Steve at your side.

However, who you hadn’t expected to see, was Eddie sitting next to Gareth as they chatted their spare minutes away. Your eyes went a little wide as you looked at him; your gaze fixed on his head of waves as you passed by his seat and sat a few rows behind and to the side from him.

Eddie turned around to look at you once he had finished speaking to Gareth, your gaze still fixed on him.

And then he winked.

You couldn’t fight the way a grin plastered itself onto your face.

You felt like a madman. As though the events of the last week had changed you completely from the stone-cold bitch everyone was afraid of to a gooey, romantic lead in some cheesy B-film. Eddie Munson winked at you. It shouldn’t have felt like the world had chosen you to be the main character of a romantic subplot of life but it did. He winked, smiling himself as he turned his attention back to Gareth and laughed about something his younger friend said.

Thinking about that wink, you didn’t realize the look that had stilled on your face as Steve took his spot beside you.

"Did Munson just wink at you?" Steve blinked in disbelief as he put a folder down on his desktop.

Steve did not know you could smile like that. Steve did not know that you could get flustered like that. Steve did not know that Eddie, the “freak” who had a work ethic so unlike your own yet shared the same interests, could make you feel that way.

"Yes and…?"

"I’ve never seen you speak to him before?" He had to stop the smile that was threatening to spread across his lips. Was his plan working?

"So? Now you watch who I talk to and what I do in your spare time?" You raised an eyebrow.

"No,” He huffed. “I just have never seen you talk with Munson. That’s all."

You shrugged at him to play it off. A part of you wanted Steve to suffer from the “no dating” rule. He was an asshole. Self-centered and mean; a boy who would peak in high school and be stuck selling cars until the end of his days because at some point, Steve decided being the popular kid was his only mission. But you had to stop lying to yourself about what you may want out of life too.

Maybe it isn’t a date or relationship with Eddie Munson—maybe it is. But if you were going to keep Eddie as a friend if it doesn’t plan out like a fantasy novel, then Steve had to know that if he saw Eddie talk to you, wink at you, or give you a smile, that there was a reason for it.

You unzipped your pencil case and retrieved a black pen from the bag.

"We went to The Hideout together last Friday."

"WHAT?" His shriek was a mix of everything Steve was feeling at once.

Shock that his plan was working and you had actually accepted to go out with Eddie; jealousy that you had gone out and he wasn't able to; surprise that you had sneaked out of the house without him noticing; mad that you hadn't actually been in the house and therefore hadn't fulfilled your duty as his emotional support for house arrest; and seriously pissed off at the fact that if your parents had known you were out, then maybe, just maybe they would have let Steve meet his friends too.

"You're telling me you were on a date while I was on house arrest?"

“Can you please,” you hissed at him, “scream it a little louder so the rest of Hawkins High can hear this conversation?” Your gritted teeth and harsh whisper told him it was indeed a type of date. “It wasn't a date," your whispers were calmer as you eyed the teacher standing up to close the door. "I just went with him to see his band play."

"So, it was a date."

"No––"

"You're dating!" He smiled, jumping up and down in his seat like a kid who had too much sugar. Steve was in high school, not an elementary student.

"I'm not!” You defended. “Stop… insinuating things! It wasn't just him, his band was there too."

"Hmm," he said as if he wasn't listening. "I totally believe you."

"You should."

"Morning class," Mr. Arnold greeted with the same two words he had been using for years on end. "I hope you all had a good weekend," his eyes lifted to scan the room, stopping when his gaze landed upon the one student he never expected to be here. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Good to see you, Mr. Munson."

"Same here Mr. Arnold," Eddie gave him his best angelic smile.

"Well, I have this for you," Mr. Arnold turned around to take the white book from his desk, placing it in front of Eddie. "We are at Act one, scene four." Eddie took a second to comprehend the system as he flipped through the pages. Plays weren't his thing.

But when Act 1, Scene 4 was written in bold on top of the page, he gave a thumbs up to the older man.

"I will collect your homework, and then we can read together."

"Steve, where's your book?" You whispered as you examined his desk. The homework you had done for him was in the middle, his pencil case resting on the top corner––but no Romeo and Juliet.

"I don't know where I put it," he lied.

"Are you serious?" You already knew how this was going to end. You'd have to share the book for the rest of the semester, and worse, you knew this would lead to Steve happily copying all your homework and ideas for the assessment later on.

He just shrugged it off as though it were not moot. Those were the facts, you’d just have to accept it as it was because he was the “King of Hawkins High” afterall… Steve Harrington just didn’t fail because he was stupid, he played the long game and that always meant one thing:

Stealing your work.

"Hey! Party at my place on Friday!" Tina cheered as she handed Nancy and Barb a neon orange piece of paper each. ‘Tina's Spring party’ was written in big, black bubble letters with her address at the bottom.

"Y/n didn't get one," Nancy told Tina with an innocent smile with her hand extended to receive another. Tina looked from Nancy to you and back to Nancy as her eyes went blank.

"Oh! I'm sorry!” Tina was not sorry. “That's right," she played dumb as she reluctantly licked the tip of her finger to whisk another paper from the pile she was holding, handing it to Nancy who passed it to you. Taking it with a fake smile, you thanked her before continuing on with the only two girls you’d consider to be friends.

"You didn't have to do that,” you mumbled to Nancy as the paper between the tips of your fingers began to feel like a brick rather than a feather.

"Are you kidding?" Nancy's eyes went wide. "I wasn't going to let her get away with that."

What? Blatant disregard for your existence? Pure dislike for your perfectly penurious outlook on this thing called life?

"It's fine, seriously. I won’t go anyways," you looked down at the page, your nose scrunching up at the idea.

"You won't?" Nancy was almost pouting while Barb had already stressed with her eyes that it was nothing but a burden.

"No… Don't count me in to go to this dumb… mating ritual," you crumpled the paper and threw it in the first trash that crossed your way.

"I don't think I'll go either," Barb shrugged her shoulders. The only way that Barbara Holland would go to a party was with the assurance that Nancy wouldn’t let her pout away in the corner for being a third wheel––but she knew it was going to be her sitting in a corner all evening, making sure Nancy was alright before she would disappear somewhere, or be drunk enough for Barb to leave without her noticing.

"But you have to come with me!" Nancy protested.

"No! You know I don't like parties!"

"But it will be fun!" You scoffed at her, shaking your head at her insistence.

“Stop bothering, Nance!” You smiled as Barb backed you up. “If she doesn't want to go, then let her stay at home.”

“I’m sure the new episode of Little house on the Prairie will be much more interesting than this,” you flicked the invitation still sitting between Barb’s hand.

“Whatever,” Nancy rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to go alone.”

“I’m afraid so,” you pouted, the look on her face making you chuckle.

Eddie watched with a smile on his face as you passed right beside his locker, almost melting at the little smile and wave you gave him when you passed his way.

Oh, fuck him. His sanity was burning to a crisp along the very path you walked. A simple smile, a tiny, little wave that looked like something out of a stranger danger VHS and he was jittery. The money in his pocket––even if not physically there––weighed it all back to reality. The reminder that the smile was based on a lie bled just as quickly as it skimmed.

“Did you just smile at Munson?” He could hear Nancy squeak as your head turned back around.

“Yeah, and?” Your voice snapped back, but unfortunately, you had disappeared down a different hall before he could snoop on the rest.

“I heard you went out with my sister last Friday,” Steve’s voice broke Eddie’s day dreaming.

“I did,” Eddie nodded, straightening his back in pride.

“I can’t believe you’ve actually convinced her to go out with you,” Steve chuckled in disbelief before placing a hand in one of the pockets of his jacket. “Here,” Steve stuffed a new fifty dollar bill in Eddie’s hand before he even had the time to protest, “as promised.”

Steve was still laughing to himself. “Just make sure that I actually know about it this time.”

“Alright,” Eddie stuffed the bill in his pocket without taking a second glance at it.

“Like take her to the movies or something.”

“Noted.”

“Good,” Steve nodded before walking away.

As Eddie watched Steve disappear down the hall you had moments before, the money in his pocket was no longer imaginary. The weight was heavy, it was physically there and jesting him like a foe. Here it was, it cried to him as Shakespearan as an enemy could. A prize.

And it made him sick thinking that he ever agreed to such a deal.

But then he remembered your smile, that little wave. In his mind, Eddie could recall the innocence of it. How he felt, and how you felt––but the money kept rolling in.

“Y/n,” Steve jumped on the couch next to you. Your eyes lifted up from the episode of Dallas playing to see his big smile creeping only inches away from you. “You’re coming to the party on Friday, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not?” His smile fell. “You have to go!”

“No, I don’t,” you rolled your eyes before looking back at the TV to see a close up of Larry Hagman’s face.

“But you have to go! You’re the only way I can convince mom and dad to let me go! Pretend I’ll be your… protector or something.”

The fact that had spewed from his lips made you want to chuck him out of a window.

“My protector?”

“Yes! Make sure drunk boys don’t cling to you or laugh at you or try anything with you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You mean half of the guy you are when you get drunk? I’m sorry, Steve,” you drawled his name out like he was a child being scolded by a parent, “but I specifically remember the halloween party freshman year where you got so drunk you—”

“We don’t need to talk about that!” He pointed a finger, cutting you off with the slap of the back of his hand to your shoulder.

“You are literally those guys! You wouldn’t be protecting me from anything!”

“Other guys! Not me, just… other guys! And they don’t need to know about me… just how their precious little daughter is going to be looked after by her precious brother.”

“I’m not going,” you stated definitively. “Convince them yourself.”

“Y/n!”

“Steeeeve!” you mimicked his whining.

“Is your brother bothering you again?” Your mother walked into the room when she heard the commotion. It was like a dog answering a silent whistle—she heard it, she came. A motherly instinct, if you will.

“He is!”

“I’m not!”

She shook her head, pushing the reply as unimportant, not bothering to care about your sibling banter before grabbing a book from the shelves next to the TV.

“Diner’s in five,” she gave both of you pointed looks and you scrambled up off the couch, leaving Steve behind.

As you disappeared behind the doorway, your mothers gaze was kept on your brother. She raised an eyebrow when he simply grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels with a soured expression painted on his face.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up.

“Go help your sister set up the table,” Steve’s face fell even further when the words registered.

Chores. Expectations. The rules of the house for every evening since he was old enough to remember them.

“Oh, right.”

And after ten minutes of fighting Steve over which side of the plate the forks were placed on and which glasses were the ones for water rather than all else, the family sat around the diner table with a meal whisking up into the air and filling each nose with a delicious scent.

The food was comforting. The stress that you accumulated throughout the day shedding away as you enjoyed the meal. For a second, you pretended you were transported to a time where you and Steve still got along. A time where the two of you had the same interests and he didn’t make every second of your life miserable.

One where he wasn’t the ‘King of Hawkins High’ and you weren’t the sibling who was a little too far on the side of strange.

“Mom, dad,” Steve lifted his eyes from the potatoes in his plate, “I wanted to ask you something.” Of course he had to quickly ruin the moment.

Your dream shattered with the sound of his sweet voice.

“What is it?” Your mother brought her glass of sparkling water towards her lips.

“Well… there’s this party on Friday—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Your father’s voice cut him off before he could really begin.

“But—”

“Steve,” he lamented, “you need to focus on your work! When you show us that your grades are improving, only then will we trust you enough to go out again. It’s simple.”

“But that’s unfair!”

“How is this unfair?” He asked, letting the question hang in the air. When your father didn’t receive a reply, he continued; “Is your sister going?” His eyes landed on you like a target being breached.

Mayday, mayday! Abandon ship before Steve sinks you with his conniving pea-brained ideas.

“No.”

For once, Steve had told the truth.

“Then you won’t go. Take an example from her,” your father pointed at you with his fork. “She has nearly perfect grades and still has a social life––”

“That's a lie,” Steve snorted to himself.

“Your sister is doing fine. She’s proof that you can get good grades too and have a life while doing so.”

“That’s not fair! I want to enjoy my life as a teenager, and she doesn’t!” Your father sighed as he listened to Steve. “You can’t keep me on house arrest forever!”

“No, but––” he stopped mid sentence, the same look that had lit up his features last Monday coming back. This was bad for Steve, you thought to yourself as you watched your father search for the right words. “Not forever.”

“Ok! Then when!?”

“When your sister goes out.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You can take this as a new addition to the dating rule. Forget the house arrest stopping in three weeks, from now on, you follow your sister’s footsteps.” You almost spat your drink onto the ornate tablecloth your mother had set for spring. Oh my god. The three weekend house arrest had turned into this? Steve was just digging himself a bigger hole and it made your evening all the more entertaining.

But that also meant that Steve would make your life a living hell.

“BUT THAT’S SO UNFAIR!”

“It’s not. You’re being too careless with your work, she isn’t. When she goes out, you can too. End of story.”

“DAD! I–– YOU’RE RUINING MY LIFE!” The plates flew as Steve’s fist collided with the table. “UGH!” He stood up, frustration taking the best of him. “I can’t stand another minute of this,” he mumbled, his face red in anger. You could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears as he walked around the table, his feet stomping up the stairs before his bedroom door slammed shut and he made the house rumble with it.

“Do you plan on going out any time soon?” Your father turned to you.

“Nope,” you spoke, your face half hidden by your glass of water.

“Too bad for your brother then.”

“I can’t believe you’re also on house arrest,” Tommy snickered as he watched the soccer scrimmage with Steve. He opened his water bottle, bringing it to his lips as he was still thirsty and sore from ten minutes of light exercise that morning.

“Shut up, please,” Steve groaned and lifted his head to the sky. “I need to go to this party.”

“Have you thought about trying to have Eddie convince her to go? Maybe he can do it if you can’t. Hell, he’s managed to get this far without being found dead in a ditch.”

“It’s impossible… even for Eddie Munson,” Steve shook his head as he grabbed his Peanut Butter Kudos bar from his bag––elated Carol had called in sick that morning so he could have it all to himself. “Nothing in this world will get her to that party.”

“Even if you raise him? Pay him double?” Tommy shrugged.

“I could try,” Steve placed the wrapper of the bar between his teeth, taking the other end of it with his fingers to rip it open. “I’m going to have to take from my savings from now on.”

“You mean the savings you promised yourself you wouldn’t touch til you were out of high school?” Tommy’s eyes went wide. “What do you have in there? Like six hundred?” He knew how much the savings he’d been collecting since he was twelve meant to him.

It was a way out. It was an opportunity to take the girl of his dreams on an ice cream date. The money sat idle waiting to be clinched and spent on Steve’s dreams and unrealistic plans of his future––maybe a cute house and six little munchkins that he loved yet despised at the same time. But it was his. He had saved it, he had scoured hot summer days mowing neighbors lawns and shoveling their driveways during freezing winter mornings for something he could call his.

“Mhm,” Steve hummed an answer.

"I can’t believe you’ve already spent a hundred on this."

“You’re the one telling me to spend more!”

“Yeah! Because you look like a lost puppy and can’t stop complaining.”

"You don't understand! This party is my shot to ask Nancy out. We chat a bit, make out, and boom! She's my girlfriend! So, you’re right… I will pay him double," Steve explained his plan as he scribbled down the amount of money he already spent on Eddie yesterday, right next to the $1 Kit-Kat he swiped.

"Do you really have to write down everything you spend?" He raised an eyebrow and Steve sighed as he continued his writing.

"Yeah. You'll see when you're broke and I'm not."

"Well I don't spend my money for a stupid cause. Plus, isn’t that just proof that Eddie’s faking it? The fucking world will go up in flames if your sister ever gets her hands on that."

"She won’t and this isn't stupid," Steve dropped his pencil. "It's me trying to get the girl of my dreams.”

"The girl of your dreams?" Tommy gagged. "What kind of drug are you on? Did you let Munson finally convince you into buying from him or something?"

"You’re hopeless, Tommy." he shook his head as he closed his planner and placed it back into his bag.

"Says the one who gave away a hundred dollars and is about to spend more on a guy just so you can start dating again. Are you sure Munson is even invited to this party?”

Valid question.

But Steve knew one thing about the parties in Hawkins: they all needed a supplier of something… booze, weed, a little pick-me-up… and he’d be damned if Eddie Munson wasn’t the first person everyone thought of when they needed something that would make Jim Hopper turn red.

“Doesn't’ hurt to ask…”

Eddie was pulling a chaotic stunt in the halls of Hawkins High when Steve noticed him for the first time that day.

Your brother had been losing himself in the maze of hallways that he should have recalled like the back of his hand in an attempt to find Eddie when he didn’t find him at his usual spot in the drama room. After what felt like hours of searching, Steve hadn’t expected to find Eddie sprinting across the empty hallway with one of the big, black clocks from the cafeteria gripped between his hands.

“For your game?” Steve wondered as a breathless Eddie sprinted past him.

“You bet!” He nodded before disappearing into another hallway, heading straight for the drama room.

“Did Munson just pass by here?” Mrs. Jinkles arrived in front of Steve barely a few seconds later. The older woman was on the verge of sixty, huffing as though she had smoked three packs of cigarettes in a row.

“He went that way,” Steve pointed in the opposite direction to where Eddie had gone.

It hadn’t registered in his mind that if it were any other day, under any other circumstance, he would have sold Eddie out just to gain the favor of the teachers––to skip out on assignments, of course.

Steve watched as Mrs. Jinkles rolled her shoulders back and marched in the direction of his finger. He sighed in his own right before making his way toward the drama room. The familiar posters greeted him before he opened the door.

Eddie was hunched over the clock he had stolen. He had already opened it, its contents spilling onto the already messy table.

“Harrington,” Eddie did not look up at him, “ if you’re here to tell me to hurry up and get your sister on that date, know that you only asked me yesterday–”

“I’m not here for that,” Steve shook his head before walking towards Eddie, dropping a crisp, new fifty dollar bill beside the clock.

“That’s to get her to Tina’s party,” he paused. “You’re invited, right?”

“Believe it or not, Harrington, but I do get invited to parties,” he looked from the bill to Steve with a look the latter was all too familiar with. It was the kind where someone more intelligent challenged Steve to see the stupidity of his question.. “I thought you already paid me?”

“Not for the party,” Steve explained. “I need her to go or else I won’t be able to. You’ll need that extra cash for luck because she has a thing against parties that I don’t really understand… somethin’ about ‘radical feminism’ or was it ‘toxic social spheres’?”

“What?” Eddie snickered.” You’re also on house arrest?” Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins High, not allowed to date and under house arrest, was paying him to take his sister out so he could magically remove all of these new rules. It felt so much like a popular kid tantrum that he had to laugh.

Eddie felt like a goldfish out of the bowl on many occasions but Steve treating him as though he was a main character in a film he wouldn’t be caught dead watching, a proverbial fish inside of the bowl, was jarring.

“Kind of,” Steve muttered embarrassed. “You get why I need her to be there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie shook his head, tuning out Steve’s words as he tried to remove a screw from the clock.

“Get her to that party,” Steve pointed a finger at him.

“I will.”

But Eddie knew he had a challenge. He liked it, the game of it all, yet Eddie enjoyed the chase so much that the money unraveling beside his hand next to the clock felt like a fire ready to set him ablaze.

Since the second Steve Harrington had approached Eddie Munson on that fateful day, the boys of Hellfire had seen a change. He watched, perhaps unintentionally, everything you did. The way you sat with friends and scoffed at their perspectives and laughed at their jokes; the headphones you wore were falling apart on the top but you pulled them out every day to listen to a tape he surely would have enjoyed too.

It was consuming him—you. A jewel in a sea of so much… bland, grainy sand and Oliver had uncovered Eddie’s mission with spite. He hated watching his friend peek over the edge of his locker just to glimpse at you, he sneered at the way Eddie pocketed that change only to act like a fool in love when you passed by without a glance.

A Pertruchio to a Katherina; the taming of Hawkins very own shrew.

“I think I found a new beat for a song,” Gareth shook Eddie out of his thoughts as his focus broke. The younger man watched from the corner of his eye as Oliver’s expression changed as his gaze lifted off of Eddie and to the discussion.

“Oh, that’s good,” Eddie nodded, taking another pretzel from the plastic bag tucked in his lunch box before letting his gaze fly back to you like a magnet being called home.

“I think it could go well with the lyrics you came up with the other day!” Gareth tried to catch him back, but Eddie was as good as a fish who didn’t like the bait Gareth was throwing.

“Eddie?” Jeff attempted to grab his attention to support Gareth.

“Hm?” The boy in question turned his head to face his friend as if Gareth’s comment had flown over his head and the conversation was no longer important.

“Are you going to Tina’s party?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded as he chewed on the remnants of the pretzel.

“I don’t get how easily it is for you to get invited,” another boy from the table chimed in. That kid was a freshman and wasn’t ever going to be invited to a party if he continued to hang out with Hellfire but if he sold drugs, that would give incentive to those looking for a fix.

“It’s a house party, everyone is invited. Just if you haven’t personally received the paper for it, Tina probably doesn’t want you there.” Jeff stated, licking his lips from the previous sip of coke he had just taken. “And Eddie is invited because he deals and that’s cool at parties.”

“Indeed,” Eddie confirmed, his finger tapping a random beat on the table. His reply still felt as though he was far off into space which drew the entire table’s focus to him.

“Is your girlfriend going?” Oliver asked before opening his box of strawberry Nerds only to pretend like he hadn’t just said something triggering or hadn’t been thinking about it the entire period.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

There. They had Eddie’s full attention.

“Not yet,” Oliver clarified. “But you’re getting paid to become her boyfriend.” The small candies made a big sound similar to a rainstick as Oliver shook the box and a few dropped into his palm.

“Well, I’m also paid to get her to the party so… yeah,” Eddie looked down at his mini pretzels resting at the bottom of his lunchbox.

They didn’t look as appetizing as they did last week and even the sandwich he’d made in a rush that morning made his stomach turn. The peanut butter oozing from the sides, its slices could have been paper and its contents pencil shavings and Eddie would dislike it all the same. He thought that maybe he could use some of Steve’s money or leftover cash from dealing to buy something from the cafeteria tomorrow to fight the feeling that had sunk in his stomach every lunch period since Steve’s proposal. Maybe Eddie would find whatever was on the lunch menu good enough that he could finally get something in his stomach.

However, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the food. He knew very well it was the weight he was feeling in the pit of his stomach growing bigger every time his eyes landed on you and he caught himself thinking all the things he shouldn’t have been.

You looked good that afternoon. Well, you did every afternoon. You were listening to Barb as though she was telling the most intriguing story—which he fathomed could not have been the case yet he was amazed by your enthusiasm. The hard shell you wore wasn’t so hard when people truly looked.

It was as though he was seeing you for the first time, every time. A new, funny feeling rising within him that made him nervous as the money sat lumped in his jeans.

“Are you guys going?” Eddie flipped the question around, wishing to give his mind a break from his sulking.

“Your brother is acting suspicious.”

On the other side of the cafeteria, where Eddie’s gaze had previously been fixed, Barb couldn’t help voice her worries. It was not a story that Barb had eclipsed your attention with, but a comment. One singular comment that made things feel as though the ground you walked on was ice.

“What do you mean?” You frowned before bringing your fork full of food up to your lips.

“He asked me stuff about you… like to be a better brother… which Steve has never, ever, put the effort into being.’”

"Steve? Wanting to be a better brother?" The idea made you laugh. “What did he ask?”

“Stuff about you. What you like, what you do on weekends…” You stopped your fork mid flight towards your mouth, both eyebrows raised.

“Why?” You dropped your fork back on your plate and the food splattered like a painting.

“I told you! He said it was to ‘be a better brother.’”

“Maybe he actually wants to be a better brother,” Nancy chimed in, making your gaze turn to her. A sympathetic smile tugged on your lips.

“Nance, I know you like him but he definitely does not want to put any effort in making my life easier,” you snorted and Nancy suddenly became all flustered when you talked openly about her feelings. “Do you have an idea why he would ask you that?” You turned your attention back towards Barb.

“No,” she shook her head. “But just look out for anything suspicious.”

“That will be hard. Anything Steve does is suspicious.”

“Did you really need to crush on him out of all the boys in Hawkins?” Barb turned her head towards Nancy. The poor girl was hunched over her lunch in embarrassment, focusing all her attention on getting her blush to stomp out as she poked the peas around on her plastic tray..

“I guess my brother is his own kind of special…” You sighed as you moved your own food. “I’ll just have to sleep with both eyes open now… you know, it was getting real hard trying to keep one from closing.”

Barb laughed, Nancy’s blush diminished. Neither of them knew you were able to make a joke out of something that had you on the edge on the inside.

—

When Tuesday came to an end, the joy that bubbled from your stomach made the day feel less aggravating than it had been. The warm spring air made everyone’s spirits brighter; students laughed as they slid into their cars and people shed their coats and sweaters to celebrate as much sunlight as they possibly could after winter deprived them of it for so long.

You opened your car’s back door, swinging your bag in the backseat before closing it again and checking your watch. Dustin should be there any minute now.

“Hey.”

You could have picked that voice out from a crowd––a week ago you wouldn’t have said the same.

“Hey,” you matched Eddie’s tone and gave a small smile as he approached your car, sliding up to lean against the door you had just shut. “Didn’t expect to see you in class today. I think Mr. Arnold nearly shit his pants..”

“He’d never live it down if he did,” he laughed. “But I said I’d show up, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you picked at your bracelet in an attempt to distract yourself from the way your heart fluttered at Eddie. Perhaps it was the way he stood confidently against a crowd, or maybe it was the way his eyes made you feel as though you were the only person he could ever focus on––but the feeling made you uneasy because it was new.

At the same time, you were searching for a distraction to quell the feeling. A group of cheerleaders passed by; all holding the neon orange papers for Tina’s party and grinning like they were the happiest people to ever exist.

"Are you going?" You leaned opposite him, crossing your arms as you waited for his reply. “To Tina’s party, I mean.”

"Yeah,” Eddie nodded, “she asked me to deal. Parties are usually where I make the most profit so… can’t pass that up when I’ve got you to impress.”

You tipped your head to look at your shoes. White, slightly grimey sneakers staring back at you as you fought the heat. All consuming, Eddie Munson was. And he made you feel like jelly when he said stupid, ridiculous things like that.

“How about you?" You needn’t look at him to see the smile on his face. You could hear the difference in tone.

You shook your head. Rising to see him again, he was hopeful when your answer was the furthest from it. “No,” you admitted. “Not a party person.”

“No?” He had a flirtatious inflection to it. “Got a reason?”

“I find them dumb and pointless. An excuse for all the girls who take sips of church wine to act like complete airheads and get plastered off one can of PBR.”

If he was being honest he couldn’t agree more. He never had the conventional “blast” teens were supposed to have at parties. Eddie only liked them because it made his sales blow. But he remembered he had to convince you to go. You had to go. He wouldn’t step foot on Tina’s lawn without you.

Neither of you heard the bell that signaled the end of the middle school day.

Dustin, who had been waddling his way over on the sidewalk that connected the two schools, hadn’t noticed Eddie when he suddenly decided to run his way over and tackle you into a hug.

“Y/n!” The second he and his screaming of your name appeared out of nowhere, Eddie took a step back. A light shock in his eyes when he spotted a pre-teen being so affectionate around you when the girl he knew was far from a “caretaking” type. You didn’t have a little brother? For as long as he could recall, there had only ever been two Harrington siblings: you, and the idiot with the good hair.

A big “oof” escaped your lips before you wrapped your arms around him, tightening the hug as much as he’d allow before letting go.

“How was your weekend?”

“AMAZING! You will never guess what happened! Mike’s campaign is INSANE! There were golden dragons and evil fairies that wanted to steal Will’s wizard staff and the only way we could fight them was with this unknown crystal––” Dustin rambled so fast that you caught none of it but Eddie had. He’d always recognize when someone spoke the language he loved.

“Campaign?” Eddie’s voice broke off Dustin’s jittery talk. “You play D and D?” He questioned you first as though you had been the one admitting it; grinning from ear to ear at the possibility.

“Sadly, no,” you breathed, your words a bit desperate. “But he does! And he promised to teach me but he’s always busy.”

“Who is this?” Dustin snapped his head from you to Eddie.

A wave washed over the young boy at that moment. Eddie wasn’t Steve. He wasn’t a guy who tried to ask Nancy out nor was he a cookie-cutter mold of the jocks everyone loved. He was edgy; he was cool with an immediate draw because like Dustin, Eddie didn’t fit a mold. He smelt of cigarette smoke and a cheap cologne––a scent Dustin knew he had to copy because if he could be cool like this guy, maybe others would find him just as intriguing in his grade.

“Y/n,” his voice was flat, serious, “why were you hiding your awesome friend from me?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” you giggled at Dustin’s dramatic words, Eddie loved the sound of it. “Dustin, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Dustin, the boy I babysit.”

Awesome. The kid Eddie had never once seen in his life had called him awesome without speaking a word to him. No one had ever said that about him before.

Eddie extended his hand like a real adult toward the kid. Dustin took it and with soft, baby-like hands, tried to return a handshake that would impress his awesome new acquaintance.

“What grade are you in?” Eddie asked.

“Seventh/”

“Ah,” he nodded in reflection. “Well, hopefully I’ll be out of high school by the time you’re a freshman, but when you do get here, tell whichever awesome Dungeon Master is running hellfire that you know me and they’ll take you without question.”

“Hellfire?” His eyes lit up like spotlights on a stage. It sounded dangerous, cool. Dungeon Master had slipped under his radar because the name was so sick.

“It’s the name of our party.”

“Wait, Hellfire is a D and D party?” Your own eyes grew wide because truthfully, you hadn’t any idea what in the world it was. You had seen the recruiting posters that the football team defaced but how were you supposed to know what a devil mascot was supposed to represent?

“Yeah,” Eddie looked as though it were obvious. “What did you think it was?” Eddie crossed his own arms, his expression questioning.

“I don’t know, actually. People say so many different things about it, I really didn’t know.”

“Well, I’ll invite you to a campaign if you want to learn. We play every Friday and sometimes Tuesdays in the drama room when it’s free.”

“I would love to.”

Dustin was not sure what he was watching as he looked up at the one person he loved like a sister giving heart eyes to a boy he found to be his new idol.

“I just have to finish my character sheet.”

“Oh, that’s no problem, I’ll help you.”

Dustin lifted his gaze from you to Eddie like he would at a tennis match. The interaction brought sparks to his eyes. The two of you liked each other. The heart eyes were mutual; they were nervous and giddy and he had seen Lucas give them to Shelley Windsor from across the lunchroom six weeks ago only to be spurred by her accidentally spilling milk on his favorite t-shirt three days later.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Not this Friday because of Tina’s party, but how about the one after? We can go to The Hideout right after, we have a gig then.” The mention of The Hideout made Dustin’s smile even wider.

A date. A real date.

“Sounds like a date.”

The word echoed in Eddie’s mind like a beautiful melody. The keys drawing the most beautiful sound that even Motzart was envious but the second a finger slipped and the keys turned sour, the weight of the money sitting in his pocket squandered the joy.

“Yeah,” he wished he could have replied to it with a full smile and without the lump in his throat or the pit in the bottom of his stomach.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, titling your head with a hope he had begun the conversation with but ended without.

“Yeah.”

Eddie nodded as you both said goodbye before walking away to his van on the other end of the parking lot.

“You all set?” You turned to Dustin, a dumb smile still plastered on his features as he adjusted the straps of his backpack.

“Mhm,” He hummed yes, walking around the car to access the passenger seat.

“You listened to me,” he spoke again when the door was closed and both seat belts were on.

“What?”

“About meeting people at The Hideout.”

“How––”

“He literally said he played at The Hideout.” You closed your mouth instead of replying, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m glad you finally found someone,” Dustin grinned, a toothless, adorable grin that could always make you feel happy.

“I didn’t––Eddie isn’t––”

“Oh it’s a date then!” He mimicked your voice, but not in a mocking way.

“Alright, I did say that,” you rolled your eyes. “But it doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend or anything.”

“Not yet!”

“Dustin––”

“Y/n, what more can you ask for! He plays D and D which probably makes him a nerd like us! He plays guitar and is in a band, he looks like a rock star and like he’s the coolest person on earth… plus he definitely likes you.”

“I am not having this conversation with you,” you chuckled, turning your eyes back to your steering wheel and finally starting the car. “Eddie is… just… Eddie.” You hadn’t noticed, but even saying his name made you smile.

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy your date with just Eddie.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Boo!”

Your soul nearly left your body as the quiet solitude of browsing the store’s tape selection was interrupted. Led Zeppelin's cover art shaking as your hand clutched it tightly, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip.

Turning around, you met those big brown eyes and familiar curls that had filled your thoughts every second of every day.

“You followin’ me, Munson?” You raised an eyebrow, questioning him with a teasing tone. “I swear you’ve been popping up everywhere I have been lately.”

“Just a coincidence, I guess…” Eddie grinned as he looked at the tape in his own hand. A flustered, small blush painting his cheeks. “I came to get Bark at the Moon,” he showed you the familiar tape. “I accidentally ruined it while cleaning my room. Stepped on it and it cracked into a million little pieces.”

“Eddie Munson cleans his bedroom?” You laughed as he rolled his eyes. “I never would have thought.”

“Well,” he tapped the tape with his fingers, “I guess I’m just full of surprises then.”

A small lull passed over the two of you as conversation settled. He looked, like he always did, at you with so much curiosity and fondness that you weren’t sure it could have evolved as quickly as it did. A crush that swallowed him whole, all he wanted to do was be in your presence––for a second, for an hour, for an entire lifetime, Eddie Munson was chasing a high that was brought on by all the wrong reasons.

“What are you doin’ here?” He questioned, gazing around the store when looking at you reminded him too much of the funds supplying his purchase. “I thought you were babysitting?”

“Just finished actually. This store is on my way home and I can’t keep money in my pockets long when I know there is something I want,” you scanned the shelf again, grabbing the Fleetwood Mac tape that had been on your wishlist forever.

“He seems like a nice kid.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Dustin is the best,” smiling as your eyes fell back to Eddie. “I think the two of you would get along.”

“I’m sure we would. The kid plays D and D for Christ’s sake!” He laughed, walking with you towards the counter to check out.

Before you could set the tapes down, Eddie put out his hand.

“Let me see them?”

You furrowed your brows but let him take them. Eddie may have loved music, but Fleetwood Mac wasn’t a cup of tea he sipped from often, if ever. He��d admit “I’m So Afraid” was sick but only in the comfort of someone who wouldn’t expose him for enjoying something that wasn’t hard metal.

“Why?” You asked as he piled the ones you had collected on top of his own. He set them on the counter and the man behind it began ringing them up.

“Eddie––” The protests left your mouth quickly but he shook his head.

“I wanna get them for you.”

“What? No!” In an attempt to grab one back, he pushed your hand away from the counter. “I have the money for them. I literally just got paid!”

“Didn’t say you had no money, sweetheart.”

The Fleetwood Mac tape rang up to six-fifty. Far too much for him to pay for something like that.

“You can’t pay for those,” you huffed. “They’re not your tapes.”

“You ever heard of something called a gift? Or better yet, maybe chivalry? You take a lot of English classes, I think that word has popped up a time or two.”

You looked at him with a flat face but he challenged it as he pulled bills from his pocket. As you gave him a glare, he slid the money across the counter and the guy took it without you tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Little late for that, sweetheart,” that goddamn name again. He tipped his head to the side, scrunching his nose as your annoyance was built from an unearthed appreciation of his motivations.

“Let me pay you back,” you breathed out.

“No.”

“Eddie, come on.”

“No!” He laughed as the man handed him the change and pushed the tapes back out toward the two of you. Eddie split the tapes, one for him, two for you, and made for the door.

“Why did you do that?” You trailed behind him like a puppy.

“You know, a ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Th-thank you,” you stumbled on your words as you looked from the tapes that had come back to your hand to Eddie. “But––”

“I just wanted to be nice, give you a gift. Is that so bad?”

“No…. Thank you,” you smiled as the door’s bell had silence, the cars on the road beside the shop filled the air and Eddie halted beside his van that was parked beside your car.

“I was wondering,” he squinted as the spring sun caught his eye, “would you come to Tina’s party with me?” You really didn’t mean to laugh, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had been adamant that you weren’t going. Parties were not your “thing.” Only when you turned your head to side to watch the almost heartbreaking look in his eyes did you stop.

“I’m sorry,” you sucked in a breath. “I’m not laughing at you. I just… I don’t go to parties,” you shook your head. “The thought of me going makes me laugh.”

“Even if I’ll be at the party?”

“Eddie, Axl Rose could be at that stupid party and I still wouldn’t go.”

“You wouldn’t even do it for Axl!?” Eddie put a hand to his heart as if that had offended him.

“Not even for Axl.”

“Well,” he countered, “how about Kirk?”

“Still no,” you giggled. “All of Metallica could be there and I would be at home watching reruns of that Ewok show or the new episode of Little House on the Prairie instead.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You really think I want to attend a party where everyone just gets drunk and makes out and then people throw up everywhere because they get even more drunk––”

“And high,” he added.

“And high! Plus the music is fucking… awful.”

“Ok, I agree with you,” Eddie nodded in agreement. “Nevermind then. You’re right.”

“Thank you, I know I’m right,” He liked the confidence he saw. The way you tipped your chin to the sky and your head bobbled. Eddie was disappointed he couldn’t get you to go but he wouldn’t trade seconds with you for anything.

You walked past his van and opened the door to the front seat of yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You didn’t know why it came out as more of a question.

“Yeah,” his car keys jingled in his hand. “See you tomorrow.”

The second you settled into your car, you slipped in the tape and putting the Metallica one that had filled its spot in the empty case.

You sighed as your hands fell on the wheel; the leather of the material familiar and growing warm under the sun. You watched as Eddie entered his van, giving you a small wave before firing up his engine and driving opposite the direction you were headed.

Two lives separated by a town yet brought together by simple interests.

“Pull yourself together,” you sighed, melting in your seat as the first few notes of Rhiannon started playing.

You never felt like this. The ache in your heart, the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach… These unfamiliar feelings were almost painful as you tried to fight them, trying to run far away from them. You felt like one of those toys you and Steve would fight over as toddlers and ended up splitting in two by pulling too hard. Instead of the forces being two chaotic children, it was your head and your heart.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Eddie beamed beside you.

He had caught you in the hall as you made your way toward the gym the next day. Persistent is what he was, when you thought of how he pestered in a respectful, yet interested manner. You never had a guy chase after you before––want to spend time with you or treat you like you were the apple of his eye.

“I told you already,” you fixed your discolored sports bag on your shoulder. “I’m not going, Eddie. No one could convince me to go.”

“But I’ll feel lonely without you.” He gave you sad eyes and fuck, it made you waver for a milisecond.

“You’ll be fine,” you rolled your eyes instead. “There are plenty of others to talk to or make fun of, I am sure of it.”

“No, there won’t be. I need you for moral support.”

“Moral support?”

“Yes,” he furiously nodded with conviction.

“I’m not going.”

“Please?”

“No,” you shook your head, a smile dancing over your lips as you saw his brown eyes peering at you with want.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “If I die, it’s your fault.”

“Die? Dramatic much?” You giggled. “You mean to guilt trip me into doing something I don’t want to do? Sounds like a you problem, Eddie.”

“No. I’m extremely realistic. I will fucking die if you aren’t there to save me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, nodding as if you were believing his fallacies. “Totally believe you right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Y/n,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ll be fine,” He was making a disparate face, pouting and looking at you like a sad, stray animal. “You never give up, do you?”

“Was that a yes?”

“I’m not going, Eddie,” you said one last time, rolling your eyes before going on your way, heading towards the inside gym that was fitted for volleyball every afternoon. Eddie sighed as he watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

At least he tried.

But then, he went to Steve.

"I tried, she said she won't go."

“Well, will you convince her for another fifty!?” Steve pulled out his wallet and started sifting through the money. Eddie held out his hands and forced Steve’s hands closed, the wallet slamming shut with a force.

“Steve, you’re not an ATM machine! Put your goddamn money away.”

“I know!” Steve frustratingly screeched. “ButI need her to be there!”

“I can try again,” Eddie faltered because he felt deep down, you’d never agree to go. “She really doesn’t want to fucking go to this thing so if I can’t get to her to, that’s not on me.”

Friday ended with no progress for either Steve or Eddie. Convincing you to attend Tina’s party had been a failure––for both of them and truthfully, neither could blame the other for not being successful in their mission. Your mind was fixed. Parties were dumb and stupid and absolutely useless. You had better things to do with your time.

Like putting on pajamas and watching the new episodes of the last season of Little House or finish reading act 1 of Romeo and Juliet for Monday.

“I don’t understand you,” Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched you from across the room. You were snuggled up on the far end of the couch, eating yogurt while mindlessly watching commercials as you waited for your show to begin.

“What do you mean?” You licked the end of your spoon before dipping it into the carton again.

“Why do you not want to go to this party?”

“I just don’t want to,” you looked back at the TV. “Why does everyone want me to go?” You muttered to yourself as you took another spoonful of yogurt.

“Why can’t you be normal?”

“Define ‘normal’?”

“Tina’s party is normal. Wanting to go to the party is normal. Having friends who want you to be at the party is normal.”

“Tina’s party is just a pathetic excuse for all the idiots in our school to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves from the pathetic emptiness of their meaningless––”

“––Consumer–driven lives. I KNOW!” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair in frustration. “Can you, just for one night, forget that you’re totally wretched and act like we're actually siblings with the same interests?”

“No. I told you parties are–”

“Dumb? Stupid? I got that! Y/n, why can’t you just do this for me?”

“I already do everything for you!” You made frantic movements, pointing at him with your empty spoon. “This time, deal with the consequences of your actions yourself!” You huffed, fully turning your stare back to the TV, silently telling him you were done with the conversation.

“You’re being a bitch!”

“Excuse me?” You snapped your head back to only be met by a serious expression.

“You heard me! You’re being a heinous bitch and ruining my life right now!” He leaned away from the doorframe he had been watching you from. “And then you wonder why you barely can get any friends! Maybe you just say you don’t want to be in a relationship because you know you can’t keep a guy. You’re too mean and selfish!” Your mouth remained wide open as the words escaped him. “You’re just a loser! A freak who knows no one will want her at that stupid party! That’s why you’d rather stay home and watch that dumb ‘house in the fields show.’”

As if on cue the commercials stopped and the familiar theme song that was normally comforting was ringing through the living room.

“You just want to make my life miserable because yours is!” Your ears were buzzing, and the pang in your chest that he had started just the week before came back full force.

"FINE!" You screamed over his voice and the noise of the TV. Maybe louder than you expected, but you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. Your hands were trembling as you grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, bringing quiet to the room. The tension bubbled up like froth on a hot drink once the welcoming melody had gone quiet.

“I’ll go to your stupid fucking party,” you mumbled the words out as you walked passed him and headed straight up to your room. You struck his shoulder with yours, hard, when you passed him.

You wiped the stray tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen before changing. Fumbling with your shirts and pants as if you didn’t even know your own closet; shell shocked from the perceptions Steve had expressed. You grabbed your shoes and spotted Eddie’s sweatshirt spread out on your chair.

You took it without a second thought before flying down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Your father appeared in the doorway of the entry hall with a cup of coffee in his hands. It was far too late for one and he’d be up all night working because of it.

"To a party,” you bit back, your father taking a step back in surprise.

"A party?"

"Yeah, Tina's spring party," you grumbled, not making eye contact with him as he continued asking questions. You loudly dropped your shoes on the floor before sitting down next to them to slip them on.

Steve came not long after with a beaming smile plastered on his face. His hair was even more perfect than before, he was dressed in his version of perfect. The polished rich kid coming out in his baby blue polo tucked into his light brown pants. Steve grabbed his navy jacket from the coat rack by the door.

“Steve–” your father wanted to deny Steve from leaving the home.

“That’s the rule right?” Steve turned to the mirror over the shoe rack. “She goes, I go!” He looked at himself one last time before clapping his hands together. "We'll be back by two!" Steve turned back to you just as you were standing back up.

"Is that a new sweater?" He wondered, a grin still plastered on his face as he eyed the black hoodie you were wearing. It looked worn out and smelled funny, suspicion rising in the back of his mind that Eddie Munson had been doing his job after all.

"It's none of your business," you walked past him and out through the front door to get to your car.

The party was everything you expected it to be.

People making out in every corner, beer keg competitions that your brother jumped on the second you arrived, and awful flirting skills as boys finally got the courage to make their move with a little liquid courage.

The whole house became a mess of sweaty bodies and spilled drinks topped off with loud, annoying music. Stuffy air from the weed and cigarette smoke mixed with the intoxicating chemical smell of different flavored Teen Spirit deodorants paired with cheap perfume and hairspray.

It was everything you hated.

You spotted Nancy out of the corner of your eye not ten minutes after you slammed the car door closed. She was wearing a flashy shirt, her hair done differently than how she always wore it. She was admiring Steve the ‘King of the Party’ as he won yet again another round of whatever drinking game currently had his attention.

“Sweet,” you barely stepped into the crowded living room when Tommy’s voice made your entire body tense up. “Looking fresh tonight, Harrington,” he smirked, Carol giggling at his side.

Tommy Hagen never failed in making your skin crawl––no––making it want to completely shed itself from your body and run as far away as it could from Hawkins. He was a creep. A pimpled, doughboy creep that thought he was the shit for being friends with Steve and bagged a girl he thought was hot, Carol.

“Did Y/n finally decide to make an appearance?” She snickered.

“Jesus Christ,” you narrowed your eyes as they gathered around you. A pack of wolves on the hunt, a lamb too stubborn to quit centered in their gaze.

You took a step closer to her, “is that lipstick on your teeth?”

Her eyes went wide as her hand reached up to her lips. You took this as an opportunity to walk the other way, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies again.

The hallway was more crowded. A guy with a tray of shots he was desperate not to spill made his way from the kitchen to the living room, lifting the tray towards you.

“You want one?” The range of shots, from blue to bright pink, looked as unappetizing as dirt. You grabbed the one closest to you without even hesitating. A strange green color that made you more motivated to use it as a way to forget you were at the stupid, fucking party.

To forget the whole fiasco Steve had ruined your weekend with.

That you were a bitch.

That people didn’t want to be your friend.

That no boy would ever want to date you because you were awful.

As the sour liquid slid down your throat, you knew it would help you pretend like Steve hadn’t thrown all of your insecurities at your face. Pretend like you hadn’t gone with him just to prove a point. To prove to him that you were welcomed at this party or that you did have friends.

But maybe it was to prove all of this to yourself.

However, that meant you also needed to forget the pain and the burning feeling in the back of your mind that maybe he was right.

“Hey!” His voice was jovial that he had found you first.

Eddie saw the shot glass in your hand, the blank, nearly heartless look on your face as the scene around you changed from happy to glum.

“What are you doing here? I had to hear from dipshit Tommy Hagen that you actually showed up.” He appeared next to you, concern written all over his face.

If Steve was right, you wished Eddie didn’t give you those looks. You wished he didn’t make you feel like you had a friend in him. You wished he didn’t make your heart thump out of its chest like if he were to disappear tomorrow, you’d have to go too.

“I’m getting trashed, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at parties?” You bit back, your anger from Steve’s scorching rumble mixed with your words. “And Tommy Hagen? He lies… a lot. You’re just on the lucky end that finally a truth came tumbling out of his lips.”

“Your brother likes to make his presence known too,” Eddie put a hand on your shoulder, smiling to himself when he noticed you were wearing his hoodie.

“Ah,” another guy with a tray of random alcohol filled glasses walked right by you, you snatched one away before turning back to Eddie. “Later.”

And his hand slipped from your shoulder as you walked away from him.

He felt scorned.

“Hey!” Eddie called after you. “Where are you going?”

“I’m off to be ‘normal!’” You made air quotes as you said the word.

Eddie didn’t know why he stood there like an idiot as he watched you disappear into the crowd again. The word normal rang through his mind like poison. You hated normal, he hates normal––and you were both too far into your own worlds to ever be normal.

He quickly regretted his decision to stand there like a tree when it forced him to spend a half an hour running through the maze of Tina’s house trying to find you again. Eddie felt like he was in a haunted corn maze held outside of Hawkins every Halloween. Instead of having zombies or jump scares at every corner, it was drunk students making the way around the house impossibly hard.

The breath that was stuck in his throat only released when he spotted you at the crossroad between the living room and the dinning room; a glass half full of rum in your hand. You were stumbling your way around. A half an hour later and his hoodie was missing the strings around the neck, your hair was a mess, and the nailpolish was chipping quickly.

Your expression was a mix between a smile and a frown which Eddie thought to be impossible until he witnessed it on you.

“Hey,” Eddie called out when the music allowed. He attempted to reach for the glass as a way to help you because just looking at you made him realize no one was looking out for you. Drunk, a bit angry, and alone.

“Y/n, maybe you should give me that––” he reached for the glass again. Eddie’s only thought was to get you away from here and make sure you didn’t swallow one more drop of alcohol.

“No!” You whined like a toddler. “It’s mine! MINE!” You rattled out of his grip before scrambling out to the other room. Eddie blinked as he watched you run away. For a second, he felt like he was back in his trailer, reading The Lord of the Rings as his mind created the image of Bilbo holding the one ring and calling it his just like you did with the drink.

“MY MAN!” Steve appeared out of thin air, beaming at him with his brightest smile, pupils blown wide as the drinks had gotten to him as well. Eddie knew Steve wasn’t a smoker but he definitely had a second-hand high. “How did you get her to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Act like a human!” He laughed to himself.

Eddie wanted to protest. To say something about how this wasn’t normal behavior coming from you, and he had a right to be worried. Instead, Steve’s attention was captured by a girl calling his name. Eddie thought he recognised Nancy’s voice over the music but everything was blurred out.

When his gaze turned back around to land on what was going inside the dining room, his eyes went wide.You were dancing on top of the table, if it wasn’t clear that you were drunk out of your mind, it certainly was now.

Tommy and the rest of the crowd that had formed around the table were all cheering for you to continue. You threw the empty beer can into the crowd as you continued to dance; Eddie questioned for a second how you had changed drinks so fast before quickly pushing past students to reach you.

“What are you doing!? Get down!” He tried to grab your leg but you swatted his hands away.

“NO!” You screamed, giggling to yourself as you swung your body from side to side.

You wanted to twirl to the beat of the music. Sober you was already not very good at twirls, meaning that drunk you’s sense of balance was completely nonexistent. You tripped on your own feet, making you fall right off the table and luckily for you, right into Eddie’s arms.

If you were sober, you would have felt as though it was straight of a fairytale.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” You scoffed, scrambling away from him to stand up. The second you were standing on your own and Eddie removed his hand from your back, you stumbled backwards again.

“You’re not fine,” his tone became serious, a frown painted his features as he fully took in your state. He could see the way your limbs fell limp and lazy, how your alcohol filled eyes looked around the room. “C’mon,” he grabbed your shoulders to help you move through the crowd.

You made movements to get away from him, making you turn around in his arms and face him. “I don’t need your help,” you whined as you lightly hit his chest, the impact doing absolutely nothing to stop him.

“Yeah, you do,” he looked down at you, trying not to get lost in the galaxy of your eyes as you peered up at him with your drunken glare. “Let’s get you out of here, ok?” He almost whispered, his tone soft and soothing as his thumb rubbed circles on your shoulder.

The air outside was cold; a stark contrast to the oppressing and sauna-like temperature inside the house. The quiet, cool nature felt nice as the music muffled into barely recognizable lyrics when the door closed behind the two of you.

A few people had taken the party outside. Some smoking on the grass or chatting as they sat on the hood of their cars, enjoying the quieter parts of the evening.

Eddie’s hand secured on your hip as he helped you walk in a straight line towards the other side of the garden to a small patio far off from the noise and commotion the night had to offer.

“This is so patronizing,” you complained as he continued to hold you.

“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re blitzed,” he laughed.

You made a sudden move to walk faster, making you tumble out of his hand and onto the grass, giggling to yourself as you did.

Eddie grabbed your waist, lifting you back up to sit you down on one of the dark green iron garden chairs, and only when he was sat down next to you that he realized how romantic the scene was.

The table was placed at the center of a wooden pergola, wisteria twisting with its pillars and in between the planks of the ceiling. Everything was so quiet. The party barely a whisper in the vast, beautiful garden. The outdoor lights lit your features just enough for him to see and defined the color of your eyes.

Eddie sighed to himself. In any other circumstance, he would have died to stand there with a girl like you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggled as you fully rested your head against the palm of your hand.

“Like what?” Eddie tweaked his head to the side. Maybe he was staring at you for a bit too long.

“Like that!” You pointed out again, smiling to yourself.

“Because you’re pretty,” he knew you wouldn’t remember this, but at that moment, he didn’t care.

You laughed, a sweet sound that dripped from your lips like honey and made Eddie’s heart melt.

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” he watched the look in your eyes change as you scanned his features. Drunken you remembering the curve of his nose, to the way his lips hooked into a smile. "You have very pretty eyes, you know? They look a bit like doe,” you blurted out, smiling at him with a gooey grin.

Suddenly you felt all the alcohol begin to surge. The rapid onslaught of nausea confused you, furrowing your brows and causing immediate concern. Before you knew it, you were leaning down, throwing up onto his black converse.

"Jesus!" Eddie abruptly stood up, sighing when he realized no words he could say would change the state you were in. His hand found a way to your hair, gently rubbing your scalp in poor attempts to hold it away from your face as you continued throwing up.

"Hmm," You groaned once you lifted yourself back up, resting your head against your palm.

It hadn’t even phased you––what you had just done.

"I think it's time to take you home," Eddie stood up, chuckling when another protesting groan left your lips. "C'mon, party girl," he hooked his arm around your torso, wrapping your arm over his shoulders.

“I don’t want to go home,” you said sadly, taking Eddie by surprise when he felt you melt into his embrace; your arms fully wrapping themselves around him.

“I don’t want to go home,” you pleaded again, your tone more desperate as you looked up at him, your chin resting on his torso. “Please, don’t bring me back there.”

Going home would make your fight with Steve too real and you couldn’t handle that right now.

Eddie managed to walk you back to his van, patting your knee once he had buckled your seat belt.

“Wait!” You called out when he was about to close the passenger door. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“I’m not leaving you, sweetheart,” the nickname rolling off his lips would have made your heart leap in your chest if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy. “I’m going to get in the car from the other side, ok?”

“Mhm,” your voice fell quiet, your gaze falling down to your hands where you toyed with the sleeves of his hoodie.

When Eddie was in his seat, he felt your eyes on him. With every movement he made, you watched. The way he lifted his arm to buckle his seatbelt, his hand turning the key to start the van… he saw from the corner of his eye as you viewed him with all your focus.

“Who’s watching who now?” He smirked as he started the engine, carefully driving through the maze of sloppily parked cars before he was back on the main road.

“I wasn’t,” you turned your gaze away like a cat pretending they hadn’t just pushed a glass off a table, letting your focus be busy with something else from the decor in an old maid’s kitchen.

Eddie chuckled at your reaction.

“How about we go pick somethin’ up to eat? Get some food in your system so you sober up?”

“Works with me,” you molded in the seat, toying with the hoodie strings that had gone uneven. You closed your eyes as you let yourself get swayed by the vehicle, humming a familiar tune when the silence became too much.

His breath caught in his throat the second he recognized it.

Eddie knew that song.

In fact he knew it very well––he was the one who wrote it.

He smiled as your angel voice filled the car. Eddie thought he was going to collapse at the thought of someone other than Corroded Coffin members knowing this song. Even better, the thought of you knowing it sent him to paradise.

The bright colors of the fast food restaurant lit up the whole car. The neon 24/7 sign standing tall on top of the square building, Eddie scanned the menu as he broke the van beside the machine.

“What do you want?”

“Fries please,” you murmured, blinking softly at the bright lights.

“Alright,” you closed your eyes at the sound of his voice. Your foggy mind barely understood what else he had ordered beside a fry and a coke.

You were coming in and out of sleep by the time Eddie had parked in a quiet street on the heights of Hawkins. It wasn’t much of a view but it was the prettiest one you had around here.

“You alright?” He chuckled as he watched you open your eyes again, struggling to blink sleep away.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and before you could fall back asleep Eddie was handing you a coke and your fries. You struggled to remove your seat belt before shifting in your seat and grabbing the food.

“Thank you,” you sighed before taking a sip, the sweet fizzing drink waking you up instantly.

“No problem,” he smiled as he watched you. You seemed like you were in your own little bubble; still very drunk but better than minutes prior.

“I really didn’t take you for a ‘getting absolutely trashed’ type of girl.”

“I’m not,” you mumbled as you chewed on a fry.

“Then why did you do it?” He crossed his arms.

“Because it’s normal,” you spat the word out like venom. “It’s what people expect of me apparently.”

“Since when do you do anything that people expect you to do?” Eddie turned his body to fully face you.

You shrugged before looking down at your food, “since my own brother thinks I'm a terrible person…"

Ah.

There.

He had hit the bullseye. Steve had gotten to you. And it seemed like he hadn’t been kind because Eddie saw the way your eyes dimmed at the mention of Steve.

"I don’t think you are,” he shook his head. “But I thought you liked being perceived as mean and scary?"

"I do," you hiccuped, placing the coke in the cupholder of the van’s door. "At least I did until Steve was an ass and called me a bitch and well… he made it known how he feels about me. I’m just a thorn in his side." Eddie could see your eyes starting to water as you stared down at your fries. All the filters that being sober you may have put up came tumbling down with your tears.

It was hard to be vulnerable when you spent years perfecting invulnerability.

You sniffed and a small sob escaped your lips. Eddie's heart shattered with it.

"Wh–what I said in the car last time, about feeling confident," you wiped your cheek with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. "I think he took it and crushed the last of it these past few weeks. This tonight… it was just the icing on the goddamn cake."

"Is that why you were so surprised I asked you out?" He didn't know why he said it, but he felt his heart ache as he did.

You nodded.

And you took his heart in your hands as you did. Smothering it, crushing it with the knowledge he held and nourished that could only harm you more.

"Yeah," your voice came out hoarse. "Most guys are scared of me or just want to be friends with Steve… He’s just so… great. Steve is so perfect. I'm just the loser who scares people off," Eddie frowned at what you said. Watching you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. "It's so stupid," you whispered.

"What do you mean?" He asked, careful with his words.

"Tommy Hagan…" Eddie's frown deepened at the name. "Freshman year," you sniffed as you crossed your arms, "we dated for a month until I realized he only did it to get close to Steve. He was cheating on me with Carol." Eddie's eyes widened. "No one really knows though," you frowned too. "He wanted to keep it a secret and just hang out as friends. Should have known." You sighed, blinking a few times before placing your fries on the side and wiping both your eyes with your sleeves.

"Is that why you started that shell?"

"Yeah," you nodded, your head still feeling dizzy from the alcohol and the tension from the tears.

"Well, he and your brother are assholes."

"Tell me about it," you smiled, turning around so the side of your head rested against the headrest. Your glossy eyes met his as the shallow light from Hawkins eked into the van.

High above the town, in a beat up, poorly kept van that smelt of weed, nothing felt vulnerable in that moment.

You didn't know if it was the feeling of the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or the way Eddie was looking at you––his doe eyes holding in so much softness and compassion––much more than you had ever felt in years.

Before you knew it, words left your lips, mumbling into the short silence:

"You're pretty,” the way his features changed as he smiled made you smile too. It's as if his eyes sparkled every time he did, the way he slowly registered the meaning of it when a short laugh tumbled out. Eddie was happy the car was barely lit because a blush had spread its way across his nose.

"And you're drunk."

"Not that drunk" you stated, a tear filled giggle echoing through the space.

“I said it earlier, but you’re pretty too.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Eddie liked it ten times better than the frown you had seconds prior.

You sighed before grabbing your coke and taking a new sip, the drink washing the bare minimum of your pain and sadness away.

You spent the next hour talking about nothing and everything as you finished the rest of your order. The more you spoke the more he could see the tension washing away from you, and the alcohol slowly dissipating from your system.

He could see that by the end, you were trying not to fall asleep on him. The night had already been long and emotional enough that your eyes were closing without your consent.

"C'mon, let's get you home, Harrington."

“Hmm,” you barely had the strength to nod, Eddie smiling when a yawn escaped you, making him yawn just seconds after.

The engine starting broke the quiet of the empty streets, like a familiar melody that was stuck replay until the van would come to a halt. The green dragon proudly standing on the dash nodding his head up and down as the van moved along the road.

The stars were bright, with not a cloud to hide them, and Eddie could see the moon in the distance of the road. It was the perfect setting, and for a fleeting moment he actually imagined what it would be like to be with you.

Actually be in a relationship with you. With no stupid deals made over a popular rich kid’s tantrum.

He imagined what it would feel like to hold your hand without the burning reminder that this was never meant to be real; or Imagined what it would feel like to cup your cheek and run his thumb across it before locking your lips into a kiss.

He wondered what it would feel like to have you in his arms, laying across his chest as he read you The Fellowship of the Ring––his favorite of the trilogy.. Reading the pages that were so dear to him until your eyes closed and your breath became shallow. Until you fell into the dream world and escaped the chaotic mess that life could be in this little town.

All the sudden he wanted to dance with you to his favorite ballads, take you on roadtrips that lead to festivals and golden moments where you got to see your favorite artists live. He wanted to see the sparks in your eyes when Axl Rose started singing and Slash took over with his guitar solo; or how you would scream with him when Angus Young and the rest of AC/DC entered the stage and would take you to another planet for the evening.

But at the end of the day, the money was still buried at the bottom of his jean pocket.

The green bills he swore had morphed into poisonous objects worthy of the worst fantasy villain. Money was Sauron. Money was plaguing the land that wished to be enriched by kindness and goodness and love. Steve’s never-ending funds had become a curse to that sacred land––himself––and now broiled in its controversy, Eddie knew not how to return to normal or understand how good could ever come from something so ridiculous.

The faces of the founding fathers turned into monsters like the ones he wrote about for his campaigns.

The familiar forest road that led to your house was more of a reminder that this wasn’t supposed to be real and never would be; that this was just a stupid deal made over a greedy whim.

Eddie was greeted by the same trees that stood tall along the edges and the same fences to define property lines. The van came to a halt at the same spot he had parked in exactly one week prior. Before the headlights turned off with the engine and darkness washed over the scene, he caught a glimpse of the neighbor's cat perched high up at the exact spot he saw him last. His large yellow eyes mocking Eddie before the faint light source coming from your neighbors driveway made him become only but a shadow.

He could barely see your closed eyes and even breaths when he turned to you, yet his heart twisted in his chest again.

Eddie was falling in love and he knew that was bad. Terrible even.

Eddie had taken the deal for money.

Extra cash to afford things he hadn’t had the privilege to buy in the past. Eddie jumped into the deal with no other thoughts or possible outcomes. He just knew you as that one hot girl who fought anyone who tried to drag her into the neat boxes people created for themselves due to the fear of being different, and never in the entire time that he had passed you in Hawkin’s middle or high school had he labeled you anything more.

Eddie did not take the deal to meet the girl he never even knew could exist. He never knew it actually existed right there in front of him the entire time. He didn’t take the deal to suddenly feel empty at the thought of you not being by his side, or feel doomed at the thought of you knowing the reasons why he came to talk to you on that random Tuesday afternoon. Eddie never expected that the girl the Hellfire club had labeled as ‘hot but aggressive’ would steal his heart.

A heart that was never on the market in the first place.

A deep sigh escaped Eddie’s lips as he scanned your figure. Trying to remember the most he could in the dim light peering from outside the car’s windows.

You looked like an angel.

And the butterflies lodged in his stomach went crazy the more he stared. Eddie never wanted to forget the way your hair fell, any attempts to groom it gone with the night’s adventures. You looked so peaceful, with his hoodie comfortably wrapped around you, he had never known someone could look so comfortable in the seat of his shitty van.

What he was feeling was overwhelming. It made him want to throw the money out of the window and scream the ache away. Curse the skies as to why he had never noticed you before.

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he took a breath and leaned in. He didn’t want to wake you but he didn’t have a choice. The peaceful bubble had to be popped. Sleeping beauty had to be awakened from her curse.

But instead of her prince, it was a messy metalhead teenager who was only sitting beside her because of a deal. A deal Eddie had made with your brother––who hurt you with cutting words he knew not to be true.

With the pads of his fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, Eddie delicately reached to move a strand of hair away from your face.

Maybe the touch was too gentle because it didn’t do anything to wake you.

“Hey,” his voice was careful, his hand reaching your shoulder and gently rubbing circles on it.

“Hmm,” you hummed, slightly moving as his hand jostled you carefully.

“Y/n, we're here,” Eddie gently squeezed your shoulder and this time you made a bigger movement. Your eyes squeezing tightly before you opened them to be met with Eddie’s eyes peering out to you in the darkness.

“Hmmm,” it was a hum that accompanied a stretch. “ Where are we?” You blinked, rubbing your eyes with the knuckles of your index fingers.

“At your house.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Already.”

“Okay,” you said it quietly. A world of emotions swept back under the carpet as you stretched your arms and yawned, Eddie admiring each of your movements.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“What a gentleman,” you smirked tiredly before pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt, already bracing yourself from the cold that would meet you once you opened the door.

Eddie strutted around the front of the car to get to you. The second he was close you leaned in, stuffing your head in the crook of his neck and groaned in an attempt to voice your frustration.

“I’m dreading going back,” you mumbled against his shirt. It didn’t take Eddie long to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

“It will be alright.”

“I hope so…” the thought of seeing Steve at breakfast tomorrow haunted you.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this. Leaning into Eddie, your hands around his torso as you tried to ease your pain away.

You were tired. Really tired, and already felt the hints of the hangover you’d have the next morning.

That’s probably why you needed his comfort. These odd emotions that came fluttering back started to become comforting. Being in Eddie’s arms made you forget that it was the middle of the night and you were standing in front of his beat up van parked at the crossroad between your home and your neighbor’s. All you could think of was that a sense of comfort you had never gotten the chance to feel before was filling every bit of you. As if just the feeling of his arms around you was enough to make your pain disappear.

“We should get you home,” of course he had to break the silence.

You nodded and felt his hands gently rub your back before they fell back at his side. You instantly missed his warmth, the hoodie becoming all you had left of him on you.

The gravel passage was still the same as Eddie remembered from a week before. Nothing but maybe a few new flowers and leaves scattered on the earth’s floor. He dodged the same branches, passed by the same rose bush he had stolen from until the fence of your house changed from tall, strong wood to soft wires that could bend with barely any force.

“Thank you,” you turned around to face him. Only the moon lighting up his features through the trees. “For everything,” you looked away, almost ashamed. “I was an idiot tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it… Every teenager has at least one stupid night under their belt,” he smiled.

Time stood still. You didn’t want to go back to the walls that still held Steve’s words. You didn’t want to leave the comfort of the boy standing in front of you.

You took a step closer, a hand making its way to his cheek. Your thumb gliding through it the same way Eddie had imagined doing to you.

The touch of your soft hand was almost too much to take in; the fire that accompanied it burning Eddie like the fires of Mount Doom.

You were leaning in and he was too despite what his head was telling him; his whole body caving in without his mind’s knowledge––his heart taking over now.

"Can I kiss you?" There. The dagger had been planted right to his heart.

His mind jolted to your state of mind.

His mind jolted to the chill of the early morning.

His mind jolted to the money that burned a hole through his body.

"Not tonight, princess," he whispered, hoping you wouldn't catch the strain in his voice as he said it. Hoping that in these three words you wouldn't cause a tumble of emotions to lead you down a worse path in self-love. Eddie did not want you to figure out how conflicted he was feeling, nor did he want you to think Steve was somehow right.

He watched as your face changed. Confusion written in your eyes before it changed to something he didn’t know how to decipher.

Your hand fell from his cheek, Eddie instantly felt lost again.

“Well… I’ll see you later, I guess,” your words were as cold as ice and hard as stone.

Eddie’s entire being screamed to reach out for you. To climb the fence with you and chase you through the maze of trees until he could fix what he had done and kiss you.

Kiss you like he had dreamed of only minutes prior.

But life wasn’t as simple.

And Eddie knew he couldn’t let his heart decide this time because the green paper monsters were still screaming in his pocket.

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