#H&M Indiana

[yikesharringrove]

Billy gets his curls from his mom.

Of course he does. Everything he actually likes about himself is mostly just because of her.

(And everything Neil despises about him is mostly just because of her.)

She didn’t leave many things when she left.

But, she left a dove grey scarf. A soft soil one that she would use to tie up her hair before she went to bed.

She told Billy it made her curls smoother, more defined, less frizzy.

Billy had forgotten about it. It was actually Steve that had found it in a box of miscellaneous items Billy was refusing to unpack, even after being in Hawkins for nearly six months.

Steve had let the cool silk run between his fingers.

“What’s this?” He asked, and Billy always likes how Steve can keep his voice even. Nonjudgmental.

“Scarf.”

Billy’s heart had tightened at the view of that scarf. He had forgotten about it.

“Why do you have it?”

“My mom. It was her’s.”

Steve just gave him a doe-eyed look, holding the scarf in front of him like some kind of precious artifact of Billy’s fucked up life.

“She used to wear them to bed. Tie her hair up, you know? She said it made her curls better.”

It always did. Her hair was always so beautiful. Sometimes she and Billy would sit in the back yard, in the soft grass, and she would brush out her hair. And they’d laugh at how huge it would get, but it was always as soft as the silk that Steve was holding.

Steve smiled, sitting down in front of Billy on his bed.

It was a rare moment of having the house to themselves.

Steve had parked three blocks away and walked, ducking around the back of the neighbor’s house to sneak in Billy’s window.

He reached up, clumsily tying the scarf around Billy’s head, tucking his hair in.

“There.” He smiled brightly, leaning forward to press a kiss to Billy’s heated cheek.

Billy started sleeping with the scarf.

Not only because his curls got better, (smoother, more defined, less frizzy, just like she always said) and not only because Steve liked to play with the thick ringlets, but because he missed her. He missed his mom every goddamn day of his goddamn life.

And sometimes, when he tied his hair up, he could pretend she had just done the knot for him. That she had tucked in any stray hairs and pinned the scarf to each side.

He’d do anything to feel close to her.

[jax-winchester]

Once I start to associate a song with a character the song will never be the same to me again.

[reitsportportal]

Longines Global Champions Play Offs: Es geht um 6.500.000EUR im GCL Super Cup - 3rd Team Competition - Final...

Stockholm Hearts mit Nicola Philippaerts, Malin Bayard-Johnsson und Julien Epaillard nach der ersten Runde in Führung im GCL Super Cup – 3rd Team Competition – Final Die  STOCKHOLM HEARTS waren das einzige Team, das in der ersten Runde fehlerfrei bleiben konnte. Mit drei sehr sicheren Ritten sicherten sich Nicola Philippaerts mit Katanga v/h Dingeshof, Malin Baryard-Johnsson mit H&M Indiana und…

[purplespacekitty]

what i mean is, we cannot meaningfully engage with the media we consume without also placing it under a critical lens. i have too often seen voices go unheard because mainstream fandom spaces are unwilling to consider the possibility that they might be worth hearing.

i am not saying that it’s not worth enjoying or even simply engaging with something if we’re not calling out every single flaw we see in it. what i’m saying is that it is worth exploring a piece of media in a way that challenges and acknowledges its flaws. and it is crucial to do so with the understanding that separating the art from the artist is impossible and is commonly used as a way to silence, shut down and ignore constructive conversations around the issues that that art and its artist exhibit. and besides, how does it actively disrupt the support the artist receives through your consumption of their art? what does it actually do to interrogate and dissect the issues you’ve identified? how can you successfully separate the art from the artist when our culture around art is so deeply ingrained in the idea of art as a product through which an artist can turn a profit? when engaging with art widely requires a fee of consumption? when the biases ingrained in the artist are projected onto their art and by proxy, onto us, the consumers? the fans? the fandoms?

i just ask that we move forward with actual constructive, collaborative ways to engage with the biases and prejudices perpetuated by the media we consume and its creators and help those most harmed by them heal. acknowledge the pain a piece of media causes/has caused, whether intentionally or not. something can be fictional and absolutely have real life consequences, hurt real live people. listen when someone tells you that something you enjoy - indeed, even if it is something they themselves have enjoyed - causes them pain.

i don’t think this can ever be said enough: if you consistently place your enjoyment of a given piece of media over the livelihoods of real-life, actual, living, breathing people and how they are impacted by that media and your consumption of it, there is something fundamentally wrong with the way you consume and engage with that media.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996. 

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana. 

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior. 

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool. 

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it. 

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking. 

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights   has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too. 

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in. 

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended. 

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated. 

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.  

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do. 

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.” 

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.” 

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.  

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said. 

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol. 

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically. 

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself. 

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink. 

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth. 

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band. 

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis. 

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt. 

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name. 

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat. 

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence. 

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.” 

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs. 

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home. 

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building. 

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.” 

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin. 

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it. 

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers. 

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth. 

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend. 

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock. 

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!” 

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you. 

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night? 

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.” 

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best. 

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes. 

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead. 

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie. 

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now. 

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks. 

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys. 

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks. 

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek. 

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded. 

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.” 

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris. 

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts. 

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face. 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

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[lighteyed]

it's no big surprise you turned out this way

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[3.7k] steve comes over for family dinner. it is absolutely not your idea.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be. trigger warning for shitty parents and billy h*rgrove. this is not a billy safe space.

dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

thanks for reading if you do <3 enjoy teehee

You drop a kiss on Steve’s head in greeting, which he accepts with a thrilled, in-a-new-relationship, glowing smile, before dropping down beside him and subsequently dropping your news, or rather, your request that’s not really your request, on him. “Neil wants you to come over for dinner.” You tense at the utterance of your stepfather’s name, even if it’s your own mouth doing the uttering.

   His smile dissipates. Only a little, but enough for you to wring your hands together. You want to scoop all the words you’d just said back out from his ears and spoon them into your mouth again. Make him forget it’d ever happened. “Like, like family dinner?” He asks. He can’t fathom a world where he sits placid across the table from Billy Hargrove and passes him the salt respectably and doesn’t end the night with his fist colliding with his face (regardless of the outcome).

   “No, it’d just be you and him, he’s dying to take you out on a date,” you deadpan in response, shaking your head. Steve rolls his eyes, no malice intended. “Obviously family dinner, Steve. You, me, Max, my mom, Neil… Billy.” You force out the final name. He swears he hears your teeth grinding as you say it.

   “Don’t get grouchy on me.” He reaches over and smooths out the upset crease between your brows. Your shoulders relax in response. You’re always so wound up he’s made it his mission to give you that ease he knows you crave. He’s quite good at it, on days where he can steal you away and keep your mind occupied with the lovelier things in life. But there are some things he can’t spare you from, as much as he tries.

   Really, he can only keep you out of that house for so long before your family starts demanding their 17-year-old back.

   For the most part you keep away. Max roams the new mall all day with her friends now that June’s here and summer’s entered Hawkins in full swing, and you drive them there with your mom’s car if she doesn’t need it for the day, or Steve drives you all there and then home again if he’s not at work already that morning. If he has work you loiter in Scoops the entire day, lugging a stack of books acquired from the library and settling in a corner booth, popping your head up once in awhile to check on him and his misery in his new position in that ridiculous uniform. You brighten his days just as much as he brightens yours. And he really, really does. (And you like the uniform, as silly as it is, for the record).

   “’M not grumpy,” you deflate, pressing your forehead into his shoulder. He rubs your back in a nice, soothing way when you lean into him. Ever since he asked you out he’s been taking every excuse to touch you and you’re not complaining in the slightest. He has the softest hands you’ve ever held and they’re perpetually gentle and kind. All the love in the world encased in the hands of some boy from Hawkins, Indiana, a place you never expected to find a home in, let alone find a boy. The boy, if you thought about it long enough. Early days to be thinking about it but you did think about it. Often. For hours. You sigh quietly. “I can tell ‘em you’re busy, you don’t have to come.”  

   “Max knows I’m not busy,” he points out.

   “She doesn’t wanna be there, either. Look, I’ll just say you can’t come-“

   “But I can.”

    You lift back up, wary, but hopeful. A new flower poking its petals up from the earth, tilting right toward the sun.  “I don’t wanna make you miserable.”

   “That’s stupid,” he scoffs. He kisses your head this time, the perfumy scent of your shampoo fogging his brain up in a nice, lovey haze. “How could you make me miserable? You’re like, the best thing I’ve ever had, by a mile.”

   You smile in spite of your gloomy mood. “The fuckin’ Hargroves have an innate knack for misery.”

    “It’s a good thing you’re not a Hargrove then, hm, Mayfield?” He brushes your hair away from your face and  takes your chin in his hand, angling your face up properly to meet his, and he kisses you like he well and truly means it, firm and adoring. You can feel his grin seared into your mouth when you pull away, in spite of your reluctance and Steve’s attempts to pull you back in.

   . “You really wanna come? It won’t be fun. It’ll probably be shitty, actually.” You ask him in a tiny, hesitant voice, too overcompensating to someone who do anything you asked of him. Having Steve there sounds better than not having him there, and better than having to explain why he’s chosen not to come, but you know it’ll be weird. Worse than weird. After what happened back in November, him and Billy go out of their way to ignore one another, and it’s so deliberate it sucks the air out of a room. And even with that, Billy still makes it a point to direct snide remarks to you about Steve every chance he gets: alone, in front of Max, in front of your parents, in front of Steve himself while pretending he’s not there. And it’s gotten worse since you admitted to your mother in confidence that you and Steve were together now, and she told Neil, and Neil told Billy. But there’s no running from being at the same dinner table as him. You know you’re asking a lot. You wouldn’t be asking if Neil hadn’t insisted. In a loud, pointed voice, with a stare that unnerved you. You’d agreed to it hurriedly after that.

   “Well,” Steve leans back, playful, “want to is a bit of a stretch but I can make an exception for ya-“

   “Steve-“ you groan, pushing his chest, but he laughs, pushing himself back forward, smacking another loud kiss on your mouth.

   “Kidding, I’m kidding, c’mere,” his fingers grip your waist feather-light, tickling, as he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh too through your head shakes and faux-exasperated sighs.

  “I’m really asking you if you want to, I know it’s a lot asking you to make nice with Billy.” You interlace your fingers with his and he places them on your lap, all big brown eyes blinking up at you affectionately. You’re a sucker for his eyes. You can tell what he’s going to say before he says it.

   “Nothin’s too much for you,” he says in his sweet, low voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek, his stamp of agreeance left blazing there on your cheek.

   Late into the next day he arrives on 4819 Cherry Lane, as he has so many times before, but he parks right in front and gets out this time. He doesn’t sit by the wheel waiting for you to come running out, sometimes with Max in toe, usually by yourself, breathless and beaming, ready for him to whisk you away as fast as he can without breaking a million laws. He knows it’s not the gentlemanly thing to do, having a girl come to the car by herself instead of going up and ringing her bell, and normally he would, but you insisted he didn’t, not wanting to draw attention to yourself or him, and you were already waiting outside on the front steps when he got there most of the time, anyway.

   And this time, too, you get the door before he can ring the bell, almost ripping it off the hinges when you throw it open to greet him.

   “Thank God,” you mutter. You go to take his hand but remembers yours is sweaty and pull back. The sweater you’re wearing is pretty, complements your eyes and complexion and your everything, and your hair is down and soft-looking. He’d run his hands through it in other circumstances. “It’s not too late to make a break for it,” you lead him into the house quietly, throwing your head back and casting a dark look down the hallway. “Just say the words and we can flee, I won’t blame you.” He’s dressed so nicely, and you don’t even have the time to properly admire him. He did his hair all perfect (he always does but you can tell he put a little extra sparkle into it tonight), he’s in his nicest jeans that mold against his legs slim and fit, his sweater is a navy blue and it’s such a good color on him you might cry. You can see effort written in everything he does, tonight especially. His desire to make a good impression rings in your heart. You want to regard him warmly and turn your gaze on him with the utmost veneration but your skin buzzes with anxiety and it feels like one large, domineering fist is clamped around your intestines. 

   “It’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing your hand. He doesn’t even notice that it’s sweaty, though your anxiety is palpable and he amps up his happy exterior to balance you out. He’s probably just as nervous as you are, deep down. “Parents love me.” It’s an insistent sentence. “And I’m gonna turn on my charm.” He makes a clicking sound with his mouth and snaps his fingers around a little. You stare at him, blank. Neil is rumbling around somewhere in the distance and for the time being you are utterly immune to Steve’s banter.

   Not completely, but enough. “I don’t know if that’s the kinda charm we need here,” you pat his shoulder.

   “But it can’t hurt,” he points out with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger gun at you.

   “Oh, it can hurt alright.” You steer him into the living room anyway. “Steve is here.”

   You announce it to the open air, waiting to see who comes when you call. Your mom, immediately, rushes out of the kitchen to greet him. She’s never met one of your boyfriends before. Her greeting is enthusiastic, to say the least. And she’s a hugger. It’s nice, actually, Steve thinks, no matter how embarrassed and nervous you are, to be embraced kindly by a mother. It’s familiar, like some distant dream from a faraway past. You have your qualms with Susan, he knows that, but he knows you love her hard, and that’s why you take so much issue with the way she lets herself be treated. It’s difficult to watch you grapple with all of this, all of the time.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Steve, or Steven? Whatever you want,” she rubs his back as she takes him into the kitchen alongside you.

   “Steve is great, thank you, Mrs. May-“ he clears his throat, “Mrs. Hargrove, I mean.“ It’s hard to reconcile this woman in front of him with the domineering men bearing that same last name. It’s hard to distinguish her as anything but another piece of you and Max. A good piece.

   “The girls talk about you all the time,” Susan says, still smiling.

   “I do not,” Max huffs as she comes out of her room, abashed. She’s in a nice outfit, too. Not as dressed down as she usually is. She tugs at her tied back hair like it hurts.

   “Ma, how tight did you do her hair?” You ask, beckoning Max over.

   “It pops out of every scrunchie!” Susan says, patting her on the head with such clear affection it makes Steve ache a little.

   “Maxie.” You open your arms for her. She stands in front of you obediently as you loosen the hold her hair ties have on her unruly locks, smoothing them out nicely as you tie it back up again, looser.

    Everything’s so nice and homey that the shift in the atmosphere is almost imperceptible when a door creaks open a bit away from you four. But it’s there. He sees you draw back into yourself, your smile, at him talking to your mom and being so sweet, at Max, at the normalcy of this moment, sliding right off your face as Neil walks into the room. You’d almost forgotten him. You could’ve stayed in a bubble with your mom and sister and beautiful boyfriend forever. But Neil comes out from the hallway, from Billy’s bedroom, and Billy follows behind, fully clothed for once, his shirt buttoned all the way up his chest, his expression dark and cloudy. His jaw is tight as his gaze fixes on Steve.

   But Steve, so gracious, sticks his hand out to shake Neil’s, smiling like Neil’s spawn isn’t the worst person Steve’s ever encountered as he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, sir. Steve Harrington.” He keeps his mouth upturned sweet and polite even when Billy snorts in the background. He doesn’t even look in his direction.

    “Nice to meet you, too, Steven.” Neil’s handshake is more like a clenched fist. You stare at their clasped hands like you want to commit murder. Steven.

   “Steve, not Steven,” you mutter. Max touches your arm in warning before Steve can. You can’t help it. If there’s anyone you’re defensive over besides her, it’s him.

   “Steven’s fine,” he chimes in, keeping that same old good-natured Steve smile on his face. He’s too appeasing and Neil has never deserved it. He rolls his shoulders back and talks to himself in his head. Just one night. For her, for her, for her.

  “It’s the name your parents gave you, of course it’s fine,” Neil claps him on the back, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it but you and Steve both flinch. From the words and the tap alike. Neil ignores your remark completely as he continues to talk to Steve in a way that makes your skin crawl. He brings Steve over to the dining room table and the rest of you follow suit, settling in around each other. You make sure you sit next to Steve, but you second-guess it when Billy takes the straight across from him. Neil drones on. “Y’know, it’s interesting how all this time, you’ve been driving the girls around for months now, but this is the first time we’re meeting.”

    Steve checks on you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw ticks. He squeezes your knee but before he can answer, you do it for him. “He’s been busy, that’s all.”

Neil looks toward you. For once. It is not a pleasant look. “For months?” He tucks his hands under his chin.

   “I know you don’t like having strangers in the house after you work,” you say, placating in a way that turns your stomach.

   “That’s true,” Neil says. “Billy doesn’t seem to get the memo on that, so I’m glad someone in this house is paying attention.” The degradation of Billy at the dinner table is nothing new. And you feel bad about it. You’d feel worse if he wasn’t so nasty and hateful to everyone because of it. Neil had run into Billy’s latest flavor, Miranda Brady from your Calculus class, while she was rummaging through the fridge the other night, and he hadn’t been happy. He was polite to her until she’d been hurried out the door by Billy, and then he’d reamed into him in colorful, awful ways. Max and Susan both hadn’t been home, but it was one of those nights where you had been, and you’d lingered by your bedroom door awkwardly, making sure it didn’t get too out of hand. You weren’t sure either of them even knew you were there. Accepting the praise seems wrong. You nod stiffly.

  Billy, however, turns his gaze on Steve, the first acknowledgement he’s gotten in months. “Say, Harrington, you used to be quite the ladies’ man yourself, yeah?” A sick grin creeps up on his face. Steve sees your hand tighten around your fork. You’ve barely shoveled your pasta into your mouth. Max gapes at her stepbrother, her mouth still full of food.

   Steve clears his throat. “I had a steady girlfriend for about a year, actually. I’m sure you remember that.”

   “Yeah, but I mean,” Billy rocks his chair back. “That’s not what they were calling you King Steve for, is it?”

   You lurch forward. Steve drops his hand over your knee again. “I think it was because of the whole captain of the basketball team thing. Or the captain of the swim team thing, I can’t remember when it started. Youngest captain the Tigers had seen in a decade, actually, when I got it sophomore year.” Steve grins again and the cocky charm he possesses but hardly uses much anymore comes out to play, just for a bit. You settle down again. You eat what’s in front of you, calmly. You hear Max gulp down her own food across the table. It’s almost cartoonish.

  “Max, chew first,” Susan admonishes gently.

   “I am,” she retorts, but she’s inhaling everything in front of her.

    Billy  cuts in. “See, that’s interesting, I thought it was because you hooked up with a lot of girls. Like half the class.”

   Steve doesn’t even blink. He takes a sip of his water. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Are you trying to upset your sister?” Neil asks him with raised eyebrows.

  He goes quiet again, hardened. “No.”

  “It seems like you’re trying to.”

   His jaw ticks this time. “I’m not.”

   “Do you remember what I said to you? About a half hour ago?”

   His jaw ticks again. His eyes meet Steve’s over the table. Steve feels the merest twitch of embarrassment for him. He knows all too well what it’s like to have a dad who takes a weird sort of pleasure in berating his son. “Yes, I remember.”

   You stare down at your plate, pinching the skin of your palm.

   “If you remember so well, then you should stop talking.”

   Billy stops talking. Neil turns to Steve again. “So, captain of two athletic teams, that’s impressive. I’m sure your college plans are impressive as well.”

   Steve stutters in his answer and you hold your head aloft in your hands, suppressing a groan. Max finishes her food so fast, she’s excused from the table and gone within minutes of that conversation starting. You nearly fall out of your chair in your attempt to kick her shin under the table. She holds her hands up in her retreat while nobody’s looking, mouthing that she’s sorry at you and running away into your shared bedroom. You suppress a groan again.

   Outside, after another grueling hour of Neil dominating the conversation and making dinner unenjoyable for everyone, you walk Steve to his car, fiddling with your hands again. He props himself up against his window and wrestles you out of the knot you’re in.

  “That sucked, I’m sorry,” you say, knocking your foreheads together, your mouth drawn in a thin, perturbed line.

  “It was fine, you’re fine,” he whispers the last bit. That’s what you’re more worried about, after all. You’re worried he’s mad, planning to leave you for someone with a more normal family, people who are warmer, someone capable of being warmer. You’re plenty warm around him, but you suppose you could be better. You start running over all the things you could do better and all the ways he could do better in your head. “Stop thinkin’ so much. Everything’s okay.” He nudges your foot with his.

   “No, I know, it’s just, it’s awkward, it’s not fun, shitty way to spend your night, shitty way for anyone to spend a night.”

   “It’s okay. It was good. I was good, wasn’t I?” He kisses your palm where you’d pinched it earlier.

   “You were great, you’re always great.” You stroke his cheek, lingering on his lips for a second. “You look really nice, by the way.” You’d almost forgotten to tell him. “I like this color on you.” You smooth over and down his arms.

   “Yeah?” He grins, lopsided, tilting his head.

   “Looks good with your hair.” You reach up to tug on the strand that hangs down like an art form over his forehead. You’re the only one he lets play around about his hair.

   “You look beautiful, too, for the record.”

   “I was trying to make this about you.” You poke him.

   “I like when things are about you.” He pokes you back.

   “I hate when things are about me.”

   “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that.”

   You chuckle. “Good luck.”

   He gestures back to your house. “I’m makin’ progress here. I think I get you a little bit better now, after all that.”

  “And what exactly do you get?” You wrap your arms around his waist.

  “Why you’re always so tense and grumpy.” He cups your cheeks like he’s holding the most delicate thing ever to be held.

   “I’m not grumpy-“

   “Just tense, then.”

   You accept that, begrudgingly. “I’m pretty on edge most of the time, I guess.”

   “I try to talk you out of it,” he says softly, stroking your face.

   “You’re the best, I hope you know that.”

   “I try,” he says again, and you nod. “It’s not easy. Night after night.”

   “It’s not.” You bunch up his sweater.

   “I get it, you know? They’re not here as often as yours, but I get it.”

   “Dinner with yours next time?”  

   “Yeah fucking right.” He kisses you for it, though, because you mean it, you’d have dinner with them if he asked just like he did because you asked, a long and languid kiss that he hopes no one’s shifting around the curtains to be privy to. He withdraws first and says, “Your mom is sweet, I’d have dinner with her again.”

  “I’ll let you know when she’s free, take her out, show her a good time,” you tease.

    “If she’s anything like you I’m a goner,” he laments.

    “You’re a flirt, is what you are.”

     You kiss him again, beaming, heart swollen with affection.

    When you go back inside and Susan tells you how wonderful and handsome she thought Steve was, how good he seemed for you, that rush flows through you all over again. You even bring her in for a hug.

thank u for reading ur super hot n sexy n we're kissing rn

[piastrinorris]

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.” 

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs. 

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly. 

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back. 

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?" 

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

[corroded-hellfire]

practically begging for a drabble in the universe as as you wish where they finally get the place to themselves and don’t have to be quiet

You say drabble, @munson-blurbs and I write over 5k words. Please enjoy this little glimpse at what happened right after part one 🥰

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m and f receiving, older!eddie, babysitter!reader, breeding kink

Words: 5.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eating outside in February in Indiana wouldn’t be your first choice, but when your last class gets out after everyone else has had time to claim indoor spots to chow down, you’re forced to eat your lunch at the picnic table that’s getting most direct sunlight. At least you’d been able to grab a nice hot bowl of soup to keep you warm. The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and you think that maybe your luck is changing when you look up and see Peter strolling over to you. 

“Not again,” you groan under your breath. 

“Hey,” Peter says as he takes the seat opposite you. His smile looks genuine enough, but you know it’s hiding the smarmy intentions beneath. 

“Hi,” you reply before shoving another spoonful of soup in your mouth. 

“Aren’t you cold sitting out here?” Peter takes his hands out of his pockets and blows his hot breath on them. 

No, I’m perfectly comfortable, you moron, you think to yourself. Peter is a nice enough guy, but ever since he started hounding you about why you wouldn’t go on a second date with him, he’d been insufferable. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

“A little,” you admit. “Couldn’t find a space inside.”

“My car is parked just over there,” Peter says, nodding his head in the direction of the parking lot to your left. “You can eat in there; I don’t mind.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine here.”

Peter sighs and tilts his head to the side as if he’s a confused puppy. “Why are you afraid to be alone with me?”

You almost choke on your latest sip of soup. “Afraid? I’m not afraid, Peter. I’m alone with you right now, aren’t I?”

Peter shrugs and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. 

“So, why no second date then?”

The moment the words leave his lips, you drop your spoon into your bowl with a clang and bring your hands up to rub over your face.

“Peter,” you say with a deep sigh, “we’ve been over this.”

“I just want a straight answer from you,” Peter says, as if this isn’t something you’ve already given him many times over. 

“How about a list?” you snap, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. “You talk with your mouth full. You called nursing a ‘girl major.’ You stared at the waitress’s chest the entire time she was at our table. And when the people next to us started speaking Spanish, you mumbled something about learning to ‘speak American.’ Which, Uncle Sam, isn’t even a God damn language. So,” your voice is rising and attracting the attention of other students, but you couldn't care less, “if you would kindly fuck off, maybe you can leave with your testicles intact.”

With that, you gather your food and rush off to the nearest payphone. Your fingers, still slightly numb from the cold, dial the number as though on autopilot. To your utter relief, he picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Eddie speaking.”

It’s been two days since you two hooked up, devouring each other carnally in his bed while his wife wasn’t home, and you were left unsure about how to proceed. Yes, Eddie had confessed that he had feelings for you–feelings much deeper than the lust that had consumed you that evening. But, as with anything, there were consequences to these actions. And what if the consequence was that he no longer wanted you around? That you only served as a painful reminder of the way he broke his marriage vows?

“Yo? Anyone there?”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak into the receiver. “H-Hi. It’s me.” You bite your lower lip and cringe. Me? How the hell is he supposed to know who ‘me’ is?

“Hey,” Eddie says, and you could swear there’s relief flooding his tone. “How are you?”

The concern in his voice mixed with the fact that he knew it was you simply by a stuttering greeting has you flustered and gripping the phone even tighter.

“I’m okay,” you manage. There’s a beat of silence before Eddie replies.

“Are you?”

“Do you remember that time you told me if I, uh, wanted to bail on something, or…”

“Is someone bothering you?” His tone is firm but kind and it reminds you all over again of why you fell for him.

“More annoying than anything,” you admit. 

“Is it that prick you went on a date with months ago?” 

Did you mention that recently? Or did Eddie remember that from when you told him a few weeks back?

“Unfortunately,” you say.

Eddie sighs. “Jesus, take the hint, pal.”

“Oh, he’s had more than hints,” you tell him. “He’s been given very direct answers multiple times.”

The only sound that comes from the other end is the faint banging and scraping from the garage. You lick over your cold, chapped lips as you wait for him to say something. 

“Where are you?” he finally asks.

“Having lunch on campus. It was peaceful at first.”

This time there’s no silence as Eddie quickly shoots back with, “Do you want me to come get you?”

“Only if you’re on your lunch break. I’ll even buy you something to eat,” you offer. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You.”

The answer and how he gave it so immediately has your face burning despite the bitter breeze blowing outside. You shuffle your boots on the ground and take a self-conscious glance around, as if someone could hear what he just said to you.

“Eddie,” you lightly admonish. 

“Love when you say my name.” The way he clears his throat after the admission has you wondering if he meant to say it aloud at all. It gives you butterflies either way. “Be there in twenty, pretty thing.”

Before Eddie gets there, you grab two sandwiches for you to split. To save yourself any possible embarrassment, you pretend that Eddie’s infectious grin is more for the food than it is for you. 

It’s more difficult to do this when roaming eyes accompany his smile; the chocolate hues soaking in every last millimeter of your body. “Hi,” he murmurs, reaching over to help you with your seatbelt. You don’t need any assistance, and he knows this, too, but it grants him the opportunity to brush his fingers against yours. 

“Where to?” he asks, unwrapping his sandwich from the thin plastic covering and taking a bite. The nickname ‘baby,’ is on the tip of his tongue, but he has to hold back. At least until the two of you figure out what the fuck is going on. 

“Home, please,” you say softly, tearing off a piece of your own PB&J. You silently curse yourself for getting such a childish sandwich, but considering the way Eddie’s practically inhaling his, he doesn’t appear to be bothered. 

He’s only driven a few blocks when he breaks the awkward silence, leaping right onto the back of the elephant in the room. Or car, rather. 

“So, um, about what happened on Saturday,” Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off. 

“I know…you’re married.” You lower your head, too heavy with shame. He’s going to say that I shouldn’t babysit the boys anymore. He’s going to call it all a huge mistake. “It never should have happened.”

You feel your head move slightly as Eddie takes his forefinger and turns your chin to face him. “But it did. And I’m not mad about it.” His voice is firm, confident…it’s something you’ve never witnessed before when he’s talking to his horrible wife. 

“…you’re not?”

Eddie shakes his head with a small smile, unable to hide his amusement at your obvious surprise. “Not even close. I’m only mad that we can’t, y’know, actually be together.” His hands grip the steering wheel tighter as he says it; it can’t be a coincidence. 

But we can, you think, pressing your lips together in an effort to silence yourself, just leave her and be with me. 

Instead, you nod and mumble, “I know.” You take another small bite of the sandwich, hoping the sticky peanut butter will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth and keep you from saying something stupid and clingy. 

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you…do you regret it?”

It’s a loaded question. Do you regret letting Eddie Munson fuck you in his marriage bed—the one he shared with his wife—splitting you open while moaning about how good you felt? Not at all. Do you regret that it stirred up feelings that can’t be reciprocated because of his marital status? Absolutely. 

“No, I just wish…” you trail off, forgoing your original thought, lest it sound like an ultimatum. Instead, you pose a question of your own. “Saturday night, when you told me you cared about me…how did you mean that?”

He sighs, coming to a complete stop at the stop sign. Throwing the car in park, he turns to you with a look of longing and desire.

“Like this.” Eddie leans in and kisses you, tucking his upper lip under yours. His hand caresses your cheek, and he finishes it off with a soft bite to the plush of your lower lip. 

The honk of an irritated driver snaps you both from your passionate stupor, and Eddie uses his right hand to shift gears and his left to give a one-finger wave. You assume that that’s the end of the conversation until he speaks again. 

“I’ve cared about you since I saw how great you were with my kids,” he admits. “Tried to convince myself that it was just because, y’know, if something happened to you, it would affect them, but…”

“But?”

“But it was so much fuckin’ more than that.” He doesn’t have enough time to list all the ways he cares about you, the ways he dreams of loving and protecting you. “And now that I really know you, shit, I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

Eddie stops the car again, ignoring the angered shouting of the person in the vehicle behind you as he turns on the flashers. Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, his lips are on yours again. His large hands cup your face, the callouses giving you goosebumps as they glide over the soft skin of your cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach seem to float up into your head as you feel lightheaded when the two of you separate. 

Not wanting to truly bring that wall down and let him see just how much this is affecting you, you attempt to play it cool—hide how flustered his tender kiss has you. 

“And, uh,” you say, clearing your throat before you continue, “what you said about wanting to hear the noises I make…?”

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes darken, and it ignites a fire in your otherwise cold body. He leans in towards you and his voice is low and silky as he says, “I wanted to hear every. Single. Sound.”

It’s getting more difficult by the second to restrain yourself when he makes you want to climb into his lap right then and there.

“And do you? Do you, um, still want it?”

A groan comes from deep in his throat as his eyes never leave yours. “So fucking bad, baby.”

The intense hunger his eyes hold almost has you snapping and throwing yourself at him, but you manage to hold onto that last single thread of restraint you have. Instead, you figure this would be better in a place that isn’t being invaded by the frigid air or when anyone could look in at you two since you’re still in the middle of the road.

“Is anyone at your house?”

Instead of giving you an answer, Eddie puts the truck into drive and presses down on the gas pedal so hard that you think it will fall through the floor of the car. The sudden speed has you pressed to the back of your seat, and you laugh at how impatient he is to get you back to his place. 

“Fuck, I love that laugh,” Eddie mumbles more to himself than you. 

When you get to the house, it’s so hard not to tear into one another on your way to the front door—even with the biting chill in the air. But there are neighbors and the last thing that needs to happen is someone assuming anything is going on between Eddie and the babysitter and make Brittany out to be some kind of martyr. 

As soon as the door is closed behind you though, Eddie has his chest pressed up against your back, his warmth seeping into you.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t know where to touch you first,” he growls in your ear.

“How about…here.” You reach down for his hands and bring them under your shirt. Sliding them up your tummy, you settle his palms right on your breasts. There’s a big goofy grin on Eddie’s face as he gently squeezes at the bra-covered flesh.

“Love these, sweet girl.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head drop back against Eddie’s shoulder as he fondles you. 

“You have any idea how many times I thought about your hands on me like this? And other ways?” you ask, your breath bitching when his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“And what about your hands on me?” Eddie asks before pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck. 

“Mmm, thought about that too,” you admit. “But I mostly thought about my mouth on you.” You unzip his coveralls and drop to your knees, pushing his boxers down so you can take him in. Precum pearls at the tip of his cock, threatening to drip down the shaft along the thick vein that runs through it. 

You wrap your hand around the base, giving kitten licks to his leaking slit. 

“Don’t tease me, please,” Eddie whines, cupping his own balls briefly just for the extra sensation. 

You move them out of the way, settling in a bit more. “You mean like this?” you ask salaciously, pressing little kisses along the underside of his erection before sliding your tongue along it. 

The man whimpers like a damn puppy, clenching his fists and flexing his thighs in a feeble attempt to hang onto his sanity. 

“O-Okay, yeah, please, fuuuuuck,” he groans as you take all of him into your mouth. His legs twitch, and his knees nearly buckle and have him crumpling to the ground. “Yeah, right there…shit, thas’ perfect.”

Eddie’s pretty moans encourage you each time you bob your head and envelop him in the warmth of your mouth again. One of his hands rests gently on the top of your head; not grabbing or forcing, simply resting there as if he needs to be touching you in every possible way that he can. 

“Christ,” Eddie says with labored breath as he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ve imagined those pretty lips wrapped around m-my cock so many times. But fuck…nothing beats the actual sight of it. Love watching as I disappear inside your sweet little mouth.” 

His words have you moaning around his cock, sending delicious vibrations throughout his body. It’s enough to have him teetering on the edge. The hand that isn’t resting in your hair comes up and rubs over his face as he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Whimpers spill from Eddie’s lips like a prayer, and you start to move your head faster, trying to let your jaw hang looser. 

“Shit, baby,” Eddie manages through panting breaths, “I-I’m not gonna last.”

Keeping up your motions, not pausing for a moment, you moan around him to let him know what you want. You’ve dreamt — both daydreams and sleeping dreams — about him finishing inside your mouth and you need it to come true. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Another moan around his throbbing dick is how you deign to respond. “So close, princess. Being such a good girl for me—shit. My sweet girl has such a sinful tongue.”

His words have you practically dripping, and you need nothing more than for Eddie to peel your soaked panties off of you. One of your hands slides up and cups his balls, which has him practically keeling over. 

“Fuck! Babe, I’m gonna—I’m gonna, shit, I’m cumming.”

Eddie’s warm release fills your mouth, and the tangy taste is like heaven on your tongue. You make sure to milk him for everything that he’s got before you pull off and swallow it all. A little bit dribbles down the side of your mouth, but you catch it with your thumb and pop it into your mouth, making sure to get every last drop. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, trying to catch his breath. “C’mere.”  He tosses his coveralls and boxers aside and helps you off your knees and into the bedroom. “Show me that perfect fuckin’ body of yours.”

Anyone else ever saying that to you in your life would make you self-conscious and be tempted to hide yourself. But Eddie makes you feel safe and desired in a way you never thought possible. He wants to see you like this. It’s a dizzying thought.

You comply, heat blooming up your body towards your face as his gaze is trained on you while he makes himself comfortable up against the headboard. Every little movement, his eyes track it. It’s like you stripping down bare is a class he has to take and he’s the most studious student there ever was. By the time you’re slipping off the last offending item—your drenched panties—you’ve already forgotten that the heap of your clothes is there at the foot of the bed. 

Crawling up the mattress to him, you’re about to straddle his waist when he shakes his head. He scoots down a bit so his head is resting flat against his pillow.

“Want you to ride my face, sweet girl.”

The request catches you by surprise and you can’t help the pinch that forms on your brow.

“Are you sure?”

Instead of a sexy or witty remark, Eddie looks you dead in the eye so you know how serious he’s being. “If you don’t sit on my face right now, I will die.”

Leave it to Eddie to bring the theatrics into the bed with you. Still, you give him a skeptical look as you raise an eyebrow. 

“You might die if I do,” you say. 

“Bullshit,” Eddie says as he reaches for you. Despite your reluctance, you let him pull you up higher towards his mouth. Eddie knows you though and can tell there’s something else you want to say. He looks at you imploringly, doe eyes blinking up at you.

“No one’s ever even eaten me out before you did,” you admit. It surprises Eddie, but he puts a pin in that for later—right now he really needs you to sit on his face. 

“Well, let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, babe.” He gently tugs you up so that your pussy is hovering over his mouth. “Now, I’m gonna eat you out, and I need to hear your beautiful noises, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck,” he moans as he wraps his hands around your thighs and lowers you onto his lips. His tongue glides through your folds and fucks in and out of your hole. You seize the opportunity to grind your exposed clit against his nose. 

“Eddie, feels s’good,” you whimper. 

Eddie moves away for a second, and you frown at the loss of sensation. “I know you can be louder than that,” he grins before resuming his previous position. 

Nerves flood your body. You’re not used to being loud during sex; no guy before Eddie had even given you that urge. You will yourself to relax and let him take care of you, your hands gripping the headboard as you ride his face. 

“Yes, Eddie! Holy fucking shit,” you cry out, feeling his hold on your thighs tighten. “You’re gonna make me cum all over your face.” 

Eddie just gives a muffled hum of approval, moving his tongue but keeping his head still so you can keep rhythmically pressing your clit against his nose. His tongue is magic, fucking in and out of you like he can’t get enough. 

Your release hits you hard, and you lean back to brace your hands on his thighs as you ride out your high, practically screaming your moans loud enough for Peter to hear back on campus. Ironic that his persistence for a second date drove you into the arms—and bed—of another man. 

You keep whimpering “Eddie” over and over again as you come down, a pathetic little mewl that has him melting. He gently lays you on the bed and hovers over your gorgeous body, pressing kisses to your lips, smearing them with your own slick. 

“Love how you say my name, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a slight growl in his voice. “Also love how you taste.”

The word “love” plays on a loop in your head. You want to hear him say it about you. You want him to make love to you, not just fuck you. Could that fantasy ever come to fruition?

The touch of Eddie’s hand on yours interrupts your longing thoughts. He brings your palm to his cock, and you instinctively wrap your fingers around the hardened length.

“Got me hard again, baby,” Eddie hisses, “like a damn teenager or somethin’.”

You can’t hold back any longer, and the words spill out of you. “Inside me, Eddie,” you plead. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg, but I’d be lying if I said I hated it.” He smirks, watching as your hand glides up and down his erection. He hasn’t been this turned on since…well, since he came home to you wearing his clothes two nights ago. 

“Please, need you inside me, wanna feel how nice you fill me up.” You open your legs wider, and Eddie situates himself between them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for some friction. 

He’s got one hand on your right breast, the other holds his cock. “Ready for me?”

“Yes, yes, God yes.”

You feel him push into you, and you instinctively arch your back. His calloused hands slide around your waist as he gives slow, gentle thrusts until bottoming out. 

“How’s that? Y’good?”

“So, so good.” 

His thrusts get deeper and more intentional, and he grins when he hears the small moans escaping your lips. 

“E-Eddie?” Your voice is a strong whisper; it’s all you can manage with the way he’s pounding into you. 

“Yes, princess?” A shiver snakes its way down your spine at the nickname. Princess. You’re Eddie’s princess. 

You stumble over your words, flustered by the new pet name and anxious about how your next request will be received. “Can you, um, say what you said the other night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion as his hips keep a steady pace, unruly thatch of pubic hair deliciously grazing your clit. “I said a lot the other night, baby,” he chuckles. “You’ll have to be, uh, a little more specific.”

You try and push away the embarrassment, reminding yourself that you’re safe with Eddie. “When you said y-you were going to fill me so good and knock m-me up,” you try again, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation of a bad reaction. 

Eddie groans and gives an involuntary hard thrust of his hips. “Holy shit, you’re telling me you like that?” He throws his head back when you nod. “Fuck, baby girl, you have no idea how hot that is to me.”

“So hot,” you agree with another feeble nod of your head. 

Eddie grips your waist and flips the two of you so he’s leaning back against the headboard and you’re in his lap. “Shit, Princess. You want my babies, huh? Want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Won’t let any drip out of you, gotta keep it all in there.”

Your eyes practically roll back in your head. All you want is his babies, to walk around with a swell to your belly because Eddie Munson fucked you until he got you pregnant. 

“That’s it,” he continues through gritted teeth, “I know you can take it. Such a good girl, wanting all of my cum.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Munson,” you whimper pathetically, “I’m your good girl.”

Mr. Munson has his brain short-circuiting, and his hips snap upwards at a rapid pace. He wants this to last forever, but the way you look and feel has him on the edge of release once more. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. Call me ‘Mr. Munson’ again, baby,” Eddie pleads, pupils blown wide as he begs to hear your beautiful voice. 

“Mmm, want your babies, Mr. Munson!” You watch as he throws his head back at the sound of your moans, keeping his frantic pace. “Ri-Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

The two of you come down from your highs together, you slumped against his chest and his hands resting on your bare back. 

“M’pretty sure that’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” Eddie finally manages through heaving breaths.

You peek up at him with incredulous eyes. “Really?”

“Hell fuckin’ yes.” He leans down and presses soft kisses along the expanse of your neck. “Everything about you turns me on so ridiculously much. It’s insane. The more I learn about you, the hotter you get.”

You grin to yourself and nuzzle your head against his chest. “Was the best for me, too,” you admit.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow in disbelief. There’s no way he can compete with the younger guys throwing themselves at you…is there?

“Are you kidding?” You look up at him with a shy smile. “All you have to do is look at me and I get wet.”

“Good to know,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. He turns away for a moment before whipping his head back around, peering at you dramatically. “How ‘bout now?”

You press your lips to his in what’s supposed to be a romantic kiss, but your smiles get in the way. 

“Hey, uh, did you…” he starts, clears his throat, and then tries again. “Was I really the first guy to eat you out?”

You nod, downcasting your eyes in embarrassment. “No one ever offered, but I never asked or anything, so…”

Eddie takes your chin in his hand and pulls your gaze back to him. “You never have to ask me,” he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “I love being able to make you feel good. If I ever turn down eating your pussy, call an ambulance, because I clearly need medical attention.”

Giggling, you go to rest your head on his shoulder when you catch sight of the clock on his bedside table. “Oh, I have to go get the boys,” you say, trying not to sound too disappointed. 

“Pretty sure we left a trail of clothes around the house. You go get the troublemakers; I’ll clean up.”

You nod and lean up to press a tender kiss to his lips. He cups your face in his hands and just stares. “Don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs, just short of a whine. 

“I won’t be long,” you whisper against his lips.

“Hurry back,” he calls out dramatically, but he’s only half-joking. All he wants is you in his bed, tangled in the sheets, touching each other like you’ll never get enough. 

You reach for your purse and dig out your keys. “Wait, I don’t have my car. You picked me up from campus.”

“Take my truck, baby,” Eddie offers, taking his own set of keys from the coveralls laying on the ground and tossing them to you. “We can take the kids to the park or something then the Munson men will bring you back to your car.”

“Such gentlemen.” You giggle when Eddie bows, still fully naked. 

It feels like a scavenger hunt to find all the articles of clothing you’d shed, but you’re finally able to get dressed and dart out of the house to pick up Ryan and Luke from school. 

When you return back, small Munsons in tow, the scent of just-fried bacon wafts past your nostrils. 

“That is the best smell in the world,” Luke declares. He walks towards the kitchen as if he’s in a trance.

You follow behind him and Ryan and see Eddie washing a frying pan out in the sink. 

“Daddy!” Luke clings to Eddie’s hips, surprised to see his dad home early. He squeezes him tight, and Eddie has to swallow his emotions before turning around to greet him. 

“Hey, buddy.” He drops the pan and sponge in the sink and scoops Luke up and presses a kiss to his head, then ruffles Ryan’s hair. 

“Bacon smells good,” Ryan says, peering at the counter where the strips lay on oil-soaked Bounty sheets. 

“Thought it could be a snack for the ride to the park. How’s that sound?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer. 

Both boys cheer, with Luke breaking out into some sort of kung-fu inspired happy dance. His little feet shuffle back and forth along the kitchen tile while his little hands punch the air. 

Eddie just laughs and tells his sons, “Go change out of your school clothes and grab your heavy coats.”

Once they’re out of the kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at Eddie and speak softly to him. “Hungry after such a vigorous workout?”

“A little.” He chuckles and gives a shrug. “But really, I was paranoid that it would smell like sex in here.”

You giggle and cover your mouth, worried that you’re too loud. The last thing you need is for the boys to ask what’s so funny. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispers, kissing just under your earlobe. 

Ryan and Luke come back into the kitchen before you can respond, so you just stand there flustered. It goes unnoticed, since the boys ramble on as the food gets packed up, sneakers are tied, and doors are locked. 

“This is the best day ever!” Luke announces, opening the car door and climbing into his booster seat. 

“I agree.” Eddie throws a wink in your direction, and your stomach does a flip as you buckle your seatbelt. 

Maybe there is more than just lust between you and Mr. Munson. 

[valluvsberries]

“I won’t let you fall! I promise!”

Max mayfield x fem!reader #✧!

Warnings!: kissing! 💋

Summary !: Max teaches you how to skateboard!🛹🍓

it was cool autumn day in Hawkins, Indiana. y/n was with her best friend, Max. they were in Max’s room eating all sorts of candy that they got from trick or treating. just as y/n was talking, max glanced over at her skateboard that was leaned up against the wall then back to y/n’s pretty face. an idea instantly popped up in the redheads mind.

“then I was all like-.” “wanna learn how to skate board?”

“Huh?” the y/h/c haired girl asked the redhead in confusion.

“I said ‘’wanna learn how to skateboard’’. I could teach you..!” The redhead repeated and put a skittles in her mouth.

“uh-.” The next thing y/n knew, the two were both outside in front of Max’s house. Max set down the skateboard onto the pavement.

“I don’t know, Max..What if I fall?” Asked y/n. A hint of worry in her expression.

“I won’t let you fall! I promise!” Said Max with a grin as she urged y/n to go on the skateboard.

“plus! I will be right beside you the whole time! you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She adds.

y/n nods slowly and hesitantly gets onto the skateboard, wobbling as she does so.

“Oh my god…oh my god..” y/n muttered as she unconsciously grabbed max’s hand. max felt her face heat up and her heart skip a beat at the sudden contact but brushed it off.

The redhead chuckles. "See! You're doing great so far! Now just push off." Max said as she watched the y/h/c girl beside her.

y/n carefully pushes off, gripping Max’s hand tighter as she felt herself wobble. Max tried to focus on helping y/n not fall off but she couldn’t help but move her gaze to y/n’s face. She would be lying if she said she didn’t have a thing for the girl. y/n was an absolutely mesmerizing in her eyes. The way her e/c eyes shined in the sun. Max’s most favourite part about y/n though was her lips. Her soft, pink lips. She loved the way they would curl into that pretty smile of hers whenever she was happy. Max always wondered what it would feel like to have her lips on-

“AHH-!” Was heard from the y/h/c haired girl as she fell off the skate, bringing the redhead down with her.

Max let out a yelp and fell down with the girl. Max felt something land on top of her once she reached the ground. She hesitantly opened her eyes to see y/n on top of her. The redheads cheeks felt like they were on fire as they turned a bright red. y/n didn’t look any better though as her cheeks were also bright red. The two stared at each other, no words coming out of either of their mouths. Max couldn’t help but gaze at y/n’s lips. They looked so soft and pink. Max bit the inside of her cheek nervously, not saying anything. But just as y/n was going to say something, she was almost immediately cut off by the redhead smashing her lips against hers. Y/n let out a surprised gasp before kissing back softly. Max didn’t want this moment to end. She finally got to know what it felt like to kiss y/n. And it felt good. More than good actually. Max would say it felt amazing. y/n pulls away with red cheeks, her eyes wide, her expression almost confused as to what just happened. Max didn’t look any better than y/n did though. She as well had red flushed cheeks and looked almost scared to hear what y/n would say.

“What the hell just happened.” y/n said as she looked at max. blushing furiously. Max chuckled.

“I kissed you, silly” max said, trying to act like it was nothing. But it was obviously something to her. She finally kissed you for gods sake!

“God..well I know that…but why? Why’d you kiss me?”

Max felt her heart beat quicken as y/n asked her that. The redhead said the first thing that came to her mind…

“Cuz I like you. Duh.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as max said that.

“Oh..well..what if I told you that I like you too…”

SORRY I HAVEN’T POSTED IN SO LONG!

I’ve been meaning to but haven’t found the time to post!😞

but here I am! With another Max mayfield imagine.!

Too lazy to proof read😋

Max is bae.😛

[callie-the-creator]

nsfw alphabet with…

cw. mdni.

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

like any man after sex, he’s going to become incredibly tired and is bound to fall asleep a few minutes after you two are done. he needs it, especially after the hell he goes through whenever he goes on his archeological adventures. but in the small window of time before he goes to bed, he spends that time pampering you with love. he’ll shower your neck, shoulders, and chest in kisses while he has his strong arms wrapped around your body.

b - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

it’s no secret that indy is a bit of a womanizer and in his years of experience, he has grown incredibly confident in his own skin. with that being said, i think to say that his favorite attribute of his has to be either his hair or…y’know…the schlong.

yours though? i think it’s safe to say that he’s a sucker for your beautiful eyes and thighs…hey, that rhymed!

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

indiana would 100% respect your boundaries. you don’t want him to cum inside? that’s perfectly fine— is your chest a suitable substitute?

d - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

n/a. sorry! i can’t really think of anything for him. i feel like he’d be an open book to you when it comes to all things sexual and wouldn’t want to hide anything from you.

e - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

of course! indiana has lots of experience, so there is no need to worry when he’s taking care of you.

f - favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary or doggy. i will not elaborate further.

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

if he hasn’t been able to see or touch you in weeks or months because he’s out somewhere in the world on another one his adventures, by the time he gets back home he is not a force to be reckoned with. he would be deadly serious and a touch from you would calm him down in a heartbeat. of course, he has a goofy side to him. he is not afraid to be a bit corny.

h - hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

realistically, i think he’d try to keep it trimmed. he has a well amount of body hair, but nothing too overwhelming. if you don’t believe me, just look at his beautiful chest hair. awooga!

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

it truly depends on his mood. indiana could praise and cherish you as if you were some sort of ancient deity one night and treat you the complete opposite the next.

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

yes, he does jerk off, not a lot, just when you’re not around to help. he mainly does it on his expeditions since you’re safe at home and he can rest easy knowing that you’re not about to get yourself hurt trying to retrieve whatever artifact he’s searching for. but the truth is that his hand pales in comparison to you…

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

something tells me he has a ‘daddy’ kink. he’s fond of any name that gives him a sense of power and he also loves being called other things whether that is ‘sir’, ‘doctor’, or even ‘professor’.

l - location (favorite places to do the do)

strictly the bedroom, but if you’re nice and persuade him long enough, then maybe he’ll have some fun with you in his office.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

nothing folds his man quicker than seeing you in a skirt or even a nice dress. though…he will admit that he just loves seeing you get all coy and shy around him. you not to mention the noises you make when he fucks you get him even more hard than he already is, especially little high pitched squeaks you struggle to hold in but they escape past your lips nonetheless.

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no blindfolds, handcuffs, fearplay, or anything like that. indiana has been captured times countless times and evaded many foes. going into the things listed before would throw this man for a major loop.

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

indiana finds oral a little weird at first, but you were able to change his mind real quick. he usually prefers to receive but always makes sure you’re satisfied, whether you cum on his tongue, his fingers, or his cock. but he’ll have you have free range when you’re going down on him, but when it’s his turn? he’ll make sure to be gentle with you…unless you prefer him to be a bit rough with you. he is at your very command.

p - praise (are they complementary toward their partner?)

oh, absolutely! you already know this man is going to call you every pet name in the book when you two are making love. honey, sweetheart, you name it.

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

i am a firm believer that indiana would take his time with you. so, no funny business! while he doesn’t necessarily support the idea, he definitely won’t reject the idea if you were to offer.

r - risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

no. nope. absolutely not. he’s a professor, for goodness sake! he has a reputation to uphold. of course, if you were abroad on a vacation, trip, or adventure…then that’s another story entirely.

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

in a row? indiana usually go one or two before he passes out, but he makes it for in stamina. he’ll probably fuck you until the break of dawn if you were to give him the proper chance.

t - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

n/a. i am not knowledgeable in sex toys from this time, so i don’t think i can really answer this part. sorry!

u - unfair (do they like to tease their partner?)

hohoho, you’re in a wild ride. indiana can be a huge tease when he wants to be, he enjoys how dependent you are on him for pleasure and sometimes he’ll leave you on the edge just to hear you whine and beg for him. he’s a master at knowing when you’re just about to finish and he’ll pull back while you shake, so close it hurts.

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i don’t think he’s all that loud. in fact, i think mainly narrows down to grunts and lots of praises (bonus points if his voice cracks or is raspy in the moment).

w - wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

n/a. i got nothing…

x - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

in terms of length, i would say that indiana is slightly above average.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

about average, but with all those expeditions away from you? it might as well have increased his sex drive because he can’t stop thinking about you. he needs to focus! those artifacts aren’t going to find themselves, after all.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as i said before, it doesn’t take long…i’ll give it abouuuut…5 minutes tops.

[mashbrainrot]

Henry Blake in 'The Interview'

In 2006, Larry Gelbart wrote dialogue imagining Trapper, Henry Blake, and Colonel Flagg had featured in the M*A*S*H episode 'The Interview'. Here is Henry's, with the original available to read here via Google Groups.

REPORTER: How does it feel, having the responsibility for saving such a great number of lives? HENRY: We just take ’em one or two, sometimes maybe twenty at a time. The big trick is not to start thinking of ’em as numbers – as just so many stats that go into a report that winds up in somebody’s filing cabinet under “out of sight, out of mind.” You’ve gotta always remember that what you’re dealing with is hurt people, people that have been run over by a war. REPORTER: And not just – HENRY: You gotta remember to take a peek at the odd dog tag now and then and remind yourself that that dangling leg or busted gut you’re going to try and put back together again is somebody’s dad or son or boyfriend – that all that blood and guts soiling your linen belongs to somebody that’s got a name attached to him.

REPORTER: You can’t afford to lose your sense of humanity. HENRY: There’s just so many senses you can lose over here. REPORTER: Humor not being one of them, obviously. HENRY: Around here laughter’s just crying without the tears. REPORTER: You have a family back home, sir? HENRY: In Bloomington. The one in Illinois, not in Indiana – unless things have changed since I went away. REPORTER: You keep in touch with them, of course, your family. HENRY: We write, we phone. Far apart as we are, I don’t think we’ve ever been closer. REPORTER: Would you like to say hello to them on television? HENRY: Be better if this was kissovision, but, yeah, can I? REPORTER: Go right ahead. HENRY: Lorraine? Hi, honey. Hi, kids. I got your report cards this morning and I had Radar go out post ’em on the bulletin board here so everybody can see why I’m so darn proud of you. Especially how you’re doing in math. You must get those brains from your mom. Got to be. Old as I am, I still don’t know how many tens to give someone for a five-dollar bill. (TO REPORTER) Thanks. REPORTER: That it? HENRY: That’s it. (TO CAMERA) Except I’m counting the days till we’re back together again. REPORTER: You have any idea when that will be? HENRY: I try not to have too many ideas. There’s always someone who ranks you who’s sure you’ll agree he’s got a better one. REPORTER: When you do finally get home, what are you going to tell your children is the biggest lesson being over here has taught you? HENRY: To always try to work things out, I guess. Whatever those things might happen to be. You don’t make your point killing the other guy. Even if you do it’s kind of wasted if the other guys not around to get the message. REPORTER: You seem – if all may so, Colonel – you seem near exhaustion. HENRY: What I am mostly is tired of being tired. We’re supposed to be a hospital but it’s more like a chop shop around here. We’re up to our elbows in people that other people are doing their best to chop down. REPORTER: That doesn’t lead to a lot of sleep, I would imagine. HENRY: I used to think of sleeping in terms of hours. How many did I get last night, how many will I get to steal tonight. I’m down to minutes now. It’s like somebody broke one hand off the clock. REPORTER: Does that ever affect your performance? HENRY: I fell asleep a few weeks ago in the middle of resecting a patient’s bowel. How’s that for exhausted? REPORTER: Does that fishing hat mean there are those times when you do get to get away from it all? HENRY: What it means is that I have to fish for those times. And let me say, the biting’s pretty poor. REPORTER: Business is too good around here. HENRY: Let’s just say it takes a whole lot longer to take a bullet out of a belly than it does putting one into one. REPORTER: Thank you, sir. HENRY: Can I say one more thing? REPORTER: Of course. HENRY: I just want you to know we all here are grateful for this visit you’ve paid us, this attention you’re paying to the job we’re doing. You get the feeling sometimes, being over here that, aside from our families, we’ve kind of dropped off the planet, that we’ve been kind of disinvited to the party – like everyone back home is busy living their real lives and for us to give them a call when we get back to town. (TO REPORTER) That sound too preachy? REPORTER: It sounded just fine, Colonel. HENRY: Henry. I’m a lot more a Henry than I’ll ever be colonel. REPORTER: Thank you, Henry. HENRY: Tell me the truth: didn’t that feel better? REPORTER: You’re an excellent doctor. HENRY: Hey – that’s why I’m over here getting 300 hundred dollars a month.

[reitsportportal]

Malin Bayard-Johnsson gewinnt den CHI AL SHAQAB - GRAND PRIX mit 0,04 Sekunden Vorsprung

Malin Bayard-Johnsson und H&M Indiana mit unglaublichem Tempo zum Sieg Die besten zwölf Reiterinnen und  Reiter kämpften in der zweiten Runde des CHI AL SHAQAB – GRAND PRIX um den Sieg und ein Preisgeld von insgesamt 410.000,00 Euro. John Whitaker, der  mit 68 Jahren noch immer in der Weltspitze dabei ist, eröffnete die Entscheidung mit  einem harmonischen und schön anzuschauenden fehlerfreien …

[eddievanhammettmunson]

Timezone

Rockstar Eddie Munson x AFAB reader

Author’s note- hola my ghouls, goblins and fellow gremlins. This fic is based on the song Timezone by Måneskin. I recommend going and giving it a listen. Anyway, enjoy.

Warnings- cursing, smut. Unprotected p in v. Oral (m receiving)

Summary- Eddie is on tour with corroded coffin missing his girl. 3k words

*You're wearing my old clothes, but you, you wear it better. And every time I see your face, the moon should be jealous*

“Hey sweetheart”

“Hey Ed’s. Why are you calling? Shouldn’t you be getting ready”

“Yeah I just wanted to hear your voice. What are you doing right now?”

“Laying in bed….wearing your shirt. I miss you Ed’s.”

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He misses you too. Like crazy actually. He thought living out his dreams would be more fun but it’s proving to be exhausting and without you by his side everything is taking a toll on him.

“I miss you too doll. I gotta go get ready but keep my shirt on will ya? Looks better on you anyway.”

“I will. Hardly take your clothes off anymore since you left. Have fun at the show Ed’s. I love you.”

*And I’ll keep talking to the wall ‘till he’s a friend of mine

I call you every hour just to tell you that I’m losing my mind*

After the show the first thing Eddie does is run off stage and call you. Even though you just spoke on the phone before the show. It’s become more like this lately. Not being able to stand being apart from your voice even.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hi Ed’s. Why are you calling so late?”

“I’m going crazy here without you doll. Being stuck on these buses and planes with Gareth and the guys is driving me crazy. God I miss you.”

“I miss you too Ed’s you know that but look on the bright side. You’re out there following your dreams. Now I hate to do this Ed’s but I have to go. I'm supposed to be asleep right now and I have work in the morning okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweets.”

You hang up the phone and go to sleep hugging yourself in your bed.

*Now I know you’re sleeping

Where I’m supposed to be in

Wish I could have stayed*

After you hang up the phone Eddie sighs on the other end. He goes back to his room for the night and strums away on his guitar for a bit lost in thought. Every thought in his mind are just thoughts of you and how it would be to hold you right now. How it would feel to be inside you, beside you, always. He falls asleep holding his guitar.

*Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone*

The next day at practice a fight broke out between Gareth and Eddie. Eddie storms off and goes to sit in his room when Gareth knocks on the door.

“Fuck off man!”

“Fuck you Eddie open the door so we can work this out”

Eddie sighs and opens the door and Gareth walks in and sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed.

“Eddie what the fuck is going on with you man? You’re so on edge, man.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands down his face.

“I don’t know man. I just….”

“You just what?”

“I miss y/n man. And Wayne. It’s just a lot harder being away from home than I thought.”

Gareth walks over to Eddie and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie, it's okay to miss them. I miss my family too.”

“I’m going crazy, man I really am. If I could just see her or have her here it would be better you know?”

*Tomorrow I got another plane, I'm not gonna take it

Instead, I'm gonna fly straight to you, I paid double for the tickets*

At the airport the next day Eddie sat in the terminal debating. The rest of the band is flying off to Vegas for their next concert in 4 days and he’s supposed to be getting on that plane. But then why is he standing here looking at flights to Indiana.

“Eddie!”

Gareth calls Eddie across the terminal. If he’s gonna get on that plane he has to do it now.

“Eddie!”

“I’ll catch you in Vegas Gareth.”

“Where the hell are you going man.”

“I’m going to see my girl.”

“You’re gonna be in such deep shit man.”

“It’s worth it if I get to see her.”

Eddie walks up to the counter and requests a ticket to Indiana for tonight. They make him pay twice as much for an economy ticket cause there’s only 1 seat left on the plane. Eddie feels like the luckiest guy in the world. Getting on the plane he knows it was the right call. He doesn’t even know if you’ll be home when he gets there but if you aren’t he’ll just wait till you get home.

*And I don't give a shit about the contracts that I signed

And they can say whatever, we'll be making love, I'm fucking you tonight*

Eddie doesn’t get into Hawkins until around 10 pm and when he finally gets back to your home it’s around 10:30. He hopes you’re not asleep but he can tell you’re not by the way the light in the living room is still on. He realises you’re probably waiting for him to call you cause he hasn’t called all day. Part of him feels bad cause he knows you’re probably worried but he can’t bring himself to feel too bad when he knows he’s about to see you.

He walks up to the door and knocks. He hears some shuffling and the unlocking of the door when it suddenly swings open and you’re standing there in his Metallica t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“Eddie! What the hell are y-“

You’re cut off mid sentence by Eddie tackling you back in the breath snatching hug. His face is tucked into your neck and he’s hugging you so hard you can hardly breathe. You hold onto him and run your hands up and down his back in a soothing motion until he finally lets go and steps back just enough to brush some hair out of your face.

“Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi Ed’s.”

Something in your face didn’t look overjoyed to see him. He became concerned that maybe you were mad he was here.

“Everything okay sweets?”

“Yeah Ed’s.”

“You look a little mad sweetheart?”

“Oh no no no! Eddie I’m not mad! God you have no idea how happy I am to see you right now. I’m just worried. What happened? What about the contracts and the concerts? Don’t you have obligations.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands up and down your arms.

“Yeah I’m gonna be in a little trouble when I meet up with the guys in Vegas in a couple days. But fuck all that sweetheart. Fuck everything. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of trying to do this without you. I need you. I need you so fucking bad it’s not even funny. I’ve been losing my mind without you. Fuck the contracts right now. I’ll deal with the consequences later. Just. Just tell me you need me too?”

“Of course I need you Eddie. I’ll always need you.”

“Then will you come with me?”

“What?”

“Come with me. When I go back on tour. I need you there with me babe. I can’t do it without you.”

“I’ll think about it okay. Just tell me what you need at this moment.”

“I need to make love to you right now. I’m fucking you tonight okay baby?”

“Of course Ed’s.”

Eddie captures you in a heated kiss and lifts you off of the ground and carries you into the bedroom. He sets you down gently on the edge of the bed and stands at the end of it. He begins to undress himself and you do the same until you’re both naked at the end of the bed.

“Here rockstar. Let me help you out a bit.”

“What are yo-“ Eddie watches as you get onto your knees. You reach up and stroke his cock until it’s hardened in your hand. You pay special attention to the tip as you drool a little bit on the end and use your drool to smear down the shaft and work your way back up.

Eddie is a moaning mess above you.

“Oh f-fuck sweetheart. You have no idea how much I missed this.”

“How about this?”

“How about wh-OH FUCK”

Is all Eddie manages to say before you’ve taken him into your mouth quickly and sank down until he’s hitting the back of your throat and you’re gagging. You suck anyway. Bobbing your head up and down and up and down faster and faster as Eddie loses all composure above you. He’s got his hand in your hair guiding your head.

You press your tongue up against his tip and suck the precum leaking from him and he thinks he might just lose his load then and there so he reluctantly pulls your head off his cock.

“What happened Eddie? Did I bite you or something?”

“No no no sweetie I just really wanna fuck your right now and if I let you keep going I was gonna lose it all.”

“We’ve got all night for you to fuck me eddie.”

“I know baby I know but I need this right now. I need you right now. Not just your mouth baby. I wanna make love to you.”

Eddie kneels down to your level and places a kiss on your lips before pushing you to where your back is against the mattress. He slithers a hand between the two of you while you kiss and he begins to rub your clit for a little while until he thinks you’re wet enough.

He removes his hand from your clit and you whine at the loss of contact. You watch as he begins reaching into the night stand to retrieve a condom but you grab his arm and stop him. He looks down at you in shock.

“Fuck sweetheart are you sure?”

“Yeah Ed’s. I’ve missed you so fucking much. Need to feel you. All of you.”

“Holy fucking shit baby you can’t just say shit like that to me you’re gonna make me bust before I’m even in you.”

You laugh and slap his arm and he laughs and leans in to kiss you. The kiss becomes all tongue and clashing teeth as the two of you grind into each other harder and harder until either of you can’t stand not being joined as one.

He spreads your legs and lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in. The stretch is divine. After being gone for a few months you feel incredibly tight to Eddie and he almost feels like he’s going to pass out from the pleasure he’s feeling. Not only is he getting to fuck you right now. But he’s getting to fuck you raw. Boy you both have got it bad for each other.

But Eddie meant it when he said he wanted to make love to you. He pulls out almost all the way and then pushes back in roughly and all the air is knocked out of you. Every stroke is deep and slow. The roll of his hips is a steady rhythm. He’s hanging onto the head bored behind you as he needs it to steady himself as he fucks into you so deeply.

You’ve pretty much already melted beneath him but when he finds that one spongy spot inside you that makes your entire body convulse around him he knows to hit that spot. With the next roll of his hips he sneaks the hand not holding the headboard down between the two of you and begins rubbing your clit in figure eights.

You’re holding onto him for dear life. Scratching down his back with your nails. Running your fingers through his hair.

He pulls back to look into your eyes and you’re overcome with emotion. All the love you two have for each other is pouring out at this moment. You can see and feel how much he loves you and you just can’t hold back as you begin to sob.

Eddie seems to understand as he reaches he rests his forehead against yours and you hear him sniffle a little bit. He rolls his hips again and you let out a broken moan through tears. Grabbing onto him even tighter than you thought you could.

Instead of stopping Eddie just leans down and licks the tears off your face and pushes in a little deeper and you can begin to feel your orgasm building in your tummy. Eddie knowing you and knowing your tells can tell you’re close and knows he’s rushing towards his orgasm as well.

Eddie begins kissing and sucking all over your body. Marking you up and leaving hickies all over you. His mouth reaches your breasts and latches on to your nipple and begins to suck away.

The combination of his cock driving into you, his mouth on your breast, and his hand on your clit is enough to have you hurtling towards the edge. Screaming Eddie’s name into the night.

Eddie keeps driving into you chasing his own orgasm as he begins to speed up. You want to ensure you feel all of him so you wrap your legs around him to prevent him from pulling out.

“F-fuck sweets are you sure?”

“Yes Eddie. P-please cum in me I need to f-feel you”

Eddie cums right then and there. His whole body is rigid as your body milks him for all he’s worth and he paints your walls white. He swears in that moment he’s never cum that much or that hard in his life.

His body slumps on top of yours and he wraps his hands behind your back and presses you into him as he leaves tiny kisses up and down your shoulder as the both of you breathe deeply.

The two of you fall asleep cuddled in each other breathing each other in.

*Now I know you're sleeping

Where I'm supposed to be in

Wish I could've stayed*

The next 2 days are over in a flash and before you know it you’re standing in the airport saying your goodbye to Eddie. You decided not to join him on the last leg of his tour because he only had a few more cities to go before he’d be home anyway and you couldn’t afford to take the time off work. But you promised you’d go with him on the next tour and this time as he said goodbye you sent him off with a kiss, a scrunchie, and a box full of Polaroids to look at.

“Sweetheart you’re sure you don’t wanna come with me?”

“Wanting and being able to are two different things, Eddie. Of course I want to go with you. But I think we both know I can’t right now. We’ll call each other everyday and then see each other in a few weeks anyway when the tour is over. You can make it Eddie. It’s your dream, remember.”

“My dream doesn’t mean shit without you honestly.”

You laugh a little bit and wipe a stray tear.

“I promise I’ll come with you on the next tour in a few months Eddie. But you always have me. Whether I’m with you in person or not. This is your dream and I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back. It’ll all be worth it.”

He kisses you on the forehead and you watch as he boards the plane and takes off. You both cry when the other person can’t see you.

Eddie lands in Vegas and gets in trouble with his team but says it was worth it and that he’ll most likely do it again in the future.

*Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone*

The rest of the tour goes well. Eddie and you call each other pretty much everyday when you’re able to. Eddie still misses you like crazy and of course you miss him but being able to see him for those couple days really helped the both of you. Eddie came back to the tour feeling refreshed from seeing his girl. His arguments with the bad went way down in numbers. But he still couldn’t wait for the tour to be over. Eddie began a countdown till when he’d be able to see you again.

“3 more days Gareth!”

“3 more days till what Eddie?”

“3 more days till the tours over Gareth? Duh! 3 more days till I can see my girl again!”

Gareth laughs and leaves Eddie’s room.

*So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone*

Three days later Eddie plays his last concert in Los Angeles and thanks the crowd. He dedicates his last song to his girlfriend back home. Once the concert is over the first thing Eddie does is rush off stage and find the nearest phone where he dials your number.

“Hi Ed’s! How was the show?”

“It was a great show baby, the crowd was amazing. You know what’s even more amazing?”

“What’s amazing baby?”

“The fact that I have a flight an hour from now.”

“What! Eddie, I thought you wouldn’t be home till tomorrow at the earliest!”

“Pulled some strings baby. I’m coming home. Be ready. Once I get home you’re not getting rid of me. No more separation.”

“Never. I’ll be ready when you get here Eddie.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[francicide]

stuff i found from my very early 2023/late 2022 pronouny. uhh.

tags: @id-pack-archive

NAMES

pt: Names end pt

Howard, whistler, vincent, edward, bruce, samuel, joesph, prophet, neo, norman, romeo, kingston, henry, jerome, jeremiah, carnival, jack, artie, amnesia, vegas, harvey, julie, jim, jason, louis, max, winston, lucky, pluto, allison, clarice, lora, hector, apollo, valentino, alastar, laurence, veronica, rosemary, victor, rouge, addison, francisco, wilson, oswald, william, sparky, frankie, rocket, fang, cat, lyric, scarlet, benny, junk, hyde, sadie, eight, domino, chance, roulette, asrael, mustang, molly, cameron, anubis, clark, kent, jake, steven, wasp, chrome, fred, spring, haywire, sunny, bonnie, ashton, renard, voss, nathaniel, oscar, peter, junebug, wombat, indiana, mortie, noir, vannie, cabbie, newton, lloyd, cherry, goldie, miguel, dave, bill, horror, confetti, muse

PRONOUNS

pt: Pronouns end pt

he/him, it/its, ink/inks, sh?/h?r, h?/h?m, th☆y/th☆m, fle/flesh, rit/ritual, haha/haha, invest/investigate, cri/crime, myst/mystery, ax/axe, bit/bite, bon/bone, brai/brain, bug/bug, bu/burn, carni/carnivore, ch/chaos, chor/chord, clow/clown, clu/clue, core/cores, co/coin, dia/dial, foe/foes, fun/funs, goo/goop, gui/tar, gut/guts, hope/hopes, joke/jokes, lie/lies, lo/loop, lord/lords, mask/masks, mob/mobs, mon/ster, note/notes, officer/officers, or/organ, rabi/rabid, ret/ro, ring/rings, save/savior, shee/sheep, sheri/sheriff, skull/skulls, song/songs, ma/smart, star/fish, sta/static, tru/truth, wor/ship, i/me, h*/h*m, [redacted]/[redacted], @/@s, #/#s, ☆/☆s, 🦇/🦇s, 🥩/🥩s, 🔪/🔪s, 🕊️/🕊️s/, 🐧/🐧s, dis/disease, abyss/abyssal, ae/aer, ang/angel, anim/animal, anti/antis, arcade/arcades, bari/baritones, a/aro, ay/am, bun/buns, bun/bunny, byte/bytes, cat/cats, choke/chokes, ci/cipher, cor/corpse, cor/corv, crea/create, creep/creeps, cry/cries, dae/dem, dead/deads, dea/death, doll/dolls, drop/drip, elec/tric, eu/euro, eye/strain, fa/faun, fla/flare, fi/fire, fix/fixs, fi/fizzy, fool/fools, four/fourth, fox/foxs, fluff/fluffs, fur/furs, gala/galas, gho/ghost, giggle/giggles, gli/glitch, gli/glitter, gi/grr, gore/gores, grime/grimes, hab/habit, heir/heirs, honk/honks, hy/hyena, hy/hym, hymn/hymns, hx/hxm, hum/hums, hu/hush, hyp/hyper, idol/idols, kin/kins, kni/knight, lol/lols, lost/sheep, lo/love, mad/mads, medi/medical, meow/meows, mim/mimicks, mir/miracle, moo/moos, moon/moons, mo/mourn, musi/music, ni/night, no/non, nov/nova, of/ofs, op/oprea, other/others, pain/pains, paw/paws, pos/sum, poison/poisons, polyb/polybius, rabbi/rabbit, racc/raccoon, rai/rains, ram/rams, rat/rats, rawr/rawrz, rep/tile, ribb/ribbit, rule/ruler, scene/scenes, sea/seas, se/ser, sly/slim, spark/sparks, star/stars, stim/stims, survivor/survivors, syn/synth, the/then, thou/thee, vamp/vamps, voi/voids, vi/rus, were/wolf, whisp/whisps, wing/wings, woo/wools, wol/wolf, wy/wire, wyv/wyvern, xe/xeno, xyz/xyz, you/your, ze/zer, kit/kits, thon/thons, eel/eels, pey/pen, pocket/pockets, chemic/chemical, moss/mosses, dem/demo, lin/linen, unknown/unknowns, hi/hiss, ith/iths, mal/ware, crow/crows, nor/mal, code/codes, cy/cyber, shark/sharks, woof/woofs, silly/sillys, .doc/.docs, .exe/.exes, k9/k9s, h3/h1m, sh3/h3r, 3rr0r/3rr0rs, 0/0s, 3/3s, 6/6/s, 7/7s, 9/9s, 𖤐/𖤐s, ███/███, 💤/💤s, 🐁/🐁s, 🎶/🎶s, 🐚/🐚s, 🕹️/🕹️s, 🪱/🪱s, 🩹/🩹s, 🐍/🐍s, 💉/💉s, 🧿/🧿s, ✒️/✒️s, ⛓️/⛓️s, 🃏/🃏s, 🦴/🦴s, 🎭/🎭s, ☎️/☎️s, 🎲/🎲s, 🌕/🌖s, 🦈/🦈s

and ̴̡͈̜̙̜̫͉͈̲̺̦͕̦̳̒͌͐̓̉̆̀͆̓͘/̴̼̹͑ ̸̛̝̩̫̫̲̱̎͌̇̑̇̑̀̕̕/̵̤̺̣̝͙̱̙͋̋̍̈́̓̽ ̶̛͇̙̺͔̬͓̼̭̭̞̗͖̙͗́̎̆͛͌͝ ̶̨̬̙̤͍̮̗̙̟͉̊͑ͅ/̴̧̧̲̟̏̎͒̍̕

TITLES

pt: Titles end pt

The creature, prn who loves glitchcore, prn who embodies retrocore, prn who loves aesthetics, the creature, prn who is an angel, prn who loves obscure media/things, the loud one, the roleplayer, prn before who prn is now, prn who loves 2010 (games).

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Could you do the fluff alphabet with Robin Buckley?<3

Fluff Alphabet

A/N: this took awhile sorry bout that but it's here so hope you like it!(and to the person who requested Bruce, I don't write for him, sorry!)

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?) Robin admires your kindness and how nice you are to your friends and strangers.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?) Robin's favorite part of your body is your hands, she loves drawing little doodles on them when she's absolutely bored out of her mind.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?) Robin is mostly the little spoon, she likes to be held but she doesn't mind being the big spoon, she loves the way your body fits with hers.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?) Robin's ideal date with you is really anything, could be a picnic in the park, late night drive that feels like forever, a movie night, etc.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?) Robin isn't one to hide away how she feels but ofc her crush on you was just embarrassing to watch(as Steve quotes) but nonetheless she will let you know how she feels anytime of the day.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?) Robin never really thought of having a family at all but once she saw you interact with Holly, she knew she wanted to have one but maybe later in life when you aren't facing monsters from another dimension.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?) Robin's pretty lousy with gift giving since she doesn't have any money so she tends to make home made gifts for you instead(and she definitely didn't ask Nancy for tips whatsoever) but when she does buy you a gift, she makes sure it's special and tries her best to not ruin it.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?) Robin LOVES to hold hands, whenever you two are together you are holding hands, and in public interlocking pinkies. She just can't keep her hands off of you and everyone knows it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?) Robin would be all over you if you got hurt, she would be by your side 24/7 and almost never leave unless she really had to.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?) Robin always jokes around with you whether it's a inside joke between the two of you or just a simple joke she heard from Steve or Eddie. As far as pranks go, she tries to not hurt you in any of them but she does them occasionally when you don't suspect it and when you think it's the last, it isn't and it never will be.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?) Robin likes to caress your face while she kisses you whether it's a quick kiss on the lips/cheek/neck or a much longer kiss. She likes knowing you're actually there and not a part of her imagination.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?) Robin expresses her love for you through her actions if words cannot let her, she'll kiss you, hold your hand, smile at you to let you know that she's never leaving you as she doesn't plan on it.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?) Robin's favorite memory of the two of you was when you and the older teens did karaoke night and you was singing a song by Queen with Steve(while drunk), seeing her lover and best friend getting along meant a lot to her(not that she would admit it)

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?) Robin has many fears, but her absolute worst fear is getting outed. It's hard being queer in Indiana, and she's seen the things they've done to people like her, and she's always on edge, hoping she or you isn't next. She couldn't bear losing you, she would never forgive herself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?) Robin tend to ramble alot, everyone knows that. But it's about the type of stuff she chooses to ramble about such as a comic book and it's franchise, a movie with a bad ending, an analysis about two characters and why they should end up together instead of who they should end up with, even random science facts. She could go on forever and ever on the difference between effect and affect.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?) Robin doesn't really do petnames but she does like to call you honey or darling, she doesn't go all out in public.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) Robin doesn't care what you guys do just as long as she's in your vicinity and she gets to be near you, she's chill.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?) A song that reminds you of Robin would be Dancing Queen, sure it was the song that you and Steve sung while drunk that one night but it's also the song that played in the background when she told you she loved you for the first time and when she(finally) confessed her feelings.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?) Robin tells you almost everything unless it has to be a secret(such as El and the upside down) and she can't tell anyone and that(sadly) includes you, it's hurts her so much but it's for the better but they get out eventually.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?) It took you guys a longgggggg time to get together and Robin takes full responsibility for that, she was too busy overthinking to even see that you would give her longing glances and heart eyes back.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?) When you're upset, Robin tries her best to make you feel better but if you just want to be alone then she gets that and she'll leave you alone until you're ready.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?) Robin loves showing you off to your friends whether it's a small accomplishment such as getting a good grade on a test or something big like getting a job, Robin tells it all and she's always proud of you no matter what.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?) Robin HATES the idea of you fighting, sure you can protect yourself but it still worries her when you go up against vecna or demobats, in her defense, you could have gotten rabies!

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?) Robin can surprisingly read you very well, like an open book, but reading a new chapter that feels similar to the last. She can tell when you're mad, sad, anxious, lying, and ofc happy. She basically memorized all your emotions in her head so she can know whatever you're feeling in a second and how to help(if she has to).

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?) Robin would go all out when trying to propose, getting a reservation at a fancy restaurant(but in the corner where no one sees the two of you), writing a speech on what to say when the moment comes but when all of that gets ruined and canceled. Robin decided to propose to you in the kitchen right right there and then when you were eating and you almost choked, but nonetheless you said yes.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?) The only thing that makes Robin feel calm is you(and surprisingly meditation with all her fidgeting), Robin claims you just know the right words to say and the right tactics to use which calms her down and she wouldn't have it any other way.

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So the Republicans are trying to shut down the government to damage their own states so that they make the Democrats look bad before the election… Is that the game plan they’re going with?

Here is the full list of Republicans who voted against the stopgap bill to prevent a government shutdown in September 2024:

Indiana: James R. Baird, Jim Banks, Rudy Yakym III, Victoria Spartz

Ohio: Troy Balderson, Warren Davidson, Jim Jordan, Max L. Miller

Florida: Aaron Bean, Gus M. Bilirakis, Kat Cammack, Byron Donalds, Matt Gaetz, Anna Paulina Luna, Cory Mills, Bill Posey, Michael Waltz, Daniel Webster

Texas: Michael Cloud, Tony Gonzales, Lance Gooden, Morgan Luttrell, Nathaniel Moran, Chip Roy, Keith Self, Randy Weber Sr., Beth Van Duyne, Roger Williams

Arizona: Andy Biggs, Elijah Crane, Paul A. Gosar, Debbie Lesko, David Schweikert

North Carolina: Dan Bishop

Colorado: Lauren Boebert

Illinois: Mike Bost, Mary E. Miller, Darin LaHood

Oklahoma: Josh Brecheen

Tennessee: Tim Burchett, John W. Rose, Andrew Ogles

Missouri: Eric Burlison

Georgia: Andrew S. Clyde, Mike Collins, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Richard McCormick

Utah: John R. Curtis

South Carolina: Jeff Duncan, Russell Fry, Nancy Mace, Ralph Norman, William R. Timmons IV

Kansas: Ron Estes, Tracey Mann

Mississippi: Mike Ezell, Michael Guest, Trent Kelly

Iowa: Randy Feenstra

Minnesota: Brad Finstad, Michelle Fischbach

Idaho: Russ Fulcher

Virginia: Bob Good, H. Morgan Griffith

Wyoming: Harriet M. Hageman

Maryland: Andy Harris

Louisiana: Clay Higgins

Pennsylvania: John Joyce, Scott Perry

West Virginia: Alexander X. Mooney

California: Tom McClintock

Kentucky: Thomas Massie

Montana: Matthew M. Rosendale Sr.

New York: Claudia Tenney

Wisconsin: Thomas P. Tiffany, Derrick Van Orden

New Jersey: Jefferson Van Drew

Alabama: Barry Moore, Gary J. Palmer

Arkansas: Bruce Westerman

Why is this important to me? I would have been out of a job. Government contractors would rather cut you and rehire you for less pay or benefits. Also, if I miss 1 or 2 paychecks I will be homeless.