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#Will might not be in here but mikes looking at him
lena-in-a-red-dress · 12 hours
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Musician Age Gap AU Pt 17
Kara's phone vibrates in her pocket. She knows without looking who it must be, but her eyes remain glued to the photo of Lena kissing another woman.
All Kara can see of the woman in the first photo is that she has dark hair and delicate features, but when she scrolls down other photos paint the woman more clearly. A lump catches in Kara's throat.
It's Rhea Elle. A model turned actress, she's notorious in the press for younger partners and absolutely drop dead looks. In these photos, it's hard to say which of the two women the photographer had actually meant to capture. Kara's stomach sours.
Lena calls again. This time, Kara reaches into her back pocket and retrieves her phone. She shoots her family a look, and finds them staring warily back at her, uncertain and waiting for her reaction.
Kara lifts Esme's phone, still glowing with the incriminating photos. "Can I hold onto this for a second?"
Esme nods.
Retreating to the guest room, Kara finally answers Lena's call. "I told you my leaving wasn't about us," she says shakily.
"I know," Lena says quickly. "I know and I believe you, I swear. This--"
"Isn't isn't what it looks like?" Kara finishes for her, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "Are you really going to tell me they faked these?"
"They're from *months* ago!" Lena exclaims, voice lifting in volume momentarily, before she forcefully brings it down. "I can explain everything..."
A beat of silence follows after Lena trails off, and Kara remains quiet.
"Right," Lena mutters when she realizes that Kara is waiting for her to continue. "After my last break up, Rhea's team reached out to me on her son's behalf. They suggested a publicity romance, to get the focus off the fact that I'd been dumped."
"And in return?"
"Her son Mike gets on the playing field. He-- he wanted to move beyond the affable idiot roles he'd been getting, and they hoped being seen with me would align him with the heartthrob roles he wanted."
Kara grinds her teeth together. "And this correllates to you making out with his mom how?"
"I declined, obviously, and Rhea inferred that to mean I might be more agreeable to a more... feminine touch."
"How would that help her son?"
"It wouldn't, but it would have helped her." Lena sighs. "Kara, she kissed me. I didn't ask for it, and I shut it down. When she realized she'd overstepped, her team quashed the photos."
"Until now."
"She says it was Mike who leaked them, but..." Lena's voice deepens. "It doesn't matter now."
Kara swallows thickly. "Lena..."
"Please, Kara. I wouldn't do that. Not to anyone."
In spite of herself, Kara senses the truth in Lena's voice. As insane as the excuse sounds, in Kara's albeit limited googling into Lena's public life, she's never found any hint of cheating. She's been called a serial dater, a heart-breaker, sure... but never a cheater.
"Kara, I-- jesus. Maybe this would be better in person..."
Kara grimaces. "I'm not ready to come back yet."
"No, I didn't mean-- of course. You can take as much time as you... shit. You don't need my permission--"
"Lena?" Kara cuts in carefully. A small smile curls her lips when Lena sputters to a stop. "Do you want to come join me?"
Silence answers her for a long moment, then--- "Really?"
Kara carefully considers the out Lena is offering, weighing Alex's hospitality against the tiny note of hope in Lena's voice.
"Yeah. Esme would love to see you again." Kara pauses. "And we could talk. For real."
Lena's throat clicks. "I-- I would like that. After tonight I have three days before I need to be in Madrid... I can book a hotel--"
"I'll check with my sister, since I'm currently staying in her guest room," Kara allows, "but it might be easier to keep a low profile if you stay here."
"Okay!" Lena says quickly. "I mean... but only if you're sure. And if Alex says it's okay."
Kara isn't 100% sure her sister would approve of the decision, but is at least majority percent sure that she'll go along with it.
"I'll text you."
There's a rustle as Lena nods against the phone. Then Kara hears her take a breath, and somehow the sound is nervous, anxious, and perilous. As though Lena stood at the edge of a chasm.
Then Kara hears the release, and the trust that comes with it.
"Okay."
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gotskamstuff · 17 hours
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PAUSE. I think I’ve cracked the code and the timeline (or maybe I’m just on crack)
Let’s start here, it looks like one of the plot this season is gonna be the Kooks, more specifically Topper’s family, wanting to buy the Pogue’s land to create clubs and Kook’s businesses (whether it’s our Pogue’s house specifically or lands on the Cut in general we don’t know)
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Of course this is not gonna be well received from the Pogues who are gonna fight back and to me it looks like that when JJ goes to grab the chair there’s already chaos happening in the court room and perhaps the habitants of the Cut have started protesting in court causing an uproar
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Because of course JJ is JJ, he takes it to another level and he gets arrested for throwing the chair in the courthouse BUT someone (possibly one of our Pogues) breaks him out of the cop car and he gets to escape his arrest
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It looks like that later that same night (same outfits) all the Pogues from the Cut are gonna start a riot in town in protest of the Kooks buying their lands
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But once the cops show up JJ is gonna have to make a run for it AND THIS BRINGS ME TO MY THEORY THAT JJ IS GONNA BE ESCAPING FROM THE COPS AND GOING INTO HIDING FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON…follow me
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My personal theory is that the episode I’ve just broke down is 4x05 and it’s when they’re gonna leave us hanging for the first half, now another episode in the second half of the season is this one below that PERSONALLY (it’s not a fact, just my opinion) I think might be 4x08. We got this spoiler of John B, Sarah, Pope and Cleo during a scene together presumably on the mainland while JJ and Kie are not there
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In the trailer we have this scene and the four of them are wearing the same outfits from the pic above, my theory is that this scene in the trailer is 4x09, the following morning from the spoiler above and after discovering something the Pogues are starting to make moves to go to Morocco and they are hiding JJ in there ‘cause he can’t be seen since he’s wanted by the cops
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I think they are gonna move JJ to this yacht (maybe the Camron’s) and he’s gonna stay there in hiding until they are ready to go and leave Kildare, we got spoilers of JJ in his Morocco outfit ALONE on the yacht (another waaaay more loose theory I have is that Luke is gonna find him while he’s here alone and they are gonna fight for the last time and that’s where JJ blood stain comes from)
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Another spoiler we got is the 5 Pogues (Kiara, John B, Sarah, Pope and Cleo) on this boat MINUS JJ but THEN we see the 5 of them reunited/getting JJ from the yacht and start making their escape.
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Because they have stolen the Kilder County Sheriff’s boat they are gonna probably get tracked down (JJ is also crouched down in the boat seemingly hiding in all the spoilers we got) and here we see the cops trying to hit/stop the boat and also Mike Carrera yelling and my theory is that he’s trying to convince JJ to hand himself to the authorities and not put the others (specifically Kiara) in danger
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But then as we know…all six of them go to Morocco.
SO THERE YOU GO, here’s my theory of JJ being wanted/hiding for half of the season and I wouldn’t exclude also possibly FAKING his own death upon returning to Kildare (hence all the rumors about it) 🤷🏻‍♀️
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irlwakko · 11 months
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can you be robbed of something if it never actually existed. anyway we were robbed of villain zoey
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hm i have no energy to write anymore, but should i start a side blog for my card readings and ghost stories? im so estranged from life and my home, i cant get comfortable without being connected like i was before i moved, even reading cards is hard to do now.
#i just want to feel sound again but i cant seem to do that without old things around me and distance from modernization#i feel lost without my ghosts around i dont like new houses i feel so far from everything i understand#and being sick i feel even worse too#i dont even have a cemetery here i can walk to to recover#or recharge rather#lots of haunted places just not this time of year#they shut down before dark usually and i dont think they do the ghost walks#but in Lunenburg i felt great it wasnt necessarily haunted but it was all just so old and it felt right#but mike Flanagan posted the season 2 plan for mc and talked about soulmates#and thats a concept im very close to and im absolutely certain i have to find the place i was buried#it was by the sea looking west and it was prior to around 1850 but thays about all i know#that long ago that cemetery might not even be there#especially if its the canadian east coast our bodies may already be lost to the ocean#but i still have to find it somehow i believe i will some day but im missing a piece and that piece is the person i buries#or at least his coffin#i dont think he was in it. i feel like he was lost at sea and the only solice i have and the mist of any of these memories is that i died#quickly after i lost him#and yet its been 25 years and i dont know where he is in this life time and im terrified he isnt here#but that one blog post is all im holding onto to believe soemhow we'll still meet before we die#i just don't want to have such a small amount of time with him#i dont feel any of the things i do when im in a place bound to the earth#its confusing and it aches and i just want to have my instincts back#but anyway its not like i can talk about any of this without someone assuming i need medication#which i do but not for that🙃
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aftonrobotiics · 2 years
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//i appear from the void to announce that i'm thinking abt evan
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eddiethebrave · 2 months
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Steve, Steve, Steve
Eddie first noticed it when the kids joined Hellfire. 
When Steve wasn’t around, they sang his praises constantly. Seriously, it was always Steve says this, Steve did that, Steve thinks this, Steve, Steve, Steve. At one point, Eddie thought that if he had to hear the man’s name one more time he'd throw himself off the nearest bridge. 
Imagine Eddie’s surprise when one night, they were waiting outside with the little shrimps after Hellfire and Steve pulled up in his BMW. Immediately it’s, look who finally decided to show up, and did you forget how to read a clock, and, hilariously, it’s not like you had anything better to do. From Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, respectively. On a Friday night, mind you. 
Eddie was stunned into silence, he looked to the older members of Hellfire to see if they were seeing this only to find them lost in conversation. 
Eddie watched as Steve huffed, rolled his eyes, and rallied them all into the car, not without asking if they buckled themselves in only to be met with groans and eye-rolls and a yes, mom from one of them, but Eddie didn’t catch who it was. 
Eddie watched them drive away in disbelief. The guy was only like ten minutes late. That’s on time in Eddie’s book.
But Steve wasn’t his friend then so it was easy to brush off. It wasn’t his problem and wasn’t his business. 
And it’s not like he had a lot of data here, only a moment here and there whenever one of the kids needs a ride after Hellfire and Eddie waits for everyone to leave before heading back inside to collect his things. For all Eddie knows, the kids are lovely to Steve like they are when he’s not around. For all he knows, they aren’t. 
Maybe the man deserves it, he was a nightmare in school, after all. And who was Eddie to assume that Steve was bothered by it? He might be fine and he maybe dishes it out just as much.
It’s just.
Eddie and Steve are friends now and he can’t shake the feeling that Steve is affected by it more than he lets on. 
He was so surprised in the Upside Down when Eddie told him that Dustin said he was a badass. Eddie couldn’t help but ham it up a bit. So what if he knew Dustin would rather he not say anything? Eddie thought that after seeing Steve willingly throw himself in harm’s way to protect everyone over the last couple of days, he deserved to know people cared about him. 
Anyways. These days when someone makes a disdainful comment or a small dig at the man, Eddie can’t help but watch closely as Steve takes it, laughs it off, or makes a show out of being annoyed. 
Eddie needs to know if the words truly roll off his back or if he only makes it seem that way for everyone else’s benefit. 
Either way, Eddie tries to take the attention off of Steve as much as he can when it happens; defending the best he can without making it a whole thing, because he doubts Steve would appreciate that. 
He also does his best to compliment him subtly. He watches his reactions closely then, too. The small, pleased smile Steve sports afterward is more than worth it.
569 words
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gloomwitchwrites · 10 days
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I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax
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Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!
The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!
Presented in four double drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
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John Price
John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.
“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.
It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”
He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.
You want to mess with him a bit.
“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”
Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.
John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”
John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”
“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.
“Your new waxer is a man?”
“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”
“Where does Cherly work now?”
“John—”
He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.
"You paid for it," you murmur.
"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.
His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.
“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.
“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.
“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”
Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"
"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.
"There were two men that waxed you?"
“No, Kyle. Just one.”
A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.
"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.
“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”
“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”
You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.
“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
"Oh, what's this?"
Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.
"Johnny!"
"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."
"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.
"Was this on my dime?" he asks.
"Maybe."
"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"
"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."
"Oh, they—he?"
"Yes. That a problem?"
Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"
No.
"Yes."
Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”
“I’m—”
“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”
Your face grows hot.
Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”
“Maybe you should.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.
The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.
I have a new waxer.
I thought it would be one of the other ladies.
But no!
It was a guy!
Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.
Answer your phone.
You click out a reply.
I'm in the car!
His reply comes instantly.
You're at home. I know your location.
Another incoming call. This one you answer.
"Simon,” you say flatly.
"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.
"Why?" you counter.
"What's his name?" he snaps.
"I know what you're doing, Simon.”
You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.
Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."
"Simon.”
He growls your name in warning.
"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."
He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."
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evilminji · 10 months
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You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?
That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.
But!!!
WHAT IF?
They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?
Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.
Riot in the streets.
Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-
Ah.
So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.
One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.
It Fiiiiine, Sam.
He's just here to Talk.
He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.
ON LIVE TELEVISION.
He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~
"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!
And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"
*drops mic*
Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.
Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.
The press secretary faints.
PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!
Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!
And Danny?
Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~
If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.
Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.
(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)
@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter
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iamumbra195 · 6 months
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School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored
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o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.
Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.
Aiden: I'm a Virgo!
Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.
...
Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!
Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD
Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME
Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.
...
Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?
Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes
Taylor: And...?
Logan: He got Aiden.
...
Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?
Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?
Everyone:
Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.
...
Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.
Logan: Aiden, no.
Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.
Logan: Please stop encouraging him.
...
Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?
Tyler: You’re a hazard to society
Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.
...
Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?
Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?
...
Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?
Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-
Aiden: Smad.
...
Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?
Aiden: I'm depressed.
Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.
...
Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us
Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?
Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...
Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?
...
Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?
Logan: How am I supposed to know?
Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.
Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.
...
Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.
Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.
Ashlyn: Try again.
Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.
...
Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him
Tyler: You did WHAT–
Ben: William Snakespeare
...
Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life
Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?
Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.
Aiden: edible
...
Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!
Aiden: How are you feeling?
Ashlyn: Fine.
Taylor: Something personal!
Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?
...
Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited
Logan: If?
Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.
...
Logan: We need a distraction.
Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?
Aiden, whispering: My time has come
...
Tyler: Where are you going?
Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there
Tyler: I'll come with
...
Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain
Jacob (shop owner): Can you?
Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.
...
Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.
Tyler, sighing: What did you do?
Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE
...
Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?
Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.
Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.
Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.
...
Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?
Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?
...
Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone
Ashlyn: I’ll call
Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-
Aiden: Hello?
...
Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.
Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.
...
Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much
Taylor: You’ve been to jail?
Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.
...
Mike: You love me, right?
Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.
...
Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.
Ashlyn: Okay
Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.
Ashlyn: The-
Ashlyn: The scary parts?
Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.
...
Ashlyn: How petty can you get?
Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.
Taylor: I KNEW IT-
...
Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.
Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.
...
Mike: So what’s for dinner?
Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
That's all for today!
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demonictacobeard · 7 months
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Adam, coming out of his room for the first time:……Alright what the fuck do you guys even do here? Therapy, or some shit
Lucifer who had been waiting for him by the door: Charlie has activities usually, and is more then willing to talk to residents about their feelings and how they ended up in hell so that’s like therapy. I’m surprised you know about that, has heaven finally implemented it?
Adam, grumbling: No Heaven doesn’t fucking have therapy, but for the last ten years the newer winners have been asking why and the older angels had to find out what the fuck it is
Lucifer, humming: I do have to wonder how all the therapists up there don’t fall from utter frustration
Charlie, watching them come down the stairs excitedly: Hi Dad! Hi Adam! I’m so excited you came down. How are you feeling today, do you think you might be up for an activity? Or ooh, I never got to show you around the whole hotel just to your room. Whatever you feel like! Adam, stepping back: I knew she was excited during the meeting but Is she always this fucking cheery? It’s like Emily has a long lost twin from Hell
Angel Dust, from the bar: It’s the new resident joy, you’ll get used to it lambchop!
Husk, snorting: You act like you don’t adore that girl
Angel, pointing at him with three pointer fingers: You, shut up
Lucifer, beaming with pride: She’s very passionate about her work, always has been
Adam, groaning as Charlie looks at him with glimmering eyes: Dear fucking god, shit alright, fine I’ll take the tour
Vaggie, walking up to them with her spear: Good, because todays activity is Alastor’s idea and I don’t trust him not to ‘accidentally’ scar you emotionally instead
Charlie, gasping: Vaggie! Come on, Alastor wouldn’t do that
Lucifer and Vaggie, deadpan: Yes he would
Adam, crossing his arms: I don’t know the fucker, I just beat his ass, but yes the shit he would. Do you see that smile he has going on all the time? I haven’t seen one so fake since Michael’s
Lucifer, gaging: Hech Mike
Adam, nodding: Fucking Mike
Vaggie, vaguely remembering the angel: Do you mean….the Mike who was your bosses boss, the one who came around and inspected the exterminator’s once every ten years. That Mike?
Adam: That’s the bitch, Vag
Vaggie, her cheek twitching in anger: The ARCHANGEL MICHAEL?
Adam: Adding his title doesn’t unmake him a bitch
Lucifer, laughing: Nothing can
Charlie, smacking her head: Awful uncle Mike! Dad told me about him, don’t worry Adam Alastor is nothing like him. The smile is just….a tool for him? It’s harmless
Adam, rolling his eyes: The bartender just looked at you like you lied to gods face and then fucking spat on it, but whatever. I’ll do the activities and shit, later, but only ones you’re in charge of- why does your face look like that?
Charlie singing to Vaggie, after grabbing a confused Adam’s elbow and happily dragging him on the tour: He trusts meeeee!
Adam, flushing: ONLY MORE THEN THAT FUCKING DEER!
Lucifer, following them: Thats still a little, you know
Angel, laughing at Alastor when he walked in ten minutes later: Hey Alastor, guess what sheep boy trusts the devil and the devil’s daughter more then you. How’s that make you feel?
Alastor, his smile becoming more genuine: Positively ‘devastated’
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rogueddie · 8 months
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Steve had been watching the kids play D&D with Robin. They were curled up on a beanbag together, almost painfully wrapped up together. It was so normal that no one batted an eye. And the two of them sitting in the corner to watch the kids play had also become routine enough that it was more unusual to find their corner empty.
Nothing about the afternoon, the day, or even the week, was in anyway odd or unusual. Steve had been feeling better, if anything. It showed too. Even Mike had pulled Dustin aside to ask what had him to much happier. But it was just the fact that everything was starting to look up- Max had taken a noticeable turn for the better, the cracks infection of Hawkins was increasingly slowing down and the amount of monsters had slowed down to the point that Steve didn’t even need to join the patrols.
All in all, Steve considered it a good month. What could possibly go wrong?
The room had started spinning so violently and so suddenly that he couldn’t hold in his confused, distressed noise. All heads in the room turned, just in time to see Steves eyes roll back, slumping back.
“Steve?!” Robin says, shaking him. She struggles to get up with most of him still wrapped around her, with how limp he’s suddenly gone. “Steve!”
Dustin is there in seconds, knees thudding to the floor next to them. “Steve! Oh, shit. Steve!”
“Has he just fainted?” Will asks, stepping forward with the others, hovering nearby. “Should we call an ambulance?”
“Check his pulse,” Mike suggests.
They’re all quiet, tense, watching Robins fingers shift on Steves neck.
“I can’t find it!” She sobs.
Dustin, who’d been checking his pulse via his wrist at the same time, yells, “no, I got it! It’s- shit, it’s faint.”
“Call for an ambulance,” Will tells Mike, already heading for the door. “I’m gonna get El!”
Dustin and Robin struggle, but eventually lift him enough for her to stand up. She insists he check for Steves pulse again, beginning to pace, pulling at her hair.
“Maybe it’s something to do with his head,” she continues to ramble. “I mean, he’s been hit a lot, that must have done some damage, right? And, like, I didn’t notice any lights flickering, but maybe he did and-”
“Robin!”
“Yes?”
“Not helping.”
“RIght. Sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment, continuing to pace, glancing towards the door. Mike can be heard talking on the phone. “But it’s gotta be something normal and easy to explain, right? It’s not like… it’s not like Vecna could have done this… right?”
But Dustin turns to her, slowly, frowning. “Maybe. It would explain why things might have suddenly gotten better. Vecna could still be weak, so a direct attack would take all his energy.”
They both turn, looking at Steve. But there’s nothing obviously wrong with him. He just looks… asleep.
“-in here!” Will is saying, rushing into the room, El hot on his heels.
El gently pushes Dustin aside, kneeling down beside Steve. She grabs his hand, quickly closing her eyes.
She stays there for a long time. Long enough that Mike comes back, warning them that the ambulance should be there any minute. Robin starts to pace again, whilst Will bites his nails. Dustin stays crouched beside El, staring at Steve like he’s tempted to try and jump inside his head alongside El.
“He is… not here.” She eventually says, opening her eyes.
“What does that mean?” Robin asks.
“He is not here,” El repeats. She looks as confused as everyone else. “His mind. It’s… not here.”
“You mean like… Max?” Will says.
“No…” El looks back to Steve. “Her mind is… empty. Hiding. He is gone.”
In the Upside Down, Steve wakes up.
His body doesn’t… feel right. He tries to stand up but, as soon as he tries, his legs wobble and he falls onto all fours… but…
Steve hesitates, looking down nervously. And, if the size of the world hadn’t given it away, the fluffy little paws he’s met with do. He tries to move his hands up, tries to tell himself that he’s just seeing things- but the paws move instead. The wrong feelings match up with the furry little body he’s in.
Panic bubbles up, so overwhelming that he gags. The noise he makes, though, only makes him panic more.
It takes him a long moment to realize that it’s him that’s yowling. It’s him making those sounds. It’s him… meowing.
“Woah, hey,” a soft voice coos. “How’d you get in here?”
Steve jumps around, hissing- but immediately stops. Because that’s…
“Eddie?” Steve tries to say. The meow he makes instead sounds curious.
Eddie smiles, awing at him. He crouches down, slowly extending a hand towards him. “Hi there, little guy. You got a mouth on you, huh? Heard you all the way from the trailer park. You must be pretty spooked. Did you fall in here?”
Steve stares at him, amused and annoyed. He huffs, sitting down, before pointedly tapping one of his paws on the floor. He still remembers the simple morse that Eddie had used to flash their SOS to Dustin… he’s pretty sure.
He barely gets two short taps done, before Eddie Is lifting him up. His hand curls under Steves belly, pulling him up to his chest. Steve yowls, annoyed- but Eddie shushes him. He glances behind him, which is when Steve realizes that he’s scared.
Then he hears the subtle sounds of movement. Something… stalking towards them.
Steve realizes, then, just how vulnerable he is like this. He’s tiny. He’s a fucking cat. If Eddie drops him, leaves him behind for whatever reason, he has no chance of survival.
“Woah, hey, hey,” Eddie whispers, startled, as Steve tries to worm his way inside Eddies jacket. He tugs it open though, curling an around around himself so Steve has some support. “That’s a good idea, you stay there, ok? Stay quiet, shh shh.”
Eddie is still, not moving or even breathing, for a long moment.
Eventually, he heaves a great sigh, gently prying Steve out from inside his jacket. He's careful to support him whilst holding him up for inspection, one hand around his chest and under his front... legs? But he has his other hand flat underneath him to sit on.
"You're so fluffy," Eddie mumbles, turning Steve around. "And clean. Where did you even come from?"
Steve grumbles, trying his hardest to glare.
It just makes Eddie laugh. "You're a fiesty little thing, aren't you?"
He pulls Steve closer, propping him up against his chest, starting to walk... deeper into the forest.
Steve tries to make his confusion clear, though he's not sure it works.
"It's ok, I have a little base set up at Harringtons place," Eddie explains, absentmindedly petting Steves head. "Not many vines there, so it's pretty safe."
Steve tries to wriggle around at the mention of his name, bringing a paw up to pat at Eddies chest, urgently.
"Hey, sh, it's ok," Eddie coos, stroking him from head to butt- Steve hates how much it does sooth him. "You're ok. I'll find you something to eat, ok? You're gonna be fine." Eddie glances down at him, humming. "I should name you, shouldn't I?"
Steve feels his ears droop. He's sure that Eddie will insist on giving him some D&D name, or some other nerd-
"Stevie," Eddie says, grinning at how quickly Steve perks up. "You're just like him, you know? Pretty, fluffy, soft... but also, a little bitchy."
Pretty?
"I shouldn't bore you with stories of old high school crushes though, should I, kitty?"
Steve meows, jumping up. He's too curious now.
Eddie laughs. "Alright, alright... but it's a long story! Don't say I didn't warn you. It starts in 83, he was a year below me..."
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loveshotzz · 1 year
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bartender!eddie x fem!reader Eddie’s night.
🎵my man gives real love that’s why I call him killer, he’s not a ‘wham! bam! thank you ma’am!’ he’s a thriller.🎵
summary: After being stood up on a blind date, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with keeps you company.
word count: 12.6k
warnings: 90’s AU / 18 + no minors! /eddie is in his early 30’s, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi public smut (p in v), cream pie, dirty talk.
authors note: my love letter to the 90’s 💕after one month of brain storming and three weeks of writing here’s part one of Whatta Man! Eddie’s night. (This is a singular one shot. Steve’s night is part two, can you find the easter eggs for his night 😉)Thank you to my very talented friends who always brain storm with me and share ideas. This fun lil AU wouldn’t have happened with you. ily 💗 edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
You didn’t want to go on this date. Not when your roommate set you up, and you certainly didn’t want to go when he picked The Foxy Lounge. But when Weather Man Mike predicted the first warm day after three months of bitter winter you’d take any excuse to wear your favorite dress. 
You’d been here before, always stumbling in after a night out with friends because they were the only 4am place in town. Those late nights turned to early mornings were more of a thing of the past now so when you got to the familiar chipped red door you didn’t recognize the bouncer standing outside. He has a head of honey colored hair that’s just long enough to run his fingers through. His toned frame sits pretty wrapped in a tight black tee and long legs covered in dark wash jeans tight enough for you to really have to focus on keeping  your eyes on his face. A freckle covered neck leads to a strong jaw and a chiseled nose. Leaning against the brick wall with his boots crossed at the ankles a toothpick twirls between his straight teeth.
The platform of your sneakers hitting the pavement as you come to a stop and the jingle of your power beads alerts him of your presence, hazel eyes going round like the moon in the sky. Straightening his posture he snatches the tooth pick out of his mouth, stuffing it in his back pocket. You swear you see a Tamagotchi tucked away as he clears his throat with a puff of his chest.
“I.D.?” 
Your lips twitch, the forced deep baritone in his voice isn’t fooling you, and you wonder if it fooled anyone when the signature beep of a Tomogatchi pet needing to be fed goes off in his back pocket. He coughs to try to cover the noise while you quickly pull what he needs out of your cross body. Holding it out for him to examine you look up with a glossed smile matching the one in the picture. Narrowing his eyes, you catch a glimmer of playfulness when he clicks on his flashlight. 
Examining it like it could be a fake, you bite back a giggle while he turns it around giving it one more once over before handing it back to you with a soft chuckle.
“Funny, we have the same birthday.” His voice comes out normal this time, soft and friendly just like you thought.
“Twins!”
A genuine smile lights up his face like the sign above your head, his boyish features coming out despite the stubble on his chin.
“Might as well call us the Olsen’s.” Throwing you a wink he pulls the gold handle to open the door for you. The sounds of Return of the Mack break through the hums of the street behind you. “Have fun tonight honey, be safe. If anyone bothers you, just come grab me okay? I’m steve.”
Your cheeks heat up at the endearment and you have to remind yourself that you’re here for a date. You catch a hint of his cologne when your shoulder brushes against his chest on your way in, the expensive scent making you dizzy when it hits your senses.
“I will, thanks Steve,”your words are shy when they come out, making his lips twitch in response. Nodding his head, you catch the tinge of pink on his skin before he closes the door with a small wave.
It's even louder inside with the drunk conversations battling for dominance against the music. Tugging nervously at the bottom of your dress you look around the bar for the vague description of this guy Craig your friend gave you. 
You scan the crowd a few times before your eyes catch the big brown ones of the bartender. The stool in front of him freeing itself at the same time your eyes connect, the corners of his plush lips pull up as he beckons you over with two heavily ringed fingers. The unruly dark auburn curls that hit just below his shoulders catch the low light behind the bar, the yellow glow softening up all his edges. 
Rocking back on your heels you pull the strap of your cross body closer, doing your best to collect yourself before you push through the crowd accepting his invitation. His smile widens, pulling up his stubble covered cheeks to reveal a set of perfect white teeth to you. The one you give him in return comes out a little shy as you plop down on the ripped vinyl that matches the red of the door.
Ink litters his arms disappearing under the frayed ends of his sleeves letting you know there was more under the tight fit of his worn faded black Metallica shirt. The two rips near the collar give you a glimpse of the chain wrapped around his neck. The scruff lining his jaw adds a few years from afar but from this close he looks your age. The silver hoop in his nose catches against the bright lighting under the bar like the rings adoring his fingers. Pulling out two empty shot glasses with a twirl he quickly fills them up with Jameson.
“This one’s on the house sweetheat, it’ll help make your date cuter.”  He winks with a sly grin, your stomach flutters with his full attention on you like this.
The glass is heavy in your grasp as you stare at the dark liquid with a faint grimace. His low chuckle catches your attention before the pop and hiss of the soda fills your ears. As if reading your mind he slides over a coke, letting you keep your pride by not having to ask for a chaser.
“How do you know I’m here for a date?” Raising a questioning brow, the sides of your lips twitch as you struggle to hold a straight face. “A girl can’t come to the bar alone on a Friday night?”
The chocolate in his eyes lights up at your playful banter, slinging a white towel over his shoulder he leans in, forearms pressing hard against the counter as he invades your space. The spice of his cologne and the burn of cigarette smoke joins with him and you find yourself sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Are you telling me you’re available then?” Dropping his voice low enough to feel between your legs, you wished more than anything you had a different answer to give him.
The heaviness of his gaze has your cheeks warming, the intensity of the eye contact forcing your gaze away for a second as you clear your throat. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear you muster enough courage to meet his eyes again. 
“N-no unfortunately, you were right.” Exaggerating a heavy sigh, his confident demeanor never wavers despite his confirmed suspicions.
“Unfortunately is right, huh?” Winking, he pushes back leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne raising his shot in an offering of cheers. “To what could have been, baby.” 
A giggle bubbles past your lips when his fingers brush against yours meeting in the middle with a clink. Downing his shot like a professional, he’s left to watch the way you struggle with yours. Amusement is evident on his face while he watches the way your throat stays unwilling to open. Holding the alcohol in your mouth longer than anyone would want, it finally gives in letting the bitter liquid go down with a bite. Pushing the can of coke towards you with his knuckles, his laugh booms loud from his chest as you search for reprieve in the sweetness with desperation.
Chugging with abandon, you forget your surroundings for a second before your eyes meet his over the rim of the can and it’s almost enough to have you snort the rest of it all over yourself. 
Coming up for air you grumble a half assed “shut up” doing your best to try and fight the smile begging to spread across your lips as you wipe them with the back of your hand.
“Not a whiskey girl I take it?” Punctuating the ‘t’ harder than normal, his teasing falls on deaf ears when you get distracted at the way his thick fingers wrap around the shot glasses.
“Not a shot girl in general, I’d rather not taste the alcohol if I can help it.” Shrugging, you trace invisible patterns on the sticky quartz of the bar top with french tipped nails silently reminding yourself for the second time tonight you’re here for a date.
“So how’d you two meet?” He raises his voice so it comes out sickly sweet while a shaker and a lemon appears in his hands. Setting them down on top of the worn jagermeister logo that covers the drink mat he starts rolling the fruit against his palm.
“We haven’t met yet actually, a friend set us up.” 
Eddie’s movements freeze for a second, eyebrows furrowing together in a look of confusion as if that was the craziest thing that anyone had ever told him. He grabs the bottle of simple syrup adding more to what looked like it was going to be a sweet drink before he answers.
“Someone like you shouldn’t need to be set up, sweetheart.” He looks up at you from under the hood of his lashes quickly picking up on the effect he has on you.
He twirls another empty glass onto the counter top before he smashes the lid of the shaker on, not giving you a chance to respond he starts shaking it louder than you know is necessary. The bats tattooed on his arm dance across the muscles with the flex of every flick of his wrist.
“Really? Laying it on thick, huh?” Raising your voice enough to know he could hear you, he taunts you by cupping his free hand over his ear to make a show of pretending he can’t, mouthing a ‘sorry’ with a smirk. The laugh he earns from when he finally relents is the prettiest sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 
“Well I hope this ‘friend’ has a good vetting process. No less than three interviews or no dice.” He pours your drink with panache, like he’s putting on a show for you, like you’re sure he does with all the other girls.
Grabbing a straw he plugs one end with his index finger before he dips it into the slightly lighter liquid. The heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable when his lips wrap around the end tasting his creation with a low groan, his pink tongue pokes out to collect the sweetness left behind.
“I think, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s an Eddie Munson original, I’m calling it "Wasting Love.” The roll of your eyes makes him bark out another laugh. The signs of the smoke you smell on him are more noticeable in this one’s rumble.
“I wonder what could have inspired it?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you knew you shouldn’t be flirting with him while you waited for Craig, but you can’t help yourself. Besides, he was already ten minutes late.
“I think you know what inspired it sweetheart, I can tell you’re not just some pretty face.” Dimples poking through his cheeks, he finally takes notice of the glares from the customers filling up the bar. Everyone’s patience starting to wear thin while they waited for whatever this was to be over. 
“I gotta stop ignoring all the other people in here real quick, but I’ll be back for your review.” He throws you another wink and it has you shifting in your seat as he starts to walk away.
“Wait! I never opened a tab!” Calling after him as you reach for your purse, he tuts loudly, turning around to face you, continuing his path walking backwards. 
“You shouldn’t be paying for a thing tonight, gorgeous.” He waves his hand dismissively before his back is to you again giving his undivided attention to the bearded man who looked ready to murder the carefree metal head if he didn’t get his Bud Light in the next five seconds.
Trying not to get too caught up in someone that wasn’t your date you timidly bring the straw to your lips. Humming appreciatively when the sweetness hits your tastebuds you’re pleasantly surprised at how much you actually like it. Feeling bold enough to take a bigger gulp, you look around for Craig again. So lost in the little bubble you had been in with Eddie you didn’t realize how much more the bar had filled up since you arrived. A new kind of rowdy energy in the air — the low murmurs of conversation get loud enough to drown out Semi- Charmed Kinda Life.
Glancing down at your pink swatch watch, your date was now twenty minutes late. Turning around to check and make sure the lavender cross body you told him to look for was visible, you crane your neck around looking one last time. It’s easy to shrug off the sinking feeling of rejection when you turn back around to watch Eddie in his natural habitat. 
He moves behind the bar like he’s been doing it his whole life, like everything was muscle memory.  As if he could feel you staring he catches your gaze throwing you a smirk before he tosses a bottle of tequila in the air catching it with ease. Pouring it into four lined up shot glasses, the group of girls in front of him celebrating what looked like a bachelorette party with all their multi-colored hats and boas squealed with drunk delight. Your eyes hit the back of your skull in a hard roll when one of them bats their eyelashes at him with a hand on his arm.
Sucking down the rest of your drink, the slurping once you hit the ice is loud enough to annoy the guy next to you who shoots you a warning look over his shoulder. Mouthing an apology you push your empty glass away looking around the bar one more time. The guilt of flirting with Eddie starts to disappear when you look at your watch again and start coming to terms you were actually being stood up. Searching for his doe eyes again, your heart sinks when you find him this time.
Dimples in his cheeks again, he’s practically beaming at her. Their body language telling you this isn’t their first time meeting and how animated he is when he talks to her is like he’s known her for years. Gesturing wildly with his hands while she nods enthusiastically, something he says has her throwing her head back with a laugh loud enough you can hear it over the music. You huff through your nose, the sting of rejection sneaking its way back in. The reminder that he was just doing his job and you were here for a date, one that never showed up, slaps you right in the face.
Averting your gaze to spare whatever confidence you have left, your eyes find the bouncer at the front door. Inside the bar now with a hard glare set on his handsome face. His arms sit folded across his broad chest while his jaw clenches at the same time as the muscles in his shoulders flex. Steve looks pissed.
Interest piqued, you follow his line of sight despite it going in the direction of the bar you were trying to avoid. Somehow not surprised when your eyes land on her again, you notice Eddie has already busied himself with someone else. With his back towards both of you he fills two pints with Blue Moon, the uncomfortable look on her face couldn’t be missed. The greasy blonde hair on the man that was clearly invading her personal space told you he’d been drinking all day. The grimace on her pretty face says she could smell it on his breath too.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when you see him grab onto her arm while trying to whisper in her ear. You feel yourself ready to stand up and help when she pushes him away, with the way the veins in her neck were flexing whatever she was saying to him wasn't nice. Shoving her hand in his face she storms towards the front door where Steve is waiting, looking seconds away from killing the man who followed her path out of the bar with a leer.
The scowl on her face softens instantly when she’s met with Steve opening the door, the glare on his face being replaced with a deep flush when you catch a “Thanks, Stevie” fall appreciatively from her lips.
SMACK
Jumping at the sound of metal hitting wood, Eddie’s dimples show themselves only this time they are for you as he leans forward on his arms again, eyes flicking towards the spot next to you. He pulls himself even closer when he notices no one new occupying the stool, making you search for friction with the fat of your thighs. 
“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Flashing you his perfect teeth for the second time tonight the bruise to your ego already starts to disappear.
“I drank it without gagging, didn’t I?” Crossing your arms on top of the bar it's your turn to lean into his space and you swear you hear his breath hitch at your new boldness.
Licking his lips, your eyes greedily follow the path of his tongue. His smile stretches across his face even more when he notices, making no effort to move- unwilling to back down from the silent standoff you’ve challenged him too.
“‘I’ll have you know I take that as a very high compliment coming from you.” His breath fans across your cheeks from this close, mint and whiskey hitting your nose when he huffs a laugh. “Where’s Prince Charming?”
“Turns out there was no Prince, just an ugly old toad.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him through half lidded eyes, “Good thing I didn’t kiss him, huh?”
A low rumble shakes in his chest as he dares to lean in even closer, the tips of your noses almost brushing while the bubble you’d lost yourselves in reappears.
“Yeah baby, you can’t give those out to just anybody, they gotta be for someone special.” His voice is low, dripping with the kind of want you’d never had directed at you before. His eyes take in every inch of your face from this close while you try to keep up with his smooth tongue.
“Got anyone in mind, Eddie?” Doing your best to match his tone, his brows pinch together at the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth taking one last look at your lips before meeting your eyes again.
“Yeah, I know a guy actually. He’s a bartender with a great head of hair.” Wiggling his eyebrows when you snort, the front door swings open, breaking you two apart as the girl from before commands the room like a record scratch, silencing the bar for the first time all night.
“Eddie! It’s bad, Steve needs you!” The sheer panic in her voice is enough for the jealous monster inside you to stay at bay as Eddie pushes back on his heels.
An irritated sigh escapes him while he mutters ‘not a-fucking-gain’ under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes find yours. You jump a little when he grabs your hands, the warmth of his palms enveloping yours while he gives you a pleading look.
“Don’t - I mean, please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back, I need to go save my buddy’s ass again. But I promise I’ll be right back, this conversation is too important to leave unfinished.” He flashes you that million dollar smile like chaos isn’t ensuing outside and all you can do is nod, signaling that you’ll stay put.
Hopping over the bar his loose fitting combat boots squeak over the counter top, the black jeans that were hidden from your sight somehow fit him even better than his shirt. Your gaze is shamelessly hungry as it follows him until he’s out the door. The scuffle outside leaking through the music with a blur of bodies outside. 
Too focused on the glimpse of Eddie’s towering frame stepping between the two guys to break up the fight, you don’t notice the person who walks through the unattended door until it shuts behind him with a thud. Ready to glare at whoever it is your eyes widen when you meet the ones belonging to who you can only assume is Craig. The burnt auburn hair he sports and the way he zero’s in on your purse confirms your suspicions. This was Craig, you're incredibly late and not even remotely as attractive as the bartender, date.
“Shit, shit, shit.” No matter how quickly you averted your stare, you knew it was too late, he saw you. Panic sets in while your brain goes a mile a minute trying to think a way out of this.
Looking around the bar for some sort of escape, the thought of ducking into the bathroom sounds like a winner but then the image of Eddie coming back and seeing you gone seeps into the forefront of your mind making you quickly toss that idea out the window. Turning to the people on either side of you who are too lost in their own conversations to notice your dilemma, you try to decide which one you could interrupt the most naturally. 
The couple on your right looks like they’re on a date going really well and the one on your left seems like two friends catching up. The tap on your shoulder is enough for you to make a split second decision, clearing your throat you spare the newly blossoming romance next you from your desperate antics, choosing to interrupt the friends who are reconnecting with a loud fake laugh.
“That’s when she told me- um excuse me do I know you?” Gruff and confused, the man closest to you looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. First your loud slurping and now this? This plan was never going to work from the get-go.
Another persistent tap on your shoulder has you grasping for straws. You open your mouth to try to sell whatever this was one last time. 
“Umm excuse me?”  Craig’s voice comes out loud enough to cut you off and for the poor guy next to you to give you the final cold shoulder. Unable to ignore him any longer, you force yourself to turn around and face him head on. Kind of. 
Channeling your inner Alicia Silverstone you try to give him the best Clueless look you can muster and he returns it with an even more confused expression, clearing his throat.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. I’m Craig, Ariana’s friend. I think I’m supposed to be meeting you?” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, the maroon sweater he wears fits loosely over his thin frame, dirty black chucks on his feet, his look screams ‘I listen to Nirvana’.
“Umm, I think you have the wrong person? I wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone here tonight.” It’s not believable in the slightest when the words leave your mouth, your less than confident delivery giving you away. The look on his face lets you know you’ve definitely been made
“Are you sure? I was told to look for the girl with a lavender purse.”  As if to prove his point he points to the exact one he’s talking about slung across your shoulder. He scoffs when you keep up with your charade, “I know I’m late but this is ridiculous.”
“A lot of girls have purple bags, Craig.” His name comes out dripping in venom, the need to get rid of him before Eddie’s return throwing any logic out the window. You needed to believe your own lie.
The sudden harshness has him raising his hands in defense, backing down a little under the daggers of your glare.
“Whoa, chill out, my bad. You just match the exact description I was given, that's all.”
Clenching your jaw in frustration because he just won’t give up, you try to hold your composure while your eyes flick towards the door in anticipation for his return.
“Well you’ve told me you were late twice already so she probably just left. Rude of you to keep her waiting honestly.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you know that he’s aware of exactly what you are doing but you don’t care anymore.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened, and not her being bitter I’m one measly hour late.” The way his words clip signal the rejection sinking in, a glare setting firm on his face.
It’s the stare down of the century before Eddie comes barging through the entrance with a loud huff and a clap of his hands. Cheeks red from yelling and hair slightly more wild than before. He checks to make sure you’re still exactly where he left you before he glances over to Craig for a split second not registering who he is. Hopping over the bar with another skid of his boots, he still manages to give you a lopsided grin when he gets to the other side. Hitting the top of the bar in a series of beats - he’s a ball of energy.
“Sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart, Steve’s lucky the girl he took a knuckle sandwich for has a first aid kit. Rick keeps saying he’s gonna get one but I have yet to see it. Want another cocktail?” Talking a mile a minute with the leftover adrenaline from the fight, he still doesn’t notice the way Craig watches the two of you until he catches how awkward you’re being. Eddie’s face hardens, the softness he was giving you disappearing. “Something I can help you with buddy?”
You don’t even have to look at Craig to know he’s puffing out his chest with a point of his chin addressing Eddie.
“Actually pal, maybe you can.” His tone makes Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, a tested smile spreading over his lips while he lets Craig continue. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a blind date, I was told to look for a girl with a lavender purse exactly like this one. You haven't seen another girl with this exact same bag have you?” 
Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, amusement filling the specks of golden brown as he picks up on exactly what’s happening. The corners of his lips twitch before he nods his head licking his bottom lip holding your gaze long enough to make you squirm before bringing his attention back to Craig with a low whistle.
“Oh yeah, I remember that hottie, man. It’s a shame you were late, she took off with this dude she met waiting for you. She didn’t stand a chance, though, honestly. I know the guy, he’s too smooth for his own good. Pretty good looking too. Can’t be leaving your girl unattended around him. Probably wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” Eddie catches the roll of your eyes at his self indulgent story as you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to hide your face splitting grin.
“Why don’t you walk away with some dignity. What’s that saying? There’s always more fish in the sea or some shit.” Eddie adds more salt to the wound, finally breaking Craig enough to give up.
“Whatever you say man, this bar is fuckin’ lame anyway. Who wants to drink to Third Eye Blind.” Grumbling his insults as he slinks away, he takes one last look at you and Eddie before his final exit with a flip of his middle finger.
Eddie’s stare is hot on your face, while you bashfully avoid his gaze keeping your eyes lingering on the door. When you finally dare to meet his eyes the shit eating grin on his face makes you groan, the buzz of your drink pulling a giggle out of you. 
“Eddie, don’t —“
“Well, well, aren’t you just a little heartbreaker, huh?” His teasing only makes your cheeks grow hotter as you try to hide your face from his view.
“Don’t you need to go attend to all the customers you left?” Your words come out muffled from behind your hands as you slowly pull them down just enough to uncover the fake glare you were sending his way.
“I’ve got my favorite one right here.” Voice dropping low with a smirk, he was right, you didn’t stand a chance.
“I haven’t paid for a single thing, you refused my money if you remember.” Bringing your hands down to fully come out of hiding, he bites his bottom lip when he can take in your features again.
“It’s no good here, baby, I could actually get arrested if I take it and then how would I be able to take you out to get pancakes after my shift if I’m behind bars?” Bringing his hands together in mock shackles and a pout, the chain wrapped around his wrist catches your eyes for the first time.
“You’re takin’ me to get pancakes?” Flirting like a love sick teenager, you even start to kick your feet under the bar.
“It’s the least I can do since you’re my fill in bouncer for the rest of the night.” Smirking, he nods his head to the man at the opposite end of the bar flagging him down with a twenty dollar bill. His eyes sparkling with something new now that he had you.
“Me? A Bouncer? I’m not intimidating in the slightest!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smile at his retreating form, the game of ‘playing hard to get’ becoming a thing of the past now.
“Sorry, you owe me, heartbreaker.” He shrugs like it’s out of his control before flashing you the same lopsided grin leaving you a mess of nerves from getting to spend the night with him.
The hours till close go by faster than you anticipate with Eddie topping off your drink any time you ask, the buzz from the alcohol is just enough to handle the growing intensity of his flirting. Now that the only obstacle in the way of each other was time, he was relentless.
Enjoying the game of chicken the two of you had started unconsciously playing, you stop noticing the clock. Every six customers earns you five —sometimes ten minutes of his time and he makes sure to use every second of those breaks as an excuse to lean in close, whispering in your ear, holding your face close every time you talk. He was getting off on the way he could make you shift in your seat and hide your bottom lip between your teeth when he got close enough for his lips to brush against your ear. Your fingers find excuses to wrap around his wrist when he invades your space, playing with his chain, you keep him close making sure to tilt your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse down your neck into the low cut of your dress.
The small hand on the clock above the door hits the three and it’s not until his breaks start getting longer and your touches are able to get a little bolder that you notice the murmur of voices over the music disappears. The few stranglers left sipping their last drinks of the evening are paying the two of you no mind despite the way he’s tucking your hair out of his way to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose.
The realization that you’re finally about to be alone with him brings your nerves to a head and the need to check yourself over in the bathroom mirror becomes urgent. The flick of his tongue along your earlobe distracts you for a second as your head nudges against his when it tickles making a giggle slip past your lips.
“I gotta go to the bathroom, Eddie.” You inhale the scent of pine lingering in his shampoo, giving him one last nudge with your nose before hopping off the stool. He gives you his best puppy eyes as you get up to leave, pushing out his bottom lip when you tug your dress down.
“Please, I’ll be like three minutes.” You roll your eyes at him but the smile that lights up your face tells him you’re eating it up.
“I’ll be counting every second you're gone, baby.” Holding his hands over his heart for dramatic effect the man at the end of the bar snorts loudly ruining the moment. He earns an annoyed glare from the bartender, “Better hurry up and finish that shit old man, it’s closing time.” 
You hear him grunt in response to Eddie’s rude reminder before disappearing into the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Stickers and writing with permanent marker cover every inch of the dark crimson walls. The doors of the black stalls barely hang from their hinges, dents from many reckless drunk nights at The Foxy Lounge punch random spots into the metal. The bottom of your sneakers stick to the floor with every step to the mirror where more stickers and black scribbles line the surface including a girl named Leigh’s phone number with the note ‘for a good time call’ attached at the end leaving just enough room to see your face.
The space buns on top of your head are messy from Eddie nuzzling his beard into your hair all night. You try to salvage what was left of them by tightening the knots a little more before deciding it's a lost cause. He was probably just going to mess them up more anyway. The thought of Eddie’s hands being free to touch you in every way you’ve wanted all night has you taking a deep breath while you hold your own eyes in the mirror.
“It’s happening, you’re gonna have sex with him. You’re gonna fuck the super hot bartender who flirts like it’s his second language tonight and you’re gonna be confident about it okay? You hear me?” Pointing to yourself in the mirror, the determination in your stare is enough for your tipsy pep talk to work its magic.
Taking one last look at yourself with a nod of your head you pull open the bathroom door ready to take on the rest of the night. Only to stop in your tracks when you notice the stool that was occupied is now empty and every inch of Eddie is also in full view from where he stands in front of the jukebox. Your eyes are insatiable taking in his tall frame like this for the first time all night. 
You notice the giant chain that hangs from his belt loop this time, and there’s even more rips in his jeans than before giving you a peek at the pale skin hidden underneath. His shoulder blades move under the thin fabric of his shirt when he clicks his choice on the machine. Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer spills out from the speakers of the bar as he turns on his heels, the smirk that plays on his lips dares you to catch the hint with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Very subtle.” Crossing your arms as if to act immune to his charms, you know he sees right through your facade but he plays along anyway raising his big hands up in the air in mock surrender.
“It’s just one of my favorite songs, I don’t know what kinda ideas you got going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He takes a few more steps towards you slowly closing the gap, daring to be closer to you than he had been all night without a wooden bar separating you.
“Interesting, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Sixpence fan.” Raising your eyebrow, you have to look up at him when he finally takes the last few steps to stand in front of you. 
“Why? Cause I’m such a tough guy?” His grin grows wider when he looks down at you catching the roll of your eyes while you uncross your arms opening your body up to him with a laugh. 
“I can’t stand you.” Your swat is flirtatious with your palm hitting his chest. He’s quick to catch it, using your hand as leverage to pull you closer, biting back his groan when a breathy gasp slips past your lips when he tucks you into chest. First your giggle and now this? He just knew you were going to sound so pretty falling apart for him.
“I think Craig would call that bluff sweetheart.” He gives you a minute to let his words sink in, throwing his head back with a loud laugh when you huff at him embarrassed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. He needed to be dumped, a girl like you deserves someone that's gonna show up when they’re supposed to.”
The sweetness of his words has you melt against him, the playful pull from before surrendering to his touch and you swear there’s hearts in your eyes from the way he looks down at you after saying something like that. 
“Thanks for tonight Eddie,” your voice is small when it comes out laced with adoration, and it’s his turn to get bashful making your favorite dimples come out again.
“No problem sweetheart, honestly it’s my fuckin’ lucky night.” Pulling your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss to the skin stretched over them before letting your hand drop, noting the disappointment on your face that you’re quick to cover up. 
“Wanna get some fresh air while I smoke before I close this place down?” 
——
Eddie somehow looks even better under the twinkling stars and pink fluorescent lights of The Foxy Lounge sign. The low hum of the electricity filling your ears as you lean against the brick of the building. His eyes are brighter out here, catching them with your own when he looks at you over the end of his cigarette.
He winks when you meet his pointed gaze, the flame of his lighter casting shadows that dance across the strong lines of his jaw, the orange glow highlighting the stubble that covers it. Batting your lashes at him, you push your hips off the wall playfully while he keeps his eyes on you through his entire first drag, only breaking contact for the split second he needs to blow the smoke he inhaled away from you. 
“Don’t look at me like that.” His words come out like a warning before he takes another hit.
“How am I looking at you Eddie?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you make sure to say his name extra sweet just how you figured out he likes. He shakes his head with a low chuckle blowing more smoke into the clear night sky. 
Despite only taking two drags, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette to the side before closing the distance with a few steps leaving him crowding you against the building. Your chest brushes against his with every shallow breath. Getting lost in the darkening amber inside his eyes, the calloused tips of his fingers catch against the soft skin of your chin. The pad of his thumb pulling the velvet of your bottom lip from between your teeth.
“Like you want me to kiss you.”
Ducking his head down he nudges your nose with his, the heat of his breath fanning against your open mouth. His eyes go from yours back down to your glossed lips silently begging for your permission.
“I think it was you that was hinting at kissing me earlier.” Pushing up on your tiptoes, you smile against him when your lips just barely touch. 
“Oh? You think that’s what I was doing hmm?” Asking the question he already knows the answer to, his tongue licks against your top lip as your hands find the material of his shirt, fisting as much of it as you can before yanking him down to collect his lips with an eager mouth, giving up winning whatever game this was. 
You swallow his moan when your tongues meet in the middle battling for dominance, teeth scraping, you taste the few puffs of tobacco still lingering on his taste buds as his muscle massages against yours. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he smiles smug into the kiss when your hips search for friction against the denim.
He breaks away from your mouth long enough to start trailing wet kisses down your jaw, the rough hair on his chin rubbing your skin raw as he starts nipping and sucking bruises along your neck. Biting hard enough at your pulse point to have to soothe it with his tongue after the mewls he pulls from you are enough to drive him insane.
Your fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, giving his roots a pull while you turn your head, opening more of yourself to him. Taking your silent invitation he nips at the dip of your collar bone before lifting his head to press his forehead to yours. 
“I gotta close up baby, but then…”rubbing his hands up your curves with a low groan he squeezes at the plush of your hips before finishing his sentence, “I think I promised you pancakes.”
Nodding your head because words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, he grabs your cheeks with a strong grip, smushing your lips together before stealing one last kiss.
——-
Eddie doesn’t give you the attention you’ve grown accustomed to all night when he starts the process of actually cleaning the bar. Your body still buzzes like a live wire from the drinks and the kiss outside. He’d been counting his tips with his back to you for the last ten minutes and you were growing impatient for more of him. You needed it. 
Counting the last bill he finally turns around and your thighs press together when you get to see his face again. Shifting in your seat when his eyes barely meet yours, he makes his way to the other end of the bar. Pushing yourself up to lean forward with puckered lips, he ignores your advances passing by without so much as a glance in your direction. Huffing when you plop back in your seat, he flips the knob starting to wash his hands in the mini sink with his back to you again. Your foot taps against the metal of the stool as you watch him grab the scratched up red bucket hanging below and a fresh rag quickly replacing his hands with it to fill up.
You wonder if he can feel your stare when he adds the soap, taking his time while he spins the rag in the steaming water, he starts ringing it out. Arms flexing and suds spilling over his knuckles, you were gonna lose your mind if you didn’t get your hands on him soon. 
He makes big swipes as he starts working his way towards you, keeping his eyes so focused on his task you’d think you were invisible if it wasn’t for the smirk that was getting impossible for him to hide. It only grows bigger when he stops in front of you, adding a low hum to his charade purposely wiping around the outline of your hands that were splayed out on the counter ready to push yourself up again. 
“Eddie - c’mon!”  
You’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the laugh that falls easy from his chest when he finally looks at you. His face softens and his eyes darken when he catches your angry pout, your fingers are quick to find his free ones making him tsk at you but he doesn’t pull away.
“My hands are wet baby.” He knew you didn’t care and the teeth showing in his wide grin told you he didn’t either.
Giving into your persistence like it hasn’t been a fight to keep his hands to himself this whole time, he leans forward brushing his nose with yours before nudging it against your cheek so your lips just barely touch. When you go to close the space he pulls back just enough to tease, a small whine escaping you at his games.
“What’s got you so needy, huh?” His words are whispered as he presses with the slightest pressure before pulling back again. “I didn’t kiss you good enough outside, you need more?”
“Please.” Your cheeks burn when you hear how your voice sounds, but his grip on your fingers tighten and a low moan breaks through his front at how desperate you sound just for a kiss.
“Gotta give my girl what she needs.” Your brain gets stuck on the words ‘my girl’ taking you a minute to realize he was finally giving you what you want.
It’s slower than outside, he’s taking his time with you this time. Untangling his fingers from yours, his hand comes up to wrap around the side of your neck. The water feels good on your skin as the pad of his thumb starts rubbing soft lines under your jaw while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip looking for more. You don’t give into his advances on purpose, keeping your mouth closed to get him back for all his teasing you feel his smile grow against your own.
Expecting him to stop and surrender, he only doubles down. Catching your top lip with his bottom, he pulls away just enough for you to open your eyes. God, you wished you kept them closed. The brightness from outside had turned them into nothing but black leaving no trace of the specks of brown from before. The knowledge that he was just as affected by all of this as you sends you reeling. Toes curling inside your sneakers.
“Whining over here for me to give you what you want, and here I am baby, and you’re playing hard to get.” Nipping at your bottom lip he meets your heavy lidded gaze again, “Gonna let me give you what you want?”
He barely lets you finish nodding before he’s on you, the hunger from outside coming back as he leans over the bar to deepen the kiss like you’d been begging him for. Opening your mouth for him without hesitation when he asks for permission again your tongues meet lazily, exploring each other like you didn’t get a chance to before. Pushing up again eager to get more of him he pulls back leaving you breathless with spit slick lips.
Despite the way his chest heaves trying to catch his breath, he does his best to play it cool, smirking when you have no shame chasing for more.
“I gotta finish closing up.” He gives you one more chaste kiss before he starts wiping the rest of the counter down. 
Jutting out your bottom lip into a pout, he laughs, throwing out a ‘you’ll survive five minutes baby.’
You leave him alone doing your best not to distract him, despite how much your fingers itch to have him close again. Grabbing the money from the register and the receipts for the night he disappears back into what you could only assume was Rick’s office. When he pops back out he looks a little more relaxed.
“Just gotta wipe the bottles down and then I’m getting the prettiest girl the best pancakes in town.” Clapping his hands together with a rub of his palms, he grabs another rag.
You were starting to hate pancakes. Not that you didn’t want them, you just wanted him more.
“Hey Eddie?” Trying to hide your ulterior motives in the sweetness of your voice, his eyes meet yours almost instantly and they narrow just as quick.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Setting the rag down he leans forward with his palms on the bar he gives you his undivided attention. An intimidation tactic. Unable to help yourself, your eyes trace up the ink covering his arms.
“Teach me how to make that drink?” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you see something flash across his face, fingertips digging into the countertop after the question leaves your mouth.
“Wasting Love?” 
“I mean, I wouldn’t call it that now, would you?” Laying it on thick, a slow smile spreads across his face. He saw what you were doing and he was going to fall into your trap willingly.
“Why don’t you come back here then, we’ll make our own.” His voice comes out low, his pupils taking over all the brown, pretty white teeth baring themselves at you.
His gaze is predatory when he watches you jump from the stool, the exaggerated sway of your hips keeps his eyes trained on the curve of your waist as you make your way into his space for the first time all night. Leaning against the back counter, his legs are spread wide leaving little to the imagination on how worked up you had him. His eyebrows raise when he sees the automatic press of your thighs at the sight. It wasn’t fair, you were trying to seduce him, not the other way around. He wasn’t even trying.
As if on cue the jukebox that had been left to play all night clicks, Ginuwine’s Pony pouring out of the speakers as he licks his lips unashamed at the way he’s drinking all of you in like this.
“Gonna teach me how to make something sweet, Eddie?” Trailing a finger along the bar while you close the distance, you drag out the ‘e’ at the end of his name just enough to get him to groan.
His hands grab your waist squeezing just hard enough to feel his strength before using it to pull you flush against him. The material of your dress doing nothing to hide how hard he is pressed into your ass. His lips trace the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath tickling your neck as you push back into him searching for more. The stubble on his face rubs rough against the soft skin of your cheek as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips.
“The sweetest, baby.” 
You bite back your moan when his nose trails up your neck, his lips just barely grazing the warmth of your flesh before they settle back against your ear. You hold onto the wood of the bar in front of you when he hums low, feeling it deep in your core. His calloused fingers start a path up the bare skin of your thigh hiking up your dress when they catch the hem.
“Tell me,” your eyes close when his nose is pressed to your temple as he speaks, “Do you like cherries, baby?” His tongue catches your earlobe sucking it into his mouth, grazing it between his teeth when he lets it back out.
Your knees almost buckle at how good everything feels, the slow rock of his hips never stopping as he plucks at the lace trim of your underwear. 
“Y- yeah, I love cherries,” you whimper when his palms lay flat on the outside of your thighs, the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin when he squeezes at the fat working his way back up.
“Of course you do, pretty.” His thumbs hook the sides of your underwear, “You’re just so sweet all the time, huh?” Despite the need for friction, you spread your legs for him wondering if he can hear the way your lips pull apart sticky, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.
He chuckles soft in your ear praising you with a ‘so sweet’ before giving them a tug, letting the red lace fall to the floor. Keeping his hands on your hips, he presses himself against you hard enough to have the heels of your sneakers pick up off the ground. A low ‘fuck’ slipping out from under his breath when you whine a little.
“Red lace? Was Kurt gonna get lucky or was this just a ploy to get me all along, sweetheart?” Your cheeks burn at his question, his low chuckle tickling your ear when he hears you huff out an annoyed breath. “‘Cause if that’s the case all you would’ve had to do is walk through that door on any given night.”
He grinds himself against you one more time, but you can really feel him this time and it makes your legs shake.
“Are we gonna make this drink or do you wanna keep talking about Craig?”  The shake of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed despite trying to be sharp with him but the grip on your waist still tightens at the mention of the other man’s name
“Sure we can, if that’s really what you wanna do.” His words taunt you but with one hand holding you against him the other flips a clean cocktail glass onto the bar top with ease, like he wasn’t rock hard digging into your back.
Reaching around, his hand trails up the front of your thigh sending goosebumps across your heated skin. A shiver runs down your spine when he dares to dip between your legs inching his way towards where you want him most.
“We better not mix liquors so why don’t you be a good girl and grab the whiskey for me.” His lips brush against your ear with every word, his hand never faltering on their path even when his fingertips meet your slick folds. Feather light, he traces along your slit, not daring to break the barrier yet. Brain hazy with want you don’t even comprehend what bottle you reach for, blindly grabbing for whatever was in front of you.
“That is tequila, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk, tsk are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you too…” Before he finishes his sentence he pushes his index finger past your entrance, your warm walls wrapping tight around his digit, “…distracted?”
Your head lulls back against his chest, your eyes closing when he pushes two knuckles deeper. Your needy whimper makes him kick up again making you grind your ass against him in response. Licking your lips, you try to collect yourself only chasing for more of his finger once. 
“N-no, I can do it.”  Determined to prove him wrong, you focus just long enough to grab the Jameson bottle, “What’s next?”
He hums in approval while his smile grows against your skin. Deciding to indulge in your stubborn game still, he curves his finger enough just to make you gasp his name.
“Are we keeping this simple, or do you want something a little more—” Adding a second finger, you stretch easily for him now, dripping down his hand, “Complicated?” 
You shudder, a moan slipping past your lips while your grip on the bottle tightens so much you're scared it’ll shatter. Fuck, you gotta keep it …
“S- simple - oh.” His thumb finds your clit applying just enough pressure to have your mouth fall open and your brows to knit together, and just as quick as he’s there, he’s gone. 
Pulling himself free, he tries his best to ignore the way your pussy tries to suck him back in, your body begging him for more. You whimper at the loss, your eyes opening to remind you where you are.
“I’m gonna need both hands to do this, baby.” His fingers shine with your slick when he wiggles them for show, stepping back just enough for you to see the grin on his face but not enough to get out of your personal space. 
Grabbing his wrist, his eyes go dark when he realizes what you’re about to do. Gaze turning half lidded when your mouth opens, huffing out a deep breath when your tongue flattens against the pads of the two fingers that were just buried inside of you. Wrapping your lips around them, your arousal is tangy sweet hitting your taste buds.
Hollowing your cheeks as you suck them clean, you watch the confidence drain from his face, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the sight. The blunt ends of his nails dig through the soft material of your dress and he starts rutting into you with a little more force when you slide your tongue between each knuckle.
“Jesus christ,” his voice is strangled, words coming out through gritted teeth when you let him go with a loud pop.
“Now you can use both hands,” you say innocently, like you didn’t just suck them clean. You let his fingers tug at your bottom lip before dropping his wrist.
He fists a handful of your dress, a low growl rumbling from his chest getting a taste of his own medicine. Licking his lips, his eyes narrow at you before his teeth start to show, mischievous in the low light.
“Well if we want this drink cold, we need to fill this shaker with ice.” Just like the glass, he flips it on the counter one hand never leaving your waist despite his claim. 
Pressing his lips to your ear again, he makes sure to let his breath linger a little before he talks, enjoying the goosebumps that appear from such a simple touch.
“Fill it up for me, baby?” Your thighs clench at the deep rasp in his voice, both of his hands finding a home spread out on your thighs.
Nodding your head you slide open the silver metal door of the ice chest below you, bending over more than you needed to to scoop it up into the shaker. He groans loud when you press into him like this, his fingers making quick work to flip the back of your dress up. 
“Look at you, so fucking messy for me and I’ve barely touched you.” Grabbing a handful of your ass, he ruts into you, the rough denim hitting your clit in a way that has you moaning his name.
He laughs quietly at your neediness flipping your dress back down when you straighten out. Chests heaving in time with the other, neither one of you was ready to back down. Not yet.
“Might need to unzip those pants.” Looking over your shoulder at him you fake a pout, “Feeling a little strained back there handsome.”
Smugness dripping from the smile on your face, he raises his eyebrows at you in a challenge. 
“Since you wanted something simple sweetheart, we just need two more things.” One hand snakes its way back between your legs, squeezing at the inside of your thigh before he lets you go for the first time since you set foot behind the bar.
Craning your neck so you could follow him, you find him bent down grabbing lemon juice from the mini fridge under the shorter back counter. Shutting the door with his foot when he stands up, he throws a wink your way when he grabs the simple syrup.
Setting the bottles in front of you he steals a quick kiss that leaves you wanting more before he grabs the small tub of cherries from the fridge he forgot his first go around.
“Okay, so you’re gonna grab the Jameson, and I want you to pour it out to the count of three for me then cut it off.” He returns to his place behind you, his large hand swallowing yours when it shadows your movements.
Your pour is shaky when he counts low in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair calling you a good girl after each successful addition to the simple concoction.
“Alright, now you’re gonna shake it as hard as you can angel.” His hands squeeze your hips for encouragement.
Doing as he says he pulls you against him even harder when your arms start to go wild. Your chest bounces with each movement making you giggle and you almost don’t hear the hitch in his breath at the sight. 
He helps you by putting the strainer over the rim of the glass when you’re ready to pour. Mumbling soft words of praise while he nibbles at your ear lobe. The drink is much lighter than the one you had all night, the dark orange turning lemon as the white foam fizzed on top.
“I think I could take your job.” You smirk reaching for the cherries to top it all off. 
“You think you could take my job?” He snorts incredulous, watching you unwrap the plastic wrap from the small tub dropping three cherries into the already very sweet cocktail.
“Absolutely.” Grinning while ignoring his stare you reach for another cherry, “No doubt in my mind.” You grab the fruit between your teeth, finally meeting his eyes as you pull the stem, relishing in the burst of sugar and grenadine that erupts against your tongue.
“Tough luck princess, unless you know how to tie that cherry stem in a knot with your teeth, no bar in this town is gonna touch you.” Grabbing his own cherry, he dangles it in front of your frowning mouth for you to bite. Obliging him with it bumps your bottom lip you tug gently, taking the fruit before chewing slowly while he sucks the stem once before it disappears in his mouth.
“I’m calling your bluff now. No one knows how to actually do that.” Daring him to prove you wrong he mutters a ‘watch me’ between his working teeth.
You don’t lose focus on the way his hand on your waist starts to wander, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the fat of your thigh while his tongue ties the stem like it’s easy. Jaw flexing with each twist of his tongue before he pushes it out to show you, a pleased look on his face when the small knot in the middle comes out perfectly placed. 
Swiping it off his tongue with the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, you wonder if he can still taste you when he sets it next to your drink satisfied by the way your jaw drops.
“How do you think I got this job? I’m more than just a cute face.” The touch of his hands grows bolder when they start working their way up your dress, a thickness in the air that wasn’t there before filling your lungs.
“That’s quite the skill set you have there Mr. Munson,” your giggle is breathless, your eyes going from his down to his lips as you try to play it off.  
“I can do more than that with my tongue sweetheart, if you wanna find out.” His nose nudges against yours, the smirk on his face making you sweat when his fingers trace up your wet folds again.
Surrendering instantly, you forget all about the drink the two of you made nodding without hesitation the desperation for him all night finally taking over.
“Yeah?” His voice breaks when his thick fingers push into your entrance again feeling just how worked up all his teasing had you.
“Please - Eddie,” the pad of his thumb finds your clit again making you beg, “Fuck.”
“Asking me so sweet, how could I say no to you?” Murmuring against your lips, he finally gives in and kisses you. Wet and sloppy he only does it long enough to take your breath away before dropping to his knees.
His big hands on your hips angle you to face forward, flipping your dress up over your ass again. The air of the bar is still hot against your folds, arousal dripping down your thighs, you’re fully exposed to him now. You hear him suck the skin of his teeth at the sight, a ringed hand coming down just hard enough on your right cheek to make it jiggle before both hands palm the fat.
“I can’t believe you were gonna let anybody else but me have this pussy. Should be a punishable offense.” Pulling your cheeks apart to expose more of you to his hungry eyes, he pushes at the small of your back signaling for you to bend over more for him.
He moans loud enough to make you jump when you listen to his command, even you can hear the sound of your lips pulling apart for him. 
“All this for me, baby, fuck, you spoil me.” He wastes no time burying his face between your folds, his talented tongue collecting your juices before finding your clit. The rough hair on his chin rubbing your sensitive skin raw as he shakes his head from side to side. 
Squeezing your ass to pull you closer to his face when you try to run away, he sucks your bundle of nerves harder when he gets you back to where he wants you, dipping his nose into your entrance every time.
He does the motions he would do when he ties the cherry stem into a knot against your clit, a strangled moan ripping from your throat when he does it again.
Your hands find purchase on the top of the bar, eyes closed tight while you see white behind your lids. Your nails dig into the wood when his tongue flattens, the lewd squelching of your arousal filling your ears when he pushes his face so deep between your legs you aren’t sure if he can even breathe. The moan that rumbles through his chest and vibrates to your core tells you he doesn’t care. Wrapping his lips tight around your clit he sucks even harder, not caring when your legs start to shake from overstimulation. 
“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna - fuck!” His name comes out long and drawn out when you fall apart on his tongue. Relentless, his teasing never stops, his hands holding you up while your body starts to shake. Humming low in satisfaction against your cunt.
“I n- need, I need…” willing your eyes to open, your vision’s blurry from how hard he made you cum. Pulling away with a loud smack of his lips, he palms your ass cheeks before craning his neck to try and get a good look at you.
“What do you need, baby?” He nips at the curve of your right cheek before pressing his face to it, dazed from getting what he’s wanted all night completely content.
“I just, I just need you to fuck me,” you don’t recognize the choke in your voice when you whine for him. Whine for more.
“Jesus christ.” His words tickle against your skin when he groans, kneading the soft flesh of your ass one more time before standing up. 
His hands are on your hips before you can fully register the change in position, spinning you around and lifting you up he sets you on top of the counter behind the bar. The one where drinks aren’t served and the one that’s low enough for Eddie to slot himself perfectly between your legs. 
Eyes blown black while his beard and nose ring shine with your slick, his lips part - swollen and pink from pulling your first orgasm out of you. Bangs clinging to his forehead, his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from your hands. The confident air about him is gone, replaced with nothing but the need to have you. Snapping out of your daze, you’re quick to find the metal of his belt buckle.
His forehead presses to yours, while he watches the way your dainty fingers work the leather out through the loop. The white tips of your nails catch his eye when you undo the button of his jeans and his cock twitches at the thought of them pumping him for all he’s worth.
He hisses when you push the denim down his hips, his hard dick springing out to smack against his shirt that you immediately wish wasn’t there. Precum leaks from the angry looking pink tip while your hands fist the hem of the worn cotton, silently begging him to get rid of it. The big vein that follows the curve of his length makes your mouth water as he obliges your pleas, ripping his shirt off and throwing it somewhere you’d have to find later. 
You’re able to really take all of him in like this, his chest is heaving covered with just as many tattoos as the rest of him, the silver chain you’d peeped earlier hanging right in the dip between his pecs. Your eyes follow the dark patch of hair that leads to his cock, long with the kind of girth that you know is going to be a stretch, a strangled whine bubbles out of you at the sight while your thighs spread begging for him.
“God, I want you so bad,” you whine wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer giving into your animalistic instincts. 
“I know baby, me fuckin’ too.” He pumps his cock a few times groaning loud, squeezing hard at the base before pressing the head between your dripping lips. Mesmerized at how they wrap around his tip, his precum mixes messy with your arousal making lewd noises as he sweeps it through your folds.
Body shaking every time he hits your clit, you finally hook your ankles growing impatient when he teases your entrance.
“Fuck. Me.” You get out through gritted teeth, the lopsided grin he’d been giving you all night turns cocky when he pushes the tip in, your head lulls back at the invasion, the silk of your walls desperate to start sucking him deeper.
“Not so sweet now are you, huh?” Pushing himself all the way in, his rough thatch of pubic hair hits your clit when he bottoms out. His confidence falters for a second when a deep moan rips through his chest at the feeling. “So fuckin’ tight baby - shit.”
Your nails dig half crescent moons into his inked skin while you adjust to his size, his nose skimming against your cheek while he whispers how good you take him when your walls start to milk him, your body letting him know it was okay to finally move.
“Feel so good, Eddie, fuck - so good.” Your hips start a slow rock, feeling every ridge and curve of him. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist giving a perfect view of the way you take him, and it’s even better than what his imagination had come up with all night. 
He lets you use him for a minute, big hands resting on your waist — content with just watching the way you coat his cock with everything you have left over for him from the first time he made you cum. 
“That feels good, huh?” Cooing at the way your brows knit together and your mouth falls open, he picks up the pace, taking control. 
Pulling you all the way to the edge, his strokes get deeper, the tip of him hitting the spot that you know Craig would have never found. He pulls his cock out half way, relishing how your velvet walls try to keep him in place, he holds his composure before pushing back in, filling you to the brim. Addicted to the way it makes you gasp his name and arch your back, your body asks him for more when you’re too cock drunk to get the words out.
The straps of your dress start slipping down your shoulders with every thrust, your breasts bouncing just begging for his attention. His cock twitches inside you, it's almost too much. Greedy for more despite fighting the urge to cum, he tugs the front of your dress down to reveal a matching bra to the panties on the floor. Hips stuttering for a moment he growls at the reminder of your date before tugging the lace down, your nipple pebbling instantly for him before he takes it in the heat of his mouth. 
Pushing yourself closer, needing more, your hands find their way to bury themselves in his curls, holding him close. You needed him close. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bud and it makes you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips finding a way to match his strokes, reigniting the flames deep in your gut. God, he was gonna make you cum again.
He grunts around your breast, spit dripping down your soft skin from his ministrations while the snap of his hips start to get harsher and you know he’s nearing his end. He lets your nipple go with a loud pop before his hand comes up to grip your chin, his lips finding yours in a frantic mess of teeth and battling tongues.
The wood creaks underneath you from the force of his thrusts and the bounce of your ass to meet them. Mouths tangled, you swallow each other's ragged breaths, both of you desperately searching for your end when his fingers find your clit. Rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have your body start to shake against his, he nips at your bottom lip grunting when he feels the way it makes you flutter around him.
“Come on baby, give me another one. Be my sweet girl again and tell me how good I make you cum.” His fingers slip against your clit, fingers wet from how worked up he had you but his words are enough to have your world stop for a second.
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Ed-“ Going blind behind your closed eyes he coaxes your second orgasm out of you with a silent scream falling onto his turned up lips. Proud of his work, his hips start picking up their pace inching closer to his own release he’d been fighting off since going down on you. 
“God, - fuck I’m close - where d-do you-?” Sweat drips down his forehead while he struggles to find his words, his impending orgasm making him short circuit.
“Inside, shit - please, I need it, Eddie.” Still needy and barely coming down, your legs around his waist tighten their hold, locking him in place while you use the last of your strength to help get him there. 
“Whatever you’re doing - holy shit , Jesus - I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His hips press hard against yours when his cock twitches, spilling warm inside your greedy walls that don’t stop asking him for more. His face hides in your neck, the heat of his breath fanning against your sweat kissed skin while his body shakes with his release.
The roll of your hips never stops, just slowing enough to make him shiver after he starts softening, spent inside of you. You know there’s a mess starting to drip but neither one of you has the energy to move just yet. His lips start leaving small kisses along your neck, nose nudging against the space behind your ear and you can feel his smile against your cheek before he finally lifts his head up. The brown in his eyes return to a warm auburn like before when they meet yours.
“Rick is gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out what happened on this counter tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you snort at his joke before shoving against his chest.
“You’re telling me you don’t fuck all your cute customers behind the bar, Eddie?” Batting your lashes at him, he squeezes your hips with a smirk. 
“Only, the really, really cute ones. I take them to get pancakes at IHOP around the corner, too.” Something shifts in his eyes and you think for a second you might see self doubt in them for the first time all night, “That is, if they still want to.”
“Well lucky for you, I only let bartender’s from The Foxy Lounge take me out.” Nudging your nose against his, your smile touches his lips.
“Sweetheart, you know I’m the only bartender here right?” Grinning like someone who just won the lottery, he quickly gets rid of the space between you, kissing you like it too.
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love-byers · 2 months
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i recently mentioned how the stranger things directors are freaks about symmetry and centering here, and i'm gonna bring up another example of when something isn't centered
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i posted this picture recently specifically about how there is light imagery above mikes head, a literal yellow lightbulb going off in his head as he doesn't close his eyes or kiss her back. but as i was looking at this i noticed something else that has probably been talked about before, ive just never seen it.
the screen gets progressively darker from left to right. and mike is on the dark side. why would mike be in the dark if the love of his life is saying she loves him? and why is he framed perfectly inside will's closet?
what really got me is that there's a window right there with light flowing into the room, and it's in frame, almost teasing you. if this is a huge happy moment for mike and el, why aren't they in the light, centered in front of the window?? it's RIGHT THERE!! and it would've looked way better than this shot!! this shot is messy, there's so much going on. it's dark on half the screen, the walls and closet and window make it look like there's five different sections on the screen, and the light above mike's head is distracting too.
and anti bylers reading this might be thinking, "okay well so what?"
i'll tell you exactly what.
this is the scene that plays RIGHT before the mlvn scene:
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centered. symmetric. couple in the light, in front of the window. no messy design distracting you from jonathan and nancy. because this is just about them. no hidden feelings or hidden messages the directors are sending you.
RIGHT. BEFORE. THE MLVN SCENE. RIGHT BEFORE IT. and right after the byler scene
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and to make it even worse, they remind you of both windows in wills room (yes, WILL'S ROOM)
but in the big moment, no window. in fact, they block it at some points. and to be clear, jancy are not blocking the window, they are standing in front of it.
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blocking VS standing in front of
meanwhile in bylerland...
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they are endgame.
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fuctacles · 2 months
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you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that
Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.
"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.
Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.
"It's not mine."
Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.
"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.
At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.
It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.
"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.
"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"
"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."
Dustin looks at the dog.
"He's fine. You're overthinking it."
Eddie thinks that might be it, but...
"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"
Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.
"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."
Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.
"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."
Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.
"There's this thing called phones?"
"Oh. Right."
"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."
"Well..."
"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.
"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."
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"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.
"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."
When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.
"Buddy?"
There's a bark from the front of the trailer.
"Sure, sorry!"
He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.
"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."
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Steve calls him not even an hour later.
"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.
"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"
"No?"
"Dustin then?"
"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."
He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.
"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"
"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."
Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.
Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.
"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."
Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.
"Sure, come over anytime."
"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."
When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.
Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.
But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.
"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.
Eddie blinks at him.
"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"
"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"
The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.
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longtallglasses · 2 months
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i just may be a daredevil (can you feel my heart?)
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Will doesn’t have anything to lose anymore, and Mike can’t lose him. The two go hurtling towards an inevitable precipice where the only option might be to go tumbling down together, limbs grappling for each other, flesh melding, and heartbeats syncing in time. OR
Will’s composure cracks and beats up their middle school bully. :)
@scapegods and me are triggering each other’s brain rots. and a strong desire for bloody fucked up weird byler. here’s the fic that goes along with this Jaw Dropping Gorgeous art. Look at IT. (you already have i know, look at it again)
and now also THIS bc levi is insane
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janitorhutcherson · 10 months
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olderbfyandere!mike schmidt
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surprise, bitches!!! im giving yall a lil taste of some more writing. im not really on hiatus (obvi, i post every 5 minutes) but i've been sooooo busy that i haven't been able to post half as much. with that being said, here are some more in depth headcanons ab yandere!mike. :p could not have done this without @futturmand literally helping me (coming up w/) most of these. thank u bae.
warnings: drugging, violence, sex, daddy kink, abusive tendencies
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olderbfyandere!mike schmidt was kinda an asshole. to his coworkers, random customers at the mall, anybody who came too close to you, and yes, even sometimes to you. he was the kind of guy who had a semi-permanent grimace on his face. the corners of his mouth would turn into smiles typically only when he was with abby or you two were alone and he could let his guard down. of course, even then, the moment you caught an attitude, that grimace would appear right back on his face. his demeanor was typically gruff. he was the kind of guy most people didn't want to mess with. this meant any male coworkers around you would be tested their fate to even glance at you the wrong way and god forbid mike saw one of them brush something off of your shoulder. that would truly be the end of them.
olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is very obsessive over safety. after losing garrett, he has this urge to do nothing but to protect. this means that mike is the type of guy to want your location at all times. not only that, but he wants to know what you're doing, who you're with, and what time you'll be home. he expects a text when you leave, a text when you get there, an hourly check-in, then a text on your way home. it brings him a sense of peace, knowing where you are. he watches life360 obsessively when you're not in his sight, watching your little bubble move through wherever you may be. he's constantly checking the speed of the car you're in, occasionally stalking your friend's instagram stories to see where you are. he's overprotective to the extent that it can be overbearing, but at the end of the day it's endearing knowing he cares that much.
olderbfyandere!mike schmidt uses the fact that you're younger than him to manipulate you. he's less about violence or anything physical and instead uses his words. he will constantly remind you how helpless you are without him, how he has so much more life experience than you. he'll point out randomly when you mention not knowing how to do something, saying something like, "see, babydoll, where would you be without me? that's right, nowhere. you need me to take care of you." he's also the kind of guy to eventually make you financially dependent on him if he could ever afford it. he would never put you in that spot until he was comfortable enough to do so, though, meaning it might be a loooong time before that ever happened.
olderbfyandere!mike schmidt treats you less like a partner and more like a little sibling, kinda like he treats abby. as strange as it is, he also feels a paternal instinct to protect you. it comes from his deep-rooted feelings of abandonment. he lost garrett, his mom, his dad, and sometimes he feels like abby hates him. he loves that you listen to him, that he can command you to do something and you'd be so good for him. he absolutely adores being able to control different aspects of your life, making you completely reliant on him. it makes him feel special and needed, which he hasn't felt in a very long time. he loves nothing more than when he gets to scold you almost like a parent, your eyes falling to the ground, that adorable wounded puppy look he loves so much taking over your face.
olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is incredibly clingy and touch starved. he wants to have a hand on you 24/7. forget having personal space, because you are not getting it with him. he'd follow you around, watching you everywhere you'd go. his hands would grip onto your hips so tightly sometimes it'd feel like they were glued to them. he'd always have his arms around you, kissing at your neck, nipping in a way you felt shouldn't be shown in public. mike didn't care, he wanted everyone to know you belonged to him in every single way. he controlled you, and if he wanted to embarrass you and turn your face red by leaving purple marks on your neck in the middle of a shopping plaza, then so be it. you would take it or be punished.
olderbfyandere!mike schmidt who of course uses his sleeping pills on you when you're being a little brat. he isn't violent with you for the most part except for the rare occasion when he will hold you down onto the bed until you'll listen, but otherwise he opts for something simpler. when you're being a little too frustrating for him, going against his every command or you're not feeling like being held, mike will simply crush up his sleeping pills, slip them into your water. he's careful with you once you doze off, never abusing you in any way. all he will do is tuck you into your shared bed and hold your body in his arms, whispering sweet nothings as you're off in your own sweetly drugged up world.
olderbfyandere!mike schmidt would most definitely have a thing for being called daddy. sorry guys, it had to be said. hot take, i guess. considering he did want to protect you so thoroughly, he loved when you'd call him daddy. it made him feel like your protector, like you knew he was the one that did everything for you. it was so crazy how such a simple word could change his whole day. he loved hearing it fall out of your lips as he'd brush through your hair or wash your body off in the shower. "thank you, daddy," you'd hum and he'd grin ear to ear. "you're welcome, babydoll," he'd always say, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
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