#The trailer was genuinely sick

[viaphni]

RUINED REALLTY SEASON THREE: CATALYST TRAILER ANALYSIS

I have to completely admit that the end of season 2 and its epilogue had me very hesitant for the way things are going, and I am still a little hesitant, but i DO BELIEVE THAT THEY ARE 1000% COOKING

First of all, that trailer was AMAZING!

The music, atmosphere, and cinematography were all done very very well (and great voice acting from Rinzler too)

But onto the actual trailer

It opens up on the results of the Soulstice's arrival, with Light alone, showing everybody's souls stolen away and their bodies on the ground. Light has lost it all. He immediately blames himself. It's also made apparent pretty quickly that Soullless is still present in some way, and is going to play a significant role again.

One of the first really interesting things to occur is Light taking the Soul Eater's weapon in his hands.

He stares at it for a moment before picking it up, the screen fading to black. But why would he be using his worst enemy's weapon? What benefit does it serve him? Mostly likely, I think it would have something to do with Soulless. Whether he likes it or not, Light now has a complete tie to the Soulstice itself. As he takes it, he says "And now, another threat is here..."

And Void's new reign of terror is displayed:

We are shown the Yellow Kingdom again, and the areas around it, completely overtaken by Darkness. Void must have taken complete control of the situation, as we just saw Seer with active dominance over their body in the epilogue. Maybe it was a defense mechanism to keep him alive after Corrupt's attack?

After these shots, we see what I think is the center tower of the kingdom—and there is a deep, bottomless pit surrounding it where the moat of lava once was.

It reminds me a bit of the castle entrance to the Depths from Tears of the Kingdom. Void might have something important down there.

A few more shots cycle through of the tower, and we see this—

The camera is descending into the chasm.

Next, we see a room maybe akin to some kind of lab?

It could also be a big machine. Somebody is standing there, but even with heightened exposure and brightness, it's hard to tell who it is. I'm sure it's Void, however, due to the chasm and darkness. This shot is really interesting, too--

--because it seems to be the view of the surface from this area underground. With heightened exposure, the walls look very machine-like.

Whether that or a lab, it clearly serves a primary purpose in Void's plans. (One of my first thoughts was likely a stretch, but I asked myself if it could be similar to the Soulstice--in the way that a machine was created to steal all souls, another would be created now to spread Darkness. Shadow Sabre did something similar in RQ.)

The next four shots emphasize what seems to be some of our new group of main characters.

We see the Purple Leader in his home. Him coming into the main cast will be very interesting, as I'm sure it will give us more opportunities to learn about the histories with people like the Sorcerer and Phantasia, strong links to the Soulstice. I'm sure this knowledge will be vital to the fight.

Now this next photo--I can't exactly tell what's going on here? It appears to be Corrupt's lab? When the exposure and brightness are edited, I can't see any details. But this is 1000% Corrupt is just is trust frfrfrfrfrfrfrfrfrfrffrfr Corrupt is alive

The shot then switches to an Indigo and an unidentifiable Aquamarine who seems to be imbued with light energy, given the white eye. I assumed this could be Aaron, but his soul got stolen. Who knows? The Indigo is the Doctor Indigo, I would think--given the coat and monocle, but he didn't have a design in Season 2, so I'm unsure. Both of these could be completely new characters.

And now, Dimension facing off with the Soulstice. It seems that Dimension will play a much bigger role now and actually put in the work for once. I guess that was his final straw? Or maybe the season will start and he will still show absolutely no concern.

A couple of interesting shots of Light and Soulless show up after this.

In a similar fashion to the Season 2 intro, Light walks towards the camera and glitches into his other forms, this one being Soulless. It only emphasizes his apparent new role in the season.

After this, we see a standoff between the main cast and the main opposition. Light, Professor, Dimension, Purple, and...a strange new variant of Assistant. It makes me think of the assistant robot from A Dark Soul, which was also themed around light. In the beginning of the trailer (and in the thumbnail), we only see the Assistant as a head. I guess he got repaired, and Light was a major factor playing in it.

I'd also like to point out how odd the new Sculk Steves look. They have gray streaks, like light energy. Since Corrupt was absorbed by the Soulstice, I imagine that the light crystal he held became of high use to the Soulstice, allowing it to power up these Steves like this.

The patterns on the ends of their limbs also look much bigger/brighter/saturated, or maybe its just the lighting--like soul flames instead of the typical sculk steve pattern.

The Steve standing above in the second picture catches my eye, though. It seems to be a "normal" being, and even appears to be holding something if you look closely.

Right by the head there. This figure is also standing closest to the Soulstice, so they must be important. Could it be Corrupt? Well if you watch a few more seconds--

Right there. We see Light fighting with who appears to be that figure. But that sword... We have seen that sword before!

Corrupt's sword.

We never saw Corrupt disappear when the Soulstice found him. It's more than probable that he simply could have just absorbed the light energy from him, used it to power up the sculk steves and other operations, and left Corrupt weakened. But what purpose would he have even leaving him alive? The Soulstice has everything it needs now, right?

Light found Toxin, too. And with a potion effect? He seems weakened. Perhaps Void has abandoned him and Light will team up with him? He already seemed to be cracking during his fight with Light in the forest where his prior identity as Soren was revealed. Is it finally time we get Soren back? Or will he still be evil?

The next few shots depict a battle between Light and Void, seemingly at his new base of operations. I'd put photos, but I'm almost out of space, and I want to keep this all in one post. Plus, there isn't a lot to analyze there.

The final shots of the trailer are some of my favorite ones.

There's a good bit to break down here.

We start out by seeing Light's cursed form, except his curse appears to have spread greatly. I've also just realized that he doesn't have his soul-afflicted eye in this form. Images of Purple Leader, Soulstice, Professor, Soulless, and Assistant are not surprising--we already know of their larger roles. I believe that's Corrupt again in the 5th shift. As for the 8th, I'm a bit confused. I don't think we know who this person is. However, the purple belt definitely brings up a few ideas, even if they're stretches. Could we meet a new Purple Steve--maybe even Phantasia?? I doubt that's the case, as it seems pretty outlandish. The Yellow Leader being present actually makes a lot of sense as well. His Darkness should give him resistance to the Soulstice.

BUT, I'm really focusing in on those last three. Louis, Cliff, and,, Seer.

We saw the Elites' souls taken. Clearly, they find their way back to the land of the living eventually (and with some sick new redesigns.) Louis doesn't change much, but Cliff appears to now be entirely a Light Steve. Which brings up another thought--if he is now 100% light, does this mean that he is completely purged of Darkness? Is his Shadow gone? Is his shadow the reason he had to become fully light?

And then there's Seer. There's no doubt that this is him. My friend @chaoticcyprus brought up this photo:

We saw this shot during the semi-finale when Void was battling the Soul Eater. The outfit aligns perfectly, except now his hood is down, and he seems to have been set free from whatever chains held him previously.

But how would Seer and Void separate? I assume it would have something to do with Corrupt's final blow on Void.

Corrupt dealt an absolutely MASSIVE amount of power onto his opponent. I'm sure that the sheer amount of light energy could be enough to somehow split Void and Seer apart. It would explain Void's sudden spike in power and authority that he seems to have in the next season.

As for any final thoughts,,, I can't think of much else for now.

But I'm looking forward to hearing what everyone else has to say, and also what the team presents for Catalyst!

[dinoswordsb]

As per that last post the movie industry but especially the subsection of animation is so hopelessly...nothing right now. I know opinions and it's subjective and whatnot but elemental, ruby gillman, and even wish are like the three movies I've heard about before their release, and they all look kind of. Awful. Wish I think I'm willing to give a little more of a chance if nothing else because it's visually appealing and maybe I'm crazy but everything in the box office has been so by the numbers and heartless its upsetting and there's such a formula to everything churned out recently its like why even really bother? Maybe it's just me but I'm so sick to death of it. I hope spiderverse makes 10000000x more money than any of the other 3 listed here

[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

So I just saw the Borderlands trailer, and like. Yall, can we stop having Kevin Hart in EVERY GODDAMN MOVIE. Seeing him as Roland ESPECIALLY pissed me off because Roland is absolutely NOT the type of character for Kevin Hart to play. I know the Borderlands games don’t shy away from humor—that’s part of their charm, after all—but Roland is one of the most serious characters in the games. And the fact that I can almost guarantee that Kevin Hart was cast as Roland because “he’s a popular black actor” is just.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed off at ALL the casting. Even Jack Black, who I generally like as an actor and feel like he generally makes a bad movie a mediocre one. I know I shouldn’t care, especially since I’m probably not going to watch the damn thing, but part of me DOES care because of the simple fact that I grew up on the games, so of course it holds a special place in my heart.

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue the movies, nachos, cherry cough syrup, and a couple of moments of clarity. [10k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!! tw sick fic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has the most peculiar curl tucked up by his neck. Where most are frizzy and loose, this one falls in a perfect shiny ringlet below his ear. He shifts and it's out of view, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding his face as he puts your car in park. 

"Remind me why you had to drive?" you ask, ducking down to look at the glaring white lights of the movie theatre across the street. 

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel." 

For once, Eddie might not be exaggerating. He grins at your lack of rebuttal and throws an arm behind your shoulders, twisting in the driver's seat to set his sights on Junie. 

"Are you ready?" he asks her. 

She wiggles. It's an ecstatic movement. Her clothes are prim and sweet if you do say so yourself, a long sleeved shirt under a pair of the world's cutest dungarees. They crinkle as she moves, pressed to perfection. 

You and Eddie open opposite doors in tandem and step out into the brisk, early night. The sidewalk shines with rain, a black slickness stretching in every direction. You shiver and pull your thin jacket tighter to your torso as you turn back to the car, intending to retrieve Junie and rush into the theatre before you can freeze on the spot. 

Eddie's already swung open the door and rescued your daughter from the confines of her car seat, neatening up the hem of one of her socks with her face pushed over his shoulder. 

She giggles about something and Eddie says, "Sorry, June. 'M tickling you, am I?" so fondly you have to avert your eyes. 

He locks the car and hands over your keys with a smile. You smile back, heart flipping like a spinning coin. Head over tails, over and over. 

The big, ring-heavy hand he holds to Junie's back reaches for you suddenly enough that you flinch.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, suppressing a laugh, "your necklace is twisted." 

He moves in a second time and you raise your chin, chest aflame as his fingers glance off of your bare skin. He slips the chain over his index and pulls, encouraging the links around until the clasp is hidden again. 

"Thank you." You huff an awkward, sheepish laugh.

"You owe me," he says, mock-severe. 

Your laugh is much more genuine as you follow him across the road. 

You're squinting as you approach The Hawk movie theatre. The title cards are hard to look at, aggressively white with black capital letters that read, 'The Great Mouse Detective 7'. 

There's a small line of families waiting by the front. You realise it like a shock, that the three of you must look like a family too. 

Eddie carries Junie with the surety of a dad that's carried his child a hundred times before; he strokes the back of her head with the affection of one, soothing the mess of flyaways she'd acquired by squirming in her car seat. Junie responds with familiarity, hands tucked into his hair and tugging. She's trying to be nice but his hair won't allow it, all his long curls tangled at the ends from a day at work. 

Still, he says, "Thanks, baby. Make sure you get the back, okay?" 

"Okay," she echoes. 

You look down at your wringing hands. There's ink smudged up the side of your writing hand. You scratch at it half-heartedly, blinking against your fatigue. 

You're exhausted tonight and it's only Wednesday. You can't imagine how you'll fare tomorrow considering how little sleep you're expecting tonight — there are a thousand things to do when you get home. Laundry to wash and press, cleaning to do, dinner to make. 

You'd been writing cheques for due bills when Eddie had come knocking, well-dressed, stupid-handsome, and announced that tonight you would be accompanying him to the movies. He'd actually said 'accompanying'. 

Despite a full agenda, you'd said yes. You're not very good at saying no. At least, not to him. 

It takes you a moment to realise you're at the front of the line. You pay for the tickets before Eddie can try it, and with his hands full he can't really stop you. He whines about it all the way to the concession stand. 

"You can buy the snacks," you say. His face lights up, and you amend, "If you're reasonable." 

"I'm always reasonable…ly over the top," he says, chided by your hard stare. 

"Yes, you are." 

He follows you down the two steps to the concession and cuts in front of you. "How did you do that? What face was that? I felt my soul leave my body." 

"That's my disapproving mom look. I'm disapproving." 

"Ah." He pats Junie's side sympathetically. 

She pulls her head from over his shoulder and smiles at you. Her arms vy for your hold. You steal her from Eddie and kiss her all over her tiny face, uplifted by how much she loves you, how happy she is to be in your arms. 

"What snacks do you want? Do you eat popcorn with butter? Without?" Eddie asks, his newly emptied arms already posed thoughtfully, a hand under his chin as he thinks over his options. 

The theatre has a huge array of jellies, an even bigger array of candy bars. There are more brands of soda than there are glasses in your kitchen cabinet. 

You're daunted. 

"Whatever you want," you say.

Eddie groans and tips his head back. "Don't play with me like this. Butter or no butter? It's an easy question." 

"I don't know. Without?" 

"You are so weird," he says happily. 

You pout and pull Junie closer. 

Standing at the side while he gathers concessions, too many things, you watch in awe as Eddie stacks it all against his chest with the sure confidence of someone who's done it before.

He grins at you from between two huge cups. "Are we ready?"

If you could, you'd leave him here in the foyer with his jumbo deluxe popcorn. As it stands, you like him too much to leave him behind. You juggle Junie and your bag to push open the doors for him outside of screen two. 

"Thanks, babe," he says outside of screen two. You bite your lip, surprised by his easy tone. 

You climb up the stairs and into your seats. You're high enough for Junie to sit in her own chair between you and Eddie and see the screen comfortably but she adamantly refuses, stretching out in your lap like an alley cat hungry for affection. 

Eddie moves into the ragtag velvet seat beside you, a million things in his lap and at your feet. He's pretty enough under the theatre lights to dull the panging ache at the back of your head. "If she won't sit here, I will. I got you a lemonade, is that cool?" 

If it weren't you'd hardly tell him. 

"She's being extremely well-behaved," Eddie notes, an inkling of pride in his tone. 

You could sucker punch him. Why does he do this to you? 

"I know," you say with a shy smile, "it's suspicious, isn't it?" 

"I don't know. If I were in your lap I might be well-behaved too." He raises his eyebrows, an over-exaggerated show of flirtatiousness. 

You reach over the arm to take a handful of popcorn. Eyes on Junie, you offer her your stolen goods and say, "I've got two thighs." 

"Don't tempt me." 

Junie all but snatches the popcorn and tilts her head back. A kernel falls from her hand and disappears between the seats. You make a mental note to pick it up afterward, ears full of her chomping. 

You'd worried she might be a little loud for the movies but there's a bunch of kids and none seem keen on keeping quiet, a cacophony of childish complaints to hide your conversation. 

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?" 

You freeze up. "Oh- I don't know," you say, turning Junie toward you so you can watch her swallow. 

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-" 

"No, I think you're right. Um…" Junie looks at you with obvious confusion. "Was that yummy?" you ask. You hide your concern with a strained bubbly attentiveness. 

"I guess she's old enough." 

Eddie's being very casual – it is casual. He's just thinking out loud. You know he's not criticising you. He never has, though sometimes you think he should. 

It must show on your face anyhow that you're having a 'I'm a bad mom' crisis. A mean stroke of insecurity.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says suddenly, brows pinched, "it's alright. It was just a thought. And she had no problem eating it, I'm sure she's gonna be aces. Better than aces." 

Junie climbs out of your lap and into his. He sets the popcorn on the floor to take her, and when her hands reach for his drink he holds the straw to her mouth. All the while his eyes move between her and you. 

"Okay," you say, because you're being silly. 

Junie is fine. Eddie was only saying something that's very well true. Babies aren't supposed to have popcorn, but June's not a baby, really. She knows how to chew properly. It's unlikely she'll choke. 

Eddie has to keep his focus on her to avoid getting soaked – she barely knows how to use a straw and keeps trying to turn the cup upside down. 

"Not like that, trouble. Right way up. You got it." 

You pick at the loose stitching at the end of your shirt and have to change the subject before the embarrassment of it all swallows you. Such a small thing. 

"Can I try one of these?" you ask, grabbing the first bag of candy you can find. They're a bag of Super Sour Suckers. 

He looks at you over Junie's head, startled and hiding it poorly. Then, a smile so bright it increases the embarrassment you're feeling tenfold.

"You have to! Robin said they're even worse than the normal ones, I don't wanna go through that alone," he says urgently. 

Robin is one of his friends. You're not jealous that he has friends (though you are, because you want your own, but not jealous that he has friends that aren't you). He's mentioned her in passing before. When you'd asked as bravely as you dared if they were anything more than friends he'd laughed maniacally.

"We're definitely just friends," he'd said.

You fight to stay smiling and pull open the bag of candies. Ironically, the jellies inside are shaped like pacifiers. Covered in sugar packed densely and looking almost wet with what you suspect to be citric acid, you shake the packet wearily and search for a candy that won't ruin your tongue.

Eddie holds out his hand. You drop a green one into his palm. Your fingertips ride up the curve of his thumb. 

He's unflinching as he eats it. After a few seconds his eyes screw up and he clutches June tight to his chest, raising an unhelpful hand to his jaw. 

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing. 

You bite into a pink pacifier unfortunately layered in sugar and wait nervously for the sourness to kick in. Sure enough, it comes quick and torturous. It's a knife cutting through fog. 

It's hard to feel tired when there's something this sour in your mouth.

"You can't spit it out!" Eddie says.

You stop with your hand halfway to your mouth. "What?" you ask incredulously, trying not to dribble. 

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!" 

You chew miserably. He laughs at your expression – a warm and hyper sound, practically giggling. Junie joins in as she always does. His joy can't be overstated. 

The lights go down while you're still fighting for your life. Your eyes water and you have to smother the taste with a quick drink and a gasping breath. 

"You're sick. I can't believe you let me eat that," you whisper. 

"You saw me eat mine! You knew what you were getting into… Think June wants one?" 

Your outrage has him laughing again. It's a magnetic sound. Every time he does it you want to touch him, his arm one pole and your hand another. 

Junie gets comfortable on his right leg, head tipped expectantly against his chest and eyes drawn to the screen as the trailers begin. You don't bother with jealousy; in ten minutes she'll be climbing over the arm to sit with you again, or want to sit in her own seat. She may even try to walk around. Toddlers are indecisive and easily distracted. 

Even if she weren't. Even if she sat there in his lap for the next hour and a half and didn't look your way, you're not sure you could harbour any envy against him. His hand spreads over the front of her torso with fingers splayed against her ribs, stroking thoughtlessly through the fabric of her thick clothes.  

He tips his head toward your chair. "There's nachos." 

"I saw." 

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?" 

"Subtle." 

He snorts. "Yep. That's what they call me. Eddie Subtle Munson." 

You reach over the dark floor for the tray of nachos and balance them carefully on the armrest between your two seats. Eddie digs in without fuss, you fret over which ones have jalapeños on them, and Junie gets mad that nobody's sharing with her. She puts her hands straight in a mound of orange cheese. Her face is a picture when she brings it to her mouth. She's discovered molten gold. 

"Junie," Eddie says lightly, carding hair away from her ear so she can hear him properly. "Don't get cheese on your pretty clothes. It took your mom a week to get the rocky road out of your strawberry jammies, you know?" 

He doesn't care that she's mauled the food. He's worried she might stain her dungarees. Your heart goes crazy, another sudden surge of clarity.  

Junie climbs back into your own lap as the movie begins. You whisper to her about proper theatre etiquette in your mommy voice and she doesn't do too bad a job at listening. She finds the appearance of the Great Mouse Detective himself quite funny, and laughs at his grave features and expressions every now and then. It's a golden sound. 

Try as you might, you can't keep your eyes open. Junie's having such a good time and Eddie whispers funny commentary beside you, but eventually your eyelids creep shut and Eddie squeezes your arm, skin braceleted by his thick, warm fingers. 

-

"C'mere," Eddie prompts, hands vying for your daughter where she's perched in your lap. 

"Why?" Junie asks. 

He's surprised at her inquisition. "You don't want a hug?" 

She nods voraciously. Eddie lifts her off of your lap before she can use you as a climbing frame and into his own.

"I think mommy's sleeping," he tells her. 

Junie looks at you curiously. You've got a wet wipe in your limp hand, which he takes and discards, and your head's fallen to one side. You'll have an awesome crick in your neck when you wake up.

Junie gives him a hug. He loves her hugs. They're so small and sweet, she's genuinely an extremely loving little girl. Her smile when she hugs people is beautiful as yours is, though her affection is less hesitant. 

Everything's going well until she catches a look at the huge, scary bad guy Professor Ratigan somewhere in the middle. 

Eddie's crunching through a greedy mouthful of popcorn and almost chokes as she turns around and hides in his chest. He brings a hand up to her back protectively though he doesn't know what happened, eyes moving between her and the screen at lightning speed. 

"Aw, June," he murmurs sympathetically. He really is a scary looking guy. 

"Eddie," she says, dangerously close to tears. 

"Sweetheart, it's okay! He's only on TV." 

She says something that might be, "Don't want." It's not quite there but Eddie thinks she's doing a great job lately with her talking, patting her back in a silent well done as he attempts to reassure her. "Basil's gonna outsmart him, Junie. The Great Mouse Detective is gonna save the day, scout's honour." 

"No," she whines softly. 

He covers her unhappy face with his hand. 

"It's okay," he murmurs, melted and bemused. "It's okay, junebug. I swear." 

Despite his best efforts, she starts to cry. Eddie freezes up because she doesn't cry often, not with him. When she does you're always there to find a solution. He supposes the novelty of being a new person has long worn off, and that he's going to have to make more of an effort than just tickling her or petting her hair to make it better. 

Her volume increases. He shushes her, clumsy and awkward but earnest, trying the best that he can to make it up. He offers candies and drinks, he rummages through your baby bag for Mr. Bear. She takes it all but none of it lasts.

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly. 

Eddie turns to wake you up. He gets one good look at your face and can't follow through. 

You're sleeping deeply, at the movie theatre of all places. How tired are you, and why hadn't you said? He'd known to some extent — it's why he'd offered to drive — but with the movie blaring and all the kids and noise and now Junie's crying, he realises you must be exhausted to sleep through it. Why hadn't he noticed? He kicks himself.

He lifts her up with his head angled down, giving your shoulder a swift squeeze and then bumping down the steps with Junie until he's out into the lights of the hallway. The door swings closed. 

It's oddly quiet and extremely bright. Junie stops crying to blink, and starts to cry again once she's adjusted. 

Eddie does not know what to do. It's a kick to his ego that he quickly accepts, though he does murmur a rueful, "Babe, I thought you liked me." 

Lost on deaf ears, his comment hangs in the air. 

He pats her back some more, wracking his brain for how you take care of her when she gets like this. Mostly, you're patient. You hum and you wait. Eddie tries to emulate you and your kind heart, walking her up and down the hall as he taps the bottom of her spine. 

"It's okay," he repeats. The more he says it the easier it feels. It is okay. He has to find a way to help June understand that, is all.

She grizzles. It's a long process. A couple of times he wonders if he's in over his head, if it's even his place, if he should wake you up and admit defeat. 

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something. 

He works Mr. Bear out of Junie's iron grip and pinches his back taut so that his face and arms wiggle when he wants them to. 

"Baby June," he begins, in as gruff a voice as he can manage. He tries to channel his uncle's sternness, and his fondness. "Won't you quit crying? You're getting tears on the neck of your t-shirt and all over your cheeks." 

Junie quietens. She still cries, but the severity of the situation noticeably shifts. 

Eddie keeps on. "I got just the thing," he says, pushing Mr. Bear forward and making smacking sounds as he kisses both of her cheeks. "Gotta kiss these tears right off a'you." 

She laughs as Mr. Bear kisses her face dry and laughs some more when Eddie kisses the top of her head.

Eddie loves Junie. 

He knows it for a fact. 

She's very easy to love. She's beautiful as you are, she's loving, she's sweet. Her laugh is adorable and her smile is more. When she cries, Eddie finds he's never annoyed. Grated by the repetitive sound, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to be mad with her ever. He wants to help her work through it. To get you both through it. Eddie wants to be good at this.

He has Mr. Bear kiss Junie all over her face. 

"See?" Mr. Bear asks. "Isn't that better? No more tears, little girl, or we'll never see the end of the movie!" 

As Eddie says it, he wonders if taking her back into the theatre is a good idea. 

"Hey, junebug?" he says, all drama set aside. 

Junie lifts her flushed face. 

He smiles gratefully. "Do you wanna go back inside? Go check on mommy?" Leaving you by yourself doesn't exactly sit right with him.

Ah, there's the face he was expecting. Puzzlement, surprise. Junie frowns at him and looks over his shoulder, her own, searching the empty hallway for you and finding only reflective floor lights and patterned carpet. 

Eddie starts back into the screen room before she can cry over your being missing, chatting quietly but in a way that commands her attention. He's effective in the art of distraction if nothing else.  

The mouse detective and his friends have defeated Professor Ratigan, though Eddie shields Junie's head from the screen in case he's thinking about making a comeback, finding his way back to you in the dark. He picks over other people's snacks and then the abundance of your own, finding you still sound asleep. The sight doesn't spell good tidings. 

"Here she is," Eddie tells Junie, "here's mom. You wanna give her a kiss?" 

He sits down in his seat and squishes a bag of gummy worms under his boot. Junie immediately bends over the armrest and grabs at your front. You'd worried to him once that she had separation anxiety, and Eddie didn't know anything about it to agree or not. This display makes him think she might. She's clinging to you, desperately wanting your attention. 

Eddie winces as she grabs your face. She's obviously not trying to be cruel, hand stroking over your cheek as you'd stroke hers. 

"Mom," she whispers, the action itself enough to get Eddie laughing. Her version of whispering is almost like a character in a pantomime. 

He doesn't laugh for very long. You're not easy to wake up. Junie squishes your cheek and tries again. "Mommy," she says.

You groan in your sleep and your eyes scrunch together. "What?" you murmur finally, voice scratchy. 

"You're missing the movie," Eddie says, patting your thigh. 

Your arms come to life before you do. You wrap them around Junie's short torso and encourage her up your chest until you can nose at the top of her head. You rub slow lines, a steady back and forth. Eddie would bet money you don't have a clue in the world where you are. 

"S'loud," you complain. Your voice is weak with sleep. 

Junie looks at Eddie weirdly. He suspects it's her way of asking him to help out without asking. 

He tenses his hand where it rests at your thigh. "Do you wanna go home?" 

You don't answer. You go limp under his touch and Junie's weight, nose and lips set in a frown but otherwise near languid. 

Eddie's small (and alarmingly ever-present) worry for you multiplies by a hundred. 

He grabs up a bag of chips and entices your daughter back onto his thigh. She digs through half the bag as the movie draws to a finish, distracted if not happy, her face and fingers swiftly flaked in corn dust. The lights are thrown up and the noise is immense, a hundred pairs of shoes over tipped popcorn, babies and young kids unsettled, their parents eager to head home and watch their own movies no doubt. 

Eddie can't say he'd really watched the film besides precursory glances, his focus on you and your fidgety offspring. He'd been excited to tell you about his Junie success, but now he just wants to get you home.

He says your name as clearly as he can, his hand finding its way to your thigh for the third time. He rubs down toward your knee and gives your leg a shake. 

Junie climbs off of his own. Now the lights are on she can see the grand assortment of snacks laid out before her, and she seems eager to try them all. 

You eventually, thankfully rouse, you drag a palm over your eyes and cross your legs, squishing his hand in the process. He steals it back.

"Babe, you gotta get up. The attendants are looking at us funny. I think they think I've run you ragged, and while the dad tag doesn't bother me, 'cruel husband' doesn't suit me." 

"What?" you ask. 

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants." 

Your eyes open, lashes parting clumsily. You move like the air around you has turned to glue and moan in a quiet display of agony as your neck clicks. "She leaked through?"

"Nah, I'm messing with you. Movie's done. Getting some weird stares." 

You're quiet, but you shrug on your jacket and Eddie packs what he can of the leftover candy into your bag. He swings it over his shoulder. 

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie. 

She raises both arms. 

You stand on shaky legs. Eddie stations Junie on one hip with one arm wrapped around her and holds out the other. You let him fold you up into his side.

"You okay?" he asks. 

Your face drops into his shoulder. "I'm so tired." 

"You're alright to walk out to the car?" 

His worry is like a rubber band. You snap to attention, disengage from his hold. It's a foreign and really uncomfortable feeling to see you out of sorts. 

Eddie walks behind you with a hand nearly but not touching your back. If you topple, he's not sure how he's gonna save you. Determined anyways, he guards you down the hollow stairs and through the hallway, one step behind you. 

It's a cool, crisp night outside. 

The smell of rain sticks around. You lift your chin. It's much colder now that night's fallen. The breeze kisses your damp skin. When did you start sweating? 

He presses his hand to your shoulders and guides you across the road. 

Junie starts her lovely babbling in his ear. "Mouse 'tective," she says at one point. You don't react, affirming his theory: you're more than tired. You're sick. 

"Mouse detective," he agrees, arm around your shoulder to assuage his own worries as he gives Junie the best of his attention. "You liked that one, huh?" Besides the evil Professor. "Better than the Muppets in New York? Junebug, you little traitor. How easily your favour changes." 

"Are you surprised? She took to you like," — you yawn wide enough that Eddie feels it under his arm, a full body thing — "a duck to water." 

He beams, relieved to hear your voice. "Yeah, well, I'm special." 

"That's true."

Eddie walks you around to the passenger side and opens your door. 

"Flirting! Awesome. You're not too sick to forget how much of a catch I am. Watch your head." 

"I gotta do Junie's straps," you say. 

"I think I can do it by now."

He's only sort of bluffing. It takes him much longer than it would've taken you. He celebrates his win by pinching her cheek lightly and then whacking his head hard on the roof of your car. 

"Fuck," he mutters as he jogs around the hood, scrubbing at the back of his head. 

You're staring at him as he opens the door. 

He puts the baby bag in your lap and shoves the key in the ignition, trying not to buckle under the weight of your gaze. He cracks quicker than he should, hand paused in its action.

"What?" 

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?" 

"Kiss it better?" 

You kiss the tip of your finger and touch it to his head. It's an instant healing potion. 

Getting you both home is easy enough, it's the trying to leave that's hard. You collapse heavily into the couch, Junie drapes herself over your lap and begs for her clothes to be taken off. Your second wind has worn away to nothing, leaving you plainly exhausted. 

Eddie can't go home, not until he knows you're alright. 

He slinks into your bedroom and tries not to look around too much. It feels like an invasion of privacy despite having made it in here a couple of times, always with his hip to the door as you search for something. He fails spectacularly and straight away, always hungry to know more about you. These days especially. 

Your bed looks like you shook out the duvet but never tucked the corners. Your pillow's on the floor, your thin throw blanket is screwed up in a ball. There's a bunch of Junie's stuffies against the headboard. He grins at their straight backs.

He makes for your wardrobe, a cheap bit of cherry wood with one sagging door. As much as he wants to outfit Junie in her goodwill band t-shirt, he pulls a soft pair of cotton pyjamas out from a neatly folded stack, thumbing the blue fabric fondly. There's a noticeable disparity between her clothes and yours. One work skirt and one work shirt hang from two lonely hangers, accompanied only by your infamous 'best jeans'. He frowns at a small stain at the knee and scratches it fruitlessly. Not her best jeans, he thinks in horror, picturing your unhappy face. He can see it so clearly, the pinching of your brows.

Junie squeals happily from the living room. Eddie remembers himself and follows the sound, finding you both on the ground. You're kneeling, blowing raspberries into Junie's naked stomach where she lays on her changing mat, a discarded diaper and her dirty clothes to the side. 

There's a big break between raspberries where your eyes drift shut sluggishly. Junie whines for another.

Eddie sits next to you. Stupidly close, his crossed leg kisses your thigh. He could wrap you up in a hug easily right here, and he wants to. Your tired face has his stomach aching with guilt. 

"Sweetheart," he says to you firmly, "get back on the couch. You look like you're gonna fall asleep right here." 

You don't argue, leaving Eddie the impossible duty of dressing your baby. Junie hates the shirt more than he can describe, loathes the fabric as it covers her face. He has to pick her up to get her into her pants, another fury. She forgives him easily once he's done, lingering by his side with Mr. Bear in hand. She pinches his back and imitates Eddie's low growl, laughing at herself as she does. She finds it very funny. Eddie can't help giggling with her. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

He turns. You look miserable. 

"What?" he asks softly, startled by your intense expression. 

"Thank you." 

"Oh, baby," he says, loud and brash as he twists where he is to grab both of your knees. He practically throws himself at you, at your feet, ducking his cheek to your leg. "You really are sick as a dog." 

You look visibly embarrassed.

"Listen," he says, insistent, "If we start saying thank you to each other, we won't stop. We'll be a loop of thank yous." 

"I think I have more to say than you do," you murmur. 

He shakes his head, exasperated at your inability to see him for what he is even now. It's funny. Eddie thinks you've a better view of him than anybody else, that you see him more generously than anyone has ever seen him, and you still haven't noticed he's a boy in love. 

You must feel his grin as he kisses your knee, his thumb stroking over the ridge of the cap. 

"If I started to say thanks for all the things you've given me I wouldn't stop. I'd talk myself hoarse," Eddie argues. 

You laugh at his dungeon master dramatics, but reaffirm, "I haven't given you anything." 

"You don't know what you've given me," he says into your leg. 

Eddie lifts his head, weary of his chin digging into your leg. 

Now isn't the best time to declare devotion, or drop kisses into you when you can't offer any in return. Not that he's expecting you to. Not that he wouldn't receive them gratefully. 

"I should go home." 

You reach for him. Your hand moves slowly like you've a weight around your wrist, but your fingertips curve over his cheek; you move from the corner of his lip, under his eye, and then finish your circle at the skin beneath his ear. 

"Can you hug me?" you ask. 

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't waste any time.

He gets up, slides a knee between your knees and rests his full weight on the couch between them as his arms curve around you and his hands feel for the dip of your lower back. He clutches without any hesitation. 

"Can I? Did you mean it like that? My arms work fine." 

You curl your arms around him and groan. "You're gonna crush me." 

"Really?" He pulls you closer. "How 'bout now?" 

"Ow," you whine. 

He laughs and pushes his face toward your ear. "Liar," he whispers. "No way that hurts." 

"Why's everybody always on top of me?" 

"That's your issue?" He pulls back. "You want to sit in my lap?" 

"No!" 

"Aw, my poor girl. You totally wanna sit in my lap. Alright, get in it." 

He sits down beside you and waits, one arm still behind your back. He gives you an encouraging tug. 

"I'm not sitting in your lap." 

"I didn't think you would, just- Just c'mere," he prompts, pulling your face into his chest. 

Your arms slide around his waist. He can feel the scratchy skin on your left index finger, a scar of a recent kitchen accident, against his hip where his shirt has ridden. 

"You're really handsy. Has anyone told you that before?" Eddie asks, trying to cover the entirety of your back with his arms alone. 

You push your face as far as it'll go into his chest. Eddie keeps you there, and soon a little body has found its way onto the couch next to you both, demanding to be included. Eddie quickly drags her in. 

Long minutes of quiet hugs. 

"Wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. If you were worried." 

He massages over the slope of your shoulder, a tight looking muscle. You sigh inaudibly, a hot patch over his heart. 

"I wasn't," you say. 

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page. 

-

You get really, really sick. 

"On my days off!" you croak, the injustice too much to handle. 

Eddie laughs from the end of your bed, a bandana tied around his face like a doctor from one of his awful horror movies, though the bandana is far from a clinical white. "That's exactly why you're still sick. Your body sensed the weekend." 

Hadn't it? You'd been achy and awful on Friday and Benny had sent you home at lunch, citing a need to keep his patrons from infection. Which sucked, because you'd really wanted to stick around for the very beginning of the Friday night rush and get some payday tips. People are generous when they're high on the buzz of a forthcoming weekend, especially to over obsequious waitresses.

It had sucked worse when Junie came out of daycare in the best mood ever and demanded kisses. You'd had a headache the size of a tennis ball behind your eyes and didn't want to pass anything over, and the crushed look on her face had made you cry in the car on the way home. 

Eddie dropped in particularly early that night with soup. "I had a feeling," he'd said. 

And now here he is again the day after. 

"At least one of us is enjoying this," you say. 

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Eddie asks. 

You give his precautionary outfit a once over. "Yes." 

"This is just something I had lying around." 

"Shut up! Shut up, no it wasn't!" You're voice cracks, giggly and giddy even with the spikes of pain to your tender head. 

"It was. We did a campaign, I was a plague doctor-" 

"That is in terrible taste." 

"It was perfectly appropriate, thank you very much. You're determined to vilify me. Need to slow down with the cold medicine, I think." 

You shriek as he tries to take the bottle. "No! No, please, my throat hurts." 

He takes the bottle. It is a hurtful defeat. You curl your fingers around nothing and sulk, slouching down into a sanctuary of pillows and blankets to hide from him. Extra pillows provided by Eddie. With fresh covers, duh. They smell like him anyway. You turn your nose into it indulgently. 

"You've had too much to safely be responsible for any further consumption." 

"Further consumption," you echo, eyes closing in defeat as he leaves. 

"You okay, June?" you hear him ask, voice occluded partially by the sound of the TV. 

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks. 

You grin to yourself. 

"I'm great. This looks very fun. I'm gonna make mom a cold pack for her head and then you can help me make dinner, okay? Does that sound fun? Tell me, June." 

The 'Tell me, June,' isn't a command so much as a gentle reminder that she can answer the question if she wants to. 

"Fun," she says.  

"Hey, great. Oh, thank you. Thank you." 

They better not be cuddling without me, you think bitterly, grin swiftly replaced by a self-pitying frown. 

You cough into your hand, roil in your own misery for a second and then grab the big glass of water Eddie had insisted on from the night stand. You tip it down yourself in your hurry. 

"Missed your mouth," Eddie says, appearing at exactly the wrong moment. 

"Don't baby me." 

He pads into the room with a cold pack wrapped in a hand towel. "For your head." 

"This is silly. I don't need to be in bed."

"Obviously you do. You're sick, did you notice? Stupid question," he adds regretfully, gesturing for you to lie back. He sets the pack to your forehead. "You wouldn't notice a hole in your stomach. You'd be dripping entrails in the freezer aisle wondering if Junie wants corn on the cob or mashed potato with dinner tonight." 

"What does she want for dinner tonight?" 

"Boo! Exactly my point." 

"I'm gonna go ask her-" 

Eddie puts an unapologetic hand in the middle of your chest and pushes down. "You will do no such thing." He lowers his face to yours. "I'm willing to get physical. So behave." 

You flush with heat because you're sick and not because he says it a certain way, dropping back down into your fluffed pillows without another word. 

Eddie's hand climbs up to your collar, your neck. His fingers slide one after another behind it. It's a blessed cold. You can't find a comfortable temperature today, moving between chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.

Or a bandana. Eddie unties the dark fabric from his neck and leaves it where it lands, staring at you without saying anything. 

His thumb presses into your sore throat carefully, the barest hint of pressure, and his lips part. He doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he wants to. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

"Of course." Anything to feel useful right now. 

"Take it easy." He again lowers his head, talking to you with a private smile. "The sooner you chill out, the sooner you'll beat this thing." 

"Don't say that. Like I have something serious." 

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-" 

"Mild-" 

"-affliction." He strokes quarter-circles into your neck.

"I don't need to lie down. There's things I have to do." 

"On a Saturday?" 

"Yes. There's things I need to do everyday." You clear your throat. It's useless, the lump remains and your voice stays scratchy. "I have- I always have laundry. So that first. Gotta wash it and put it out and bring it in and press it. I gotta make sure Junie has lunch for daycare this week 'n if she doesn't I have to go get it, I gotta," — you cover his hand with your own thoughtlessly — "make sure her rash is getting better. And I promised we'd do a tea party tomorrow, I have to make sandwiches!" 

"We both know she doesn't remember the tea party." 

"I promised." 

"And if I… If I tried to get all those things done, would you stay in bed?" 

"You can't." 

"But if I tried it? I can do laundry. I'm good at it. Get oil stains out of Wayne's coveralls every Sunday." 

You slump into a lump of sadness and achy arms. "Don't do my laundry. Don't do any of that stuff. I'll punch you if you do." 

Eddie bursts into laughter. "You'll punch me? You horrible woman." 

"I will," you promise, fingers curling around his arm to hold him in place. 

"Why don't I believe you?" 

"I don't know. 'Cos you're a know-it-all who dislikes me." 

"I far from dislike you." He grins at you, all dimpled and pretty. "I don't believe you'd hit me because I know you, idiot." 

"Name-calling." 

"Uh-huh. Are you sleeping or am I helping you out onto the couch?" 

While you're happy for the compromise, you have one problem. "I don't think I can move." 

Eddie lets his face fall amicably to your collar. "No, I bet you can't. More reason for me to get you on the couch. I think you've genuinely had too much cough syrup," he worries, warm breath fanning over your skin. 

You bring your spare hand to his head. He has so many curls. 

He lifts his head and you're close enough to kiss. There's no other reason anyone has ever been this close. 

"I can see your beauty mark," you say, hushed. You don't wanna breathe on him too much. 

"Freckle." 

"Your freckle." You lift and drop his curls, fingers toying through the softness towards his roots, the frizz at the ends. 

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

You abandon his hair to clap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry." 

He covers his own mouth. "It's okay," he says, similarly muffled. "I like the sweet stuff." 

What the fuck does that mean? Your stomach doesn't flip — it leaps right up into your throat. "You're an idiot," you breathe, caught off guard. 

"What was that?" he asks, taking away his hand. "Didn't catch it." 

"I said, 'You're an-" 

"Amazing friend and confidante?" 

You try to talk and he says, "A real stand-up guy?" 

You try again and he says, "A total rockstar? Baby, if you really think all this you should've said." 

You flop completely onto your back, away from his hands, his jokes and his lovely brown eyes where they bore into your own. Eddie hums and rubs brashly over the top of your arm until the skin glows with heat. 

"Please stay in bed," Eddie says as he stands. 

Medicine or his touch, you're feeling pretty tired. You pull up your blankets and sink like a stone, head disappearing into a mess of pillows and throws. 

-

It's much later when you wake. You move into the land of the living abrupt as whiplash. 

Eddie seems very sorry. "Sweetheart, June's past due for a new diaper, and I-" 

"Oh, right," you say, sounding much more alert than you feel. You're a girl made of sandpaper. 

"I would've, I mean. If it wouldn't make you uncomfortable, I would've tried. But I've never changed a diaper in my life." 

You scratch your flaky eyes, disorientated and head like a boiling saucepan with the lid glued on. 

"That's okay," you say. Your voice refuses to cooperate with you, gruff and too quiet. "It wouldn't bother me, but it's also not your job, so… Um." You yawn wide and cover your entire face. 

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes. 

"Fuck, what time's it?" you ask, squinting at him and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

"Like, seven. Ish." 

"Eddie…" 

"I know. I thought you could use the rest. I knew you could. And it's not urgent, you know? Come around, first. Everything's stellar." 

You peel back the sheets. You're a clammy, too-hot mess with weak legs. 

Eddie sees you wobble and rushes to wrap an arm around your waist. Completely unnecessarily, heart-achingly kind. You wince at the dampness of your shirt under his touch.

Junie sits on the couch in her jammies with a yellow-green soup stain down the front. She's propped up like a princess, a pillow behind her head between the armrest and her blanket covering her legs, cheek pressed to the cushions. Eyes trained on the TV and her bottle propped in a slackening grip, your baby is peaceful, near luxurious. 

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

You part from Eddie's side and sit down beside her, the seat warm. She doesn't even look up. 

"What, no hi for mom?" you ask tenderly, hand falling to the top of her head. She's lovely. 

She gasps, little lungs fit to burst. It's pure excitement, her bottle dislodged and the blanket pushed away immediately. She doesn't bother getting to her feet, throwing herself into your lap and assuming you'll do the rest. Of course you will. You pull her up and kiss the top of her head, though you quickly hold her at arm's length. 

"Sorry, mommy's still sick," you tell her, sympathetic at her crushed expression. 

"Mis'd," she says. 

"Yeah? You missed me?" you ask hopefully. 

Her lips part in comprehension. "Missed you," she confirms. 

You throw your gaze over your shoulder to Eddie. He stands by Junie's changing station with a smug smile. "What?" 

"You're not very convincing." 

"I'm not trying to convince you, thanks," he says, holding up two hands in surrender. 

"She didn't learn that herself," you argue. 

"She might've. You tell her enough." 

You go back to your girl, pleased at her own smug smile. "I missed you, too, I missed you so much. Missed you millions. Sorry I've been sleeping all day, you've been such a good girl. She has, hasn't she?"

Eddie sorts through a nearly empty bag of diapers and brandishes one with fish printed on the back. "Oh, yeah. Junebug's been amazing. She came in with me to see you earlier, took your temperature." You frown. "From a distance. Kind of. I held her above you. It was… acrobatic." 

You close your eyes at his absurdity, your laugh prompting another spike of pain. 

Junie forces herself closer and gets both arms around your neck. 

You sag into the contact, defeated. "Aw, June," you mumble ruefully. "M'trying to make sure you don't get sick too. Wasting my time." 

"Mommy," she says into your neck. 

"That's me." 

You know she has something she wants to say. You can't wait for the days where she can. Exciting, to think that one day she'll be able to share all of her thoughts. 

Right now, she's probably thinking, Woah, mom, you smell weird. And you look weirder.

You feel her back with your hand and cringe. Definitely time to get her changed.

Afterward, you sit with your back to the open front door on one of the porch steps. Physical exertion of any kind seems to be inadvisable; you're sweating up a storm. Junie sits beside you at her own insistence, her hand clasped in your hand and her head on your arm. You look down at her thighs next to your own and marvel at their small size. The evening breeze is a blessing. 

Eddie stands in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a checklist. 

"Tea party sandwiches are badly made and saran wrapped in the fridge. Junie doesn't have lunch for Monday but I can go tomorrow if you want me to. Her clothes are folded in the hamper. Uh, some stuff got left out, you might need to press them. Not tonight though, please." 

"Thank you." 

He talks around a smile. "Soup's on the stove. I'll come back later, if-" 

"You don't have to." 

"I want to. I wouldn't actually leave, but-" 

"Eddie-" You cough into your shoulder. He waits for you to finish. "You- You didn't have to take care of me." 

"What does that mean? Of course I did." 

He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder and pads back up the steps, not all of them but enough for him to lean down and stare at Junie. 

"Thanks for the best day ever," he says seriously, looking out of the corner of his eye at you. "Almost. See you later?" 

Junie nods voraciously and reaches up with her empty hand. Eddie takes it and kisses her temple. He does the same to you, lips brushing soft as downy-feather over your skin. 

"I'll come back around ten? Is that cool?" 

"Don't knock too loudly," you mumble, very aware of his proximity. 

He backs up and bows like an idiot, hand moving in circles. 

You and Junie wave him off. 

"To work?" Junie asks.  

Your eyebrows jump as you pull your gaze from his retreating figure. "Huh?" 

"To work?" 

You play with her fingers. "No, he's not going to work. He's going to take care of someone else, now." 

Wayne, Eddie said, in a fondly exasperated tone that explained everything you needed to know. His uncle's self-preservation must come in similar disinterest to himself as yours does to you. 

"We'll see him tomorrow," you say. It's not even a lie, you will both see him tomorrow. 

But apparently he's coming back tonight. 

-

True to his word, Eddie Munson knocks your door carefully at nearing ten o'clock. 

Wayne's dismissal chases his heels. He'd spent an hour worrying about you at the dinner table with his uncle, fingers curling anxiously in his hair. 

Wayne had been talking about some gab the boys in the shop had heard about killer mice or killer lice or something when he'd suddenly cleared his throat and snapped Eddie to attention. 

"You're a good kid. Notice how I said good, and not smart," Wayne had said. 

"Gee, thanks. You always did know how to make a guy feel loved, Wayne." 

"You don't wanna be here." 

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do." 

"Kid, what I mean is, you gotta," — he'd nodded his head hard to one side and raised his eyebrows — "you know." 

"Haven't brushed up on my mysterious gestures lately. Translate that one for me?" 

Wayne had flicked up his newspaper and sighed. "Don't be dumb." 

"You keep saying that." 

"You keep being dumb, boy." 

"I don't know what you want me to do." 

"Think you better go look after your girl, don't you?" Wayne had asked finally, clearing his throat. 

So here he is to look after you. A tad early, worried you'll be sleeping on the couch with a misbehaving baby in your lap or passed out in the bathroom after an impromptu cleaning. 

Thankfully, you open the door in different clothes than he'd left you in, the neckline dark with run-off and face damp under your eyes and by your ears. You dab at your tacky skin with your index knuckle. 

"You look better," he says. He wishes he could take it back instantly, though you don't take any offence. 

"Hot shower," you explain. 

You step back to let him in. Eddie closes the door behind him without turning, eyes glued to your fresh face. He's depressed by the lingering fatigue he finds lining your darling features. 

"You okay?" you ask him, perturbed by his silence. 

Eddie's better than okay. 

He steps close. You look like you might step back, make room for him he doesn't want, so he reaches out for your face and holds it in one hand, the other landing in tandem on your arm.

Your cheek lists into his hand as he wipes away what's left of the dampness on your face. He's not sure you know you're doing it. 

"Did you take any more medicine?" he asks quietly, rubbing under your eye carefully with the tip of his thumb.

"No, I- I think you fixed me, Munson. Me and Junie had your soup, and after a shower I felt way better. It was really nice. She slept easy." 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel too hot." 

"Like I said. Fixed me. My hero." 

He looks over your shoulder at your life — at his life, or at least where a majority of it seems to take place. All his favourite parts these days happen right there on your couch, or at that table, or knee to knee with a baby that isn't his but- but-

"You said that to me the first time we met," Eddie recalls, shaking his head. It's like there's water in his ears. A few strands of hair drift into his eyes. 

You catch his elbows in both hands. "It feels like a really long time ago now." 

Months. Only months. "I feel like I've known you for years."

He strokes over your face, chin to cheek, the tip of his thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth. 

"That's how I feel, too," you whisper. Utter. Hushed, your words ring loud anyway. "You're my best friend." 

Eddie doesn't take it for a door closing because it isn't. It's a door kicked wide open. Split on its hinges. You and Eddie stand on equal ground, and, for once, the same page.

"You know I don't mind taking care of you?" he asks, hand passing over your ear to hide behind it. He wants to see all of your face. 

Predictably, you drop your eyes to his neck, pupils wobbling as you search for somewhere to plant yourself. "I know. I'm not sure I deserve it." 

"Why wouldn't you deserve it? Everyone deserves taking care of." 

"Even murderers?" 

"Maybe not murderers-" 

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?" 

"They're not all evil." His left palm skirts up the curve of your neck, encouraging your face back to his. "Don't change the subject." 

You press your lips together, caught.

"I actually…" — he gathers as much bravery as he has — "want to take care of you." 

"You do." 

He holds your face in both hands. "You know you- You know you started it, right? You know it's- that without your-" He cringes internally at his stammering, but he has to get this part right. "You have gold where your heart should be." 

"Y/N The Golden Hearted. Doesn't have the best ring to it," you muse, hands clinging to the crooks of his elbows like twin pooled teardrops waiting to fall. 

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" he asks. 

"What's your name?" you demand, grinning. 

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."  

You huff a laugh. "That's a cop-out."

"Maybe." 

"How about…" The air feels thick as jelly. Light from under the bedroom door stops short of your legs, your toes almost touching. His rubber soles, your socks. "Eddie the Indomitable?" 

He crinkles his nose. "I'd almost think you were trying to flirt with me, that's how bad that is." 

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften. 

"What if I was?" you ask. 

A stock-still silence pervades, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the droning of the bathroom light, left on. He could tell you the contents of this room by its sounds alone. 

His hand moves of its own accord, up and down the slope of your neck. "I'd say you needed a better pick up line."

"Like what?" you ask, chest rising too fast. 

Eddie takes a step and feels his jacket zipper cut into the cotton of your shirt. It's your matching band t-shirt. 

Eddie drags his gaze slowly to your widened eyes, your lashes as they move almost imperceptibly upward. Taking him in as he inches closer. 

"You're so fucking pretty," he says. 

He leans in. He closes the gap. Eddie Munson takes the leap. 

Your hand comes quickly to his upper arm and you turn your face just enough to force his lips, his kiss landing a centimetre shy of your nose. 

He struggles to keep his eyes closed. His heart thrums like a blown amp. 

"You can't kiss me," you say. Eddie struggles to discern your tone. 

His nose presses to yours. Not desperately, but almost. "I can't?" he asks, throat thick with emotion, a stickying, cloying taffy. 

"I'll make you sick." 

He turns your face with his palm, lips hovering above yours, a hair's width. Close enough to feel their heat. 

"Can I trust you'll nurse me back to health, in the event that that happens?" Would you take care of me? His hands tremble where they're touching you. He's too scared to open his eyes. 

You don't answer. 

You cover his hands and the seconds stretch endlessly, a thousand moments of terror and pining and want suddenly flattened into one as you kiss him.

He exhales against you. His relief is a palpable, viscous thing as he pulls you in and his nose digs into yours. Lips soft as he'd imagined, as he'd known they'd be, you kiss back tentatively. Sweetly.

You're kissing him like he's something that needs a careful touch. 

Eddie screws his eyes shut tight enough to see stars, firecrackers, a shattering bouquet of colours as you move beneath him. He can't believe he's kissing you. He can't believe there was a time where he wasn't.

He yields, leaning back just enough to see your face. You keep your eyes shut, your eyelashes kissing the delicate skin beneath. They move like blades of grass in the breeze as Eddie tries to catch his breath, regaining some of his composure. It's hard while he's here, this close. 

You make a small sound, a breath like a barb. The shaky demarcation of tears. 

"Okay?" he asks, more movement than sound. His lips skip over your own. 

You have to feel it. 

A laugh bubbles up through your parted lips like a hiccup. "I'm definitely gonna make you sick," you mumble regretfully. 

"Make me sick, sweetheart," he says, begs. Whatever. 

Whatever word you want to use. He doesn't care if he pays for it afterwards, he wants to be close to you now, unapologetically close. And kissing you — kissing you like this, your reciprocation, it's everything because it means you feel the same as he does. 

Or a fraction the same. He's reassured either way. If you felt a fraction of what he felt, that's enough. 

It's a lot. To be touching you, finally. He grabs at the nape of your neck and kisses, kisses, kisses. He goes slowly, not quite sweetly. He's never been as sweet as you have, never as soft or patient.

It doesn't feel like it matters. 

You pull his hands from your face, press his and your own, all four hands to the collar of your shirt. 

"It wasn't just a, uh, pick up line, was it?" you ask breathlessly. 

"Wh- No." Eddie massages the back of your hands. "No, you're the fucking prettiest girl ever. I think you're aces. Killer. Everything." 

"Everything," you say, an almost indecipherable glassiness to your eyes. 

"Everything," he says. He spreads his hand over your heart. 

You don't throw yourself at him, but you move alarmingly quickly. Arms over his shoulders, hands crossed and buried in his hair. Your laugh is magic, a bright and exuberant sound loud in his ear and then the skin underneath. He's barely got an arm around the small of your back when you start to kiss him, repetitive, chaste pecks over his pulse. It capers under your lips. 

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am-" He begins deadpan and breaks abruptly, your second wave of laughter impossible to ignore. 

Your arms tighten at his laughing, palm cupping the back of his head. 

"You're my best friend, too," he says. "But you knew that." 

"Maybe," you murmur, your smile wide against his skin. You're uncharacteristically mischievous. 

He lets his back bend under your weight until your heels lift and you're scrabbling to stay on your own two feet and is rewarded by your shrieking laughter. 

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic. 

"Wait," you say, bargaining for freedom as he squeezes you hard enough to make you laugh again, and again, "wait, wait! Wait, let go. I have something to tell you." 

Eddie sets you down. He's reluctant to let you go, almost desperate to hug you now that he knows he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him. What could you have to tell him now that isn't confessional? It's like being promised something good. 

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips. 

"What?" 

"I…" 

He shakes his head gently from side to side. "What? Tell me." 

"Nothing," you say, beaming. Act dropped, you take his face into both hands and kiss him soundly. 

Eddie's barely got his hands on you before you're pulling back. 

"Just wanted to do that," you say. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter 

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

[vigilskeep]

i genuinely love nothing in the world more than cinematic trailers. they’re like no the game we want you to buy is not going to look even remotely like this but wouldn’t it be fucking sick if it did

[metalhoops]

Dating Steve came with a lot of unexpected twists. The first and most glaringly obvious was that Eddie never expected the two to date in the first place. He’d  relegated the idea of ‘dating Steve Harrington’ squarely in the realm of fantasy, along with evil wizards and hell dimensions. So what did Eddie know? It’d been a strange year.  

Steve was a morning person, much to Eddie’s dismay. The downside of sleeping beside a morning person, and being hypervigilant about their every move, was that it forced you to become a morning person. Eddie blamed the aforementioned evil wizard and hell dimension

Before Steve, Eddie would be lucky to roll out of bed before noon. Yet now he begrudgingly found himself up with the sun. At first, he’d tried to roll back into bed when Steve left for his morning jog, but he was finding it harder and harder to get back to sleep. He’d worry about Steve, sue the guy. The town was cracked in two and they were all waiting with bated breath for Vecna to return. So he’d sit on the front stoop of the trailer with a mug of coffee in his hand and his blanket around his shoulders, waiting to see Steve’s familiar figure materialise at the end of the trailer park’s gravel drive. 

Another unexpected twist about dating Steve was how much the guy genuinely cared about the stuff Eddie was into. He’d started sitting in on Hellfire and Eddie’s band rehearsals. Eddie would sit up late at night creating new NPCs for their campaign and Steve would watch curiously or surprise Eddie by sliding over and skimming over his notes. 

“Make the shopkeeper guy a goblin,” Steve remarked and Eddie would snort. 

“You only say that because you like it when I do the goblin voice.” 

“Yeah, because it’s funny and none of the kids are going to want to flirt with a goblin.” Steve was still horrified and emotionally scarred from the time he’d watched Mike Wheeler try to seduce the elven barkeeper during the last session. 

“Are you saying you wouldn’t flirt with a goblin, Harrington?” Eddie teased putting on the silly and grating tone, Steve had affectionately named Eddie’s ‘goblin voice’.  He leaned over into Steve’s space, placing an overdramatised and sloppy kiss on Steve’s cheek.

He snorted and shoved Eddie’s shoulder gently. 

“Don’t push your luck, Munson. I love you, but not that much.” 

And of course, Steve had been the first one to say ‘I love you,’ because Eddie had always been a coward. Of course, Steve said it at least once a day, and of course, Eddie still hadn’t gotten the courage to say it back, because he kept waiting for the day when he woke up and realised that his whole relationship with Steve had been an elaborate dream. 

Eddie didn’t know exactly what made him decide to start joining Steve on his morning jogs. Ask anyone and they would tell you Eddie Munson was not a jogger. Steve talked about his morning runs like they were a meditative experience, all cool breeze, still streets and dopamine. 

Eddie went for a jog and felt like his lungs were twin stars on the brink of collapse. To him, running was akin to the slow heat-death of the universe, but he did it because he was sick of sitting on the damn stoop waiting for Steve to come home because he loved him and he sure as shit didn’t know how to say it. 

The next surprise came early one morning in late October, when he and Steve climbed out of bed without needing an alarm and Eddie found the cool breeze on his cheeks and the familiar beat of Steve’s steps in time with his comforting. That morning, he realised he didn’t hate running, not when it was with Steve. The revelation shook something free in Eddie’s skull, something he’d been grappling with for months. 

When the two arrived home, skin sticky with cold sweat, Eddie made them coffee. They sat together in front of the trailer watching the sun turn the same blood red as the Upside Down sky. Eddie thought he’d be okay with starting every morning like that, so long as Steve was there. 

“You know, Stevie,” Eddie breathed, unable to look at Steve when he said what he needed to say. He was brave, but not that brave. 

“I think I love you too,” Eddie whispered.  

“You think?” Steve chuckled at his side. He turned to face Steve and saw the man hiding a wide grin behind his mug. Eddie rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder against Steve’s.

“Alright, fine. You win. I know. I love you.” 

Eddie had to fight to get the words out, but the second he did, he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders because he knew it was true. It’d been the first time he said it to anyone. He’d never gotten that far with another relationship. He and Steve were in uncharted waters. 

Steve set down his cup, practically tackling Eddie to the dirt with the force of his hug, all hope for not making a big deal out of the confession blown out the window. Of course, Steve was a hopeless romantic. 

The only thing that stopped the two from making out on their front lawn was the fact that Hawkins was the antithesis of progressive. Well, that and a sleep-deprived Max who stomped out of her trailer to throw a balled-up pair of socks squarely at Steve’s head as she grumbled about the hour of the morning. 

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…

PART ONE | PART TWO

The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?

Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?

The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?

Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?

The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?

The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?

────────────────

The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.

A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?

Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”

The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.

“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.

“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”

“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.

Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?

Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?

The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”

Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”

She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.

One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…

Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.

He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.

Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”

Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.

“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”

Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.

────────────────

Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…

Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.

Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.

He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.

Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”

Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.

As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.

An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.

The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.

Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.

He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.

The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.

Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…

Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”

Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…

──────────────────

Hours passed.

Hopper drank.

The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.

He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.

“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”

Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”

Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…

──────────────────

You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.

It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.

The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?

The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.

A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.

Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…

You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.

When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.

Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.

The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Steve?”

The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”

Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.

“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.

He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…

“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.

Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.

Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.

His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…

Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…

Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.

Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.

As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.

Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.

He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.

Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.

“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”

You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.

“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.

After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.

@mrshopper84

[teeskzagain]

original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

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this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[torturedblue]

STOPP SCROLLIN MOFOS THIS IS NOT A DRILL 🗣️‼️🐢

I think the Tales of the TMNT trailer literally JUST dropped minutes ago and I’m losing my mind LOOK AT THESE PHOTOS AHHHHHH

“Marry me Raphael” Them having fangirls is amazing… I’m loving that for him

Guys they just look so cute in this 2D style and look at Splinter 🥹

Feelin themselves way too hard with this slow walk. I support it.

Hmmm looks like they might be at April’s house and kiiiiinda looks like Leo and April might be alone hmmmmmm

But seriously after getting sick over these past couple days this is just the good news I need. Genuinely thought we’d have to wait the whole year to see this show and now it’s possibly on a few months away 😭

[orkbutch]

ok ok, i know this isnt a wicked blog but its time for me to say my thoughts on the Wicked movie trailer.

I'm not stoked. I'm not much of a musical version lover already, but two things really rubbed me wrong, and I believe they apply to the musical as much as the book in their importance within the Themes.

Elphaba being played by Erivo and being black is cool. Erivo is a great singer, and her hair looks sick, and Elphie's hair is important. However, that casting choice being combined with a white Fiyero (who is Not White in the book, and very much experiences colonialist racism) and with no prosthetic effort to make Elphaba Not Beautiful (which is a Significant Element of Her Experience And Character), spoils any truly transgressive or progressive bite to that casting decision.

The only of the core mains thats not white is the character that is green. Interesting. The character who is extremely belittled for her appearance because she has a deformity, and because she's unattractive by conventional standards (esp because of her hawkish nose and strong chin), is a beautiful woman. Interesting!

Something about this just rubs me wrong. I think the musical has always made me skeptical in this area because its core adaption decisions were always bent toward stripping Wicked of much of its commentary on racism. In the book Fiyero is Vinkan, clearly coded Native American, and Winkie is a slur. They made the slur the name for the Vinkans in the musical. If I recall correctly, Quadlings aren't even mentioned in the musical. But Fiyero in the musical... I don't even know Why they keep him being a foriegn prince because he isnt written like hes foriegn from Gillikin at all. His ethnicity seems totally flattened, a slur that indicates no cultural or experiencial distinction from Gillikin.

I think that may have happened because Animals were already considered an allegory for racism, and they wanted to make that allegory cleaner and easier to condense into a musical plot. Thats my theory. However, that is a misreading. The Animals are not a perfectly singular allegory, and I think you could argue several inspirations, but the most apt interpretation for sure is that the Animals are an allegory for people with disabilities and neurodivergence, as Elphaba's experience is.

The Animals are not merely culturally different or isolated. They are not falsely believed to be different from the Gillikins or the Munchkinlanders or Vinkans. They ARE different, not because they aren't people but because their basic needs are different, and are not adapted to by society. They have hooves, and different skeletons, and different senses, and different mouths that can't necessarily make the kind of speech humans use.

This is important because Elphaba uniquely relates to the Animals, and its because Elphaba has a deformity and is super autistic. This is the other thing that always rubbed me wrong about the musical: it always implied that the only thing that made Elphaba "ugly" to people was her green skin. Thats... weak shit!!! In the book, Elphaba is Not beautiful. She is hatchet faced. She is tall and androgynous and looks weird. And this is IMPORTANT, because it makes Elphaba a genuinely transgressive character!! Her experience is layered! She is green but also breaks gender rules, is awkward, is self hating, is rude, ect. ect. It strengthens her empathy she feels toward Animals, because she feels so othered from society that she feels non-human, alienated.

The book also handles Elphaba's attractiveness much better; it does a great job of depicting someone who is not beautiful but is nevertheless Hot, which Elphaba is. When Glinda looks at her for the first time and thinks that shes beautiful, she is not looking past Elphaba's skin and she does no make over. She puts Elphaba in an orange hat as a joke, and sees how it matches her skin and suits her, and it makes Glinda realise that the green of Elphaba's skin can be beautiful to her. And that changes how Glinda sees Elphaba; Elphaba does not change.

okay im just complaining about the musical now. But idk, I wish that they'd used this opportunity to do better by Fiyero, make the themes a bit better... and just... put some light prosthetics on Erivo. Just make her look a little uglier! A little more hatchety. Its not like it'd be out of place, Ariana Grande as Glinda looks spooky as fuck. Why does she look like that. I like it bc I like Glinda looking intense and spooky but it IS weird

[teal-fiend]

The Actor

A day in the life of a working predator actor.

content: fatal vore, implied digestion, willing prey, hunger, safe vore mentioned

The actor entered into their silver trailer and sat down on their faux leather couch (cruelty-free), lying back painfully, exhausted, looking up at the ceiling. That was a rough couple of hours. 

They had just finished the swallowing scene, the one the director wouldn’t budge on even though it was such a time sink, so much money and effort and agony for what, 2 seconds of footage that would actually be used in the final film? 

The actor’s stomach growled irritably. It had been fed, and then unfed so many times it was now beyond confusion and hunger. The pred rubbed their stomach soothingly. It didn’t know what was going on. The pred’s body was not designed for this type of tomfoolery. In the past, in ancient times, once they had prey, they got to keep it. There was no messing around with spitting it back up again, only to consume it once more five minutes later. 

The pred’s stomach had gotten all the signals that it was supposed to be digesting a big meal, and the fact that it wasn’t, meant that it was going to direct its energy; its anger, onto the pred. 

What the stomach didn’t know, the actor thought to themselves, was that doing this would ensure hundreds, if not thousands of prey in the future; the money they would make from this film could feed them for several lifetimes over. But this sort of thing was inconceivable to the simple animal that was the predator’s stomach. All it knew was that it had been robbed. It never thought of the distant future, only the current and terrible emptiness and hunger for more - anything. 

There was a metallic knock on the trailer door.

The actor straightened themselves up, “come in,”

Their personal assistant arrived on the threshold. 

“Don’t tell me I have to go back out there,” the actor groaned.

“I have some appetite suppressants.”

“You know those make me sick, besides, doesn’t that go against the point of it all.”

These gruelling hours were at least partially manufactured by the director’s desire to capture a genuine experience. They talked about it a lot, and it meant that they would force the pred to repeat the same scenes over and over until they grew exhausted and irritated and that would supposedly bring out their true predatory nature.

“Take three, I’ll tell them that this is your last round then you’re done for the day.”

“No, don’t tell them that, they’ll keep me out all night.”

“According to your contract, no. They’re only allowed one more hour with you today, and I’ll make sure they stick by it. I’ll have something waiting for you when you get home.”

“Prey?” the actor asked, barely concealing their excitement. 

Their assistant scoffed, slightly amused, “well yes.”

“Alright,” the pred laughed, stretching, “I’m just making sure you’re not throwing me a party or something. But going home to a nice, big prey… that sounds nice.”

“I’ll see you out there,” the assistant said evenly. 

“Right-o”

Knowing what they had in store back at home, the pred was able to breeze through the next hour, much to the behest of the director who was determined to see them break under the pressure. They wanted hunger, they wanted animalism, madness, and they got it, but the pred was only acting. And once they heard ‘cut’, the actor reverted back to their carefree selves. And they left exactly on the hour.

—

After the uber ride and the elevator ride, the actor unlocked the door to their penthouse apartment with a metal swipe card. Inside there was someone waiting, they could smell before they could see

Under the pink LED lights in an otherwise dark apartment, their prey waited for them. But when they saw the pred, they looked surprised.

“Good evening,” the actor said

“It’s you!” Their prey gasped.

The actor grinned, a little confused. “It is me.”

Maybe the prey wasn’t told whose apartment they were going to? They didn’t know how this stuff worked - usually they just came in and ate the prey and nobody was surprised or asked questions or really said much at all. After all, it would be a bit strange to have a conversation with your doordasher. Or maybe the prey was more like the take-out that the delivery man provided. It would be even more strange to talk to your take-outs… which is exactly why the actor tended to avoid it.

“I’ve always wanted to be eaten by you,” the prey said.

“Really?” 

“Ever since I saw you in that old movie,”

Ah yes, the pred remembered their debut film. It was crazy, all the way back then. They had only just graduated highschool. It was a small project, they just happened to be one of the only preds that the director knew. 

The movie became considered the first film to show a predator consuming prey on screen. Technically there were others, but this is the one that people heard about. And it made the pred famous.

“Oh gosh, has it been ten years already?”

How interesting how that worked. Time, and knowing people. The prey had known about the actor for many, many years. They’d seen interviews and articles probably, they knew the pred as well as a friend might. And yet, the pred had never seen this prey before in their life. 

“Maybe this is fate,” the actor said, “or manifested destiny.”

The pred felt a strong squeezing in their middle. The hunger pangs were peaking. But they felt the need to entertain their fan for a little while longer. They were after all, deep down, a performer. 

“Sorry if I’m a bit off, I’ve had a terrible shooting experience. I’m not sure what they told you, but I was made to swallow and spit up prey for most of the day.”

The prey consoled them, sympathetic, but they couldn’t help but ask, “you’re making another movie?” The implication being, another movie where the actor would eat prey on screen. 

“Yes,” the pred said, “I suppose you won’t get to watch it… that’s a shame.”

The prey sighed. The pred grinned, “but that also means that it won’t matter if I break my NDA, would it? After all,” they lowered their voice subtly, “you’re going to be me soon anyway.”

The prey paled slightly. The pred moved gently but unyielding, taking their prey’s hand and putting it against their grumbling stomach. They began to describe the plot of the film to the prey, along with some insider knowledge about production that they were sure the prey was dying to know about. 

As they talked, they were also sizing the prey up, considering where they would like to lie down after they had finished eating. The actor’s feet were sore, they didn’t want to have to wander about with a full tummy. They slowly moved the prey towards the pit in the living room, a kind of sunken area that was like a circular couch with a large marble coffee table in the middle. 

Once they were ready to eat, they already knew exactly how they would do it. Despite the years in between, the pred remembered the stage directions of their debut film perfectly. 

They started by saying a few low words, a close up to the actors faces. Then the camera would pull back, so the audience could watch as the pred hoisted the prey up by both arms, then took them feet-first into their mouth. It watched the slow struggle, one long take (and they only made one take. The pred had to use all their focus to not fuck it up and look into the camera). Every gag, gulp and fidget of an inexperienced pred and an even more inexperienced prey. Although these days, the actor had plenty of experience. Especially after the day they had - their throat still burned from the repeated friction. 

The actor sighed in relief once their meal had settled. They were about to lie down, but then realised they were still in their work clothes. They supposed it was unavoidable, having to walk around with a full stomach. Strangely enough, they felt a burst of energy, a bit of adrenaline - a second wind after eating. They supposed their stomach was ready to let it go again, so it wasn’t about to get comfortable just yet. That was fine for the pred; they wanted to take a shower anyway. 

The shower was steamy and well-pressurised, the towels were heated and soft, the robe waiting for them was softer. The actor passed by a hamper that they forgot they had, and selected from it a small box of assorted chocolates. Then they went back to the living room, balancing the box on top of their belly, and laid down in the pit. 

Their stomach was starting to trust them again, “there, see,” the predator said, caressing it gently, “all yours.”

The pred heard their prey murmur about something, and shift around. The pred frowned, then prodded their stomach curiously. It was always strange to hear their food try to talk from inside of them. A bit uncanny. Maybe it made them uncomfortable because if other people were around when it happened, they’d act all sympathetic, wanting to make the pred let their prey out. And that was something the pred didn’t even want to think about right now. 

That wasn’t going to happen now. The pred patted their gut proprietarily. The movement dislodged a belch, and their stomach grew tighter around their meal. 

The actor turned on their television and chose a movie they’d been waiting for a chance to see. A thriller. They took a candy from the box and ate it, eyes staying on the screen. As the opening sequence played, the actor took in a deep breath and sighed, relaxing more into the cushions. They’d had a big day, but now here they were, maybe all the hard work made moments like these more enjoyable. The pred kept a hand rested on their stomach, casually, restfully, but possessively. This one I get to keep. 

[wheneverfeasible]

Cheerleader!Eddie AU pt 2

POV: Chrissy

Part 1

TW: body shaming, eating disorders, abusive family, toxic relationships, drug use

Chrissy knew there was something wrong with her. Of course she did. Not because her mom told her there was, but because her mom told her there was.

A mother shouldn’t comment on her daughter’s weight, or make implications that her daughter’s worth was somehow tied to it. A mother shouldn’t encourage a relationship with a boy who only saw her outside appearance as a trophy to be won, never caring to even notice the red rim to her eyes or the way her smile never reached them either.

Or who never noticed when she didn’t eat at lunch or, the few times she couldn’t stop herself, she always went to the restroom immediately after and came back smelling of mint.

It was too much. All of it was just too much nowadays. She wasn’t happy, she knew that. She played pretend so well that sometimes she thought she was, but when she was all alone with just her thoughts there was no denying the gaping hole in her chest.

It was after one of these times that Chrissy had been unable to avoid eating and had to purge herself in the school restroom that she met him. Eddie Munson.

She’d made certain the girls’ restroom was empty before she pulled the trigger, and then she curled up on the dirty floor unable to take it and let the tears come. Which was, of course, when a decidedly male voice entered whistling and stumbled upon her. She’d heard stories of him before, knew Jason hated him with a passion, as did Tommy and the others.

Yet, despite the rumors of devil worship and criminality, despite being a Munson, Chrissy never once felt unsafe with him. He had looked genuinely concerned, and though his nose had wrinkled at the smell of her sick, he didn’t say anything about it or laugh at her. Instead, he helped her off the floor, holding the marker in his hand and why he was there.

And…she laughed. She giggled at the thought of Marcus getting his comeuppance on a girls’ toilet stall, because…yeah, he wasn’t that nice of a person. She hadn’t known he was the reason that Eddie had a bruise on his face, which only made her dislike of the footballer even greater.

They weren’t friends, her and Eddie, not yet, even if she guiltily told the boy other things he could write on the stall in retaliation, even when one of the things was about Jason. However, that wasn’t the last time they met. He had offered her a discount if she ever wanted weed, told her where to meet up with him if she did, and…she did. She wasn’t certain about smoking, but she felt comfortable with him and…screw it, she was tired of being what other people expected her to be.

Somehow those meetings at the table in the woods became more frequent, even when Chrissy wasn’t buying drugs, using a friends and family discount until Eddie eventually stopped charging her at all. Instead, they hung out, smoked, and talked about anything and everything. Up to and including her relationship with Jason.

When she finally made the decision to dump him, she binged the most she’d ever binged. Eddie was right there with her after, cooing as he rubbed her back and keeping her hair out of her face after, telling her so many amazing things about herself that she didn’t believe, told her things about himself that made her heart ache for him, and he held her as she cried in the bathroom of his trailer.

Things changed after that. She was ashamed he had seen her like that, ashamed that she wasn’t strong enough, but she realized she wanted to be, not just for Eddie, but for herself. So she dumped Jason and took a seat during the next lunch period at the Freak table, head held high. She was done being what people wanted her to be. When she took a bite of her sandwich, Eddie’s warm eyes on her, she took his hand and stayed in her seat the whole of lunch. She wasn’t suddenly better or anything, but it was a start.

Her and Eddie got on like a house on fire after that and, even though it was decided that they did not like each other like that after a disastrous kiss, they didn’t care if anyone else thought they were dating. Their holding hands and hanging all over each other definitely didn’t help.

And then Chrissy needed an emergency. She needed Eddie to stand in with the cheer squad because one of the girls was sick and she had no one else to ask. She batted her lashes and stuck her hands beneath her chin and she knew she had won even before Eddie’s first eye roll. And then it kept happening, and soon Eddie was more or less an official member of the Hawkins High Cheer Squad.

She, of course, thought fair was only fair and joined Hellfire, settling in with the others almost as easily as she had with Eddie. They had been a little taken aback by her homebrewed half-Orc barbarian Uragoth the Undaunted, but Chrissy adored playing as him. Only Eddie knew his backstory that he had had to kill his own Orc mother to prevent her evil from spreading, though she was looking forward to his lore dropping the further into his story they got.

And then Steve happened.

Chrissy’s eyebrows had skyrocketed when she watched that unfold in realtime, not having expected the older boy to be like her friend but…really, there was no denying how often Steve’s eyes were drawn to Eddie when they practiced, or his expression when he teased Eddie about one thing or another. And Eddie flirted back.

Steve hadn’t been the worst of them, despite his kingly status, so Chrissy allowed it to happen. Steve’s best friend, Tommy, was by far the worst, though even Steve had put a stop to a lot of things and everyone had to follow the king’s orders. It helped that her squad had warmed up to Eddie after he proved he was more than what people said about him too, and she thought she was finally getting them to agree to run a one-shot campaign through with Hellfire. It was going to be a surprise for Eddie, who still sometimes doubted the squad even really liked him.

And then they hatched up The Plan. They’d scoured the rulebook first, making certain Eddie couldn’t get in trouble, and then they unleashed him at the championship game in all his skirted glory. Eddie’s goal was to distract the opposing team, but Chrissy’s goal was to get Eddie laid. And maybe a boyfriend.

When Eddie returned to school the next Monday, wearing a deep blush and Steve’s letterman jacket, Chrissy wore a smug expression for the rest of the week.

Steve joined the Freak table, which was quickly becoming a Freak-and-Cheerleader table with how often the squad joined them too, but despite how obviously halfway-in-love the two boys were, Eddie never made Chrissy feel left out. Steve even invited his new best friend to start hanging out with them so Chrissy didn’t feel like a third wheel, some band geek she’d seen around but never spoke to before.

Robin Buckley.

Chrissy didn’t know what she thought about Robin at first. She was sarcastic but quick-witted, and though she hung on Steve as much as Chrissy did Eddie, she never felt alarmed or worried about Steve’s affections being anywhere other than they should. When Robin explained that she and Steve were Platonic soulmates with a capital ‘P’, Chrissy and Eddie could only exchange a grin because…yeah, they got that entirely.

Soon Chrissy and Robin started hanging out more whenever the boys had their solo date nights, or had “double dates” with them where they could be the third wheel together, and Chrissy found she actually really enjoyed the brash girl’s company. A lot. She was smart, and funny, and kind, and she was unapologetically herself, and she fit into their little group like she had been there from the start.

Chrissy did not like, however, when Robin started talking about a girl named Vickie, though she only brought her up when she was talking to Steve alone. That fact alone made Chrissy unhappy. Robin was her friend too, so why didn’t Robin tell her about this apparently new friend of hers also?

Of course, Chrissy didn’t realize that she made a displeased face whenever she heard Vickie’s name being brought up. Eddie noticed, however, and he and Steve would share silent communication.

It all came to a head when, after walking in on Robin complaining to Steve about Vickie having a boyfriend in college, Chrissy may or may not have said something a little snarky about why Robin even cared about that, resulting in a confession Chrissy maybe wasn’t as surprised to hear.

“Because l’m a lesbian, Chrissy!” Robin exploded, throwing her arms out wide as she glared at Chrissy over the sensitive topic. Thankfully, they were at Steve’s house while his parents were out of town, so it was only the four of them there. Steve also took that moment to sneak away back to his boyfriend. “Do you know how hard it is to find a girl to date in this homophobic town?”

“Then date me.”

Chrissy hadn’t intended to say those words, hadn’t even known she thought them, but there was nothing but truth in those three little words. Robin, for her part, just gaped at Chrissy. And, yeah, one of the things Chrissy enjoyed most was how expressive Robin was about everything, how gangly and awkward she could be, and how cute she was when she was shocked.

Grinning a little, Chrissy walked forward and lightly closed Robin’s mouth with the tip of a finger under her chin. She leaned forward, brushing her lips over Robin’s cheek.

“WHAT!” Robin squawked, face flamed red.

Chrissy just giggled, dropping her hand to tangle Robin’s fingers with her own. “Just date me then, Robin. I think I’ve been waiting for that longer than I’ve even realized. Unless you don’t like me like that, then we can just stay as friends I hope.”

Robin shook her head, not in rejection, but in a baffled daze. When she looked at Robin again, her eyes were shining bright and there was a wide smile across her lips. Her fingers tightened on Chrissy’s and Chrissy didn’t know who moved first, but soon she was having her first kiss that sent fireworks across her skin.

Later, when Chrissy and Robin rejoined Steve and Eddie red faced, hair slightly a mess, and hands clasped tightly together, all Chrissy could do was shoot Eddie a raised middle finger at his own smug look.

He was going to be insufferable, she just knew it. But that was fine, because this time she had a girlfriend by her side that she was pretty sure she was already halfway-in-love with too.

[angxliquel]

Finding out that there’s gonna be a JWCT panel at comic con but it’s in SAN DIEGO so I can’t go 💔

Genuinely going crazy because there’s probably gonna be QNA with the cast and crew, maybe even some s2 sneak peaks and most DEFINITELY the season two trailer….oh I’m so sick

[littlemissaddict]

I'll Always Need You (18+) - E.M x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie exhausted and needs someone to look after him.

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: oral (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, riding. As always mdni please and thank you.

The sound of Eddie’s van pulling up outside the trailer is what alerted her to his arrival home and she was just finishing up the dishes as the door opened. “Hey baby” she smiles as she drops the dish cloth back in the sink and grabs a towel to dry her hands off so that she is ready to greet her man. Although once she took in his slumped shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes that she swears was not there this morning and the worries fill her instantly even though when he sees her scrutinising look he tries to cover it.

“Mhmm, how was your day?” he asks, coming over and wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. He’s smiling as he asks but now he’s up close she can see that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his eyes are lacking their usual shine.

“Was alright” she shrugs, her main concern being Eddie and whatever is playing on his mind, “How was yours?” she counters, even though she knows she’s not going to get a straightforward answer from him.

“Oh you know same old, same old” he dismisses, leaning down to kiss her in a proper greeting as he usually likes to joke, “but it’s much better now I’ve got you” he hums pulling away, smile more genuine than it was before but there's still just a hint of fakeness in it that makes her pout.

“Eddie honey, are you going to tell me what’s really going on in here” she sighs, a gentle hand sliding up his face from his chin until she settles two fingers against his temple, massaging small circles there until she feels his body start to melt against her.

“You really want me to unload it all on- I mean there's nothing going on, everythings fine” he scrunches his face up at the slip up before replacing it with another forced smile that does everything but convince her that he’s telling the truth. She sighs as she stares up at him, eyebrows raised as she silently scolds him for bottling up whatever it is that has him exhausted like this and just as he does every time, he breaks. That wall he builds around himself to protect himself from hurt comes crashing down as it always does under her soft touches and caring words as he lets himself be vulnerable with her as he does with no one else.

“I’m just tired you know, long working hours where it feels like I’m the only one doing all the work,” he admits, a small pout on his lips as he carries on, “and then worrying about Wayne because let’s face it he’s not getting any younger and he’s still working himself to the bone despite not having to provide for me anymore and then there’s us” he sighs, removing an arm from her waist so the he scrub at his eyes. “I guess I just need a break.” he finishes.

A break? Did he mean a break from her? The thought has her sick to her stomach and she can already feel the tears pricking her eyes even though she’s not even one hundred percent sure that was what he actually meant. “From us?” she finally gets out, her voice weak and she’s sure her bottom lip is quivering in anticipation of his confirmation.

“What? God no. Never” he shakes his head, his already big eyes even wider somehow in shock that she would even think that he meant that, “No, when I need a break the only thing I need is you, now c’mere” he encourages, pulling her closer and peppering kisses all over her face until she’s giggling beneath him. “I will always need you” he breathes against her lips before pressing them together and kissing her deeply. The kiss is slow and passionate without any need to push it further, it’s more of a promise that he’s not going anywhere.

She’s panting when they pull apart but there’s already a plan forming in her mind as she pulls from his grasp, reaching for his hand instead and pulling him down the short hallway to the bathroom. He looks at her with confusion until she pulls away to turn on the shower and he sighs with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah okay I get it I’m still grubby from work I need a shower and all that”

“Nope, I’m going to take care of you now strip” she instructs, waiting patiently with her hands on her hips as he does as she’d asked.

“Christ you trying to burn me baby, waters so hot that even satan would be complaining” he gasps, his back arching out of the way as the water hits his skin. Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, she leans over to adjust the temperature until he sighing in content, “much better”

Stripping from her own clothes, she climbs in behind him, startling him as her hands come to rest on his shoulders and begin to work away at the knotted muscles of his shoulders and upper back from his long days in the garage working on the cars. “Relax baby, you deserve it” she coos, pressing a kiss to the skin just above his shoulder blade as he finally seems to melt under her touch.

She focuses on his back until all the muscles are loose and Eddie’s pliant under her touch before she removes her hands from him, making him grumble about the loss. “Not going anywhere just getting your next treat” she hums, lathering her hands with her body wash and returning them to his skin.

“Oh your special body wash, damn baby you must really love me” he teases with a chuckle, already starting to feel better as the weight of his worries don’t feel so heavy anymore. Although his laughter is cut off with a surprised gasp as she pushes him under the full stream of the shower, his curls matted against his head as he turns to her now pouting which makes her laugh in return at his childish antics.

“Come on let's get you dry, we’re not done yet” she reveals, stepping out for the towel and shivering in the chilly air now that she's not surrounded by the shower steam.

“Oh really, what else have you got planned for me?” he asks as she comically reaches up to wrap the fluffy towel around him before she begins patting him dry. “Oh you’re drying me off as well, really giving me the works tonight sweetheart” he smirks as he plants a kiss on her lips for what feels like the hundredth time since he got home as she reaches up to attempt to towel dry his wet hair.

“I’d do anything for you Eddie, I hope you know that” she smiles, returning the sentiment as they share another kiss, one that she initiates this time as the now soaked towel falls from her hands into the laundry basket as they walk, naked down the rest of the hallway to the bedroom.

She pushes him down onto the bed once he’s close enough to it before sinking down and kneeling between his spread legs, smirking as she watches his cock twitch in interest and anticipation of what he already seems to have guessed is happening. “Tonight is about you Ed’s, wanna let you decide how you want me” she tells him, her lips brushing softly against the skin of his thigh as she speaks yet her eyes are looking up at him, watching for his reaction. He’s quiet as he watches her as she litters kisses across the plush of his thighs, getting closer to his crotch with each kiss, “I’m all yours” she whispers as she starts to mouth at his hardening length.

“Oh fuck” he moans as she takes his tip into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks him in, “Want, fuck, want you to stay in control” he gasps as she moans around his length, the vibrations leaving him shivering and fighting the urge to cum already. “Want you to ride me, want to cum inside you” he practically whines as she pulls off of him.

“As you wish baby, shuffle back for me” she instructs, pushing herself up off of her knees so that she can climb onto the bed with him, not stopping until she’s straddling his lap. She gently takes him in her hand, feeling the slick of her saliva as she rubs his tip along her folds which makes him groan, “Yeah, you feel how wet I am for you baby, going to put it in, ready?” she asks, lining it up with her entrance.

“Shit shit shit” he curses as she sinks down on him, her hot tight warmth enveloping his length as she watches his eyes roll back as she begins to bounce her hips on him. He’s not going to last long, they both know that and she does everything she can think of to get him to feel good. She clenches around him as she runs her hands up his chest, softly scraping her nails along his skin as she pulls them back down again and again but what seems to send him over the edge is when she leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Come on baby, fill me up, need to feel it please baby” she begs, her lips brushing over the shell of his ear as she speaks. His hips begin bucking wildly as his moans become more of a cry and she knows he’s there and just a few more thrusts before she feels the first ropes of his hot cum spilling into her. She lets him ride out his high, slowing her movements so that she doesn’t overstimulate him until he stills beneath her.

“You’re fucking perfect, I love you” he says airily as he catches his breath, tugging her down until she’s flat against his heaving chest.

“I love you too” she speaks into his skin, following her words with kisses against his chest as he basks in the afterglow until he realises that she didn’t cum. “It’s okay Eddie but if it really means that much to you you can make it up to me another time but right now, you need sleep” she reasons, stifling a laugh as he yawns, confirming her words as he reluctantly agrees and almost as reluctantly lets her go so she can clean herself up. By the time she gets back Eddie’s already asleep and she smiles as she climbs into bed next to him, snuggling into his side as she lets sleep overtake her as well.

And Eddie keeps his promise to make it up to her for looking after him but waking her up by eating her out until she’s lost count of how many times she’s cum.