#AND LIKE HAVE LIKE PART TIME JOBS LIKE PEOPLE HAVE IN HIGH SCHOOL SOMETIMES AND DO EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES

[groovy-rat-man]

Random baseless punch out wii headcanon time!!

I KEEP TRYING TO SAVE THIS TO DRAFTS BUT IT KEEPS POSTING INSTEAD BUT FUCK IT WE BALL (i might add more stuff or change things but this is what I've got so far)

Doc Louis

Hes not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up

Hes got a tshirt that says that and every time he wears it in public mac dies a little inside

Hes also got pictures of him and mac together in his wallet that he likes showing off to people

Im gonna take this time and tell you about this crackship I like. Idk why but doc louis/gabby jay is just very cute to me and i wanted to share that with you

Little Mac

Everyone makes him transmasc, everyone makes him autistic, everyone makes him selectively mute and I just so happen to be part of everyone soooo...

I might however be projecting myself onto him just a little bit but whatev

Him and Birdie are like brothers to me, not biologically but still <3

Pretty awkward around his fans, especially the ones who don't respect his personal space (looking at YOU, nameless women in super macho man's title defense intro😡)

Got called into the counselors office at his school a lot because he was always covered in bruises, every time he just showed them his latest match on his phone like "yeah don't worry everything cool at home I just get my ass kicked as my job"

Tries to be friendly with all his opponents, or at least decent with them

~~~~

Glass Joe

I read the first couple chapters of this fic and now it's just canon to me, he is a single girldad and there is nothing you can do to change that

Well I say "dad" but sometimes I like to make her transfemme just because I can so when I do that she's still a milf instead

Has always had fucked up bones and joints and health problems and stuff, boxing just made it CONSIDERABLY worse lol

Gabby Jay is like his uncle or something

Sleeps like 3 hours a night and hasn't drank water in like 10-20 years, this freak is living off of coffee, bread, wine, cigarettes, and NOTHING else

Tried to be blond, it didn't work on him

The only reason he haven't died in the ring is because god is punishing him for his hubris

His one win was when Nick Bruiser died in the ring due to a completely unrelated brain aneurism

Von Kaiser

Used to crossdress back in his younger years, he may not do it as much anymore but he still has his dresses

Actually enjoys his job as a boxing teacher! He likes instilling knowledge on the next generation

Complete neat freak, trys to suppress it as much as he can but it's always there in the back of his mind

Definitely has SOMETHING wrong with him but thinks that if he doesn't get it diagnosed then it's not really a problem

Probably has like prosthetics or metal implants in his joints or bones or something, idk why else he'd make the noises he does

Disco Kid

I like to think that he does drag in his free time, makes you wonder if him and VK ever talk about it

Can fully SPRINT in high heels, hell he could probably fight in them too if they'd let him

Always has at least a little bit of glitter on him, it's a curse

Boxing is more of a hobby for him than a career, he's just having fun with it

Always makes sure his friends are safe and having fun whenever they go out somewhere

King Hippo

Scares babies and small children on accident just by being around them and feels REALLY bad about it

The first time he met glass joes daughter he made her cry and still hasn't gotten over it

Whenever fans ask him for a signature he either writes it in the most beautiful handwriting you've ever seen or he just draws a lil hippo with a crown, which one you get depends on how he's feeling

Has a storage unit somewhere filled to the brim with all those shitty blenders that had to be recalled

He still tries to pawn them off on people, too, if he ever tries to get you a gift for like your birthday or something you just know it's one of those shitty blenders

Oh and the "king" in king hippo isn't a stage name, he is actual flesh and royalty. His subjects seem to think highly of him and he treats them well. He does a pretty good job running things too but to be fair his kingdom isn't all that big, just one tiny island that isn't on any maps.

He usually doesn't hold his title over people's heads, mostly he's just some guy

Fully CANNOT swim but he can hold his breath for ages and just sort of walks on the ocean floor (gee, almost like his namesake)

Knows what gender is, does not care for it

Likes to sketch and draw :)

~~~~

Piston Hondo

Possibly aromantic? I don't really know and I don't think he knows either.

God why don't I have any headcanons for him?? He's my fucking wife!!!!

Ok I KNOW I said he's my wife but i saw like one person make him and Bear Hugger queer platonic partners and im in love with that idea

I feel like of the two he's the one who was most concerned with putting labels on it and trying to figure out what exactly they were but eventually just decided that even if they're not in a romantic relationship they can still be soulmates and I think thats beautiful

Hes a sweet guy but he can be pretty awkward around people lol

EXCELLENT cook like you have NO IDEA

Bear Hugger

Does NOT know his own strength. He'll go to hug somebody and and break their ribs, he'll go to open a jar and shatter it into pieces. He's trying his best to be gentle but good god.

Also the gay kind of bear (the stage name was on purpose)

Can actually literally for real life talk to animals. No fucking clue how he does it, i guess it's just a Canadian thing

Lost his squirrel after losing in title defense and was DEVASTATED, but DONT WORRY the squirrel was fine

The "i like raw fish" line isn't about sushi, be just sticks his head in a river and comes out with a live salmon in his teeth

Great Tiger

Has at least one if not a plethora of cats (one of which is a British shorthair cause I feel like that's the kind of cat he'd like)

"I feed you, I home you, I give you all the treats and toys you could ask for, and what do you do? You scratch up my furniture and knock over all my nice cups! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Mmmrrp?😺"

"Hmph, you're lucky you're cute..."

Magic is a difficult thing to control so sometimes when he sneezes he teleports, happesnt to the best of us

It took him weeks to fully resolidify after getting poofed my mac in title defense so for a while parts of his body were just vapor

If i ever draw him I'm gonna give him widdle kitty fangs, trust me

Still trying to work on his music career, the dumbass

Him and don like to gossip together like catty bitches

Don Flamenco

Carmen 100% tops him, I will not elaborate (at least not until I finish my fanfic)

#1 bi4bi couple ever

Whenever he drinks he literally does not shut up about her

"Me gusta mi esposa porque es suave y cálida y bonita y amable conmigo🥰🥰"

Sure, alright dude

I know it's HEAVILY implied that Carmen left him after he lost to mac the first time but I choose to think that he just lost all his self worth and was CONVINCED that she was gonna leave him

That... might actually be worse now that i think about it

But whatever, in the long run they get married and have twins and grow old together and it's great<3

She likes him better without his toupee, more room for kisses<3<3

"I'd kill someone for you, PLEASE ask me to kill someone for you..."

Hes tried on her lingerie more times than he's like to admit, it's gotten to the point where she just bought him his own. She wasn't upset about him stealing her clothes, she was upset because pink is NOT his color

Also I'm sorry that literally all of these are about him and Carmen, I didn't mean to do that

He is a complete giga bitch to everyone except her

I like it when people interpret mac as being Hispanic because I feel like he'd try and start a conversation with don and he'd be like "Lo siento, no hablo inglés. (Lying)" and mac would just be like "¡Oh, está bien! Así que, como te decía..." and dons just like GOD FUCKING DAMNIT

~~~~

Aran Ryan

He used to be normal, but then they put him in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. The rats made him crazy.

Does not know Irish and refuses to learn because it reminds him of being in school and he fucking HATED being in school

Probably because of the adhd or whatever is going on with his brain

Will break somebody's nose if they make fun of his accent

I see folks giving him a ton of siblings and I really like that idea but I just gave him one cause I thought it'd be easier lol

I named his sister Sharan cause I thought it'd be funny, she's also fucking crazy but when they're around eachother they're too busy trying to reel the other one in to be crazy themselves so they sort of balance eachother out

Shes about 6-7 years younger than than him and even though he KNOWS she can stand up for herself he's still very protective of her

When he first started boxing professionally he would bring her with him to get her out of the house (even though she didn't like seeing him get hurt)

Used to read her stories to help her go to sleep and would stay with her to protect her from monsters

Has fistfought his dad and would do so again if he wasn't dead

Soda Popinski

Literally just this post

Him and his wife that I made up have been trying for a baby but haven't had any luck so far

Gained his sweet tooth after quitting drinking (ya know cause he used to be called vodka drunkinski, god I'm so fucking clever)

Is actually a gentle giant outside of the ring!

His wife started knitting him sweaters once she saw him go out into the snow nearly naked. He loves and cherishes them and wears them every chance he gets but he still goes outside without pants🫠

Has killed someone on accident

Bald Bull

I like to think that he's a pretty chill guy when he's not being hounded by the paparazzi but god damn they will not leave him alone

He was probably glad when mac became champ for all the reasons macho man hated it

I honestly don't know what else to say about him

Fuck it I'm giving him agoraphobia

Him and popinski are pals😊

Has killed someone on purpose

Super Macho Man

I'm gonna be real, in my first draft of this post i completely forgot he existed and if he was real and he knew that he would be thinking about it for WEEKS

His ass: NOT real

His tits: NOT real

Thinks he's talking Like The Youth when he says shit like dude and bogus all the time

Also he's like 50

Definitely has at least one kid that he pretends not to know about, dodges child support like it's bullets in the matrix

Idk what social media was like in 2009 cause I was 4 years old but I like to think that people bully him online

Tried to own the "release the bogus" thing but it was just suuuuuuper cringe

Sometimes I like to make him ftm, I think it's neat

Sometimes I also like to make him fluent in asl but I got that one from a fanfic

Mr. Sandman

Comfypilled cozymaxer (at least when he's not training and stuff)

I feel like he would not be able to play any of the punch out games if they existed in his universe

I really dont know what to put here either

I like to think that under that intimidating exterior hes a real sweetie but I also said that about popinski and bb so it feels like I'm just being stupid

Give him some chamomile tea. Now.

[pickapea]

my absolutely biggest online pet peeve is US centric people projecting their rich sorority girl bully stereotype of nurses onto everyone else, as if nurses aren't working class and mostly immigrants of colour everywhere else. and when did it become cool to hate on underpaid and exploited workers anyway

[nachobsns]

honestly really need to curb my phone addiction and i’ve been looking into dumbphones lately as an alternative for when i’m out and about and like. say what you will about brand consumerism but i am a simple man and the barbie phone is calling to me

[blueish-bird]

sorry if I don’t remember your name or conversations/experiences or basic things about myself, every few weeks my brain gets factory reset and I have to relearn how to be alive

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[imujings]

[j.ww] say my name

synopsis. | a snowstorm has hit your city, the surprising cold front making it hard for anyone to go anywhere. good thing you and wonwoo are already busy with… other things.

♯ pairing(s). | jeon wonwoo x gn!reader ♯ genre(s). | suggestive (MDNI) & fluff ♯ wc. | 1.1k ♯ warnings. | making out, cursing, wonu calls gn!reader pretty, handsy!wonu, lil bit of sub!reader, lil hair pulling, some grinding, lip biting, pet names (baby)

jay's musings. | m.. making out w wonu during a snowstorm mfqwkdjfjf,,, ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) … (ty @wheeboo for beta reading <3)

Outside is the picture perfect shot of a winter wonderland. Snow blankets the streets of the city, your high-rise apartment giving a breath-taking view of the twinkling lights as people begin to wind down from the day’s escapades.

A snowstorm had taken your area hostage in the middle of the day, and shivering figures could be seen frigidly walking along the sidewalks in a hurry to get home, clearly eager to get out of the cold and uninviting environment.

Inside your cozy space, however, is an entirely different atmosphere.

The only light on is the Himalayan salt lamp sitting on a shelf some ways away, its warm orange lighting draping the room in a rich honey glow. Music drifts in from your bluetooth speaker atop the kitchen island; a NIKI song, no doubt queued by Wonwoo from your shared playlist. There’s a buzz in the air, thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket.

It started out innocent enough, cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching the snow outside fall. In moments like these, there was no need for words between you and Wonwoo; you both were simply content with the comfortable silence, finding the presence of the other enough of a joy in life. Sometimes, though, the two of you would mumble quiet reassurances to each other, words of affection passed between the two of you like cherished high school notes, your lips idly finding their way to the other’s.

As the flurries turned into a curtain of white flakes, you and Wonwoo were in the middle of a particularly… heated kiss, with you breaking it to breathlessly (and teasingly) ask if he’d like some tea. His eyes, half-lidded and dark behind his fogged-up glasses, followed you out of the living room area. Your taunting gaze didn’t miss the tent in his grey sweatpants.

When you came back from turning on the stovetop, a shit-eating grin on your face, you were greeted with silence. Biting your lip to hide your smile at his obvious irritation, you open your mouth—only for Wonwoo to drag you into his lap, taking his glasses off and fumbling to place them on the side table, before kissing you fiercely.

That was all some time ago. You aren’t too sure how long it's been since then, but a part of you doesn’t really care anymore, too preoccupied with other matters. Such as the man whose lap you’re sitting in.

Your thighs straddle Wonwoo’s, him having gone back to kissing you lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. You suppose he did, given that his early morning schedule tomorrow was cancelled. Your thoughts drifted to profusely thanking the inclement weather for this pop-up opportunity to get lost in him, lips slowing against his. He seems to notice your attention leaving him, the grip of his fingers on your chin tightening, and any coherent thoughts immediately leave your mind as he softly bites your bottom lip.

You whine, cheeks flaming at his touch. “Wonu…”

“Hm?” is his only reply, hands sliding down to rest underneath your hoodie, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants.

A soft, hushed moan falls off of your lips. Your eyes flutter close and you hide your face in his neck, the rumbling of his laugh only making the fire in your lower stomach burn hotter. Wonwoo’s hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek and brings your mouth back to his.

Kissing Jeon Wonwoo was as easy as breathing. If you could have this as a full-time job, you would take it, no hesitation, and become the richest person in the world. His lips are soft and plump against yours, tasting sweetly of the peach-flavored lip balm you keep in your nightstand. Every time one of you pulled back in the slightest, the other’s lips chased after, shiny and bitten and longing for more.

His other hand is still running along the waistline of your pants, sometimes dipping underneath to snap the hem of your underwear against your skin. You yelp, but he only smiles against your lips, squeezing the fat of your hip gently.

“Relax, baby,” Wonwoo murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

And you let him, your fingers desperately scrambling to find purchase in the hairs at the base of his neck as he gains control. His hand on your cheek disappears again, grabbing onto your hips as he helps you grind into him. The man’s head tilts back a bit, a groan spilling from his lips from the friction, and you trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you closer until you’re somehow flushed even more against him.

Even through the layers of clothing, you feel the warmth of his skin, your fingers further tangling themselves in strands of his hair. His breath is hot against your skin, pressing a sweet kiss to the apple of your cheek. You melt into him with a sigh leaving you. He knows exactly what buttons of yours to push. You adore him for it. Mind quickly turning into mush, he plants another kiss to your other cheek, a saccharine promise, before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth yet again and biting. Hard.

“Wonwoo!” your voice, high and needy, seems to invigorate him; he moans, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “Wonu, please…”

“Sounds so pretty, saying my name,” he sighs, tone low and gravelly. “Keep going, baby. Feels so good.”

He’s everywhere. All at once. His hands are traveling up and down your sides, fingers making your skin tingle and burn with the brightest fires. Your brain is foggy, unable to think of anything other than the feel of his tongue swiping against yours and his hips bucking up right where you need him, hard and heavy in just the right way. Something in your stomach starts to burn, coiling with a pressure you know all too well, your telling whimpers being muffled again and again by his lips. One particular and delicious drag of his hips against yours awards him with a beautifully choked sob. If he keeps going, just like that—

The wail of the kettle startles away the fog in your brain.

You pull away, panting, lips swollen and hair disheveled. The blue throw that’s been teetering on the edge of the couch finally falls to the floor in a heap from the sudden movement. Your eyes are wide with alarm, but Jeon Wonwoo just stares at you as if you’ve gone and hung up every star in the damn sky.

“Wonwoo! The tea!”

[hairmetal666]

Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.

Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.

"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."

He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."

Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.

It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--

"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"

"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."

His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."

Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"

"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.

"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"

And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--

"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."

"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."

"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."

"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"

Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."

"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."

"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."

"So, nothing's changed between you?"

"Not at all."

"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.

"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--

"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"

He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--

"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."

"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.

"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."

"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."

"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"

"Tension? Distrust?"

"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."

"And it eroded the relationship."

"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.

"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"

"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.

"You talked about it."

"Yes. Extensively."

"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."

"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.

"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"

The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.

"Eddie?"

"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."

"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"

"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."

"Friends?"

"Isn't that implied?"

"After that music video, I don't think so."

Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."

"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"

"Like I said, friends."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Eddie's really important to me."

"Is that all?"

"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."

"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."

He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."

"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"

"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."

"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."

"We were just having a little fun."

"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"

It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.

"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."

"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"

His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."

"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"

"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."

"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"

"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."

"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"

"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."

---

He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.

"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.

"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.

"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.

"Of course."

"And you--"

"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."

Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

"You sure? All my mess--"

"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[cybergoth1]

beyond the cowl | prologue | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | chapter 01.

synopsis: ❛❛you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.❞

warnings/tags: swearing. reader being emotionally immature bc we love toxic women. no beta we die like jason todd. reader really needs her lexapro. alfred being a sweetheart in the end (pls lets pretend bane never killed him).

Sometimes you felt like they had lied to you. Straight to your face. Your friends, your family and your professors. 

They all made you believe that something important was out there, just waiting for you. They patted your back while you poured out your insecurities like the self-doubting idiot you are, and with the most convincing tone, told you that the world was your oyster. That opportunities are everywhere.

They said you shouldn't be that worried about getting a job. You still have plenty of time after graduating. Right? 

Right.

Their nice words turned out to be useless the moment you stepped out of college. Your dreams and expectations were shattered during your first month sending out resumes to every single company and agency you could find. And then, before you knew it, eight months had passed without you landing a decent job. The endless rejection emails and mounting bills started to make you lose sleep as you spent countless nights tossing and turning in your single bed.

That’s why you ended up here, one year later, in a café downtown, learning the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino for a living.

You wiped down the counter for the sixth time in the past half hour, keeping an eye out for any trace of coffee left by the last customer when he spilled it all over your hands and apron. The feeling of the cloth under your fingers was the only thing grounding you as your thoughts began to spiral for the third time that day. You couldn’t even hear the annoying hiss of the espresso machine or your manager's high-pitched voice nagging at you about some shit you didn't care about.

You only lifted your head when a customer called you by your name. It was the same high school kid who always ordered a caramel macchiato. Mia or something. Your mind wandered as you pulled a shot of espresso for the new order.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn't be pretending your lifetime dreams were nothing. You shouldn’t be pretending that you feel fulfilled cleaning counters and serving people who barely looked up at your face while you handed them their orders.

You heard Mia asking for extra vanilla syrup.

Shit, that was so unfair to you. You did everything right; every single thing they told you to do. You checked all the boxes.

You got a degree, unlike half of your family, who barely finished high school. You didn’t get knocked up at sixteen, unlike your mom and older sister, and you didn’t get addicted to fucking alcohol, unlike your dad. So why are you still living like this — paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford dental care, healthcare, or even the most basic stuff like a new pair of shoes.

Deep down, you know why.

Poverty is an eternal, miserable, and unbreakable cycle — you were just naïve enough to think you could overcome it with simple actions. You kept your eyes fixed on the tall iced latte in your hand while zoning out. Yeah, time for another therapy session.

“Here you go” you tried to smile while handing her the cup. Hiding your growing anxiety and negative thoughts behind your customer service voice was a skill you were slowly, but surely, building up. But you probably looked weird as fuck since she gave you an awkward smile while muttering a "thanks".

"I still don’t know how you got this job. You look like a psychopath," you heard Nate, your coworker, from behind you, holding an empty milk pitcher.

He would be a nice, solid dude if he didn't act like a middle school bully most of the time.

"Yeah?" you rolled your eyes, finally turning your body to look at him. Damn, he really needed to shave his sideburns; he looked ridiculous. "Want me to tell you what you look like?"

His red hair and weird face made him look like a distressed orangutan. A very ugly orangutan.

He just smirked at your sarcastic tone. Fucking cunt.

"Nah, I'm good".

As the rest of the shift slowly passed, you kept checking your phone over and over, waiting for that email from the agency you applied to two weeks ago. You got nothing, as usual. Nothing besides a text from your sister asking for forty dollars; she probably ran out of baby formula again.

With a loud sigh, you decided to scroll through Instagram while Nate flirted with some customers. You quickly noticed that your college friend Christine had just been promoted again. She had been working at her father's company since her sophomore year, and her longtime boyfriend, Tom, had proposed to her in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Uh, wow, that's nice—good for her.

"Congrats, babe! Oh my god, he's so lucky to have you in his life. And good luck at your new job," you send her a quick DM, like a good friend would.

And you are, objectively, a good friend. You're even congratulating her on her promotion as if she weren't a spoiled, airheaded bitch who never accomplished anything on her own. Christine had everything handed to her on a silver platter; her parents got her an amazing job at their company, then paid for her boob job, her nose job, her new car, and her apartment—the list goes on.

You watched the couple showing off the engagement ring under the Parisian sunset and felt like the most self-absorbed cunt on Earth. At this point, you're used to feeling like that, at least twice a day. You spent the rest of your shift watching her stories over and over until it was time to close.

“I’m heading out,” you said to Nate as you finally grabbed your stuff from the break room. The city felt colder than usual that time of year; you could feel your lips getting chapped every time you stepped outside, so you quickly wrapped your old yellow scarf around your neck while zipping up your jacket. The café was already empty; the other employees had left fifteen minutes earlier, leaving just the two of you to close up.

Nate barely looked at you when you said goodbye to him.

You didn't care.

During your walk to the bus stop, you looked around the dark street pretending you’re not totally shitting yourself under the dim streetlights—holding your purse tightly against your frame, like you're about to be mugged by the thin air.

In those moments of raw vulnerability and panic, the whole idea of vigilantism seemed pretty cool. People in latex or spandex you don't actually know, jumping off buildings and beating up bad guys, defending the working class and pretty girls in distress. That's pretty neat, uh?

And very unrealistic.

Once inside the bus and comfortably seated, you let your thoughts wander again. You didn't know what you were doing with your life anymore. You never did, in fact.

The beauty of the night, the cold air coming from the bus's open windows, and the lights of the buildings dancing against the dark sky managed to soothe some of your pain for a few minutes. Your legs ached after hours of standing behind the counter, you felt burns on your hands, and your feet were uncomfortably squeezed into shoes that were a size too small.

Gradually, you fell asleep leaning against the bus seat, thinking about a nice pair of shoes you saw in the mall three days ago.

The first thing you noticed while slowly waking up was how comfortable you felt. The fabric beneath your body was as soft as silk, and the scent of fresh lavender emanating from it indicated that it had been recently washed—fuck, what is this? Heaven? You whined, shoving your whole face against it and breathing in.

Yeah, that’s definitely lavender—

Wait.

Public transportation didn’t smell like lavender, last time you checked. Your whole body went rigid as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You immediately opened your eyes.

Fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening?

You weren't on a bus anymore, that's for sure. Jesus, where's your purse?

“Fuck!” you almost screamed in pure panic as a painful sensation spread between your ribs and stomach, burning so much it seemed to take your breath away as you tried to sit up.

You were on a bed. A king-size bed. Sitting on silk sheets.

“Oh my god, someone kidnapped me—”

You looked around the bedroom as tears immediately filled your wide eyes. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled as you tried to make sense of the unfamiliar place you had woken up in.

The growing panic and fear for your life were so overwhelming that you couldn’t even notice the beautiful, very personal decor around the room or the several photos on the walls and desk, showing your face next to people you had never seen in your entire life.

"Oh, miss, thank God you're awake" a gentle voice said — is that a british accent? — close to the bedroom's door.

That's it, you're going to be killed by a weird, rich old man, and he's going to sell your organs on the black market.

Oh God, you quietly sobbed, you've always slept on the bus on your way back home, and you've never had any problems before—

Through the tears that blurred your vision, you could finally make out the figure of a tall man slowly approaching your bed. He was holding a cup of tea and a plate with what looked like a sandwich.

A cucumber sandwich.

"It seems like you may have hit your head quite hard. And your ribs," he said, handing you the cup and placing the plate on the bedside table. The man sighed loudly. "Master Damian really needs to contain his enthusiasm during sparring sessions."

The cup shook in your left hand as you looked at him with tearful eyes. He politely pretended not to notice your desperate state or the tears in the corners of your eyes as he walked back to the door.

"Hey, Alfie, have you seen my white socks?" another voice called out, this time from the hall.

"They're still on your bedroom drawers, Master Dick."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Wait, that was Batman's butler or—

Your vision faded to black as you collapsed back onto the silk sheets.

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50

[ennn]

On Writing Rio Vidal

So @trickofthelights did a great post on things to take note of when writing Agatha Harkness in fic and I figured I could do one for my girl if some folk are interested.

Now I do see that getting a handle on Rio can be tricky because she only has so much screentime and every time she pops up we see a different side to her character. That said, here's some fundamentals I see for portraying Rio:

Disclaimer: I'm not a cop. Fic writing is for fun. This is entirely about canon-consistency, which can also apply to AUs. If you want to write an original romance novel inspired more by the actors than their AAA characters, hey you do you.

Rio is powerful and knows it

Canonical Rio literally embodies power. She's Death and even gods die. She is one of the most powerful entities in the universe and she knows it. It's essentially who she is. Power is part of her being.

In non-magic AUs where Rio is human, the show literally serves up Special Agent Rio Vidal as a handy reference point to work with. She's an FBI agent with the power of a higher authority, amazing at her job, and she owns it.

I find it quite jarring when AU fics have Rio set up as someone needing saving, or someone seriously lacking in confidence. Even if you're doing a high school or coffeeshop AU, Rio Vidal needs to know she's hot shit in some domain. She doesn't need to have her life together but you gotta have that sense of power and self-assurance somewhere in her life.

Because when it comes to writing canon-consistent Agatha/Rio, this is fundamental to Agatha's attraction to Rio because Agatha is attracted to power.

Like yes, I know it's Aubrey Plaza but it is essentially Rio's power that compels Agatha to give her a second look. Canonically, it's Rio's inability to die that allows them to have a relationship. Not beauty, not a winning personality. They're able to match each other’s energy, to clash and survive each other.

Rio is lawful first, chaotic second

An all-powerful character who can do anything is pretty boring, which is why when it comes to Rio "with great power comes great responsibility" but in her case it's literal and on a cosmic level. Canonically Rio's power is limited by certain rules she has to follow.

The whole tragedy at the crux of Rio as a character is that her identity is her purpose is her function is her duty is her job. As unpredictable as she seems, Rio literally describes herself as "the natural order of all things".

It's interesting that in the Zoom call interview Plaza mentions Puck when describing how Rio acts in the show because I find the fey a helpful reference when framing Rio as a character. Yes, Rio can cause lots of chaos but she has very specific rules she's obligated to follow. Everything beyond that however is fair game.

In non-magic AUs, this doesn't have to mean Rio has a literal job or profession that she values highly (although it can). It could be a personal mission, a set of principles, a duty to certain people or an organisation. Regardless there should be a method to Rio's madness.

And when it comes to writing canon-consistent Agatha/Rio, this is a delightful contrast because Agatha's such a rule-breaker ("So you broke the rules, big deal!") and a cheater ("You can't cheat Agatha / Says who!").

There are sharp edges to Rio's character

I sometimes joke that in AU fics the best way to help ensure canon-consistency is to give Rio a knife. It's funny because it's kinda true?

There is a darkness to Rio as a character that if ignored, I think does a disservice to her. Canonically, she's the balance of life and death, the cycle of decay and rebirth, the ugly and beautiful, violent and soft.

I think very romantic or domestic AUs do come with the risk of making Rio too soft, too patient, too kind. Which is not to say she can't be those things—you could argue that anyone who chooses to put up with Agatha Harkness certainly has those qualities in no small amount—but it's the contrast that I think makes Rio interesting as a character.

Consider Rio's capacity for love contrasted with her viciousness, her patience with her pettiness, her restraint with her rage.

There's probably more where this came from, but these ones seem to the main ones that stick out. And look, I'm a fan and I get that it's tempting to pull from the other roles Plaza has played, and we only see so much of Rio (I mean, consider how much of Agatha we got to see from Wandavision before AAA) and AUs are meant to be a playground—but there does come a point where a character just doesn't seem like Rio Vidal.

[weird-and-unwell]

“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.

I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.

At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.

I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.

I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.

I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.

I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.

Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.

"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.

Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.

But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.

I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.

Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.

And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.

But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.

[otaku553]

Ok so I have been stewing this crossover au in my brain nonstop for the past few days and. I am nothing if not committed to the bit, so. Volume cover redraws :)

Here are the originals:

If you want to read more about my one piece spy x family crossover, keep reading!

So the idea is simple! Crossover reincarnation au where ASL is reborn in Spy x Family. They’re each born separately and none of them are born with the same names as their previous lives, and with no way of finding each other, they each find their own thing to do in the world.

Sabo, too used to the dangers of being a spy, eventually finds a cause to devote himself to again, in preventing war from engulfing the country he was reborn in. Ace, drawn to fire as he was in his previous life, used arson as a means to rob rich people for sustenance and survival, and is eventually scouted and hired by Garden as a fire specialist and assassin. And Luffy, though born in perhaps the poorest condition, grows up happily and takes whatever part time jobs he wants to do.

The thing about Sabo is that, as much as he seems like a young man of good repute and high standing within society, everyone in WISE knows that he is a massive nuisance. Nobody knew in the beginning how a child less than half the age of most of their veteran agents could have the same skills and knowledge in their profession. Sabo was— and still is— hyper competent, and by the time WISE figured out just how much of a menace to society he was, it was too late.

Ace forgot for the first few years of his new life that he wasn’t made of fire, and consequently, received multiple accidental burns. This did not deter him, however, from growing up to be a very skilled arsonist, well-practiced in every which way to start a dumpster fire or house fire. As a teenage he would use this often to draw attention as he robbed rich people blind. When he was caught, he was given an ultimatum by Garden: join them and receive payment for starting fires and causing problems under contract, or face the government and authorities for his crimes. Begrudgingly, he joined Garden, but eventually comes to appreciate that he can make substantial money in his element.

Luffy is Luffy. No telepathy or experimentation, no fancy schools, no gimmicks or secret identities. But he has still lived an extremely colorful life in this world, full of fascinating and kind individuals who have helped him grow up healthy and relatively happy. He goes where he is free, and he takes whatever part time jobs he wants in order to make the minimum he needs to survive.

Ace and Sabo find each other first, in their late teens, and neither of them realize that the other remembers their previous life, but both refuse to separate. (Sabo thinks Ace doesn’t remember, because Ace didn’t recognize him. Ace never saw Sabo grow up past 10, however, so he doesn’t recognize older Sabo immediately. By the time he does realize who exactly Sabo is, Sabo has backtracked and pretends to know Ace from a dream, or from somewhere else.)

Sabo’s attachment to Ace, predictably, causes problems between Sabo and WISE, but by then, Sabo is indispensable to the organization, and they make an exception for Sabo to be able to remain with Ace, so long as Ace never finds out what Sabo’s actual job is. Ace, on the other hand, hides his job because he doesn’t want his brother, who he has just found and who does not know Ace well enough yet, to know that he makes a living from killing people.

And they find Luffy sometime afterwards, prior to the beginning of the Spy x Family canon. Luffy figures out, not long after moving in with his brothers, both of his brothers’ secret occupations and the fact that both of them remember their past memories. He thinks it is common knowledge, however, and so he never brings it up.

[leesleelee]

Undercover Connection.

Billy hargrove x mechanic! male reader.

You, a senior in highschool works at Hawkins local mechanic shop, where Billy brings his Camaro for repair after a particularly reckless night. But your calm demeanor intrigues him.

CW: strong language, mild violence, implied abuse, smoking, emotional vulnerability, tense situations, minor injury(s), soft romance.

word count: 3,163

Sometimes the people you meet are a blessing or a lesson learned.

You were quiet but you were also skilled. This is how you got a part-time job at the Hawkins mechanic. Being reliable and skillful was rare, like a blessing.

People knew you were reliable with cars, and also keeping things to yourself. Preferring the quiet hum of engines over the noise of high school drama.

Your quiet demeanor is nothing compared to Billy Hargrove. He was hot-headed. Unbearable. Reckless. You two were complete opposites.

It was a Friday after school, the sun was hotter than usual. It felt unbearable, every sweat that went down your face felt like a bullet. Your face read nothing, like it always was.

But your brain was a jumple of thoughts clashing into each other.

You were working on an old pick up truck. You were too busy on tightening the bolt on the old pick up truck.

As you were too focused on working on the truck, the bell above the garage door jingles sharply, cutting through the rhythmtic hum of tools and clanking metal.

You notice Billy Hargrove stride in. But your attention was focused on working on the truck. Why should you give all of your attention on some dick head at school? Yes, Billy Hargrove was very pretty. His plump lips wrapped around his cigarette made you question things.

But that doesn't make up the fact he's a reckless selfish dick.

Billy's usual cocky smirk was plastered all over his face. Even though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. His Camaro sat just outside, steam rising faintly from the hood, a testament from his reckless driving.

Behind the counter, you barely glanced up, you were busy with the truck. The sound of heavy boots approaching didn't faze you.

"If you're here for a quick fix, you're out of luck. I'm the only one working today, and I've got three cars ahead of yours."

This catches Billy's attention, making the curly head pause by the indifferent tone. Most people in Hawkins either flinch or try to hard to please him, but you? You don't even seem to care.

"Yeah well, my car's not exactly running right now, so you'll have to make time. Can't have Hawkins' bad boy walking everywhere, can we?" Billy sharply said as he leaned against the counter, smirking.

This makes you finally look up, raising a eyebrow as he takes in the sight of Billy. The infamous mullet that is a dirty blonde color, leather jacket, fluffy curls, pretty blue eyes, and a perpetual smirk. Everything about him just screams trouble.

You can tell he is obviously impatient.

You spoke up dryly, "Bad boy or not, your Camaro is not special. You're getting in line like everyone else." You said as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. He was starting to get on your nerves.

"What, you don't think my 'baby deserves VIP treatment?" Billy responsed to you, in a mocking tone.

You shrugged and turned back to the truck, "Your 'baby' looks like it got into a fight with a tree." You mocked at Billy back.

"Be glad I'm not telling you to scrap it." Billy just rolled his eyes at your mocking. He let out a sharp laugh, more genuine than he expected. He steps closer, peering over your shoulder as you worked.

"What's your deal, huh? You always this charming, or just saving it for me?"

"Just for you. Now either tell me what's wrong with your Camaro or find another shop." You said as you were still focused.

Billy felt his eyes narrow in response, but he doesn't argue. He's not used to being brushed off like this, and he isn't sure if this annoys him or intrigues him.

Billy started to grumble. "Engines overheating. Won't stay running for more than five minutes."

As Billy said this, you finally set down your wrench, wiping your hands on a rag in a fast motion. You step out behind the counter, motioning for Billy to follow him to the car.

"Pop the hood. Let's see if I can save this piece of junk."

Billy watches you approach the Camaro with ease that rivals his own confidence. For the first time in a while, Billy feels like he's not the one in control, and he's not sure if he minds it.

The Camaro’s hood is popped, and the garage is filled with the faint smell of oil and overheated metal. You leaned over the engine, flashlight in hand, while Billy stands off to the side, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the scene in front of him.

“When’s the last time you checked the coolant?” You said as you were focused on the engine.

Billly shrugged again in response, “What, you think I keep track of that stuff?”

You smirked faintly. “Yeah, I can tell. This thing’s running on fumes and bad decisions.” You responded, amused.

Billy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the workbench, Billy grinned.

“You’re real mouthy for a mechanic.”

You shot Billy a glance

“You’re real cocky for someone who can’t keep his car running.”

Billy lets out a short laugh at you, surprised by the quick comeback. He picks up a wrench from the workbench, spinning it in his hand absentmindedly.

“You always this pleasant, or is it just my lucky day?”

“Depends. You always this much of a pain?” You added as you returned to the engine, not missing a beat

Billy chuckles, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, there’s an unspoken truce in the air. He watches as you methodically works on his car, the faint glow of the flashlight catching on the streaks of grease smudged across their cheek.

Your hair sat perfectly on you as you worked effortlessly on his car. How could someone look great while having such a, dirty job?

Billy paused for a while, “You’re good at this.”

You glanced up at him, startled by the unexpected compliment. But then you shrugged.

“Had to be. This town doesn’t exactly offer much else.”

Billy shifts, his cocky demeanor fading slightly.

“Tell me about it.” Billy added as he leaned against his car.

The garage falls into a quiet rhythm the hum of tools, the faint tapping of raindrops starting to hit the roof, and the occasional creak of the workbench as Billy leans against it.

After a while, Billy breaks the silence.

“You ever think about leaving? Like, just packing up and getting the hell out of here?”

You started to pause, glancing at Billy.

“Sure. All the time. But it’s not that simple, is it?” You said as you looked straight at him.

Billy meets your gaze, something vulnerable flickering in your eyes.

“No. It’s not.” Billy responded softly.

There’s a weight to his words, a quiet desperation that you recognize but doesn’t push. Instead, they offer a small, knowing smile and return to the task at hand.

“Well, if you ever figure out a way, let me know. I could use a ride out of here too.” You added as you chuckled.

Billy doesn’t respond right away, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Billy said as he quieted down.

The moment lingers, and for the first time, Billy feels like someone understands what he’s been carrying.

—-

Over the past few days, Billy returns to the shop under the pretense of checking his car, though it's pretty clear he just wants an excuse to talk to you.

You're guys' conversations start out casual but then gradually start to turn more personal. And you start to notice that Billy begins to let his guard down. Which surprises' you.

The big bad boy starting to be vulnerable to you? And you guys aren't even friends..

The rain has grown heavier, pounding against the roof of the garage in a steady rhythm. You start wiping grease from your hands with a rag while Billy sits on the workbench, idly spinning a screwdriver in his fingers. The Camaro is still half-repaired, but the tools have been set aside for the night.

It is a Tuesday after school, and a storm started not too long ago.

“Guess you’re stuck here for a bit. That storm’s not letting up anytime soon.” You broke the ice as you glanced at the rain.

Billy leans back and faintly smirks. “What, you offering to babysit me now?”

You shrug, leaning against the counter “Just saying. Unless you wanna swim home, you might as well get comfortable.”

Billy chuckles softly, but it doesn’t carry the usual bite. For a moment, he just watches the rain, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Y’know… sometimes I think about driving until I run out of gas. Just… keep going until I’m somewhere else.” Billy said quietly.

You start to study him, sensing the weight behind the words.

“What’s stopping you?”

Billy’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, gripping the edge of the bench.

“Neil.” Billy pauses, then adds bitterly, “And all the other crap tying me to this place.”

You decide not to push, recognizing the name as Billy’s stepfather. Instead, you let the silence stretch, giving Billy space to continue if he wants.

Billy broke the long pause

“It’s like… no matter how hard I try to get ahead, he’s always there to remind me I’m nothing.”

You cross the room and lean against the bench beside him, your shoulder just brushing Billy’s.

“You’re not nothing. He just wants you to believe that so you don’t fight back.” You said softly.

Billy looks at you sharply, his defenses rising instinctively, but you don't flinch. Your calm, steady gaze unnerves him in a way he doesn’t understand.

Billy scoffs.“What do you know about it?”

“More than you think.” You responded as you shrugged.

Billy opens his mouth to retort but stops himself. There’s something in your tone an unspoken understanding that keeps him from snapping back. Instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Why are you even talking to me? Most people either hate me or keep their distance.”

You started to grin.“Maybe I’m not most people.”

Billy huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the tension in his shoulders eases slightly.

“You’re weird.” Billy said muttering.

You started to smirk.

“Takes one to know one.”

The rain continues to fall, and for a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic drumming on the roof. You lean your head back against the wall, glancing sideways at Billy.

“You’re allowed to let your guard down, y’know. At least for a little while.” You spoke up gently.

Billy meets your gaze, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. He wants to argue, to brush off the comment, but instead, he just nods slightly.

Billy decided to speak up, barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs in the air, charged but quiet. Billy’s usual bravado is gone, replaced by something raw and real.

"Here." You said as took out something out of your jeans pockets. It was a pack of cigarettes. This catches Billy's attention as you also pull out a lighter.

As Billy watches you light the cigarette, he also watches as you press the cigarette to your lips. Making Billy feel something weird inside of him. It felt like his body was on fire. A fire that he could not put out.

His gaze starts to linger on you. There was a fleeting moment of unspoken attraction.

As the silence continues, Billy stares into your eyes as you stare into his pretty blue ones. You looked at Billy fondly as you puffed smoke out of your lips.

Billy then snatched the cigarette out of your hands, looking at your beautiful (color) eyes as he took a drag. This sudden movement catches you off guard, but in a good way. It felt like he set something off in you.

Your left hand goes and twirls in Billy's dirty blonde curls. Watching him take more drags on your cigarette, making you grin for a second.

The silence was loud, but it felt amazing.

--

The rain has slowed to a steady drizzle, but neither of them has made a move to leave the garage. Billy sits on the edge of the workbench, fiddling with a lighter he pulled from his jacket pocket. You lean against the counter across from him, arms crossed as you watch Billy with quiet curiosity.

You decide to break the silence. “So, what’s your plan? Gonna sit there all night, or are you actually gonna say what’s on your mind?”

Billy glances up sharply, the lighter snapping shut in his hand.

“Who says anything’s on my mind?”

“Your whole vibe, Hargrove. You’re like a radio stuck on static.” You said smirking faintly.

Billy huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?”

You shrug “I try.”

There’s a beat of silence before Billy speaks again, his voice softer this time.

“It’s just… different, alright? Most people look at me and either hate my guts or try to get something out of me. But you? You don’t even flinch. Why?” Billy said as he looked at you, confused.

You start to tilt your head, studying him for a moment.

“Because I don’t think the guy you show everyone else is the real you. You’re just good at pretending.” You responded calmly.

Billy freezes, the lighter in his hand forgotten. He looks away, his jaw tightening.

Billy spoke up defensely. “You don’t know me.”

“No. But I want to.”

Billy’s head snaps back toward you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of mockery. But all he finds is quiet sincerity, and it throws him off balance.

Billy gruffed, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

This just made you grin in response.

“Probably.”

The tension between you too is palpable now, the air thick with unspoken words. Billy fidgets with the lighter again, his usual cocky demeanor slipping further away.

Billy started to hesitate.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to do this. The whole… opening up thing.”

You step closer, closing the space between the two of you. You lean against the workbench beside Billy, their shoulder brushing his.

“You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just… start with what you’re feeling right now.” You added, gently.

Billy’s gaze drops to the floor, his fingers tightening around the lighter.

Billy responded quietly, “I feel like I’m falling apart. Like I’m trying so damn hard to hold everything together, but it’s never enough.”

You didn't say anything right away, letting Billy’s words hang in the air. Instead, you reach out and place a hand on his, stopping the nervous movement of the lighter.

“You’re stronger than you think, Billy. You just don’t have to do it alone anymore.” You said with a firm tone.

Billy’s breath catches, his usual mask cracking wide open. He turns to face you fully, his blue eyes flickering with a mix of uncertainty and something deeper.

Billy, almost whispered, “Why do you care?”

“Because I see you. The real you."

Billy saw you smile faintly.

The words hang between you two for a moment before Billy leans in, hesitating just inches away from you.

“Tell me to stop.” Billy said softly.

You met his gaze. “I’m not gonna.”

That’s all the permission Billy needs. He closes the gap, his lips crashing against you in a kiss that’s both desperate and tender. For a moment, the world outside the garage—the rain, the town, everything—fades away.

When you two pull back, Billy’s breathing is unsteady, his forehead resting against your own.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Billy said quietly.

You just grinned at this.

“Takes one to know one.”

Billy laughs softly, his hand still lingering on theirs. For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels grounded.

---

Days have past and the rain has stopped, and the first hints of dawn are peeking over the horizon. The garage is quiet except for the occasional clink of tools as you finish tightening the last bolt on Billy’s Camaro. Billy leans against the car, watching them with an expression that’s unusually soft.

You, wiping your hands on a rag speaks up,

“Alright, she’s good to go. Don’t push her too hard, though. She’s not as indestructible as you think.”

“You talking about the car or me?”. Billy responded to you as he smirked.

You grinned.

“Both.”

Billy laughs, a sound that feels lighter than usual, and you can’t help but smile back. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the silence comfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, y’know.” Billy said quietly as this catches you off guard but you shrug.

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to.”

Billy steps closer, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“Why?” Billy said softly.

You paused for a moment, meeting his gaze.

“Because I think there’s more to you than what everyone sees. And because… I care about you, even if you think you don’t deserve it.”

Billy’s expression falters, vulnerability flickering across his face.

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” Billy added as he almost whispered.

You reach out, brushing your fingers against his.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again. And again. As many times as it takes.”

Billy exhales sharply, almost like a laugh, and squeezes their hand.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” Billy said as he looked into your eyes, smiling. A genuine smile.

You grinned at this.

“You’re probably right. But I’m not going anywhere, so you’re stuck with me.”

Billy shakes his head, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Guess I’ll have to make it worth your while, then.”

The Camaro gleams under the faint light of the garage as Billy pulls the keys from his pocket and tosses them in the air.

“C’mon. Get in.” Billy said smiling

You raised an eyebrow “What?”

“You said you wanted out of this town, right? Let’s go. Just for a drive.” Billy said as he stared right into your pretty eyes.

You start to hesitate for a moment, surprised by the offer, but then you smile and grab your jacket.

“Alright, but if your car breaks down again, you’re the one fixing it this time.”

Billy grinned. “Deal.”

You climb into the Camaro, the engine roaring to life as Billy revs it. You glance over at him, the streetlights reflecting in his eyes, and for the first time, Billy looks free.

As they pull out of the garage and onto the open road, the town fades into the background. The sky is painted with streaks of orange and pink, and the cool morning air rushes in through the windows.

You smiled, “Where are we going?”

Billy glanced over at you. “Anywhere but here.”

You lean back in the seat, the weight of the night lifting as they drive toward an uncertain future together.

---

Credits: my Billy border is made by me but the rose border is made by kodaswrld!! Go and support them🩷

[justmeinadaze]

Curiosity (Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: When I tell you that this did things to me...omg.

I was going to do a one shot but there's a few stories to tell with this two (and I love them already so bleh!)

There is a small glimpse into future steddie activity ;)

I dedicate this to the older girlies looking for their own Eddie Munson <3

Warnings: Younger (Early 20s) Daddy (kinda camboy) Eddie & Older (early 30s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, SO MUCH dirty talk <3, daddy kink (cause I'm me), praise, semi-public (back of his van), big dick Eddie Munson, squirting, etc. FLUFF, these two work together and talk about being each others "work spouses".

ANGST, Y/N stumbles upon Eddie's "second job" on OnlyFans, struggles with the notion of telling him, reader (like myself) makes jokes about being older, weight doesn't play a factor in here and its barely mentioned. Eddie does say how beautiful and sexy he thinks her body is. I think that's it.

The main angst here is her stumbling onto his account and not telling him.

Word Count: 7874

Donate to Me <3

"Yeah, she's got those pretty eyes

But behind them lies

Thoughts of him at night she can't seem to fight

Feelings that she knows she's gonna have to feed"

You hated call center work but it paid alright and it was something you could do while you worked towards your goals of becoming something more. While the work and customers were tedious, the environment wasn’t too bad. Your manager was a sweet girl a little younger than you and the company did a bit more for its employees than the typical “You did well this quarter. Here’s a pizza party.”

Your head falls on to your desk as you hang up the phone after one of the rudest customer experiences in your life. 

A slight draw back was, like your manager, a lot of the coworkers around you were younger, ranging from just graduating high school to their mid-twenties. Listening to most of these kids talk made you feel old as hell which is part of the reason you connected to the boy on the opposite side of your cubicle. 

While Eddie Munson was in his early twenties, he had a slightly older soul. When he wasn’t talking to you or anyone else, he had hair metal playing in his headphones and even had that long, wild hair to match. He talked about things you remembered growing up with fondly as if he was born around the same time and when you questioned him about it, he just said he was “raised right.”

“Fun chat?”, he teased as he leaned back in his seat.

“Exciting!”, you mumbled into your arm that your head was resting on. 

Eddie’s warm laugh filled your ears as his palm extended out to rub your back. 

“I know, sweetheart. These fucking people can be real pricks sometimes.”

“Edward Munson.”

“Mrs. Angela.”

“Language. Just because you aren’t on the phone doesn’t mean people can’t hear you on the other end.”

You laughed as you sat up, meeting his radiate grin as he chuckles. 

“Yes ma’am, Mrs. Angela. I apologize for the foul mouth I was born with.”

Your manager mumbles a soft mhmm and he continues to smile as he leans in closer to speak at a much softer volume. 

“Don’t let these people walk all over you. Remember, they need your help.”, he winks before lightly poking your nose. 

As the day came to a close and you both walked out together, you asked him what his plans were for the evening and he responded the same way he always did. 

“Um, probably going to put in some hours at my second job. I want to put in more recording time this weekend and the fucking manager at the studio is demanding we put down payments before we can use the equipment. It’s fucking stupid. I mean it’s not like we’re taking the stuff home.”

“One day, you’ll have to let me hear you play.”, you smile his way as you throw your things into your car. 

“And one day you’ll finally accept my invitation to come see us play on stage.”, he grins as he opens your car door and rests his chin on the top while he watches you put your things away. 

“I think I’m too old to be hanging out in a bar.”, you giggle. 

“Says who? Definitely not me because if I met a pretty lady like you at The Hideout she’d never go home alone again.”

Eddie’s smile widens and he sticks out his tongue through his teeth as you roll your eyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, weirdo.”

“Bye, babe.”

After he closed your door, your eyes followed him as he pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit the end on his way to his van. 

He really was a good man and utterly adorable. People in the office called him your work husband which gave you secondhand embarrassment till he himself began playing into the role. 

“Hey now Mrs. Angela, don’t talk to my work wife that way. Don’t worry, baby girl, I got your back.”, he joked with the manager as he slid his arm around your shoulders. 

Eddie made you laugh constantly and when you had a hard day, he was your sound board allowing you to vent. A part of you felt guilty because he seemed to know more about you than you did about him besides the fact that he wanted to be a rockstar. 

You genuinely did want to hang out with him outside of work but the insecure part of you couldn’t help but always wonder why he’d even want to spend his free time with someone your age when he could be giving his attention to any of the slimmer, more attractive women his own age. 

The sound of him slamming his car door brought you back into the moment as you pushed your gear into reverse and sped to your home. 

***

“Hey, can I use your laptop to watch a movie in bed?”, you ask your roommate as her heels click along the floor behind where you were sitting on the sofa. 

“Seriously? That’s what you’re doing with your Thursday night?”

“Relaxing after a long day at the office? Yes, Kelsey.”

“Why don’t you go out on a date or something?”

“So is that a yes or…?”

Your roommate sighs as she scurries somewhere before she wiggles the device in your peripherals and you thank her. 

“Don’t judge me when you open it. I was watching this sexy guy on Only Fans. Hot damn.”, she swooned making you laugh as she quickly hugged you and hurried towards the door. “I love you! Don’t wait up for me!”

Shaking your head, you take her laptop and throw yourself on your mattress as you flip it open. 

Images of cute people caught your attention and you couldn’t stop yourself as you nonchalantly began to browse. You had never signed up for one of these let alone really knew anything about the platform besides the obvious. You weren’t a prude by any means, you had just never gone down avenues like this.

There were probably millions of people on this site… so the chances of your eyes landing on a face you knew had to be astronomical.

Yet as you clicked a “featured” link, a face you very much recognized appeared front and center. 

Eddie or as the name read, EddietheBanished, was smirking up at the camera with his upper torso bare showing off all the muscle you were completely unaware he had.

You should have let it go; respected his boundaries and closed the browser but it was like autopilot moved you as you clicked his link.

There he was.

The metalhead was sitting at a desk in what you assumed was his bedroom with his head hanging and hair in front of his face as he strummed his guitar. Shaking his mane, his gorgeous eyes met the camera before that sexy smile painted his lips. 

“I see a lot of new ‘faces.’ Welcome. I’m a nice guy I swear. I’ll be getting started here in a minute so take your time, relax, get comfy.”

You immediately backed out and slammed the computer shut, powerwalking into your kitchen to get a glass of wine. 

“No, no Y/N. He’s your friend and your coworker. Don’t invade that boundary. Don’t…”

As you took a sip of your beverage, you glared at the device that felt like it was taunting you from your bed. 

“Maybe…I can make my own account and just…see what he does. Maybe he just plays guitar without his shirt on. People do that right?”

Sitting back down, you reopened the laptop and logged out of your roommates account, selecting to create your own. 

“Name…name…I need a name…”

Um CurvyCorporateMillennial.

“God that’s dumb.”, you sigh at your internal thought as you upload a picture of a random flower as your profile pic and search for his name after you set everything set up. 

“Alright, friends, you know the drill. You get an hour to ask me questions and tip if you wish. The private group session will begin after.”

Over the course of the hour, you listened to him talk about music and his instrument, strumming along to random songs you definitely recognized, making you smile as you watched his fingers moved. Eddie was incredibly charming, replying off every innuendo with something cute or sassy in return. You enjoyed the regular answers more than anything as he came out of his shell a bit differently than he did at work. 

“Yeah, a lot of these tattoos I got because I had the money and I wanted it.”, he chuckled. “But this one here… I got for Master of Puppets and that album. Do you guys know who sings that?”

“Metallica.”

“Damn…CurvyCorporateMillennial answered that quick. Good girl.”, he chuckles making you smirk before you internally panic. 

“Shit. How am I the only one who answered that, that fast?”

“My mom and my uncle really loved all kinds of music. Inspired me to learn to play…”, he sighed as his eyes went a bit glassy. 

Your heart broke for him as you listened to the sad tone in his voice, wondering if something happened there. He never talked about his parents but to be fair you also never asked. 

“You play very well.”

A soft smile spread across his lips as he winked at the camera causing you to bite your own lip at how fucking sexy the action genuinely was. 

“Alright, we’re nearing the end of this hour. It was nice talkin’ to you guys. To my special group, I will see you in about five minutes. I hope to see you there to, Millennial.”

With that he turned off his stream, leaving you dumbfounded as you stared at your screen. 

“No…there’s no way he was talking to me. There have to other people with Millennial in their name… Y/N, you’ve been here long enough and you even engaged. You need to back away now.”

The entire time you went on the hunt for your credit card, you had that debate with yourself, down to the last minute and point you hit enter. 

When the new room opened, he was smiling at the camera as if he had been waiting just for you before they flicked down to the monitor in front of him. Instead of having a guitar in his lap, the metalhead displayed his palm absently rubbing his crotch through his sweats.

“Hey, guys. Thank you for your time and money. This is where the conversation gets fun.”, Eddie chuckles. “Ask away.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

You can’t see anything displayed on the screen but you can see the reflection of words glisten within his chocolate eyes. 

“Aha, no. No, Steve tonight. I did ask but he said he’s incredibly busy this week…Ok, JulieGirl, I’ll let him know you miss him. Shit, I miss him to. Man definitely knows how to leave me a mumbling mess… Yeah? You’d sit on Daddy’s cock?”

“F-Fuck me.”, you panted, completely frozen as you watched him reach into his pants and take out his dick to spit over his tip, stroking it along his shaft. 

You had never thought about Eddie intimately like that but seeing him wrap his large palm around his girth had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Fuck, no, wrong!”, you shout as you close the browser and slam the laptop closed. 

##################

“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie murmured while his hand rubbed along your back as he flopped down in his seat beside you. This was an action he did everyday which is why he was startled when you gasped and jumped in your chair. “Whoa! You alright, honey? Too much coffee?”, he joked, nervous when you didn’t laugh.

“I’m fine.”, you replied curtly, choosing to focus on your computer in front of you. 

For the rest of the day, you avoided his gaze and kept your head down to work. During your lunch you two would usually sit together but today when he asked if you wanted to go anywhere, you declined and gestured towards your monitor.  

As soon as he clocked out, you waited for him to exit the floor, clocking out as well before following. You hid when you noticed him waiting for the elevator, counting to 30 after he got on and the door closed before pressing the button to ride your own. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you prayed you’d miss him coming back in, your eyes widening in surprise when the elevator door opened and Eddie was leaning against the opposite wall. 

“Hey, um, oh fuck. I forgot something—”

As the doors began to close again, the metalhead took long strides forward and his palm loudly smacked against the bumpers causing them to slowly open once more. 

“Did I do something to make you mad?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Did I say something or do something to offend you?”

“Pfft, Eddie, what are talking about?”, you reply as nonchalantly as possible while stepping around his broad frame and heading for the parking lot. 

“Oh, come off it, Y/N. You’ve barely said two words to me and now you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Just tell me what I did wrong—!”, he shouts as he reaches for your bicep to get you to slow down but pauses when you abruptly turn and glare his way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…grab you… I just…I don’t like this…you treating me like most of the people in this fucking town.”

“Huh?”, you inquire, genuinely confused. 

“Shit. I forget you’re not from here sometimes. Um, let’s just say I don’t have many friends. I know we don’t really hang out outside of the building but I like talking to you. It would seriously break my heart if you never spoke to me again.”

Your own heart cracked hearing the sincerity in his voice as his gaze shifted to his feet like a nervous kid. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything. I’m just…I have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asks. “As your work husband it’s my duty to hear about my work wife’s woos.” As you laugh at his joke, a sigh of relief leaves his chest. 

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“Ok…may I buy you lunch, my lady?”

***

You exhaled as you got home and threw yourself flat on your bed, exhausted from the day and your constant thoughts about what you had seen the night before. 

You considered just telling him what you saw but you didn’t want to embarrass him nor did you want to come off like some kind of pervert. You knew he had a “second job” but you never asked what it was mostly because you didn’t want to pry. 

He seemed so hurt today when you ignored him and it didn’t help that you were now pent up, needing a release after hearing him talk the way he had. 

Your phone dinged and originally you ignored it, thinking it was most likely your roommate who was letting you know that she got to work safely like she always did being that she worked a late-night shift at one of the restaurants nearby. 

When you finally looked at the screen, you were surprised to see a notification from the OnlyFans account. 

Your private session with EddietheBanished starts in five minutes.

“Huh? I didn’t…”

Once again you debated with you internal self as you got to your feet and headed to grab your roommate’s device. 

“I can log in and just tell him ‘Hey it’s Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have clicked on your thing…’ Yeah…Ok, Y/N.”

As soon as you opened the browser and signed in, you made sure the camera was off as you entered the session link sent to you. 

“Hey, Millennial.”, Eddie’s sultry voice cooed as he smiled at the screen. “I hope it’s alright. I scheduled this session here. I noticed you left the group thing before it really started and since you paid for it, I thought it only fair to do this so you don’t feel like you wasted your money.”

Your face softened at his kind confession as you sighed and began to type. 

“You didn’t have to do that. You seem very sweet. I wouldn’t have felt like I wasted my money at all.”

“Aw, thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that. May I ask why you left so abruptly?”

“I…”

“It felt wrong.”

The metalhead blinked as he nodded and leaned back in his chair as his palm absently rubbed his tummy, the action in itself filling your own stomach with little butterflies. 

“You’re not an OnlyFans normal, are you, honey?”

“Not really no. I was borrowing my roommate’s laptop and when I opened it I saw your face. I got curious.”

“It’s alright to be curious. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I seem to be unintentionally doing that.”, he chuckles causing your head to tilt. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about my problems.”

“No, please. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I work at this boring ass job during the day but the only person that keeps me sane seemed upset at me today…kinda scared me. My coworkers call her my work wife.” 

“I’m sure she just had a lot on her mind.”

“Hm, that’s what she said but…she doesn’t really talk to me about her personal life. I hope everything is ok. I invite her out sometimes but she always declines…says she’s ‘too old’.”, he laughs as he shakes his head. 

The two of you casually talked for what felt like minutes before you glanced at your phone and realized it had actually been over four hours. Eddie opened up to you, talking about his family especially his uncle, his dreams of being a rock & roll legend, and things he enjoyed like D & D. 

“I know absolutely nothing about that game! Lol. I wish I did though. It seems like fun.”

“Oh, baby, it is. Maybe you’ll let me teach you one day…see that pretty face behind the flower…”

“Pfft, how do you know my face is pretty? Lol.”

“Because how can a gorgeous soul like yours not be gorgeous.”

Eddie’s words gave you pause as your breath caught in your throat. He had said it with so much confidence to that you couldn’t help but physically hide behind your hands.

“I hope I’m not being too forward. I don’t mean to make you nervous or anything.”

“No…you don’t make me nervous…I think you’re just wasting that charm on someone my age.”

“Hm, well, I may be younger but I can still be Daddy.”

As he winks at the camera and smiles your whole body comes to life. 

“Eddie…there’s something I should tell you…”

“Did I move to fast? I’m sorry. It’s so weird but I feel like I’ve known you for years, you know? Fuck, probably sounds like a line.”

His hair moves from side to side as he shakes him head in shame and laughs making you laugh along with him. 

“It does but that’s alright. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not just the whole online thing but…the Daddy thing… God, that sounds so stupid.”

“No, no, baby, you don’t sound stupid. May I ask, sweetheart…did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Hearing me refer to myself that way; as Daddy.”

“Yes.”

Eddie’s smile stretches across his face as he bites his bottom lip and leans back in his seat. 

“I wish I could see you. I’m picturing you like blushing and being all giggly. Fuck, the thought of seeing you like that turns me on.”

Your breath shakes at his words as your thighs rub together. 

“You’ve spent so much time talking and getting to know me, baby, I’d like to return the favor.”

“How?”

Scooting his chair a bit closer to the camera, he adjusts his body so you can see more of his lap and chest. 

“How’s this, sweetheart? Got a good view?”

“I can’t see your face very well.”

You vaguely catch it as his cheeks turn a bright crimson and he smirks as he messes with the camera once more so you can see all his face a bit better. 

“Most people on here want to see my abs or my cock.”

“With partners, I like seeing their eyebrows scrunch together or their mouth fall open.”

“Hear that whimper most men try to hide under their heavy breaths.”

“Fuck me, honey. You definitely have a way with words. I like it. What, um, damn, you threw me a bit off my groove there.”, he chuckles as his palm rubs up his pec and over his opposite shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Maybe…we can talk next weekend. I can schedule the session myself this time. 

“Would it be too forward if I asked for your phone number? I’d love to talk with you through the week.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Eddie.”

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

####################

You tried so many times to tell him about finding his account and how you were the girl he spoke with that Friday night, you really did. But the longer you waited, the harder it became. 

When he came in that Monday morning, Eddie had a different glow about him as he lightly tugged your hair and said hello. 

The week went by like normal and you spent every day hyping yourself up, finally deciding you would tell him on Saturday after surprising him by seeing him play at The Hideout. You figured he’d be in such a good mood that you showed up to see him, maybe he wouldn’t be so angry after you told him the truth. 

When you opened the bar entrance door, you were met with loud blaring music and a lot of young voices chatting over the music. Mumbling small apologies, you pushed past people to find a table near the stage hoping you’d be able to catch his eyeline so Eddie knew you were there. 

Lucky for you, they were already on stage preparing their equipment so you hastily snuck to the corner and called his name. When his chocolate eyes met yours, he smiled wide before seeming to freeze as he took you in. 

You weren’t sure what was normal for bar attire so you went with a green spaghetti strap dress with matching heels and light make up to accentuate your features. 

“Hey! I hope I’m not distracting you. I just wanted you to know—”

“Hey, no. No, no. You’re not…distracting me…”, Eddie interrupted as he jumped down from the stage to give you a hug. 

Fuck, he smelled amazing.

“Wow, sweetheart, you look gorgeous. I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“I wasn’t sure what was normal or…”

“Pfft, fuck normal.” As his eyes continued to run along your face, you both seemed to realize he hadn’t taken his arms off your waist after your embrace. “Fuck…I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. Usually, I’m a lot smoother than this.”

“Are you?”, you tease causing his grin to reappear as he takes a step back and pokes your nose. 

“There’s my work wife I know and love. Alright, I have to finish getting ready but please stay afterward and let me buy you a drink, ok?”

***

“Eddie, oh my God, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play like that!”, you continued to compliment as he laughed, chugging back another bottle of beer in his grasp.

“Thank you, baby. Now, if you could advocate for us to get more record time so we can actually get something out.”

“Whatever you need. Do you have a shirt or maybe I can get a tattoo on my forehead.”

You giggle as he laughs and shakes his head. 

“No, Y/N. Would be a shame to damage a gorgeous face like yours.”, Eddie smirks as you bite your lip. 

“So, did your mom teach you to play guitar like that or did your uncle?”

The metalhead blinks, slightly taken aback. 

“What would make you say that? My mom or my uncle and not like my dad?”

“Oh, um, we’ve talked about your uncle before and you’ve never really mentioned your father so I just assumed… I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry.”, he sighs as his gaze shifts to the table.  “My mom got me into music but my uncle taught me to play my guitar. My dad taught me other bullshit like how to hot wire a car and how to spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Your heart breaks for him and on impulse you lean your head on his shoulder as you place your palm over his.

“Yeah, this is why I don’t usually talk about myself.”

“You can always talk to me, Eddie.”

The man smiles softly as he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer to his side. 

“I’m glad you came, Y/N. It was nice seeing you out here bobbing your head and cheering for me.”

You laugh as he tilts his head against yours and his hand slides from your shoulder down your bicep. 

“I’m your wife. I thought it was about time to come see my husband play his loud records for the youngens.”

Eddie’s throat vibrates as he chuckles through his teeth but you barely notice as you nuzzle your nose into his neck and inhale the smell of his cologne. 

“You always talk like you were born in 1943 or something.”

“Psh, my body makes me feel that way sometimes.”

“Now why do I doubt that? With a body like yours, honey, I bet you feel better than any of these other girls.”

Leaning your head back, your eyes lock with his as your hand comes up to rest on his cheek so your thumb can caress his bottom lip. 

Just as his mouth is about to press to yours, you gasp as you push away from him. 

“Oh my God…Eddie…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

As he watches you panic, confusion floods his face and freezes him in place until you hurriedly push out the front door. Before you make it to your car, a ringed palm grabs your arm, pushing your back against an adjacent van as he crashes his lips to yours. 

It was a messy kiss but fuck did it taste fucking good. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he allowed you both a moment to catch your breath as his tall, broad frame kept you boxed in.

“Please, Y/N. I want this…I want you…I want to feel you…”, Eddie whispered as his mouth ghosted your neck to your ear and your eyes rolled shut at the sound. “I want to taste you and hear all the noises you make, baby.”

“F-Fuck…Daddy…”

“Uh my God.”, he breathily panted as his hand absently reached for the door handle and opened the back. “It’s ok…this is mine…I promise.”

The metalhead didn’t even wait for a response as he lifted you by your waist and placed you inside, shutting the door behind him. 

As you crawled backwards further into the back of his van, he hastily climbed up your body to attach his mouth to yours again. Placing his knee between your legs, you took advantage desperate for friction to relieve the ache making you dizzy with need. 

“That’s it, baby girl, use Daddy’s leg. Fuck, I can feel how wet you are.”

Your fists grabbed at his shirt as you moaned against his lips. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? What a desperate little thing.”

The rhythm of your hips hastened as your grip on him tightened and your back arched as the coil snapped. 

“Good, good girl. Fuck.”

As his mouth attached to your throat, your fingers reached between you two and sloppily fumbled with his belt as he reached back to help you pull his pants just below his ass. 

“Holy shit.”, he whispered as your palm took hold of his incredibly hard cock and moved the cotton blocking your core to the side to allow him entry. “Fuck, baby.”

Your arms came around to cling to his shoulders as his head fell into your nook and he set a steady pace.

“Oh my God, Eddie…your dick is so big…” He grunted at your words as he rolled his hips, pushing his length as deep as your pussy would allow and then some. “I’ve never…I’ve had anyone so… fuck…”

“Tell me, honey, please.” When you don’t immediately respond, he lifts his head to kiss you. “You can do it, beautiful.”

“I-I’ve never had anyone so deep.”

“Fuck, baby girl. Tell Daddy how you want me to make you cum again. Do you want it slow?”, he asks as he gradually pulls all the way back till it’s just his tip before thrusting back into you. “Or do you want it fast and hard?”

“Faster, please.”, you beg as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Eddie does what you ask, his head falling again as he roughly pounds into your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair and his own palm slides behind your back, holding you to him as your body trembles and your pussy squeezes him like a vice as you cum. 

“Shit…good, baby. Fuck, you choke my dick when you cum…so fucking tight…where do you want my cum, honey.”

“In-Inside, Eddie, please.”

He started to lift his head to make sure you were sure, but your hand kept him against your throat as you rolled your hips to meet his eliciting a loud grunt from him as his mouth fell open.

His whole frame collapsed on top of you as his pace faltered and you felt his release paint your walls. The strangled groan followed by his heavy pants were the sexiest things you had ever heard and as you lazily turned to look at his face his mouth was waiting. 

Compared to his other kisses, this one was much more tender. 

A soft kiss between two people who had known each other and been friends for a long time. When he pulled back, his chocolate eyes met your irises as his fingers caressed your cheek. 

After a few moments, he silently pulled out of you, kissing your forehead when you winced before crawling towards his glove box and rifling through it. 

“Shit. I thought I had tissues… Ok, um, let me grab some napkins real quick from inside and then…if you’re up to it…maybe we can go to the diner and have some dinner…talk?”

You nod, smiling as he fumbles with his own pants and belt while almost falling out of his van before catching himself on the door. 

“Fucking shit! Uh, I swear I’m more, uh, graceful than that…ok, I’ll be right back.”

################

Eddie was an absolute gentleman that night; taking you to dinner where you got to know him a bit better. Afterward, he drove you home and walked you to your door with a smile that you returned with a soft kiss. 

After closing your door, you looked through the peephole to find him beaming wide before throwing his hands in the air in victory and heading back to this car. 

You dreamt about his arms around you and thought about him all morning, the subtle soreness between your legs a constant reminder. 

“Hey. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and I hope you’re feeling ok. I have to work tonight for a bit but maybe after I can call and we can talk?”

You smiled at his text before the realization hit you that his “work” was the website and he still had no idea you were one of the accounts he was talking to. As if to emphasis that a point, a notification flashed on your screen reminding you that you had a session scheduled with Eddie the Banished later that evening. 

Opening the computer, you sat there preparing your speech and apology, ready to tell him everything but when his face illuminated your screen it gave you pause. Before when you saw him online, he usual had on just sweats or boxers but this time he was wearing a long sleeve shirt with a Dio album on the front. 

Still donning black sweats, he had his hair pulled up and out of his face making you smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I hope it’s ok but I need your advice.”

“You want my advice?”

“Yeah. You seem incredibly smart and with our last conversation I know you’re easy to talk to.”

As Eddie grinned nervously, you couldn’t help but blush as your fingers flew along the keyboard.

“How can I help?”

“Ok, so I was playing my show last night and this girl…woman…I work with finally showed up to see me. I’ve been asking her for months to come and each time she said she couldn’t for one reason or another. Usually because she said she was ‘to old’.”, he laughs, rolling his eyes. “She’s not. She’s probably the same age as you since she’s a Millennial to but anyway… I loved seeing her come out of her shell, you know? She danced in her seat and headbanged; it was so fucking cute.”

As his smile grew at the thought you bit your bottom lip at the sight. 

“After the show, things got…intimate… and, um, so I guess my question is…how do I tell her about this?”, he asks as he gestures towards his computer and camera. “I don’t want her to think I’m like…a whore or something. I do this for the money because call centers pay their fucking employees jack shit. Add in the fact that I still kind of need to do it because my band and I are SO close to finishing this record but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable or feel like I’m cheating or something. I’m not my dad… I don’t fucking know…”

“Honey.”, you type as he covers his face with his palms. “Breathe. It’s ok. The fact that you’re even thinking of all this I’m sure will mean a lot to her. Eddie, I have to tell you something.”

“I just don’t want to lose her. No one has ever made me feel the way she does. At work I get a glimpse of what a relationship with her would be like and I love it. She’s so funny and sweet. Whenever she’s frustrated, her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk and she sighs like she wants to throw her computer out the window. When she smiles, the entire room lights up. She’s so beautiful, you have no idea.”

“Have you told her any of this?”

“Before last night I didn’t think I stood a chance. In my hometown, people don’t exactly like me. The Munson name carries a lot of weight because of my dad. He conned so many people here and add in the fact that I grew up in a trailer… they see me as trash. It would kill me if she saw me the same way. 

“No, Eddie. She would never think that.”

“Then she makes jokes a lot about her age and sometimes I get worried that she’d see me as like a kid or something. I’m highly aware that a man her own age could probably give her way more than I ever could but… I don’t know. Maybe if she can call me Daddy like she did…she can see me as someone who can take care of her because I will, honey. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Sounds like you already know what you have to do :). Just talk to her, baby. She… she may surprise you herself.”

“She surprised the hell out of me last night. When she called me Daddy, I almost fucking came in my jeans. I’m sorry. Don’t mean to be crude.”, he grins as he sticks out his tongue towards the camera. 

“It’s ok lol So it was good? The intimacy?”

Eddie’s gaze shifts off camera as his teeth drag along his bottom lip. 

“We’re friends right?”

“Of course.”

“It was the best I’ve ever had, Millennial. Fuck, her lips tasted amazing. I can only imagine what her pussy tastes like. Shit… It happened so fast I wasn’t able to take my time with her but next time… I’m going take her on a date Friday if she says yes. I want to take her to dinner and really make her feel special. She deserves that. Then I’m going to explore her gorgeous body till she’s begging me to stop.”

 Your thighs rubbed together at his words as that similar ache between your legs lit a fire in your belly. 

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone and texted his number. 

“Eddie when will you be free??”

Instantly, you heard vibration on his side of the stream and watched as he leaned forward to grab his device. As he smiled down at the screen, you felt your need for him rise as you watched his long, thick fingers fly along the phone’s keyboard. 

What is it about this man that has you feeling like this?

“I can be free now. Why? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…”

“Do you think you could come over?”

“Hey, uh, Millennial, I have to go but I’ll keep you updated. Maybe next time you can give me your number and we can keep in touch. I may need more advice!”

Your brain is too foggy to register how that will be a problem later as you type out your goodbyes and he signs off. A moment later, another text from him comes through to your phone. 

“Yeah, I can be there in ten minutes. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I need Daddy.”

The three dots flash on you screen for a millisecond before he replies, “I’m on my way, baby.”

***

Eddie’s fist barely has a chance to knock before you’re opening your apartment door and tugging him inside by his collar, roughly bringing his lips to yours. 

“Ro-Roommate?”, he asks as his eyes briefly notice the two bedrooms. 

“Work…works…overnight…”, you answer between passionate kiss as you tug off his leather jacket and he lifts up your shirt tossing it aside. “Need you…please…”

“I got you, sweetheart. Daddy can take care of you.”

You practically melt into his embrace, backing him into the living room wall and yanking off his shirt so you could drag your lips down his chest as you start to descend to your knees before he grabs your arm.

“No, no, honey. I said Daddy is taking care of you.” With one swift turn he spun you around, placing his palm beside your head to steady himself. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Can I taste you, baby? 

Eddie smirks when you emphatically nod and places a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Can you say it?”, he whispers. “Tell me what you want.”

His eyes stay on yours as he slowly falls to his knees and his palms reach up to pull down your underwear till you were completely naked. While his lips gently pecked along your belly, your own hand reached out to pet his head. 

“I want you to feel your t-tongue in my pussy.”

As his smile grows, Eddie abruptly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and dives into your cunt, doing what you requested. With every flick of the muscle between his teeth, you felt yourself falling deeper into euphoria. This metalhead definitely knew what he was doing and reveled in it as his tongue roamed. 

“Oh…Oh my God, Eddie. Just like that…” 

Your fingers pressed him harder against you and his moan vibrated through you at the sensation. As he picked up his pace, his mouth overwhelmed you as he sucked and made out with your clit till he felt your body quiver as you came. 

Rising to his feet, you circled your arms around his neck as he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you trying to elongate your high. 

“I knew it. I knew you tasted like fucking heaven. Fuck, such a good girl.”

After pushing down his sweats, you licked your palm and wrapped it around his girth, his glassy eyes fluttering at the feeling. 

Eddie’s free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could see your face. 

“Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, pretty girl. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard on my cock. Goddamn, I keep thinking about how tight your little pussy gets when she cums. Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy.”

You suddenly let him go as your hand flew down to grab his wrist trying to push him away as you whined.

“No, no, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. Daddy’s got you. Give in to it. I’m right here.” At his murmured words, you continued to cling to him as your hips rolled against his fingers. “Atta girl. I know, I know. Cum again for Daddy, baby.”

A string of uhs left your lips as his eyes remained glued to your face and your nails dug into his skin as the coil snapped. 

“Goddamn, you are so fucking sexy.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as his mouth latched onto your neck and you carefully guided him to your bedroom while tried to stumble out of his pants. 

“Motherfuck—I swear I can walk.”, he jokes as you both fall naked onto your bed. 

“Well, only if your pants are on correctly.”

Eddie laughs as he pushes up on his forearms to look down at your beaming features. Your index finger gradually extends to caress his cheek and along his chin, grazing the light stubble that clung to his skin. 

“You’re handsome.”

At your compliment, his jaw flexes as he tries to contain the obnoxiously huge smile that wants to stretch from ear to ear at your adorable tone. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I mean it. I always thought you were.”

“Yeah?” You nod, biting your bottom lip to contain your own smile. “You want to know a secret?”

“Hm?”

Eddie crawls a bit further up your frame, gently kissing your jawline till he finds the shell of your ear. 

“I always thought you were beautiful to, baby.”

Utilizing his knee, he pushes your legs further apart as he grinds his cock between your dripping pussy lips but before he could guide himself inside of you, your hand lightly pushed on his hip as you gently pulled his hair. 

His face flooded with concern as his eyes scanned you over. 

“I want to see your face this time, Daddy…Please…”

A relieved chuckle left him; thankful you were ok. 

“You’re going to kill me, honey.”

Licking his lips, you watch as Eddie’s eyes momentarily shifted to the void as he reached between your bodies and pressed his mushroom tip to your entrance. When his irises found yours again, he brought his arm back around and tenderly petted your head as he slowly thrust his cock inch by inch. 

“You’re doing good, baby girl…taking me so he well.”, he praised when he noticed your eyebrows twitch in what appeared to be pain. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Do you need me to go slower?”

“No…No, Daddy. You’re… you’re just…”

“Yeah? Just what, princess?”

“You’re so big.”

“I know, baby, I know but you’re doing so good. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Y-You can…you can go harder…you d-don’t have to be so—fuck—gentle.”

Eddie stops moving for a moment as he smirks down at you before suddenly smacking his hips into yours eliciting a loud moan from deep within you. 

“Like that?”, he teases as he pounds into you again. “I told you…Daddy’s got you.”

Finding a faster rhythm, he kept his intensity as he repeatedly abuses that sensitive, spongy spot deep within you that has your mind reeling. 

Pushing upright onto his knees, the metalhead pressed your thighs flat into the mattress as he watched himself disappear inside your cunt. 

“Shit—your pussy feels too fucking good. Cum again, Y/N. Cum on Daddy’s dick, baby.”

“Something…something’s different…”

Eddie slows for a fraction of a second before he realizes what’s about to happen. 

He sees it all over you scrunched face. 

Licking his thumb, he presses it to your clit as he keeps a steady pace. Again, your hand tries to grab at his wrist but he’s much stronger than you as your movements don’t deter him. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. Daddy’s right here, baby. Just let it happen.”

A wave of pleasure stronger than you had ever experienced before washes over you as the ball in your tummy drops and you scream his name. 

“Atta girl! Fuck, Y/N.”, he groans, his thrusts faltering as he pumps his release deep inside you. “Fuck…it’s ok…you’re ok.”, he pants. “I’ve…I’ve never made a girl squirt before.”

It took him a moment but it was only then that he realized you were crying. 

“Hey. Hey, hey, what’s wrong, baby. Talk to me.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you hug him and he continues to try and comfort you. “Everything’s alright, Y/N.”

“I-I-I’ve never done that before. I…ruined the moment…”

“Oh, honey, no. No, you didn’t ruin anything.”, Eddie cooed as he moved back to allow you to sit up and he could wipe your eyes with his thumbs. “What just happened was incredibly fucking hot.”

“It was?”

“Yeah, beautiful girl, it was. I’m honored to be the first guy to make you cum hard like that. I mean…of course being your husband only IIII can do that…”

At his joke, you laugh as you reach out to lightly hit his bicep as he giggles along with you. 

“How about this? Let’s get you into a bath and all clean, then I can change the sheets and get you in some nice comfy pajamas.”

“Will…will you lay with me after?”

Caressing your cheek, he leans towards you to gently kiss your lips. 

“Of course.”

After your bath, Eddie gave you some alone time to complete any needs you felt you needed to complete before bed and as soon as you were done, you stepped out of your bathroom to find him just finishing making the bed.

“I hope this is alright. I found these sheets in a closet in the hallway.”

“These are actually my roommates.”

“Oh… well…sheet.”, he jests, smiling when you breathy laugh. “Sorry, bad joke.”

“I like it.”

Stepping towards him, you grab his arm and push him under the covers so you could curl up into his side. Lifting his arm, he circles it around your shoulder and you pleasantly sigh as he plays with your hair. 

“At some point, sweetheart, we’re going to have to talk about this…us…”

“Is that bad?”

“No, fuck, I made it sound like it was going to be. I just…there’s some things I need you to know…about me…my life—”

Your palm cuts him off as your eyes meet his. 

“Later. Tonight, I just want to be close to you like this.”

“Yeah…”, he sighs before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. “Me to.”

###################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @twirls827 @micheledawn1975 @chelebelletx @hardladyheart @spiderxbatty @twirls827

[alphajocklover]

Hey man, thanks for the treats! So here’s the deal, I’m a 23-year-old med student, blonde, green eyes, skinnier than I’d like to be, but I’m literally too busy to do anything but study, let alone hit the gym like I really wanna. Even though "relaxing" ain’t in my vocab right now 'cause of the stress I’m livin' with, sometimes I treat myself to a Snickers bar. So yeah, that’d be my pick!

You had never wanted to be that kind of guy, the one whose life revolved around school and studying. You had always been a hard worker, you had to be to get into medical school in the first place, but you had always prided yourself on having a good work-life-studying balance. It had never been easy, but throughout both high school and college you had managed to keep up your grades, work part time to save up for medical school, and have a satisfying social life with a number of close friends. Hell, back in high school you were actually fairly popular. Now that you were in medical school though, it seemed like everything else in your life was falling to the wayside. You didn’t have time for hobbies, parties or friends, you didn’t even have time for your old part time job anymore, as the hours conflicted with your new schedule. The worst part was that even after giving up all that you were still struggling to keep up. You had always been a smart guy, one who thrived in school, but now it seemed that no matter what you did, no matter how much you sacrificed, it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t imagine how hard things would get in two years when you had to do clinicals and actually work at a hospital. You hated to admit it, but your dream of being a doctor had started to feel like a huge trap.

Today was your first night off in months. You had just finished a big exam, one you were certain you only barely passed, and were overjoyed to finally have a moment to relax, even if you were too exhausted to actually do anything fun. You were so tired from everything and so happy to have some time that wasn’t spent studying that you didn’t even question the snickers bar you found in your pantry, convincing yourself you had bought it at a vending machine or something and simply forgotten. You tore off the snickers wrapper carelessly, and took a big bite as you flopped down on a nearby couch, your mind racing as you did. As the chocolate and caramel danced on your tongue, you let your mind wander, imagining if things were different. If you had gone a different route in life, one that allowed you a little more time to just be yourself instead of constantly working. You imagined a life where you didn’t spend so much time worrying about your grades and where you didn’t need to work a part time job to save up for college. Instead of studying you could have thrown yourself into something else, something fun like a club or a sports team. A part of you had always been jealous of how carefree the guys on the football club seemed to be, the guys who worked out for fun or to challenge themselves, not because they were trying to be responsible. Maybe if you hadn’t been so obsessed with your future career, the one you were no longer sure you wanted, you could have been like them. You were fairly athletic in high school, but if you worked out seriously you could have gotten absolutely huge. You could imagine yourself with a body like one of those jocks, or even one better than one of those jocks. In your mind you could picture yourself with broad shoulders and beastly biceps. If you hadn’t spent all that time working at a shitty job to save up for med school you could have had that. You could have joined a sports team, probably football or wrestling. You could have made friends with your teammates. Instead of being fairly popular you could have been the big man on campus! You can almost picture yourself playing football, working out with the guys, making out with cheerleaders. You never thought you wanted a life like that, and had always thought of people who lived for pleasure and fun as being frivolous, dumb even, but… looking back, you can’t help but wonder what it would have been like, what you would have been like.

You relaxed into the couch and let your imagination start to run wild, your body tingling as you did. You imagined going from high school and into college, not having to scrimp and save like some loser, getting by on family money and your football skills. You imagined not worrying about grades, cause only nerds and losers did that, and instead just enjoying your life as an all around stud and football god. You imagined having a different major, probably something cool like business or kinesiology, something that would help you open your own gym one day so that party wouldn’t have to stop when college did. You imagined a life where instead of always working towards a future that disappointed you, you enjoyed the here and now. A life where you could just relax. 

You had gotten so lost in your thoughts that it took you a moment to realize you had finished the Snickers Bar. As you realized you had eaten the whole thing without even thinking about it, you felt a slight chuckle escape your lips, one that quickly grew into a manly guffaw. Did you really just eat the whole Snicker Bar without even thinking about it or enjoying the taste? That was the one cheat on your diet you allowed yourself a week! You could be such a dumbass sometimes. Not that it really mattered. Being smart was for fucking geeks.

You laughed a little as you tried to remember what you had been thinking about moments before. You could swear you were wondering about what your life would be like if you were different… but why would you ever want to be? You had a killer body, great bros to hang with, a sweet job as a personal trainer, and chicks and twinks throwing themselves at you almost every night. Why would you want your life to be any different? The idea of you wanting to be anyone besides the awesome, laidback stud you are… its fucking laughable!