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#he makes for such FANTASTIC quotes

hella1975 · 2 years

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mm okay this is a thought i had on the bus like all great thoughts so this might be incomprehensible but im thinking about taob zuko and hakoda's relationship to duty, how there's such a vivid parallel from the very start of their duality. there is zuko and there is the fire prince. there is hakoda and there is the chief. thinking about how book 1 is a journey of duty and humanity. over 19 chapters, zuko is taught about humanity, how it doesnt have to be exchanged for duty, how both can exist within him simultaneously. he begins as prince zuko. he is abrasive and hateful and he fights the water tribe every step of the way, but by the end, he is just zuko. he chooses the water tribe over himself. he loses his firebending. he leaves the red ribbon behind. but hakoda? hakoda's journey is the complete opposite. where he teaches zuko the strength of humanity, hakoda sees in zuko someone facing the same burdens of duty that he faces, and zuko teaches him things about leadership without even realising. the importance of duty in the face of turmoil, the responsibility on their shoulders, the cost of their wrongdoings. the moment they were placed in control of the lives of others, they lost the right to total humanity, and while zuko's journey and age allows him a reprieve of that duty so that he can embrace humanity in its entirety, hakoda continues to carry that load. in chapter 1, he makes an objectively illogical, emotion-led decision to keep zuko alive and bring him aboard, a decision that is even stated in the story to have only worked because it was zuko instead of literally any other firebender. by chapter 19, hakoda makes the decision to leave zuko behind despite almost having it confirmed that fong took him, because he knows that his duty lies with his tribe, that he has dozens of lives in his hands regardless of what his heart wants.

book 1 is about zuko learning to choose humanity over duty, but it is also about hakoda having to choose duty over humanity.

#hey what's wrong bestie it's been like 10 chapters and you havent even quoted #'hakoda was a leader leaders made decisions this was the responsibility that crushed him when those decisions turned out to be wrong'#i am SOOOOOOOO normal about how unfair hakoda's position is like he's so similar to sokka #in that he's good at what he does he's the BEST at it like he's a fantastic chief as sokka is a fantastic plan guy #but it's still that resounding knowledge that they shouldnt have to even be in this war #that this is again something the fire nation stole from them #and while in taob the adults make a point of trying to take as much from the kids as possible #hence why zuko got to have the healing he did in book 1 #hakoda isnt a kid anymore. like he missed out on that entirely. he's never going to get that back #something something hakoda and zuko's relationship to duty something something #a lot of zuko stans were sooooo mad when hakoda left gaoling without him #and to that i say imagine you're a water tribesman and your chief stops the war effort in order to search for a single royal firebender #which simultaneously jeopardises the alliance you have with the earth kingdom #like there is literally no way of turning that to make it a good idea #and still hakoda got shit from everyone like the main swt crew all gave him shit for it and it's just SO unfair #bc he literally DID THE RIGHT THING #i love trolley problems in stories i like making characters suffer #anyway yeah just thinking about how the decisions hakoda and zuko make in ch1 #directly parallel and oppose the decisions they make in ch19 #taob #zuko #hakoda #taob analysis

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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[Fantastic Beasts] Fawcett Family Moodboard

~~Inspired by an ask submitted by @magical-retales ~~

Face claims in order from top-left to bottom-right:

Viggo Mortensen as Grover; Minnie Driver as Clara; Judi Dench as Alice

Tim Curry as Enoch; Adrien Brody as Eli; Elizabeth Debicki as Emilia

x~x~x~x

The Fawcetts are a clan primarily made up of Ravenclaws. They reside in Ottery St. Catchpole, a stone’s throw away from other well-known magical families like the Diggorys and the Weasleys. Like their neighbors, they are open-minded about magical ancestry and progressive when it comes to Beast and Being rights, but what sets them apart is how passionate they are about academic and societal achievement. While the Diggorys put their family first and the Weasleys put what’s morally right first, the Fawcetts believe that one should always strive for the very best and never rest on one’s laurels when it comes to anything. In contrast to the Diggorys and Weasleys, as well, the Fawcetts are “new blood,” so to speak, among prominent magical families, with their most famous members, Reginald and Percival Fawcett, having made a respectful name for themselves as head of the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement and the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, respectively, back in the mid-1800′s. Therefore high expectations were placed on Reginald’s only son Grover and -- by extension -- on Grover’s children.

Grover Fawcett soon enough honored his father Reginald’s legacy by becoming a well-respected member of the Minister for Magic’s support staff. The sudden death of his wife Clara Diggory-Fawcett, however, crippled Grover significantly, leaving him feeling ill-equipped to look after three young children on his own -- particularly his middle child, who had started expressing disinterest in following the family legacy or in pursuing academics much at all. Grover thus enlisted the support of his mother Alice, a very stern and conservative woman who hoped to “groom” Grover’s children into a proper gentleman and ladies who could build on their grandfather, great-uncle, and father’s successes. Unfortunately, that middle child -- the one who would eventually be known the world over as the comedic film actor Eli “Funnyman” Fawcett -- was a square peg being shoved into a circular hole, and no matter what, he would just not satisfy his grandmother’s high expectations.

This isn’t to say there was no happiness in the Fawcett home, after Clara’s death -- in fact, one could say that in those days, the child that would become known as Eli, who preferred to just be called “Fawcett” in those days, was the sunshine that kept the Fawcett home from becoming too cold, dreary, and serious. His jokes never failed to make his brother Enoch cackle with laughter, even when he was at his most anxious. His dancing was so expert that even his younger sister Emilia, who he never saw eye-to-eye with, always forced him to dance with her at parties. His father always spoke so fondly of how his second-born child’s hazel eyes would shine just like his mother’s. And even overly critical, stern Grandma Fawcett couldn’t not crack a smile, whenever he played the piano.

Despite these little pieces of joy, though, the pressure on that second child became heavier and heavier over time, making it more and more difficult for him to keep that smile on and soldier through. When he finally left Hogwarts with no NEWTs and no career path forward in the Wizarding World, it was made very clear to that child that would become Eli Fawcett that he was a disappointment to his family and that the only way he’d be able to make himself “useful” to them was through a good marriage. Surely his sunny disposition would be enough to net him and his family a successful match, at least! For the second-born Fawcett, however, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Without a second thought, or even much thought in the first place, he packed a bag and boarded the first boat out of England to the United States, prepared to make his own life in an entirely new country and -- ultimately -- in an entirely new world, living largely like a Muggle.

To this day, a decade or so later, Eli has not seen his family in person. He remains in written and telephone correspondence and occasional Floo contact with Enoch, who even now tries to mend the broken bonds between his younger sibling and the rest of the family, but otherwise, Eli hears very little from his family. And in return, the Fawcetts -- again, aside from Enoch -- rarely talk about Grover’s “delinquent second daughter,” out of shame both from how he’s reflected badly on them in polite society and from how they ultimately know it was their fault that he’s lost to them.

#about eli #eli fawcett #aesthetic #moodboard #fantastic beasts and where to find them #I'm sorry I HAD to use tim curry I love him so friggin' much okay DX #I headcanon that over time and after grandma alice dies enoch finally loosens up a bit and starts wearing his hair looser and more curly #part of the reason grover has so much trouble seeing eli as a guy is because of his children he resembles his late mother the most #not just visually with her eyes nose and face shape but also her smile and laugh #clara was a true diggory in the sense that she was very warm and kind of drew people to her #while grandma alice...yeesh. she saw eli wearing men's trousers and making off-color jokes and wrinkled in her nose in UTTER dismay #she's VERY disapproving of how lazy informal and reckless eli is #that quote is from 'a conversation' from mary poppins returns btw #thought it was appropriate </3

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workingwhileidream · 5 months

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Okay Burrow's End had me thinking some thoughts... So here are my favorite Dimension 20 moments that rotate like a rotisserie chicken in my brain (in no particular order other than the order I thought if them).

- Riz goes into the butthole of the Corn Ooze Monster (Fantasy High). The first absolutely insane shenanigans move anyone makes on D20, setting the tone the show will have forever.

- Raphaniel kills Queen Pamelia (Ravening War). I think I saw Brennan's soul leave his body briefly when he got that How Do You Want To Do This from Matt. Time was an absolute flat circle that day.

- Hank convinces Brennan to let him role savvy instead of sneak (Mentopolis). Hank is one of the most famous content creators, having him on the show was phenomenal to begin with. Then right out of the gate, he pulls this move in his first episode. And it just works. Hilarious, instantly iconic.

- Jet Dies (A Crown of Candy). When Lapin dies, it is shocking but I wasn't attached to him as a character. Lapin was a bit antagonistic and his death happens early in the season. On the other hand, Jet is instantly likeable. Emily and Siobhan are amazing as siblings, their performances this campaign are some of my favorites. I have siblings and I am very close to them, so this hit me like a ton of bricks.

- The entire epilogue of Burrow's End. "Are you pitching and Air Bud ending?" is one of the instant hall of fame quotes from this show. I started crying I was laughing so hard.

- Ylfa's bottleneck and the TPK (Neverafter). There are so many close calls for total party kills in Dimension 20 history, but this is where it finally happens and it's only 3 episodes in. I was on edge, expecting another TPK at any turn, for the rest of the campaign.

- 3 nat one initiative rolls for the battle that literally opens the season (A Starstruck Odyssey). The beginning of a new season is always full of excitement. This season was extra special, having everyone back in the dome after the pandemic and the season being based off Brennan's Mom's comics. The zoom energy is still in the air and I still think about this season opener a lot.

- Mother Timothy Goose breaks Snow White's concentration with a cantrip (Neverafter). Only Ally Beardsley could and we all damn well know it. Still didn't stop me from being so far in disbelief that all I could do is laugh.

- Hob's "You will never know another lonely day" speech to Rue (A Court of Fey and Flowers). I will still cry about this if I think about it for too long. Rue and Hob's romance is the heart of this season to me. I won't be over it ever.

- Gertrude convinces Nyruth to give the Questing Queens very powerful boons after the Queens tried to rob them only a few hours earlier (Dungeons and Drag Queens). The fact that this season exists drives a level of serotonin into my brain that is unimaginable. This is the definition of a big swing and when Bob rolls well, Brennan has no other choice than to honor it. This is one of the moments I have made a meme of. I cannot wait for season 2.

- Wuuvy shows up to the duel and she did not come to play (A Court of Fey and Flowers). Aabria has talked about how Wuuvy is one of her favorite NPCs and I feel the same. Wuuvy and Rue's relationship has such a great arc and this moment is so pivotal.

- Fabian's no good very bad day (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). An iconic moment in D20 history that was truly wild to watch live. For everything to go so fantastically bad for Fabian and Lou was unprecedented. There is a reason why people still talk about this moment to this day.

- Amathar survives being pushed off the castle (A Crown of Candy). Brennan tried to kill Lou so many times in this campaign. I really thought Brennan had gotten him with this one, my stomach sunk. But Lou pulls it out and Amathar lives once again.

- Pib plays "Smoke on the Water" (Neverafter). "I stepped out to play 'Smoke on the Water' " is also a hall of fame quote to me. This list could be all Pib moments if I'm being honest, he's my favorite Zac character. And the fact that Zac doesn't roll well makes this moment funnier to me.

- Buddy Bear gets planted with the All Blossom (Dungeons and Drag Queens). Jujubee and Brennan owe me a therapy session for this one. I sobbed. My cat is my baby and I will be ruined the day she leaves me, so I get it. I really do.

- "Eat your dice, Brennan" (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). A great bit made physically possible by Siobhan. I hope Siobhan gives him gummy dice or something like that so that Brennan can continue to eat his dice for Junior Year.

- Orange Top Hat Fairy (Neverafter). It's a horror season and the cast is doing bits about how hot a mini is the entire finale and the Adventuring Party that followed. I felt the stress and off the walls energy through the screen. The Smooth Criminal pin was the first piece of Dimension 20 merch I bought.

- Viola's epic takedown of Phoebe (Burrow's End). Watching Rashawn absolutely crush it her first time in the dome was amazing. I loved Viola from the jump, her arc was so satisfying and fun to watch. Also the idea of a tiny stoat kicking a gun just the right way to get it to fire is hilarious. No notes other than please have Rashawn come back on every season she possibly can.

- Evan Kelmp warns the Rosemont student not to duel him (Misfits and Magic). Brennan's deadpan warning matched with the reactions of the other players and Aabria really make this scene. An underrated Brennan moment for sure.

- Stacey Fakename turns out to be real (Mentopolis). This was such a good reoccurring bit, so to have Stacey be real at the end of the story was too funny. In a season of bits, tropes, and puns - this one has the most payoff to me and is definitely my favorite.

#dimension 20 #d20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 spoilers #dungeons and drag queens #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #the ravening war #mentopolis #misfits and magic #a crown of candy #burrow's end #neverafter #a starstruck odyssey #a court of fey and flowers

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pippin-katz · 8 months

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Alex & Being Bisexual 🩷💜💙

I've seen a lot of people complaining about Alex not having as big of a crisis over being bisexual as he did in the books, but I feel like a lot of people are overlooking the development he does go through.

Henry is the first guy he has felt attracted to that he actually knew prior to getting physically involved.

Alex & Miguel

Nora's asks specifically about men Alex has "been with", not men he's liked or interested him. She means physically, and he knows that too. Alex doesn't even bother with giving any context or details for his high school hook up. His description of his hook up with Miguel is straightforward, direct, and factual, because he doesn't have an emotional attachment to that moment or Miguel.

This, and his interactions with Miguel, gives the impression that they don't really know each other that well. It seems like they met during the campaign, made out in a hot tub, and now occasionally they talk at school.

They don't seem like friends, rather acquaintances after a one night stand, which is pretty much what they did. Their first conversation is mostly Miguel trying to get quotes for his journal and flirting with him rather than any kind of real discussion.

Gifs courtesy of @phakphumm from this post

Alex isn't stupid; he knows Miguel is flirting with him, however he chooses not to acknowledge it. He doesn't discourage him, but he does not encourage him either.

He avoids saying anything about it at all. His expressions after the eyelashes comment show him at a bit of a loss for how to respond. Alex seems flattered by the compliment, but doesn't seem to have any real desire to hook up again.

Everything Miguel says, he says in an attempt to get something out of him, whether it be flirting to hook up and/or get quotes for his journal.

Same thing at the state dinner; Alex isn't fully paying attention cause he's busy staring at Henry, but Miguel opens with compliments, specifically about his memo, which is definitely an attempt to flatter him. Then he starts asking direct questions about the campaign, Alex doesn't answer, and he walks away. They're not really friends.

New Territory

It's one thing to admit being somewhat attracted to the same sex, under limited, physical circumstances. Lots of people often joke about "being straight/gay but I would sleep with this person".

It's another thing to develop an attraction to a person you know of the same sex when you've never had those feelings before. It's not just physical anymore, because you know and like this person outside of that context, and the physical intimacy gains a new meaning.

Alex VS Feelings

This is a new feeling for Alex. This man practically makes out with two women he barely knows without any qualms, but when he's waiting to see Henry? His close friend who he knows and plans to kiss?

He is nervous; not just a little nervous either:

Alex is a pretty confident guy, able to host massive parties and dance without any reservations about it, unlike Henry who awkwardly bounces. He's a fantastic public speaker. Excluding the wedding, which were extreme circumstances, he's able to navigate a room comfortably. We know from the closet conversation that he used to get scared, but it's clear based on his campaign efforts, the DNC speech, and so on that he's grown into his role and can play it well.

Here, Alex can't sit still. He doesn't know how to stand. He's shifting around, almost pacing. He visibly tries to muster up the confidence we know he has, but can't. He's trying to pose, or look confident, and almost gets there, but the second the door opens, he panics and just stands there.

"But that's just cause he really likes Henry!"

Yes, exactly; Henry is his first step towards fully realizing his identity.

Once the tension is broken, Alex is confident again and doesn't hesitate anymore. He may not be completely sure of his identity, but he is completely sure that he wants Henry. Those thoughts take priority when he kisses him. He knows physical intimacy. He knows how to kiss with someone regardless of who they are. He has been with a couple men, and is a man himself, so he knows what feels good. His confidence stays intact during their exchange when they get to his bedroom.

There are very small moments where you can see his nerves poke through.

When Henry pushes Alex over the couch, not only is it surprising to him, it also disconnects them for a few seconds. He has a chance to look at Henry while they're not touching or kissing, no direct distraction.

When Henry starts undoing his pants, he looks up, inhales quickly, blinks a couple times, and swallows; it's almost like he's thinking "okay this is actually happening now". Again, no direct distraction, as Henry isn't doing anything yet, and Alex isn't touching or kissing him.

Both moments go by fast though because he's focused on what he knows, the physical part. He knows he wants Henry physically, so he can focus on that, and deal with the other feelings later.

Alex is aware that he has feelings toward Henry that are new to him. He doesn't know what they mean, and it's nothing even close to what he feels later in Paris and at the lake house, but they're starting to form. He's the one who suggests that he and Henry see each other again, and you would have to be blind not to see the brief disappointment on his face when Henry says it has to be very casual. It's also important to note that this is right after Alex comes out.

The Bisexual Label

While his feelings make Alex nervous, Henry is still his friend and he feels comfortable around him. He's the first person he comes out to; he was unable to say anything definitive about his identity during his conversation with Nora, despite her best efforts to help him.

Henry is the first person he tells and he distinctly shows uncertainty when he first uses the bisexual label:

He's serious about it; not overly serious, but he's coming out very formally. He's nervous, even though he's telling Henry, who he literally hooked up with five minutes ago. Henry already knows he's attracted to men. Alex is not nervous about that; it is clearly the label that he's uncertain about.

Confidence

A lot of people get taken by surprise when they start questioning their identity because they had simply never thought about it before.

The uncertainty Alex has about his identity was initiated by his feelings for Henry. Alex clearly never considered the idea of being in an actual relationship with a man. Without Henry, he may have never figured out that he was fully bisexual. He may have continued fooling around occasionally with guys, never giving serious thought to the other possibilities, unless/until he met someone like Henry who basically smacks him in the face with a mirror.

Being with Henry makes him truly think about himself, and come to the conclusion that he's bisexual. Seeing/dating Henry also makes him more comfortable and confident in his identity over time.

While Alex hadn't acknowledged Miguel's advances before, after he sleeps with Henry, he actively calls him out on it and refuses without hesitation as soon as Miguel puts the suggestion out there. Miguel even says "Well, I don't anymore", confirming that had been his intention in earlier scenes.

He had been trying to hook up with him again, and because Alex never addressed it, Miguel thought that it was possible. Alex may not have addressed his comments, but Miguel could see for himself that they had a positive reaction; he felt flattered and bashful. That response coupled with the fact that Alex did not outright tell him to stop was enough reason for Miguel to think it could happen again.

Also, Alex told Nora that he got the feeling Miguel wanted to hook up again, but that he was a journalist, which does not say he wouldn't be down. He never says he wouldn't want to; instead he expresses his apprehension to the idea due to his job. So for all intents and purposes, before Henry came along, Miguel was correct to think it was a possibility.

This seems to be the first time Alex has ever actually addressed their tension, and it occurs after he starts seeing Henry and using the bisexual label.

Owning The Bi Label

Then Zahra finds him and Henry the next morning. She is kind enough not to tell Ellen immediately, because even if she won't admit it, she does care about Alex a lot and recognizes the importance of something like this. However, she makes it very clear that he needs to tell her ASAP or she will.

When he comes out to his mom, he is significantly more sure of himself when he uses the bisexual label. He laughs and uses the shorten term "bi" which is a small detail but indicates his confidence, compared to how he cautiously said "bisexual" when coming out to Henry. He's not at all nervous to use the term, and says it grinning.

This is also indicative of his confidence in his label because Alex doesn't lead with his sexuality. He leads with meeting someone, and clarifying that it's a man, and that it's Henry. So once they're on the couch talking, Ellen is also already aware that he is attracted to men, but this time, he's prompted about his label and he shows zero nerves about using the term "bi".

Queer Identity

By the end of the movie, Alex is able to publicly refer to himself as having a queer identity. Obviously, he was outed against his will, but he is still able to stand up and acknowledge who he is without nerves about it. He has been with Henry for a year, and he knows who he is, and he’s not ashamed of it. As he says, the leaks were an issue of privacy, not shame. Alex is not afraid to say who he is, and he is queer, he is bisexual. He’s a different person than he was before Henry. He’s learned about himself because of him.

Does he have a complete, computer-error-noise breakdown over it? No, he doesn’t, but he does not immediately start waving a bi flag around either.

Okay, that’s all! This took so freaking long to put together, but I hope it helps people understand how his bisexuality is addressed in the movie. Just because he has a different journey than he did in the book does not mean he did not have a journey at all, and I hope this allows people to see it more clearly! Thank you for reading!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #bisexuality #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #miguel ramos #henry hanover stuart fox #ellen claremont #firstprince

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aemondsbabe · 5 months

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Praise | Taunt Part 2

summary: michael has been tutoring you for weeks and the closer you get to him, the stronger your feelings seem to grow but does he feel the same way about you?

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, profanity, dirty talk, breast/nipple play, teasing, degradation/dumbification, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex (technically the reader is on birth control but it's not mentioned in this part), angst (michael is in his sad boy hours for a lil bit), creampie, light cum play, light choking, daddy kink, dom/sub vibes, discussions of mathematics, michael being a lil clueless (aw, bless) -- let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 9.8k i will not apologize, i am not sorry

a/n: i have to say, i've grown so attached to this little pairing and i hope y'all love them as much as i do! i want to say a huge, huge, huge thank you to the loml @officerbrowneyes ❤️ for giving me the excitement and inspiration needed to even make me want to write a second part to taunt, for helping me through my writers block, for betaing this fic, and for generally being an amazing person and fantastic friend! i love you bby!!

TAUNT | Part 1

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Fuck this,” you mutter, jaw clenched as you yank over the next page of your statistics textbook, practically ripping the page as you flip it over. You can’t help but grumble, each page of notes you flip through only adding to your foul mood as you hunch over your desk, numbers and letters swimming together in your vision. “Ugh!” You toss your pencil down, rubbing your temples as it clatters across the desk before falling to the floor.

“Oi!” Louise sits up against the pillows on your bed across the room, tugging off a headphone as she looks at you, resting her own textbook on her lap, “You doin’ alright, babe?”

“I’m gonna fail the final,” You groan, head in your hands, “I’m gonna fail it, and then fail out of Oxford, and then I’ll have to go back home and then my parents will kill me.”

“You’re not gonna fail,” she sighs, pushing herself up so her legs dangle over the bed, “You’ll be fine. You were so worried about that last quiz and you nearly got a perfect score, remember?”

You let out a petulant whine, one you’d be embarrassed about if your head wasn’t pounding, and lean back on your wooden desk chair, bleary eyes staring up at the ceiling. “That was before we started consumer mathematics,” you lament, chest heaving with a sigh, “I have no hope now.”

You can feel Louise jokingly roll her eyes behind you when she huffs out a laugh as she slips off your bed, coming to stand behind you, her face upside down as she looks down at you, a hand on her hip. “Why don’t you just text Michael? I thought he’s been helping you.”

Just hearing his name makes your heart feel funny in your chest and you sigh, sitting back up before turning to look at your friend, “It’s…complicated.” Inwardly, you can’t help but cringe at yourself; the situation is anything but complicated and yet it somehow feels impossible.

“Explain,” Louise commands, leaning back against your desk with her arms crossed across her chest. She laughs when you groan, pushing your shoulders back from where you’ve curled in on yourself, forcing you to look at her, “Babe, I love you, but it’s Michael Gavey. How on Earth is that man ‘complicated?’” She asks, cocking her hip as she does air quotes with her hands.

“Because I like him!” You blurt out after a second, hiding your face in your hands, “I like him and I don’t think he likes me and every damn time we study, we just end up fucking and I can’t keep fucking him because I like him!” The words rush out of you before you have time to think about them, your whole body deflating like a balloon as you release weeks worth of tension.

Your head snaps up in shock when Louise giggles, your mouth hanging open even as the corners of your lips threaten to quirk up into a smile. “How dare you!” You admonish, playfully slapping at her hip, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and you laugh!”

“Sorry, sorry!” She shakes her head, breathily laughing as she tries to get herself under control, “I’m sorry! I just…what do you mean he doesn’t like you? That man is in love.”

“What?” Your eyes narrow as you stare up at her, “How do you know? I’ve tried flirting with him and he doesn’t ever seem to respond to it.”

At this, Louise shakes her head and shoots you a concerned look, “I don’t think he’s the type to get flirting, hon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you honestly think anyone has ever flirted with him?” Louise asks, giving you a pointed look, “I don’t have anything against the guy, but come on. You’re gonna have to hit him over the head with it.”

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce; in your weeks of getting to know Michael, you’d learned that while he wasn’t clueless, he was definitely not as experienced as he had first appeared, “That still doesn’t mean he likes me, though.” You point out, raising an eyebrow at your friend.

“Do you really not see the way he looks at you?” She smirks, “I’ve said two words to the man but, trust me, he is smitten, babe.”

You look away, biting at your bottom lip as you think over what she had to say. Your eyes scan over the surface of your desk, unfocused, as thoughts bounce around your head. Louise simply pats your shoulder before going back to your bed, resting on her stomach as she resumes reading through her book.

You’re quiet for a moment before your eyes land on your phone, sitting temptingly on the corner of your desk. You glance back and forth between it and the still-opened textbook in front of you, frustration rising in your chest once again at the mere sight of the various formulas on the pages. Finally, with a sigh, you grab your phone and flip it open, quickly scrolling to Michael’s contact.

“U busy now?” You text quickly, pressing send before you have a chance to second guess yourself before setting the phone down quickly, practically dropping it on the desk as if it were burning you.

Not even a minute later, although it feels like an eternity, it vibrates. You hesitate for a second, tempted to just slog your way through this chapter on your own. Finally, you sigh and reach for your phone, not wanting to sacrifice your newly-improved grade or your situationship with Michael.

“In my room. Why?” He replies, always concise and to the point.

“Need help w the new chap,” you type, biting your lip as you shuffle through letters on the small keyboard, “Can I come over?”

“Sure, see you soon.” His reply comes quickly, making your heart race.

With a nervous sigh, you push yourself up from your chair, groaning as you take a second to stretch before striding over to your small dresser. “I’m going to his,” you say, glancing over at Louise, “I’m officially waving the white flag on this chapter.”

“Wear lingerie!” She says quickly, practically skipping over to you and leaning against the wall next to you.

“What?” You laugh, shooting her a questioning look, “Why would I do that?”

“Duh!” She huffs with an eye roll, “Put in some effort to fuck him and it might help get the message across.”

“How do you know we’ve been–”

“Your room is right next to mine,” she points out, looking at you tiredly, “And the walls in this ancient building are thin as paper. Come on.”

“Okay, okay,” you put your hands up in surrender with a laugh before pulling open your underwear drawer; as convoluted as Louise’s plan was, you couldn’t exactly see a downside to fancying up a little, “Any suggestions?”

“Hmm,” she hums, shuffling through the small pile of fancy lace you had shoved in the corner of the drawer, “Ooh, these!” She chimes victoriously, holding up a lacy bra, “This color always looks so good on you, you’ll make his head explode.”

With a nod, you grab the bra and matching underwear from her, “If this doesn’t help, I will be holding you personally accountable.” You laugh, seeing her politely turn away from you in the corner of your eye as you begin pulling your clothes off.

“I mean, it is still on you to actually say something,” she chuckles, peering out the window as she waits for you to change, “Honestly, if it was me, I would’a locked that shit down ages ago. The sounds I hear coming from this room…” She jokes, shaking her head.

“Sounds?” You ask, your face flushing as you hurriedly clasp the thin bra behind your back, “You can hear us?”

“You two are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” she laughs, “I mean, who would’ve thought that little nerd had it in him?”

“He has hooked up with people,” you defend, pulling on a t-shirt and skirt, short enough that you knew it would make the blond’s head spin, “He’s not totally helpless.”

“Hookups are different than boyfriend dick,” Louise points out, shuffling back on your bed until her back was resting against the wall next to it, “And based on all the screams I hear from you, Michael has boyfriend dick.”

With a laugh, you roll your eyes, not even bothering to question her as you shove your things into your backpack. Sitting down at your desk chair, you pull your small mirror over and give your hair and makeup one last look over, glancing back at Louise as she continues, “I mean, come off it, babes. You don’t even make those noises by yourself.”

“You can hear me?!” You squeak out, whipping your head around.

“The walls are paper thin!” She laughs, “I’m sure you can hear me too, and everyone else. You honestly think that doesn’t go both ways?”

“Ha ha,” you say dryly, slipping on your shoes before standing and grabbing your keys from the small hook next to the door of your room, “I’m going, can you lock my door when you leave?”

“Yup!” Louise chirps, not bothering to look up from her phone as she waves you off, “Go get that nerd dick!”

With a sigh and an eye roll, you pull your door closed.

You make it to Michael’s in record time and pause in front of his door, giving yourself a minute to calm down before you nervously knock.

Almost instantly, the door swings open. The thought that he might’ve been perched next to it, waiting for you to show up, makes your chest squeeze as you murmur a hello.

“Hiya, pretty.” He says lowly as you move past him, closing the door and watching as you dump your backpack by his bed. His room wasn’t much different than most other guy’s dorms you’d been in – sparsely decorated with only the essentials, although you did appreciate the posters and pictures Michael had hanging up. There were all sorts of different ones pinned to the dark wooden walls, from bands he liked to small polaroids of his pets from home. Every time you were here, though, your heart couldn’t help but hurt a little as you never saw pictures similar to some of the ones you had up – ones with friends.

“Needed some help from little old me?” He teases.

“Yes, oh my God!” You sigh, your dramatics making him crack a smile as he takes a seat at his desk, “This new chapter is doing my head in!”

“Alright, alright love,” he murmurs, signature smirk poised on his lips as his blue eyes peer at you from behind his glasses, “Get your things, I’ll see if I can help.”

With a nod, you pull your notebook from your backpack as he turns to the chapter in his own textbook. As you move, you can’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye, taking in everything from the dark red t-shirt he wore, complete with a cheesy maths pun on the front, to how ruffled his golden hair was, like he’d just woken up from a nap. Maybe the light was playing tricks on you, but you swore you saw him glance over at you a time or two too.

“Haven’t heard much from you this week,” you start, pulling up the extra chair he kept in a corner of his dorm room, “How’ve you been? Oh! And how did that paper for your calculus class turn out?” You ask, glancing at him as you flip through the pages of your notebook, looking for where you’d left off.

“Oh, yeah,” he clears his throat, leaning an elbow on his desk, “The paper was great, actually. Thank you for your help by the way,” his lips curve up in a sheepish grin, “I’ve always been a bit shit at writing.”

“Yeah, no problem,” try to ignore the way your stomach twists at his gratitude, “I’ve always been shit at maths so it works out.” You joke, pride filling your chest when he chuckles. The longer you’d spent working with Michael, the more comfortable the two of you became, and slowly but surely he’d let his guard down. He was still the same cocky, downright arrogant prick in class but when it was just the two of you, you couldn’t help but notice that he’d grown…softer. Those sharp, taunting edges of his had been smoothed a little, sanded down by jokes he shared with you rather than sarcastic jabs directed at you.

“Mmm,” he hummed, those blue eyes you’d grown so enamored with sparkling with mirth, like he was always just one step ahead of you, “Don’t sell yourself short, baby. You’ve improved a lot,” your cheeks flush and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life, whirling around wildly at the simple compliment, “Not nearly as much of a dummy as you were a few weeks ago, yeah?” He finishes, lips tugged up in a viciously smug smile as he watches the way your eyes grow wide, the way the pink hues making their home on the apples of your cheeks bloom ever brighter, extending almost all the way to your neck.

“Michael,” your voice is hoarse as you croak his name, desperately willing your mind to stay on track, “C-Can we focus on the notes, please? I really do need help, I mean maybe later we can–”

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he says, blessedly cutting off your nervous babbling, “What’s giving you problems, pretty?”

“Uhh,” you fumble, kicking yourself internally as you scramble to reset your brain, “The stuff we went over last week,” you flip through your notes, finally pointing your pen at the hastily scribbled notes you’d taken in class, “The monthly investment stuff; I guess the formula Professor Davies went over just seems really complicated to me. Like, I was having a really hard time following it in class with the way he was explaining it.”

Michael nods his head as he listens, his eyes quickly scanning over your notes before flitting to the accompanying pages in his nextbook as he lets out a sigh. “Ahh, okay,” his fingers brush over yours as he takes your pen, once again sending your mind into a flurry as you blink, desperately trying to clear the fog that seemed so determined to invade your brain, “So, remember the compound interest formula we went over earlier?”

You nod as he peers over at you, admittedly only halfway listening as your heart hammers in your chest. “Uhm, y-yeah,” you nearly whisper before clearing your throat, “Yeah.” You nod once more, trying to keep your voice steady as you watch him scrawl notes on your paper; your eyes glaze over as you observe the way his long fingers hold your pen, making it all too easy to imagine those same fingers sliding into your mouth and holding your tongue down as he whispers filthy things into your ear, skirting their way into your underwear and curling just right against –

“It works similarly,” Michael continues, hunched over the textbook as he copies down a sample problem, “So, the monthly investment formula is basically just the yearly salary over twelve months. I think the formula is getting to you, but it’s not really that complicated in practice.”

You nod your head dutifully, his voice sounding muffled to your ears as your thoughts continue spiraling, lewd thoughts of his fingers and cock playing like a video on the backs of your eyes. He hands the pen back to you as he finishes copying down the question, gazing at you expectantly as you look over the problem.

“Okay, so, uhm,” you stammer, eyes desperately scanning over the page as if the answer will magically reveal itself to you, “So…you’d divide these…?” You ask timidly, already knowing you’re wrong.

“You aren’t paying attention at all, love,” he says, not even needing to question it as he shakes his head in mock disappointment, “What’s going on in that pretty head, hm? What got you so distracted?” He rasps, one hand moving up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, even that simple action damn near causing you to whimper.

“I don't,” you swallow, mouth dry as your eyes flutter shut for a half second before reluctantly meeting his, heart pounding wildly in your chest as the smirk on his face makes a graceful reappearance when he sees the glazed over, near empty look on your face, “I don’t know.” You finish finally, voice breathy despite your best efforts.

“Hmm,” he hums again, trailing that hand down your neck and the side of your arm before finally letting it rest atop the thigh closest to him, his touch practically burning your skin, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what’s taken over that empty fuckin’ head.”

Before you even have a chance to reply, his hands are on your hips. He firmly pulls you into his lap, lithe frame disguising his true strength as he settles you atop his thighs.

“Michael, I–”

“Hush,” he commands softly, warm hands skirting over your waist as he tugs you back into him, your back pressing into the familiar expanse of his chest once again, “I know exactly how to help, pretty girl.” He whispers, his breath fanning over your cheek before he presses a light kiss there, trailing them down over the side of your neck as his hands slip under the bottom of your t-shirt. His touch makes shivers cascade down your spine as you feel his hands ghost over your stomach before they cup your breasts; he lets out a pleased hum when he feels the delicate lace of your bra, which does nothing to hide your already pebbled nipples as they press against the palms of his hands.

“I think,” he continues, chuckling darkly when he already hears small whines escaping past your lips as he continues massaging your breasts, “You need that wet little cunt played with, hm? I know she’s already dripping, pretty.” His voice is rough as he speaks, his hips grinding up into you, making you mewl on his lap as you feel his cock already poking against you even through the jeans he wears.

“P-Please,” you whine brokenly, embarrassed to already be reduced to such a state, “Please, Michael, I need…fuck, I need something, anything, please!” You’re used to begging for him by now, the two of you have hooked up enough over the past few weeks that you know he loves how whimpery and desperate you get, loves to hear the little hitch in your voice when you beg and plead with him so.

“Not Michael,” he grunts, roughly pinching at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, just enough to make you cry out and squirm on his lap, “Try again.”

“Oh–,” you gasp, unable to stop the way your hips desperately wriggle on his lap, tantalized by the feel of him, even through all the layers of clothing between you, “Sir! Sir, please!”

He huffs out a laugh, low and raspy in your ear as he trails one hand up, poking it through the collar of your shirt to wrap it lightly around your throat – not enough to choke you, but just enough to remind you of your place. “Someone must be feeling extra stupid today, hm? Haven’t been sir in weeks, love, you know that.”

A hungry whine claws its way past your lips as your head tilts back onto his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut as your cheeks heat up, trembling in his lap. This has been his favorite part, experimenting with that one little name it takes so much for you to say. It’s funny really, eventually he’d admitted to only hearing it in a porno, not something he could attribute to his string of experiences with one night stands. You’d just been the first person he’d been intrigued about enough to try it on; he was hooked the moment he saw your reaction and had slowly worked it into your little routine, requiring you to day it, to beg him so prettily with it, before he’d ever give you what you wanted.

“Come on now,” he groans, the movements of your hips finally getting to him, “Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll keep this precious cunt occupied so that that little head can work properly.” His hand abandons your breast, a laugh rumbling through him at your cries as he trails it up one thigh, slipping it under the bottom of your skirt.

“Daddy!” You finally blurt out, the ache in your core finally growing too big for you to keep denying, “Please, daddy, please, just… fuck, just do something!”

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he coos, half laughing as he slips his hand up under your skirt, cupping your throbbing center over the thin lace of your panties, groaning when he feels how hot and wet you are under his touch, “No wonder you can’t think straight, hm? So messy.”

You whimper helplessly in his lap, hands scrabbling before they tightly cling to the forearm he has halfway under your skirt. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe heavily, head swimming as his fingers press down on your aching clit before circling the bud slowly, the lace of your underwear only adding to the fire building within you, “Oh, my God!”

Michael grunts lowly into your ear as he twirls his fingers against you, nipping at your neck as he rocks against you from below. “Here’s how this is gonna go, love,” he whispers lowly, speeding up the movements of his long fingers against you, “If you can get the formula right, you can come…”

“Wha–!” You splutter, your chest already heaving as you struggle to catch your breath, nails digging into his forearm as you feel the knot in your stomach already beginning to tighten; Michael had made it his mission over the last few weeks to learn every little thing that made you tick, and Christ, if he wasn’t a fast learner, “T-That’s not–”

“If you can’t get it right,” he continues, smirking against your cheek as he presses his fingers ever tighter into the column of your throat, “Then I’ll just keep edging and edging you until I’ve gotten my fill of those precious fucking noises you make, hm?”

You struggle in his hold, not getting very far as his touch has already reduced your muscles to jelly. Your hips keep rutting up into his fingers despite your feeble attempts to stop yourself, knowing he absolutely means to make good on his threats. With a defeated whine, you let your head loll to the side on his shoulder, burying your face against the pale expanse of his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you breathe in his now-familiar scent, although that only serves to put you more on edge.

Michael suddenly moves, sitting up straighter in his desk chair and bringing you with him, causing you to yelp a bit. He keeps a steady hold on you as he leans forward, his fingers never ceasing their circular movements on your aching clit as he tilts you forward, angling your head so you’re once again face-to-face with the textbook and notes still laid out on the desk.

“Now,” he starts, resting his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scan over the pages in front of you both, seemingly wholly unbothered with your current state, “What’s the first step?”

You can feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears as you blearily look over the paper, your eyes not really focusing on anything as you feel the knot in your stomach pull tighter and tighter with each movement of his hands against you.

“M-Michael, I–” Your voice sticks in your throat, your hips moving entirely of their own accord in his lap as your walls clench desperately around nothing, that familiar growing ache nearly taking over your entire center as your breath hitches.

“Ooh,” he murmurs with saccharine sympathy, quickly pulling his fingers from you just before you fall over the edge; you can feel him smirking wickedly against your cheek as you twitch against him, letting out mournful little whines, “That was a close one, wasn’t it, pretty girl?”

The room feels as if it’s spinning as you come down from your almost-high, your walls throbbing as low cries slip past your lips. “F-Fuck…” you sigh hoarsly, hips still pathetically twitching against his jean-clad lap.

“I know you know this,” his breath is warm against your cheek as he angles his head toward yours, blond hair tickling the side of your face as he peers at you from behind his glasses, “Be a good fucking girl and tell me which step is first and I’ll touch you again.”

Your eyes frantically scan over the problem as you will yourself to remember something, anything, from one of Professor Davies’s lectures last week, your hands abandoning Michael’s forearm to white-knuckle the edge of his desk instead as you try to steady yourself.

“Y-You, uhm, you multiply,” you start, swallowing heavily as something finally seems to click together in your brain, “You multiply the exponents, daddy.”

You practically preen under his touch as you feel more so than hear the pleased hum he lets out. “Very good,” he drawls slowly, pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “See? I knew there was something going on in that head of yours.” You know he’s taunting you on purpose, pulling out every trick he knows will make you blush, though you can’t bring yourself to care as you feel your heart soar with his praises.

A loud moan tumbles past your lips as he resumes touching you, his fingers once again teasing your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, the aching bud now all the more sensitive to his touches after you were denied an orgasm. You nearly double over on his lap as pleasure immediately zings up your spine, your muscles tensing in his hold.

His hand abandons your throat and pulls out from under your shirt completely as he reaches for your pen and quickly scribbles down the first step of the formula, easily multiplying the numbers in his head before setting your pen back down.

“Now then, what’s next, love?” He chuckles meanly against your cheek as you whine. He groans appreciatively as he feels your arousal leaking into your panties, soaking the fabric against his fingers while his other hand comes up to cup your breast over your shirt, feeling your aching nipple pressing against his hand even through the fabric.

This game continues for what feels like an eternity, his fingers delicately teasing you right up to your breaking point before he cruelly yanks his hand away as he quizzes you again and again until you slowly but surely work your way through each step of the problem.

You’re a sweaty mess on his lap now, skin damp and flushed as he pulls his hand away for what must be the hundredth time, although in reality it’s only the fifth. You let out a feeble whine, long past begging and pleading as you know it won’t do any good.

“You’re so close,” he teases, chuckling to himself at the double meaning of his words, “Just need to solve it now, pretty baby. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll make you come.” He promises, patting his fingers over the soaked patch on your panties just enough to make you jump.

“D-Daddy, please!” You sniffle, no longer trying to reign in the tears streaming down your cheeks as your center aches and clenches, empty, “Please, I need–”

“You need to answer the fucking question,” he grunts through clenched teeth, one hand still cupping your spasming center while the other shoots up to your neck, angling your head toward the paper once more, “You asked me for help, love. And I’d say this is helping; looks like that empty little brain is able to recall information after all.” He teases, smirking cruelly as he ruts against your ass, taunting you with his hard length yet again. “Come on,” he continues, urging you on, “You’re doing so, so well for daddy. Just need the last little bit.”

Your head spins as you look at the paper and you halfway wonder if your fingers have made intents in the wood of his desk yet, “It’s, it’s the yearly salary,” you say quickly, voice high-pitched and breathy, “T-The yearly salary over twelve, fuck, m-months.” You rush out, squeezing your eyes shut.

Somehow, more blood seems to rush to your cheeks as he gasps in fake surprise, really laying it on thick for you. “Oh, what a good girl!” He praises, arms wrapping around you tightly as you squirm in his hold, his warm body pressing against yours only making your need greater, “I knew you could do it, that’s right, love!”

Quickly, he multiplies the numbers you indicated, mumbling under his breath as he quickly thinks through the equation. A few seconds later, you hear your pen moving against the paper as he scribbles down your answer, circling it with an over-done flourish.

“You’ve done it!” He coos happily, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your cheek, trailing them down your jaw and neck, “You want your prize now?” He asks lowly, trailing his hand back up your thigh slowly, fingers just barely skimming over your throbbing center.

All at once, you seem to come back to yourself as the fog lifts momentarily behind your eyes as your desperation drives you. You nod your head frantically as you turn on his lap, finally facing him and relishing the sweet, proud smile spread across his lps.

“Please, Michael, daddy,” you ramble, pressing kisses against his cheeks and neck before he finally angles his head and catches your lips with his; the two of you sigh into the kiss, yours morphing into a desperate whine as you press your chest against his, shivering as your nipples peak from the warmth of his body alone. His tongue licks along your lower lip before he gently nips at it, chuckling as you mewl into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss him frantically, sighing happily when he delicately sucks your tongue into his mouth before you pull away with a whimper. “Please, please, I need it,” you murmur against his lips, clinging to his shoulders, “I can’t wait any longer, please!”

He shushes you with a soft laugh, hands skimming over your waist. “D’you want my mouth or my fingers, pretty girl?” He mutters softly, holding you steady on his lap.

“Mouth!” You answer instantly, making him chuckle at your desperation, “Please, please!”

“On the bed,” he commands, giving you one last kiss before pushing you up, helping to steady your shaky legs, “Good girl.” He praises again, patting your ass teasingly when you finally steady yourself enough to cross the room, stopping to kick off your shoes quickly before sitting yourself down on the bed.

Michael follows after you, smirking as he kneels on the bed, one foot still on the floor. He smiles and cups both of your cheeks, kissing you once more like he can’t get enough. “You, pretty girl, are very overdressed,” He drawls, waiting for your subtle nod before pulling your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor by the bed. “Holy…” his eyes are wide as he stares at your chest, taking in the way the delicate lace perfectly cups your breasts, nipples visible through the thin material, already hardened from his earlier ministrations.

Upon seeing his reaction, you get bold. Smirking, you pull up your skirt, spreading your legs as you draw your knees up to your chest, giving him a perfect view of your matching panties; the lace, long since soaked through with your arousal, practically glimmers in the low lamp-light of his room.

“Fuck,” he whispers, one hand adjusting his hard length, straining against his jeans as his blue eyes sweep over you, taking in every flawless inch, “To what do I owe the honor, hm?” He finally collects himself, smirking again as he reaches out to lightly skim a finger over the soft silk of one strap of your bra. He’s never seen you in something this nice, and certainly never a matching set, the sight of the soft lace against your skin would be enough to make him finish in his jeans if he weren’t careful.

“Wanted to wear something special for you…” You say with a small shrug, heat rising to your cheeks once again as you look up at him shyly through your lashes.

He tilts his head to the side, clearly not picking up on the deeper meaning behind your words as he squints his eyes at you, confused. “Why…why would you wanna wear something special for me, love?” He questions softly, his voice coming out more as a breath than words.

“Michael,” you sigh, squirming under his affectionate gaze as you gather every ounce of confidence in your body. You swallow as your eyes dart between his, your heart quickly speeding up in your chest; you take a deep breath, Louise’s words echoing in your head, “I…I really like you.” You say simply, carefully watching his reaction.

“You…do?” He asks slowly, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, his eyes widening as he watches you nod with a shy smile. “Why me?” His voice is smaller this time, his whole body seeming to deflate as he sits back on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped as one foot still rests against the wooden floor.

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, head cocking to the side as you move closer to him, placing a hand on his knee.

He sighs heavily, glancing up at you before looking down to where your hand rests on his leg, “No one really does.” He finally sighs, his eyes downcast.

Without thinking, you move closer to him, pressing yourself against him as you practically climb into his lap. This time, it’s your turn to gently cup his cheeks, your thumbs resting just under the gold rims of his glasses as you angle his head toward you. “I do,” you say softly before frowning a bit, pulling away just an inch, “Do…do you not feel the same way?”

“No!” He says quickly, shaking his head as he grabs at you, pulling you back toward him, “I mean yes! I mean,” he sighs frustratedly, running a hand through his hair as he swallows heavily, “I do like you, I– Fuck, I don’t know who I’m kidding, I’ve never liked anyone this much,” he says softly, smiling as he watches your eyes grow wide, “I just…never thought a girl like you would want much to do with me.”

“What does that mean?” You whisper, heart hammering so hard in your chest you’re sure he can hear it with as little distance as there is between the two of you.

“I…,” he pauses, chuckling bitterly, “I guess I always assumed you’d wind up with Catton or…or one of his little minions. Everyone does.”

“Everyone?”

He tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling for a second, like he’s willing himself to tell you some deep, dark secret. Finally, he fixes his gaze on you again, one hand fiddling with the seam at the bottom of your skirt. “He was my friend once,” he begins, his voice soft and uncertain, “I don’t think I ever meant much to him, he just took me in as some charity case. To help the weirdo loner boy, I guess.”

You stay silent as he pauses, watching him carefully as he speaks. The corners of his mouth twitch before finally dropping into a frown, his eyebrows pulling together as if he were in pain.

“I don’t know what happened in the end, to be honest,” he continues, blinking his eyes as he shuffles through memories, “I think maybe I wasn’t falling in line enough – I didn’t just blindly follow him like the others. He must’ve gotten tired of it cause one day I got to school and everyone just acted as if I wasn’t there, even mates I’d had before. They all just got pulled into his orbit and left me.”

“Michael…” you coo softly, thumbs lightly brushing over his cheeks.

“And then, one night I went to the pub with– with Oliver.” He practically spits his name, nose twitching with anger.

“Oliver?” You question, the name ringing a bell as your eyes narrow, trying to picture his face, “Oliver Quick, you mean?”

He nods, eyes flitting around his room before they settle on you again. “He was my friend…I thought he was anyway. Way back at the start of term,” he sighs, lips pulling up in a sardonic smile, “We went to the pub one evening to celebrate finally finishing some paper or whatever, and…you were there.”

“I was?” You pull back from him a fraction of an inch in shock, your eyes flitting over his face.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head, “Sitting at a table with Catton and all the rest of the cunts.”

“Felix and I were never that close Mich–”

“And I got up to get another pint and when I got back…he was gone.” He continued, huffing out a bitter laugh.

“Oliver?”

“Yep,” he nods, hands gripping your waist more firmly as if he’s trying to anchor you to him, “He’d gone to sit with you lot and never so much as looked my way again. Then, once Professor Davies’s class started, I…Fuck, I liked you from the minute you walked through the door on the first day, love.”

“You did?” You smile at his confession, thinking back to all those months ago.

He hums again, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, glasses smushed against his cheek, “‘N then I realized where I knew you from and I…lost hope. Got jealous. Doesn’t matter I just…I was so determined not to like you.”

“But…you do?”

He hums again, nodding against your cheek, “I remember kicking myself when I agreed to tutor you,” he laughs, breath fanning over your neck and collarbone, “But you’re really not like them, hm?”

You shake your head emphatically, holding him tighter to you as if that will somehow better prove your point, “I’m not.” You say simply, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

The two of you stay silent for a moment before Michael’s shoulders start shaking a little; you pull back a bit, worried that he’s upset until you see he’s laughing, gazing at you as if you were some ethereal being. “I cannot believe you fucking like me,” he laughs, damn near giggling, “No one bloody likes me.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, leaning your forehead against his. “Well, fuck them,” you say firmly with a cheeky grin, “I like you enough for every damn idiot in this school.”

The two of you laugh together for another moment before you feel that familiar heat building in your belly again, never able to stave it off very long when you’re in his presence. Michael must feel it too, one second you’re laughing with him and the next his fingers are threading through the hair at the back of your head and pulling you in for a hard kiss, pressing his lips desperately against yours as if he’s trying to prove to himself you won’t disappear. You whimper softly as his tongue licks into your mouth, swallowing his groans as you move your lips fluidly against his before he pulls away quickly.

“Gotta fucking taste you, love,” he whispers roughly, hands blindly searching for the clasp of your bra. You feel it pop open a moment later, a low, victorious hum sounding from his chest as he finally pulls it off, tossing it off the bed to land next to your shirt, “Fuck, I love these tits.” He groans hotly, quickly kissing down your shoulder and chest before taking a pert nipple into his mouth, making you gasp loudly.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan, eyes squeezing shut as you finally feel his mouth on you, head spinning at the way his tongue teases over your sensitive nipple before he sucks it into his hot mouth, “Michael, please, need it!” You whine pitifully, rutting yourself down on his thigh.

He guides you back gently, coaxing you to lay down on his bed as his hands push up under your short skirt once more to quickly pull your panties down, tossing them over his shoulder. “Not Michael, baby, remember?” He asks teasingly, pushing your thighs up and hooking his hands behind your knees.

He guides your knees up and up until your knees are pressed against your chest, all the while pressing soft kisses to the backs of your thighs as he peers up at you over his gold-rimmed glasses, strands of blond hair resting against his forehead.

“Please, daddy!” You correct yourself quickly, not wanting to take any chances of him teasing you further. You wiggle your hips in his grasp, making him chuckle lowly as he presses kisses closer and closer to where you want him. Giggling, damn near giddy with the excitement of having his mouth on you, you reach down and gently pull his glasses off and reach up to set them on the small table beside his bed.

“Shh, you’ll get it,” he promises, breath hot against your slick folds as he uses his thumbs to spread you apart, groaning appreciatively when he sees how wet you are, how your pussy clenches tightly around nothing, “You earned it, my love.”

The pet name sends you into a tailspin almost as much as the feeling of his warm tongue pressing against your clit does. You let out a long, satisfied moan at the feeling of it, arching your hips up into his mouth.

His groan of satisfaction vibrates through you, only adding to the sensations of his lips and tongue on your aching center. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles, releasing his hold on one thigh to run two long fingers through your slick, gathering it as he teases your entrance, “It’s been far too long.” He groans, speaking more to your throbbing core than you, the thought sending another zap of pleasure swirling up your spine.

“It’s been, like, a week!” Your giggle turns into a breathy moan as he kisses your clit, gently suckling it between his lips as he carefully slips two fingers into you, immediately crooking them up against the spot that he knows will drive you wild.

“Too long,” he grunts into your folds, tongue sweeping over the length of you before he teases it at your clit. “Fuck, if I could eat this sweet little cunt every day, I would.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and your back arches as he feasts on you, shaking his head back and forth to bury his face further into your heat. He growls into you as he licks into your entrance, removing his fingers for a moment to fuck his tongue into you, savoring your sweet taste while the tip of his nose rubs perfectly over your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck,” you gasp, body jerking and twitching as pleasure floods through you, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight at just a few touches, “D-Daddy, I’m— oh, fuck!” You cry, arching your back as he slips his fingers into you, expertly fucking and curling them against that rough patch within you, making stars dance behind your eyelids.

“Y’getting close?” Michael murmurs around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and laving his tongue over it before letting it slip from his lips with a wet pop, “S’okay, my love, come on. You don’t need to ask for it, baby girl, you’ve earned it, just come.” He coaxes, slipping a third finger in beside the first two and grinning when he hears you cry out at the added stretch.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as you pant, wanton whimpers and whines spilling past your lips as your fingers weave into his golden hair. Michael’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling, so pleased with himself that he can make you feel this good, that he can pull these sounds from you that he groans, long and low, into your cunt as he licks and sucks at your folds, flicking his tongue over your swollen bud.

“Can feel you getting tight, pretty girl,” his lips move against your clit as he speaks, “This sweet cunt wants to milk daddy’s fingers, doesn’t she? Fucking let her, baby, come on.”

The knot inside your belly implodes on itself as your body loses all sense of rhythm, every muscle contracting and relaxing as waves of pleasure finally wash over you. You can feel your walls pulsing around Michael’s fingers as your high consumes you, a garbled moan of his name leaving your lips as you shake against him.

He doesn’t let up, digits pressing tightly against the spot inside you as he lewdly spits onto your cunt, loudly slurping it up as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, sucking your still-pulsing bud into his mouth as he does.

“T-Too much!” You whimper, squirming in his hold as you feel yet another high quickly building within you, “Michael, d-daddy, please!”

“Hush,” he huffs, speeding up his movements enough to make you squeal as tears spring to your eyes, “You know what I want, baby girl, give it to me, let yourself have it.”

You grunt loudly as another wave consumes you, your eyes tightly squeezing shut when you feel yourself contracting around his thick fingers yet again. You’re so lost within yourself, you barely hear the slick, sloshing sounds emanating from your heat, but you certainly hear the deep, proud moan that Michael lets out, eyes widening as he watches your cunt squirt around his fingers, droplets wetting his wrist and the sheets on his bed.

You’re practically sobbing by the time he slows his fingers to a stop and gingerly pulls his fingers from you, shushing you gently when you whimper. “What a good girl,” he says softly, noisily licking his fingers clean of the evidence of your release, “Did so good for me, baby.”

The soft praises help you come back to yourself, brain returning to your body in just enough time to get a glimpse of Michael’s face before he buries it in your neck, a blush creeping across your cheeks from the shine of your release on his lips and chin.

“Thank you.” You whisper tiredly, eyes slipping shut as he presses kisses to your neck and jaw.

He laughs softly, leaning on his side next to you, one hand tracing up and down your body as he looks you over. “You wanna keep going or did I wear you out?”

You keep your eyes shut even as a playful smile slinks across your lips, a small giggle slipping past your lips as you wiggle your hips enticingly, making him chuckle with you.

The bed shifts suddenly, causing you to peek one eye open. “There she is,” Michael laughs when you open both eyes fully, watching as he quickly pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor to join yours. He stays on his knees as he unbuttons his jeans, giving you plenty of time to take in his pale chest and stomach, covered in a light wash of blond hair that tapers off to a trail, disappearing beneath the denim around his slender waist, “Want my cock, baby?” He asks, leaning back down beside you as he kicks off his jeans and boxers, cock springing out and resting hotly against your thigh.

Biting your lip, you can’t help but reach down and stroke him gently, a soft sigh leaving you at the sight of his perfect length. Michael grunts next to you, his head tilting back ever so slightly as he finally feels some stimulation on his cock. The delicate sound makes your heart race, knowing you could bring him such pleasure from such a simple touch. A blush blooms on your cheeks as you gaze up at him through your lashes, eyes wide as you smirk and wiggle your hips enticingly.

He smiles at you, eyes sweeping over your form admiringly, before finally meeting your eyes, slightly squinting as he looks at you without his glasses.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He teases, chuckling as you nod eagerly and tuck your behind your knees, holding your legs up to your chest as your skirt looks around your middle. He leans in and kisses you softly, a certain emotion behind his movements that hasn’t ever been there before. He keeps you close as he moves, never taking his lips off of yours while he maneuvers himself on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs with a pleased exhale.

Your back arches as you feel him slide his cock between your folds, the head slipping perfectly against your clit. You grasp onto his shoulders to anchor yourself, mewling into his mouth as his hands grab onto the backs of your knees once more, holding you open for him. His lips trail down your jaw and neck, stopping to nip lightly at your skin, before continuing downward to your breasts. He licks and kisses over each one, paying special attention to your nipples and laughing softly at the cacophony of whimpers and whines you make as he teases them with his tongue.

“I’ve got you,” he sighs, pulling back just enough to grasp his cock, notching the head inside your opening, just enough to make you gasp and squirm, “Y’wanna go dumb on my cock, babygirl?” He says lowly, resting his forehead against yours as he bends down enough to make the muscle in the back of your thigh ache with the stretch.

“Oh, please!” You breathe, canting your hips up in an attempt to get even just a bit more of his cock into you, “Please, daddy!”

With a growl, Michael slowly slips inside you, humming deep in his chest as he does, his eyes slipping closed as he savors your tight, wet heat.

“F-Fuck,” you squeak out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you completely, his girth stretching you to the brim, leaving no part of you untouched, “You feel so good!” You whine, eyes fluttering as you try desperately to remain focused on him, never tiring of the expressions he makes when he’s inside you.

Slowly, he begins thrusting into you, groaning lowly as your fingers grip tighter at his shoulders. His blue eyes roll back in his head, brows furrowing as he slowly speeds up, rocking into you in a perfect motion.

“Feels so good,” he gasps out, ardently biting and sucking at your neck as he does, angling his hips to make sure the tip of his cock presses against that sensitive spot inside you, “So fucking tight, shit.”

The two of you move together, his hips smacking against the backs of your thighs as he plunges in and out of you. You can’t help but blush when the wet, squelching sound of your cunt begins drowning out the sharp gasps leaving your lips every time he thrusts back in, the tip of his cock brushing deliciously against the very back of your heat.

A rumbling laugh sounds in his chest as he hears it too, making you flush somehow deeper as he fixes you with a filthy grin. “Little pussy loves me, huh?” He rasps, groaning at the sight of you trying frantically to answer, your mouth hanging open as useless whines and moans warble past your lips. “She does, hm? Pretty cunt loves daddy’s cock.”

“Yeah, yeah— fuck!” You mumble, nodding your foggy head as best as you can as you gaze up at him longingly, breasts bouncing along with his thrusts, “L-Love it, daddy, fuck!”

He moans softly and grinds himself against you, driving you nearly insane as the small thatch of hair above his cock rubs against your clit deliciously. Your arms shoot out, wrapping around his neck tightly and dragging him down to you, needing something to hold onto as your walls clench down hard on his length, every thrust into you making you see stars.

His hands drop from your knees, arms locking around your neck in turn, pulling you up to him. Your legs lock tightly around his waist, the two of you as pressed together as you can get, your breasts pressed tightly against his chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your face back just enough to meet your eyes, “So pretty, so good.” He chokes out, eyes frantically darting between the two of yours, chest heaving as he pants.

You mewl harshly as his thrusts speed up even more, eyes nearly crossing as the head of his cock pounds perfectly against each sensitive spot inside you at the same time his abdomen grinds against your sensitive, swollen clit. You claw desperately at his back as you feel your walls clench and pulse around his length, well aware you won’t be able to hold on much longer but unable to warn him.

Fortunately for you, Michael has committed your tells to memory, even in the few short weeks the two of you have been intimate. “Come,” he commands harshly, gasping out the word just as you feel his length beginning to twitch inside you, “Fuck, come love, come.”

You nod your head wildly, rutting your hips against his as you shiver, your walls growing ever tighter on his length as you hang helplessly over the edge of your high.

“I fucking love you,” he grunts suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in your neck, mouthing uncontrollably at your neck as he keeps mumbling, “I love you, I love you, I love you so—shit, so fucking much! Fucking come, babygirl, come!”

Your head spins at his confession, heart hammering wildly in your chest as your high slams into you. You seize under him, shaking and crying as you pulse around his length, tears leaking into your hairline while you moan loudly, hips rutting wildly against him as you pull him somehow closer with your legs around his waist.

In the back of your mind, you hear him grunting harshly into your ear, squeezing the life out of you while he trembles, thrusting harshly into you one, two, three more times before stilling, hard cock pulsing wildly as he empties into you, flooding your walls with his warm spend.

Both of you pant harshly, a shiny sheen of sweat covering you. After a moment, you finally relax and your legs slip from around his waist, flopping lazily onto his bed.

You let out a breathy laugh as you look over him, his head still resting against your chest. His blond hair is messy, sticking up in all sorts of ways from where you’d run your fingers through it. Slowly, he relaxes against you too, slumping against you as he sighs tiredly, eventually matching your own spent laugh. Yours eyes slip closed after a moment and you let out a relaxed hum when you feel him tracing shapes onto your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

You giggle when his head instantly shoots up, tired eyes immediately meeting yours as he squints, “Y-You do?” The shock on his face is clear and he blushes so heavily the pink color extends all the way to the tops of his ears.

“For someone so smart you can be really dense,” you laugh, grinning as he sheepishly smiles at you, “How could I not?”

“Say it again,” he asks softly, a clear need in his eyes, “Please.”

“I love you, Michael Gavey.” You murmur, pushing a strand of hair off of his forehead.

He preens momentarily, shoulders seeming to square off with a newfound confidence before a familiar smirk lights upon his face. “No need to be so formal about it, love,” he quips, slowly pulling his softening length from your soaked core, shushing you sweetly as he does, “Daddy will do just fine.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, playfully smacking his shoulder. “I’m trying to be sweet and you’re being an ass as usual!”

He snickers softly, biting his lip with a groan when he leans back to watch his cum slowly leak from you. “Well, lucky I’m your ass.” He smirks, laying beside you as he rests his head on his pillow.

“Oh, so you’re mine now?” You ask blithely, skimming a finger down one of his long arms.

“Mhm,” he hums, surprising you by lifting one of your thighs; you whine when his fingers connect with your center once again, gingerly gathering his cum leaking from you before pressing it back in slowly, working it into you with a smirk, “And you’re all mine, gotta make sure to claim you properly.”

You shudder at his words, biting your lip as you feel a familiar fog invading your mind once again. You don’t bother protesting, not even attempting to make a quick quip as you lean in and kiss him softly. A hot hand against your cheek makes you pull back, smirking when your eyes finally focus on his fingers, still shining with your combined juices.

“Jesus,” he breathes as he watches you take his fingers into your mouth, your own hands holding him steady at his forearm as you greedily suck at his fingers, “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too,” you giggle, finally pulling off his fingers with a soft pop, letting his hand rest against your waist as the two of you lie contently together on his bed, facing each other.

You see his eyelids begin to droop tiredly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he relaxes, “You know, you do have to actually help me study later.” You point out, laughing as he groans sleepily.

“Only if it ends with you on my cock.” He mumbles, pulling him closer to you as his breathing begins to even out.

“Like it hasn’t ended that way every time before?” You jokingly question as you let your eyes trace over his features, taking in his strong nose and jaw, smiling at the way his lips are still quirked up at the edges. Eventually, your eyes begin to droop too and you snuggle into him, breathing in his familiar scent as you drift off, something woodsy yet bookish, mixed with something that’s entirely Michael.

Your Michael.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenswife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @officerbrowneyes

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strangersmunsons · 9 months

Text

read 'em and weep

you and Eddie meet at the library. he’s smitten.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, bookworm!reader, lovesick!Eddie, reader gives Eddie book recommendations. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: brief mention of loneliness & negligence in Eddie’s childhood. Word Count: ~2.2k it's my hope to make this a little series! i think eddie is def a bookish guy - no lord of the rings quoting, metal head dungeon master hates reading. he would certainly be open to any fantasy/horror recs you had for him! <3

Indiana. 1989.

Hawkins Library sees a lot of action in the summer.

They offer a wide variety of youth programs to keep the local kids busy and the parents sane while school is out. One of the main events is Saturday Story Time, a beloved weekly staple that you have recently been tasked with putting on.

It’s simple. You gather a number of books, usually with a common theme, and then read a select few to the children who had signed up for the day. Most of the kids in attendance are no older than six or so, with some parents even pulling up chairs to the back so they can sit with infants cradled in their arms. The older ones sit criss-cross-applesauce on carpet squares in front of you, their chubby faces alight with giggles as you recount each silly, fantastical story with all the spirit you can muster.

And then there’s always an accompanying arts and crafts project, of course. If you read The Very Hungry Caterpillar then, naturally, you have to make little googly-eyed caterpillars out of popsicle sticks and colorful pom-poms. You don’t make the rules.

If trouble occurs during Story Time, it’s usually in this phase. (Giving paste to toddlers is always a gamble – you never know what they’re gonna do with that.)

And on this particular morning, it’s been chaos from start to finish. A whopping eighteen kids had signed up, and you stretched yourself pretty thin trying to attend to everyone.

One of the babies spit up directly onto the little girl sitting in front of him and his mother. Someone slipped on their carpet square and fell harshly to the floor, earning a bruised elbow that you gently fussed over. You wrangled a pair of twins who fought bitterly over a bottle of Elmer’s glue. There were three individual running-with-scissors-scares and, finally, you spent a good ten minutes soothing one sobbing child with whom there was nothing apparently wrong with, and that you suspected was just in need of a good cry.

So yeah, it was basically pandemonium.

But eventually, to your great relief, things wound down. The audience dispersed, with their handmade goods clutched in sticky fists, and went to peruse the glossy line of picture books you put out for display. Within the next hour or two, everyone traded the cool darkness of the library for buttery sunshine, and all was quiet again. You waved cheerfully to the last parent-child duo as they made their exit, promising them that there’d be a fun activity next weekend too.

You love these storytime sessions, you really do, but sheesh. Sometimes they run you ragged. With the havoc of the morning finally over, and the promise of lunch in your near future, you try to shake off the weariness, and instead take it upon yourself to clean up the disorganized mess someone’s made of the horror section.

You’re going about your work, tongue poking out in concentration as you strain to reach the really high shelves, when you notice someone standing in your peripheral vision. You turn and glance at him, or at least, what you can see of him. He’s half-hidden by the shelf behind you, but you catch sight of brown hair and denim.

A pale face appears on a craned neck from around the corner. His dark eyes meet yours, widen slightly when he sees that you’ve caught him lurking, and he abruptly disappears again.

You purse your lips to hide your smile. This isn’t uncommon; such moments often occur when you’re cleaning up a section of books someone is hoping to sift through. In a small act of kindness, you move over to the neighboring shelf and look for something to busy yourself with; trying to give the guy a chance to browse without having to ask you to step aside.

He doesn’t emerge. You wait, expecting to sense him passing by you, but no dice. It’s amusing to think that someone might be frightened to approach you (You? Really?) but you can’t help feeling sorry that you were in his way.

The rest of your shift is rather uneventful. At the end of the day, you punch out and head home, the stranger behind the shelf forgotten.

When you come back to work on Monday, it’s much quieter than the last morning you’d been in. You greet your coworkers and set up shop at the front desk, opening up a book of your own to pass the time until someone needed assistance.

You’ve been reading for about half an hour when the big double doors open up for the day’s first visitor, the sound echoing loudly in the silent, spacious room. You look up in interest, ready to greet the person with a warm smile.

“Good morning!” you softly call out as he comes into view. He walks slowly towards you, shoes scuffing the checkered tile with each step. As he comes nearer, you can see that he’s biting his lip, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the gesture oozing self-consciousness. He only makes eye contact with you for a second before his gaze flits away again.

He’s pretty conspicuous-looking to be approaching the desk with such hesitance, you think. He has dark hair that hangs in slightly-scraggly curls down to his chest, and huge dark eyes. The pale skin of his arms, sticking out from within a denim vest/Judas Priest t-shirt combo, are littered with tattoos.

He pauses a few feet away from you, like he’s debating whether he wants to stop and chat, or to simply veer off towards the bookshelves and start browsing. Ultimately he decides to shuffle forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Hi there. What can I do for you?” you ask, voice gentle but encouraging.

He looks down and rests a hand on the desk, absentmindedly tracing the wood pattern with his thumb. “Um, yes.” He doesn’t offer anything else.

There’s a pregnant pause, both of you digesting the fact that what you had asked was not a yes or no question.

He tries again. “I…am in need…of some new reading material.”

You nod gravely, expression serious. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

He begins to rock lightly back and forth on his feet, contemplating. “I like fantasy, especially Tolkien. I read a lot of horror, too, and sometimes sci-fi. If you had any suggestions for me, that’d be great.”

“Oh, we can certainly find you something,” you reassure him, already flipping through a mental rolodex of your favorite books in those genres. “Here, come with me.”

You stand and move around the desk to meet him, beckoning for him to follow.

Eddie watches you run a delicate hand over the spines of the books, keenly aware of the clammy sweat that’s flooding his own palms. Be cool, Munson.

“So,” you begin, a gleam of excitement in your eyes, “you like fantasy. Do you read Le Guin?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “Oh yeah, I’ve read the Earthsea trilogy.”

“Have you read any of The Hainish Cycle books?”

“I haven’t read those ones, no.”

You pull out two slim paperbacks from the row, holding each one out for him so he can study the covers. “These ones are science fiction, and they’re pretty good. You might like Rocannon’s World since it’s similar to a fantasy novel, but personally I think Left Hand of Darkness is the best.” You suddenly pause, and look around furtively, like you were checking to make sure that you two are really alone. You even put a hand up to the side of your mouth, as though shielding the conversation from eavesdroppers.

“Honestly,” you lower your voice like you’re admitting something scandalous, “I even liked it better than Earthsea.”

“No!” Eddie immediately matches your whispered, gossipy tone and lets his jaw drop, pretending to be aghast.

“Yes!” you insist, seemingly delighted by his willingness to play along. Eddie’s heart soars.

“I guess I can’t refute that until I read it, huh? What’s it about?” he asked, taking it from your hand.

“An envoy is visiting this frozen alien planet, and he’s trying to convince them to join this intergalactic coalition that he represents, but they’re making it like, really difficult for him. Also, gender doesn’t exist, and there’s political turmoil stemming from border disputes.”

“...oh. Cool.”

The next half-hour passes in this fashion. Your soft, mild demeanor is aglow with enthusiasm as you pull out book after book, giving him an off-the-cuff elevator pitch for each. Eddie can practically feel the cartoon hearts swirling around his head, bright pink and red bubbles that are almost certainly going to appear out of thin air and give him away.

He can’t put his finger on what it is, precisely, that’s pulling him in so deeply, drawing him towards you like a magnet with an opposite pole. Maybe it’s the tender way you talk about each book, the love and care that’s so tangible in your sweet voice, the way you speak about them as though they’re your old friends. Perhaps they are.

It’s not an unfamiliar concept to Eddie. A childhood steeped in loneliness and poverty, instability and dysfunction, neglect from his volatile and unreliable parents…yeah, he gets it. The wanting, the longing, the dire need to escape to someplace that doesn’t exist, some place where things were better and didn’t hurt, a dreamworld that would be kinder to a scrawny little boy with unwashed hair and a mean father.

The closest he ever came to it was when he lost himself between the yellowed and dog-eared pages of the few, precious books he owned.

So he listens to you chatter away with chest-aching tenderness, already thinking that he could listen to you like this for hours and be glad for it.

“You love fantasy, but you’ve never read The Last Unicorn?”

Eddie gives you an apologetic half-shrug, no longer able to keep the goofy, besotted grin from unfurling across his face. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“It makes me cry. You have to take it,” you tell him with pleading eyes, adding it to the top of the growing pile in his arms before he can refuse. Not that he ever would. How could he, when you look at him like that?

“You cry at this one, really?” He looks curiously at the artwork on the front, an innocent picture of the pale horned creature. “But it’s so unassuming…”

“Don’t be fooled, it’ll get you. Take it,” you repeat.

Eddie shifts the stack of books to cradle it in one arm, so he can raise the other at you in a salute. “Yes, ma’am. And when I’m finished with it, I’ll give you a full report on the emotional damage it caused me.”

This makes you giggle, lips turned up in a gorgeous smile, and Eddie knows he’s a goner.

Back at the front, you resume your previous positions at the desk. Him in front and you behind, this time separated by a short pile of books.

You hold your hand out. “Card, please, sir.” Polite and professional, but with a little sparkle in your eye that lets Eddie hope for a moment that his time with you this morning was more pleasure than business.

He fumbles with his wallet, slipping out his library card and slotting it between his index and middle fingers, extending it for you to take. His chunky silver rings catch the light.

You accept the offering. “Thank you” – you quickly read the messy signature at the bottom – “Edward.” You look back at him with a grin.

He cringes, face scrunching in embarrassment. “Oh God. Call me Eddie, please.”

The scanner gives a little chirp! as you begin the checkout process, nodding. “Will do, Eddie.” His name sounds like a song when you say it, one he never wants to stop listening to.

You finish scanning his books, and slide a receipt into the jacket of the novel on top (which just so happens to be Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love). Instead of sliding the stack towards him, you keep both hands clasped on the cover, hesitating. You bite your lip, an unconscious imitation of himself earlier. “Listen….”

Eddie straightens up a little, stomach flipping like a coin. “Yeah?”

You bow your head. “I’m sorry if I talked too much. It’s just – most people who come in don’t actually ask me for recommendations, and I got excited,” you admit quietly, looking sheepish.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says without missing a beat. “I appreciate it. I really enjoyed it, actually,” he adds, eager to quell your anxiety. “I liked talking with you.” More than you know.

“O-oh,” you stutter, taken aback. “I liked talking with you, too.”

Eddie nods, smiling slightly. “Would you like to…talk again?” He flushes scarlet and coughs. Smooth. “I just mean, when I finish these” – he motions towards the day’s finds – “we have to discuss them, right? You helped me pick ‘em out, after all.”

“Of course. You have to let me know what you think.”

His smile gets bigger. “So we’ll reconvene?”

“We’ll reconvene,” you chuckle.

“Awesome. Looking forward to it.” He sweeps up his books, and gives you a little wave. “Thanks again, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

And he can hardly wait. It looks like he’s got a lot of reading to do…

thanks for reading!!! <3 edit: this is now a series! Read Ch. 2-> Here!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x bookworm!reader #stranger things fanfiction

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natailiatulls07 · 9 months

Text

When they lost her

2023 formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Warnings - Death, crying, car crash

Summary - After a horrible accident on track, the other drivers have to learn to cope with the death of someone very dear to all

Part 2

Y/n was always a joy to be around, always had a smile on her face, curious about how you are and would never fail to make someone laugh. Aside from her warm hearted attitude, she was also well known for being a incredible driver.

That morning, Y/n had brought in a selection of homemade baked goods to share amongst the drivers and the staff. Everyone extremely thankful for the goodies.

Only a few hours before, the driver was seen doing a wholesome interview with the fellow sky sport commentator, Martin Brundle.

“Martin! Hey do you want some cookies?” The women ran over to Martin who was flabbergasted by the girls upbeat attitude even though she had an intense race later that day.

“Oh thank you so much, now Y/n tell me how can you be this happy even though you have a fierce race today?” It was something many fans and viewers were keen to know, jealous of her calmness.

“Well in all honesty Martin, I am absolutely terrified. However, one quote that stuck with me in my 20 years of life is fake it till you make it! So that’s what I do” Y/n’s voice was sincere. “Well I got to deliver the rest of these before all the boring serious stuff begins so bye bye Martin and bye bye my loyal viewers!”

Waving goodbye to the camera, the girl ran off to find more people to share her delightful treats with.

“Radio check please” Y/n’s race engineers voice came through her ear piece, awaiting her reply.

“I’m a Barbie girl in world! Life in plastic, it’s fantastic” Her singing could be heard from the radio, alerting the engineer of her connection.

She sat snug in the sport car, eager to start the race. To left was one of her favourite British man, Lando, racing for McLaren. She raised her hand up waving in his direction, which he happily replicated.

It was long until the five red lights flashed off and the cars started down the track.

After about 20 laps of the track, it had started to heavily pouring rain. This was something that started to worry the female.

Soon enough the track had grown incredibly slippery, yet they were told to carry on with the race.

Only then did Y/n’s anxiety grew massive. Try to calm herself down, she had lost some focus on the race in general. This had caused her lose control over her car.

Spinning off track, the car had flipped over. The racing car landed on the ground completely flipped over. This had crushed Y/n inside with no way of escaping.

This also knocking the women unconscious.

Immediately the other drivers were instructed to return to their garages until they were given the all clear.

Upon hearing about the accident everyone had grown increasingly concerned with the lack of contact on the females part.

It wasn’t long before medics were sent out to Y/n. A curtain was pulled across the car, providing privacy.

“It seem that Y/n’s car as been covered with a curtain, whilst the rest of the drivers have been told to return to their pits” Martins voice was somber, he had his worries for the girl who never failed to brighten up his grid walks.

“Lewis, we have a red flag please return”

“Lando, red flag. You need to return to pit”

“Carlos, please return to pit. It’s a red flag”

All the remaining drivers had gotten the news off their engineers. Compliant, everyone made their individual ways to the pits.

“What is going on?! Where’s Y/n?!” Charles had anxiety pumping through his veins, making his way to her pit.

It was fair to say that all the drivers shared the same concerns for the young wholesome driver. She was their little sister, most had seen Y/n grow into the grown women she is today.

The medical team had made their way over to the flipped car, starting immediately to try and get the driver to safety.

They had pulled her unconscious body from the car. Laying her down on the ground, rushing to check her pulse.

Checking her neck. Nothing

Checking her wrists. Nothing

They had checked three times and each time receiving no pulse.

“No pulse…she’s gone” The solemn voice of a medic could be heard in the garage. By then, all the drivers and engineers were gathered around the main radio, everything fell silent at the short announcement.

Charles felt tears fall down his cheeks, his chéri was gone. To his left, you could see Lando’s face of surprise and sorrow, he had just lost his bestfriend.

That day all the teams joined together to grieve the death of the paddocks little sister. Fans paid their respects to Y/n’s family on social media.

Since that day, the paddock no longer felt the same warmth that she brought even on her harder days, it was something that was lost when they lost her.

#formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #charles leclerc #max verstappen #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo

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mylonelylittlestar · 3 months

Text

My little star

Characters: Xavier Summary: random relationship headcanons with Xavier Warnings: None A/N: I've completely fallen in love with Love and Deepspace, especially with Xavier. It's truly hopeless

the type of boyfriend to get you matching pyjamas

he gets you so many that they slowly start to replace all of your own

likes to match with you even if you don't live together, so sometimes he just texts you to ask which pyjamas you're wearing so he can change into the matching one after he showered

if you ever gift him slippers, blankets, or pillows, he will keep them forever (even if it's something goofy like those big fluffy bunny slippers)

the best person to ask for good midnight snacks. He can recommend fantastic instant noodles, chips, crackers, or other snacks that are light and won't give you stomach aches late at night or negatively impact your sleep in any other way

very interested in your skincare routine (if you have one) and will try out any mask or cream that you give him

if you come up with a routine for him (a simple one, maybe, like the basic cleanser > toner > moisturizer), he will follow it diligently, dragging himself out of bed before he sleeps every day to do it because you were the one to pick those products for him and he doesn't want to waste that

he feels like it connects you to him, even if your routine is completely different and a bit more complicated

never cries during movies, no matter how sad they might be, but he does (on very rare occasions) get a bit teary-eyed

he will hold you if you cry during a movie, and he would never even think about making fun of you for it

he does secretly think that it's cute that you get so worked up about a movie

can sleep through anything. a bomb could go off in his house and he wouldn't know that it happened until he woke up

has seen every single episode of any shitty sitcom you can think of at least three times because he occasionally watches them while he sleeps

sometimes he quotes them but because he knows each of these shows so well now he always quotes the lesser known scenes and no one gets what he's talking about

you start to understand his references after a while, so sometimes he will quote some obscure scene from a super unpopular sitcom that got cancelled after one season and you're the only one laughing

secretly sneaks to the arcade sometimes to practice the claw machine game because he wants to get you the plushies you don't have yet (and to impress you)

he ends up getting dozens of repeats of plushies that you already own. he collects in a small storage room in his apartment that used to be empty

he ends up giving them away when the collection gets out of control, donating them to a children's hospital nearby

gets all shy when you find out about it, blushing bright red like a tomato (or a wasabi octopus)

knows about every single 24 hour store in the city because of his odd sleeping habits and always knows what to do no matter what time it is

you can't sleep and want to go on a date at 3:27 am? he knows a place

if someone is mean to you he will try his hardest to deescalate the situation, but he's also fully willing to fight the person if that doesn't work

I mean have you read his Anecdotes 2? He doesn't give a fuck. He'd prefer not to fight, sure, but if it's unavoidable? What is he gonna do? Not fight and defend you? Ridiculous.

The fandom has already started turning him into this soft uwu stereotype, but the thing is that that's... just not him? He's sweet and kind, yes, but that's not all he is. He's complicated! He has layers!

if he ever falls asleep during a date he would feel awful about it for days, even if you reassure him that it's fine and that you're glad that he feels safe enough around you to fall asleep

he tries to make it up to you with a different date and he falls asleep again, which starts a vicious, endless cycle

when he finally does get over his guilt it's only because you fall asleep during a date after you had a long day at work

knows when you cheat in kitty cards, but sometimes he just lets you get away with it, especially if he knows you had a stressful day at work. He hopes that the win will cheer you up

his good night kisses are forehead kisses while his good morning kisses are on top of your head if you didn't sleep over or on the cheek if you did

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #xavier x reader #xavier fluff

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 30

part 1 | part 29 | ao3

cw: Steve Harrington committing unforgivable thought crimes (besmirching LotR)

"Uh," Steve stammers as Eddie tugs him off the couch, because he just propositioned the guy while covered in snot and tears and wearing a blanket as a cape, and now that guy is holding his hand.

Eddie doesn't let go after he gets him to his feet. Their fingers lace together, and his palm is soft and warm, his fingers slightly callused. Steve can feel his own pulse pounding in his wrist.

"Simmer down," Eddie teases, "I'm not having sex with you. Yet," he adds with a lewd waggle of his brows when Steve puppy-dog pouts at him. "This is better than sex, anyway."

"If you're having shit sex, maybe.” Steve rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged past a messy counter, where Eddie stops to grab a black lunch box and a cassette tape, a tissue for Steve’s face, then down the hall to Eddie's bedroom.

"My kingdom," he grins as he shoves the door open and waves Steve through with a bow.

His room is amazing. Awesome and terrible all at once: awesome, because it looks like someone put Eddie’s essence in a blender and ran the blades without a lid, and terrible, because the place is a fucking pigsty. There’s a bag of bread on the floor.

Eddie tells him to make himself at home, so Steve plops down on the edge of his bed, takes in the explosion of artwork tacked to the walls while Eddie buzzes around the room — swoops and swoons like a drunken bee, kicking shit into messy piles, sticking a cig in his mouth and forgetting to find the lighter, turning on the stereo. He pops in the cassette, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when he hears the upbeat strumming.

"Rumours? Really? That's your 'better than sex' cure?"

Eddie cranks the volume. "It's workin’, ain't it?" he mumbles around the unlit cig.

Steve tries to frown and fails. "…Shut up."

Eddie snickers at him; gives him the cutest smile he's ever seen, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners, then he tucks the cigarette behind his ear and shakes his hair out with a grimace. “Christ, it’s hot in here." His hands move to the hem of his shirt. "Look away or don’t, baby, I’m changin’!”

Steve smiles and averts his gaze, falling back on Eddie’s bed and looking at the ceiling with his legs dangled over the edge. In his periphery he can see Eddie hopping gracelessly around the dresser, trying to tug his foot out of the end of his skinny jeans, cursing under his breath; dropping all the ‘g’s off the ends of his words.

"I like your Southern accent."

"Do ya now?" Eddie throws it on thick, really hamming it up, "Well then, I reckon it's plum near the most attractive dad-gum thing y’ever did hear 'round these here pawrts."

Steve honks a mortifyingly stupid laugh, which makes Eddie laugh like a chime in a windstorm, which just makes Steve laugh even more, and maybe Eddie was right.

Maybe this is better than sex.

He wipes at his eyes, misty for a good reason for the first time all night, and when he looks up again Eddie’s dressed in his pajamas. Dark gray gym shorts, a black cut-off tank, the arm holes deep and loose to expose his armpit hair, his ribs.

Steve’s mouth goes dry.

Eddie’s wiry and pale, firm muscle wrapped around his string-bean frame, and he's covered in tattoos — black line art and gray shading, fantastical beasts and staffs and swords, a crazily-detailed set of serpent scales snaking up his side. But it's his legs that catch Steve's eye.

His legs are covered in words. Words and doodles everywhere, from his calves to his thighs, the lines wobbly and thick like Eddie put them there himself. There are quotes in sloppy cursive, longer ones in blocky print; a few stylized to look like comic book dialog, the words POW! and DANGER outlined in spiky bubbles above his knee. Steve wants to trace the lines; rehearse him like a poem, learn each ink stroke with his fingers until he can recite them all by heart.

Eddie catches him staring and gives a small, pleased grin. “Like what you see?”

Steve’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Yeah. I really do.”

The smile widens. Eddie clambers onto the bed, stepping over Steve’s head and plopping down beside him with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out long and loose.

Steve shifts to lay the same direction, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s leg, his wrist ghosting against his ankle bone. He doesn’t pull away; likes the look of their skin tones side by side — the smooth desert landscape of his inner arm, accented only by a few veins and moles; the riot of ink and art all along Eddie’s shin. Eddie’s feet are bare, and they’re wide, a little hairy (reminds Steve of Dustin’s nerdy ring book, and he almost says as much, but he knows Eddie’s even more obsessed with that shit than the kids are. He really doesn’t want the dude to pop a brain boner and spend the next four hours lecturing Steve about jewelry lore.)

“What are you giggling at down there?” Eddie nudges at his elbow.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Eddie responds “All right then, keep your secrets” in a silly character voice. He stretches to the side and grabs a joint off the bedside table.

“Now,” he says, voice slipping into that deep, slow sing-song thing he does — his sales pitch tone, Steve realizes. “This part is, of course, completely optional, but. In my humble, expert opinion—”

“So humble,” Steve teases under his breath.

“—It really enhances the whole experience.”

“The Stevie Nicks Therapeu- thera-” Oh, screw it. “Un-saddening Experience?”

“That is correct.” He holds it out over Steve’s face, wiggling it in offering, and Steve thinks about his conversation with Robin over brunch:

"I can't believe you did coke.” "I can't believe you smoked weed." "I know." "Was it okay?" He hasn't tried weed since... "Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually."

“Okay,” he decides. I trust you. “Let’s do it.”

Eddie puts the joint between his lips and lights it up.

—

part 31

listen i know it’s a quote from a movie that will not exist for another 16 years just let me have this. tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my fic #my writing

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