#and French fries present

[artcalledky]

Star The Swiping There, Start All this for 4.99 I should of fried my own Could’ve fried a whole bag Had way much more Thank You Large! No cups of condiment included! Nor napkins Pesky salt and pepper pacts! Well fuck you Need a name here! What a value @ $4.99 mmmmm I can count and break it down per fried fry Your name here would suck Didn’t cut your very own Nah bag bought How many people purchased whole store bought bags? I don’t have a frier? Cool in the City! Opinions and no onions vary you left out that part at least! Nien zwevebel Leave out tomato Chump crinkle store bought Not in stored well you paid for more! Patron! The container was $2.75 It had a top Hey USA French Fries Brought by DoorDash I should cook my own We know Phillies in all dailies In the mid west! No fucking Ranch as stated Nor napkins Wipe your self with bag Hey the restaurant over driver pick upper You had clean pants and shirt Star the swiping there Start 4.99 B S

[slippery-minghus]

that kinda sorta gray area where you're like. hmm. i'm probably not actually at risk of relapsing on my eating disorder. but restricting my eating is feeling really good right now.

this is not something my current therapist (of over 4yrs) and i have really even ever discussed because of how long ago it's been since i got over my ed but. should i fuckin reach out to my therapist about this? like sooner rather than later? should i mention it in session on saturday? do i want help??? do i need help????????

[edwardslostalchemy]

Okay okay okay okay so what I've noticed about some cooking videos I've watched, the person cooking only uses salt and pepper to season their food. And i mean, nothing wrong with that, but. SPICE things up ohmgggg there's so many spices and herbs to give flavor to food, I'm begging people to use more things other than salt and pepper.

Like I saw a video of someone cooking salmon. Only used salt and pepper. And I'm here like. That is your prerogative, but make use of other spices.

This is how I prepare salmon: either add the juice of an orange or a lemon to give it some good marinade. You can use both citrus fruits if you want, but I use whichever is available in my basket or I pick one over the other to change things up.

Next, I get my spices. I am not into hot foods, so I don't add any hot peppers or hot sauce. But I love certain spices. I add cumin, garlic powder, ground pepper, lemon pepper, and onion powder, in that order. Let the salmon rest for a bit. Then cook it on a pan with oil. It takes like 4-5 minutes to cook each side of the salmon, maybe a bit more depending on your stove, but I don't leave it for too long so it doesn't burn, and I check to see if it's cooked all the way by cutting it in half with my spatula because in this house, we care more about food being fully cooked over aesthetic. My dad brings out the hot sauce, the home made salsa mom makes, and the tartar sauce, and we can add those on the side so we don't cover the salmon with sauces after plating.

It tastes amazing. You don't even have to add the sauces at the end for it to taste good. I use ground pepper, but I never add salt. I don't recall ever pulling out the salt container to add it to salmon. Lemon pepper already has sodium and it gives it good flavor. I do NOT put limits on how much spice i add to the salmon; I put as much of each as I want and feel comfortable. Cumin can have a deliciously overwhelming smell and ground pepper makes me sneeze, but heck if I don't add them.

Sometimes if I feel fancy, i add oregano or parsley flakes, or cut onion and cook it with the salmon so it can give it flavor, too. I've added honey to it when my roommate suggested it. If I want the salmon to be a little red, I add paprika. Sometimes i just go HAM and add some more spices i have in my pantry. Give it flavor!!!

Don't stay in the same cycle of cooking. This is one reason it can become boring. Make it exciting. Idk about others, but only using salt and pepper is boring to me. I will use steak seasoning if it means using something new and different (and I have steak seasoning in my pantry, I will use it). Rub some cilantro on the salmon or some parsley or marinade it over night. SOMETHING. Just don't limit yourselves to salt and pepper.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗖𝗔𝗠

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, the triplets and Justin are present at the Bruins game, and the Kiss Cam chooses Matt and Y/N to share a kiss.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon and @iammattswife

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"...I know! Did you see Pastrnak's? It was incredible what he did with the puck!" Y/N commented excitedly to Justin while pressing Matt's jacket tighter around her own body, watching the oldest Sturniolo, who nodded while lightly biting the nail on his ring finger.

"Yeah, Marchand was very agile in that-"

"Oh, it's starting!" Nick's excited shout cut through Justin's sentence, smiling as he still chewed on a piece of his own hot dog, momentarily pointing forward.

Y/N raised her eyes to the indicated point, seeing the pink heart taking up the edges of the big screen, along with some smaller hearts and "Kiss Cam" written in the bottom corner.

A look of amusement took over her expression, exchanging glances with Chris - who was sitting next to Nick -, excited to see the funny and romantic - or disastrous - kisses that would occur during the break of the game.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway and people moving their legs to make room caught her attention. The girl looked over Chris's shoulder, smiling when she saw Matt returning with a tray in his hands that looked heavy, full of things.

"Hi baby, I'm back." The boy sighed dramatically, sitting down, leaving her between himself and Justin, who fished his phone out of his hoodie, alternating his eyes between the device and the big screen.

"Babe, I just asked for fries." Y/N's eyes widened, noticing not only a big serving of french fries on the tray but also two cheeseburgers and two drinks, a Diet Coke - her favorite - and a root beer.

"You only had breakfast today. French fries won't take away your hunger." Matt countered, carefully opening the packaging of all the items so that Y/N could eat them without getting her hands or clothes dirty.

The girl rolled her eyes playfully, smiling and bending slightly to his side, softly sealing Matt's right cheek with her lips before picking up some fries, bringing them to her mouth. Her action was quickly interrupted by her boyfriend, who held her wrist gently.

"Wait, I bought you ketchup." He lifted the package of fries, showing the small closed container with the red sauce inside.

"Oh, thank God." The girl sighed in relief, waiting for Matt to open the lid so she could dip her fries before finally eating them, rolling her eyes in exaggerated pleasure.

Matt let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. His hatred for ketchup was the same size as Y/N's love for it.

Y/N quickly took the package of fries, turning to Justin and offering, smiling as she watched him fish out some, slowly eating them while observing the arena.

Matt's fingers worked on opening the can of Diet Coke, passing the transparent straw through the hole - knowing that his girlfriend didn't drink anything without one - before opening his own.

Chris and Nick's excited screams caught the attention of them, who quickly looked at the two with wide eyes, surprised by their sudden reactions.

"Matt, look!" Chris leaned over Nick, extending his right arm and slapping Matt's knee as he pointed at the screen with his left one.

Y/N followed the indicated place with her eyes, raising her eyebrows when she saw the Kiss Cam screen showing herself and Matt, Chris's arm appearing as well.

Justin let out a loud laugh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his bent knees, keeping his eyes forward, not wanting to see his brother and sister-in-law making out right by his side.

Matt pressed his lips into a thin line before shrugging, quickly lifting the tray and passing it to Nick - who caught it instantly. The brunette turned to Y/N, seeing her already looking back at him, an awaiting look in her eyes.

His hands snaked up to her jaw, lightly pulling her closer, slamming their lips in an intense kiss, a surprised sound scaping Y/N's throat. She gave in quickly, closing her eyes and feeling like she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as her cheeks burned, definitely taking on a reddish hue.

Y/N's hands flew to his hair, threading her fingers through the soft strands. Matt ran his warm tongue across her bottom lip, requesting entry, which was granted instantly, deepening the gesture. The girl sighed through her nose in pleasure, intertwining their tongues in a dance, feeling goosebumps rise through her skin.

The crowd was going crazy; excited screams were heard from all sides, some people jumping in their seats, others recording or taking pictures of the screen.

Nick and Chris pretended to be disgusted, wrinkling their noses or playfully closing their eyes with their hands, but matching smiles decorated their expressions. Justin smirked, keeping his eyes fixed on the big screen, shaking his head in amusement.

Y/N was sure their kiss was much longer than the time the camera focused on the two of them - probably already having found the next couple to record.

When the air was running out, Matt slowly pulled away, his eyes still closed as he tried to savor the taste of his girl still in his mouth. His lips were swollen and pink - probably just like hers - while his chest rose and fell with excitement and lack of air.

She sighed deeply when she saw him finally open his eyes, his long eyelashes caressing his cheeks and his blue orbs meeting hers. The girl bit her lower lip at the intense look Matt held, his dilated pupils visible.

"You guys are so disgusting." Nick's voice seemed to wake them from their trance.

Matt rolled his eyes, licking his lips quickly, wetting them. He straightened in his seat and raised his hands, silently asking Nick to give him the tray back.

Y/N cleared her throat, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. She adjusted her posture, rolling her eyes when she heard Nick laughing at her shyness - as if she wasn't just kissing his brother like her life depended on it. Justin shook his head, exchanging looks of mock disgust with Chris.

"You're just jealous because if they had focused the camera on you, you would have had to scream that you don't have anyone to kiss." Matt shot back, instantly silencing them.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[lexirosewrites]

Omega Steve studied at culinary school for years after working in the kitchen of a small diner in his hometown

He moves to LA with omega Robin after she gets her degree. Steve tries multiple chef interviews but is always judged for being an omega. Finally he applies for a position as a personal chef to a rock star, and is called to come to this Eddie Munson’s fancy mansion. Well Steve recognized the name from the numerous rants by his little brother & equally dorky friends abt this guy's band so he does a little research abt the guy. Learns tht he grew up in a trailer in nowhere Indiana.

So Steve plans

The day of the interview he's expected to cook something for Eddie. He brings a couple of those small coolers & shakes hands with everyone present. He gets briefly distracted by Eddie's scent but powers thru like the professional he is

He makes Eddie a cheeseburger. A damn good one too. No need for tomatoes or lettuce or onion. Just a couple of beef patties, some American cheese, & a few pickles. He toasts the bun in the left over grease from the patties. Makes the perfect french fries. And to tie it all together he pours Eddie a classic Indiana beer.

Something something something

Steddie end up together idk how

food as a love language and unintentional courting method because they share a similar upbringing and appreciation for simple comforts!💕

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 3: Drivin’ you crazy...

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: Sy tells his story and you tell yours. And all of that pent up feeling has to go somewhere, right?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Mentions of teenage pregnancy, cheating, deception, divorce, breakups., self-destructive behaviors, fighting, promiscuity, mentally abusive relationships, miscarriage. Army life. Old automobiles, a 20 year high school reunion, a drive-in, red meat and french fries, dirty talk, voice kink, mentions of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), grown ppl getting NASTY in the back of a car, graphic depictions of sex acts.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the third installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my cold dead writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part

—--

You let Sy’s arm go and settled in for the ride once you got to State Route 405. The window was down and you were making waves in the wind, just like you used to do all those years ago. 

Sy looked over at you and felt something that he couldn’t name at that moment, and the feeling intensified when you reached up and pulled your hair out of the chignon, letting it go wild in the wind. 

He didn’t know he made a sound in his throat as he admired how you looked in the moonlight. You looked back over at him, hair whipping around your face; gorgeous.

“What?”

He realized that he was grateful that you agreed to come with him at all. He said something instead of what he was feeling.

“You hungry?”

You looked out to the highway and smiled at the road.

“Looks like you already know the answer to that.”

Sy nodded at you, a slight smile on his lips. He felt the familiar rhythm of you two falling back in sync. Didn’t seem like two decades at all. 

“Just checking.”

After a comfortably silent ten minute ride, you pulled up at Cardin’s Drive-Thru, an institution in your town. You grinned at Sy.

“The world is your oyster, order anything you want.”

He waved his hand toward the menu on his side of the car and you giggled at the familiar phrase. You scooted closer to him on the bench seat. 

“Sorry. I wear glasses now. Didn’t bring them.”

Sy didn’t know why the image of you in glasses got him hard. You glanced at him as you leaned over him to look at the menu to see if it had changed. He took in your breasts as you gave him a view of your cleavage as you leaned over his lap. Lord, give him strength.

“No worries at all, Buttercup.”

His voice was gruff and you felt his breath on your face as you closed your eyes and took a whiff of burgers and fries and Sy.

Sy was practicing all of his restraint as you stayed close to him to look at the menu.

“I want…”

That voice did something to Sy, and he had to shift in his seat. You and that damn cute look of curiosity didn’t help the situation in his pants either. 

“I want… a Smokey Burger and a chocolate shake please!” 

You were as happy as a clam.

“Y’know. I’ve had dreams about Cardin’s burgers, especially since I stopped eating red meat two years ago. But you know what, tonight seems to be all about “Fuck It!” 

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“You just ordered a burger with double patties and bacon.”

“Yep,” You popped the p. “I know.” 

You grinned at him and he shook his head.

“Still living dangerously, I see.”

You raised your chin.

“I’m still living,” you replied.

An understanding passed between you.

“Amen.”

Sy stretched his long arm out of the window to press the button and order, and you were staring at his forearms again. Don’t be such a slut, you thought.

“Yes, we need a Smokey Burger, a chocolate shake, a Huge Burger, no onions, and an extra large Frenchy fries, with a large Dr. Enuf.”

He smirked at you after the order was confirmed.

“It’s a given that you would come for my Frenchy fries.”

Sy gave you a short history about the ownership of the legendary drive-in, and how the new owners were long time residents who vowed to restore its former glory, including the world famous Frenchy fries.

“Well, Cardin’s fries are legendary, but I have to be careful. ‘M not the same size I used to be.”

You smoothed your dress down as much as you could while seated. Sy followed the path of your hands on your body and licked his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look damn good to me.”

Sy arched his eyebrow at you and you laughed nervously.

“I’m dead serious. You look even better than I remember, Buttercup. You were always so pretty.”

You were quiet as you looked into his eyes. He was being sincere.

“Sy, that’s sweet.”

He moved toward you, getting into your space. You couldn’t breathe, and your primal brain was kicking in.

“If you only knew what thoughts I’m thinkin, Buttercup. You wouldn’t call me, “sweet.”

 His eyes ran over your body posessively. 

“You are still the finest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You were locked in, ready to ask him what he was thinking and let him ruin your life all over again. You parted your lips to lick them and speak when you heard the metal of the drive-in tray connect with the open window behind Sy and your focus shifted as Sy moved away.

“Got your food here!”

Sy ran his hand through his short curls. He looked annoyed. At the interruption, his hair, maybe both?

“Haven’t had my hair this long in a while. Growing it out.”

You reached out and arranged an errant curl.

“Looks good on you, Sy.”

He just grinned and then turned to get the food. 

Once the food was in the car and paid for, he asked, “Wanna take this up to the Lookout?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Only so we can tailgate and talk and stretch our legs. And look at the view.”

He smiled that rogueish smile at you. Some things never change, you thought with a smile. You sipped your shake, which was still really too thick to drink, and nodded.

“What the hell. You only live once, right?”

“Ya damn right, Buttercup.”

— 

You sat eating Sy’s Frenchy fries under the star light as country music played and Sy looked at you thoughtfully, Beyonce playing in the background.

Il tuo fedel

Sospira ognor

Cessa, crudel

Tanto rigor

Ooh

Ooh

“You ready?”

You hopped off the liftgate and stood in front of him, prepared to hear his story.

“Let’s go.”

Sy took a deep breath as you waited and listened. 

“Well, the fact is, you told me so.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I was sure that the baby was mine. Then I got mad and that made things worse. And that was the last time you spoke to me.”

“Yeah.”

“And after you broke up with me, rightly so in that situation, I decided to be there for my family. Becca and I got married at the courthouse before the baby came, and I enlisted in order to have an income and health insurance for the baby.”

Your heart clenched.

“I shipped out right after little Jeremiah was born.”

There was a wistful smile on Sy’s face that warmed your heart.

“Becca stayed with her parents while I was on tour, and for two years we were apart. It was hard bein’ away, and Becca and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I was set to make it work for our kid, ya’ know?”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Sy.”

He looked at you long and hard.

“Becca broke the news to me when I came back. The baby was Jeremy’s, but he didn’t want to accept responsibility at the time, and she knew I would.”

“What?”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Jeremy Atkins. Your best friend Jeremy?”

“Unhhunh.”

Sy looked as hurt as if it just happened.

“I am so sorry Sy.”

“It was a helluva blow. And I was so angry. At myself for believing the lie, you know? For getting attached to the idea of being a parent.”

Your heart broke for Sy. You moved closer to him.

“I was so self destructive. Got into fights with everyone at every bar within a 50 mile radius. Then, I went right back to Afghanistan, acting as if each one was a suicide mission.”

Sy’s voice lowered.

“Came home in another two years and screwed up the courage to ask Bubbles about you. She told me you were engaged to…”

“Scott. Yeah…”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, but Sy lifted your chin with his fingers, causing you to look him in the eyes.

“And you know what? Thinking that you were happy calmed me down a little. I was proud of you for getting your degree and moving on, so I decided to do the same. Went to college, mostly on line, and then Officer’s Training School, joined Special Forces. Went back to the front and became a leader. Immersed myself in the cause while keeping perspective of my role in it. But a couple of years ago I got injured,”

He saw the look on your face.

“It’s my back. I’m mostly fine. But it allowed me to retire early.”

Sy looked around at the view, the twinkling lights of the town.

“I started a business with a partner, and I volunteered to be the offensive line coach for the high school in my spare time. I even got to coach Jeremiah his senior year. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”

He looked at you, and time seemed to melt away. He was the same Sy you fell in love with 20 years ago. But with so much more wisdom. 

“I live a good life, Buttercup. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

You moved to sit beside him again on the tailgate. You were silent as you tried to think of what to say.

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I forgive you for what I held against you. Sy? D’you forgive me?”

You needed his answer like air.

“Nothing to forgive, Buttercup. Like I said. I can’t complain about my life.”

You looked up at Sy who was looking up at the stars with a wry smile on his face. You looked up, too. He looked back down at your profile.

“What about you? How has your life been?”

You took a deep breath, contemplating that question and the stars. You decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.

“I was angry too, Sy. You know that. Angry that all my well laid plans were turned to dust in a moment. When I went to college across the state, I decided to stop caring so much. So, I fucked everyone in sight.”

Sy winced. You chuckled.

“I calmed down in a couple of years and met Scott. He seemed so steady? He was in law school, and his father was a partner in a big firm. He said that I didn’t have to finish my degree; I could just go home with him to New York City, have a couple of babies and be a society wife. Seemed like a good idea, so I did. I left just two semesters shy of having my degree in architecture.” 

You shook your head at your gullibility.

“My mom was elated, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”

You got up again and started pacing, hands wrapped around yourself as you thought back to that time in your life.

“It was not good. Two miscarriages, 3 mistresses, and 8 years later, I finally found the courage to leave with Carla when she came to visit. I vowed never to go back to that headspace again.”

Sy stood up then, fists closed at his side and his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know. I asked about you, but neither Bubbles nor Blossom told me that. I would have come for you, Buttercup.”

You smiled at him. 

“They knew better than to say a word to you. Seven years ago I didn’t want anyone to know. And I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”  

You smiled again and Sy just wanted to hold you.

“Went back to school and finished my degree. Lived life on my own terms.”

You looked him in the eye again.

“So yeah, I guess I have a pretty good life, too.”

“I’m glad, Buttercup.”

Sy sat down again and your eyes moved down the length of him. Why did brown dress shoes get you so hot? You had a problem.

“You sharing this good life with anyone?”

Sy’s voice made you nervous all of a sudden. You looked at your hands.

“Not at the moment, no. I’m single.”

Sy seemed to let out a breath. 

“Me, too, been single ever since I retired.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh.”

Sy stood up and walked in front of you. You were still looking at his shoes.

“Ya know, I’ve only felt like I’ve been in love once, no. Twice in my life.”

“Hmmm.”

You were afraid of this conversation and you couldn’t fully participate. 

“Please look at me Buttercup.”

You did as he asked. His eyes were burning right through you.

“The first time I felt that was 20 years ago, with you. And the second…”

Sy moved toward you and took your hands in his.

“Hell, we’ve wasted enough time, Buttercup. The truth is,when I saw you tonight I realized that I’m still in love with you now.”

—-

The wind was knocked out of you. How were you supposed to respond?

“Sy, I- I can’t survive another hurt. My heart is in pieces.”

“I know, Buttercup. But I promised you that I will love you until the day I die. I meant that shit. I still mean it.”

He moved closer, and he slotted himself between your thighs. His hands went to your hips and he pulled you close.

“Won’t you let me make it up to you? These last 20 years?”

You continued to look into his eyes as you considered his request. You put your hands on his chest as you made your decision.

“No, Sy. I can’t let you do that.”

He looked hurt and his eyes were cast down as his cheeks dusted pink. He thought he blew it. Then you spoke again.

“The past is the past. It’s done. We can try and work on today. And tomorrow. One day at a time. I’d like to try with you.”

Sy’s brow furrowed, but his face softened as he realized what you were saying. He gave you a soft smile.

“Fair enough, Buttercup. Let’s work on today. And tomorrow. I’ll give you some time.”

You thought about how Sy was always a gentleman with you, never pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to do, always putting your needs first. Well, you needed him now.

Your hands were fisting his shirt now, pulling apart so that you could see his dog tags against his chest hair, and that image sent you feral. You pulled him toward you. Sy sucked in a breath as you left a soft kiss on his lips, his beard tickling your cheeks. He seemed frozen as you pulled away. 

“Mmmhm.”

Sy grunted in his throat and his hands came up to your waist. His cock was swelling and he felt on the edge of control. 

“I wanna kiss you again, Buttercup. And not in a ‘sweet’ way.”

“Do it, Sy. We’re grown now.” 

You were breathless at the emotion and lust in his voice. 

Sy moved his hand to the back of your neck and you shivered as he carded his fingers at the back of your scalp, tugging on your curls to make you look up at him.

“‘M not sure you are ready for all that I want, Buttercup.”

And his mouth descended on yours, his thumb came around and ticked your jaw open for him to invade your senses with himself. He kissed you like he owned you, and his hands ended up on both sides of your head as you moaned your way through the kiss. He pulled away, looked at your lips, then went back in to kiss you again.

“Ya got my mind runnin’ baby. Those lips. Fuck. I’m down bad.”

Sy’s cock was hard and aching, and his hands were on your body: those thighs, that ass as he pulled you closer to him. Then he stopped and leaned away, searching your face. Your eyes were dilated and those lips were parted.

Holy fuck, was he a goner.

You whimpered and pulled him closer, your hands going to his ass as he kissed you again. He was laughing at you as he pulled away this time.

“Look who’s getting spicy no-”

Sy stopped talking when you ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You were disappointed when you saw the tank he was wearing underneath.

“Sorry Sy. I ruined your shirt. I don’t know what came over me.”

You looked up at him under your lashes and he couldn’t tell if you were being facetious or not. You toyed with his dog tags, imagining them waving in your face as... Shit. What were you doing?

Sy stepped back and pulled the shirt off, and pulled the tank out of his pants, then came back to you immediately, hands moving up your thighs, pushing your short dress up even further.

“I know what came over you. Same thing’s that’s been possessing me for years, Buttercup.”

Sy leaned down to capture your eyes and you were stuck. You were locked in on him as he proceeded to destroy your sou.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy for years, running around my mind as I did a lot of things. Thought of you when I was training, eating, doing things around the house. When I was in-country and alone in my tent at night. When I…”

Sy stopped and licked his lips as his hands reached the tops of your thighs, long fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You squirmed in his grip.

“Shit, Buttercup, do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?”

You were mute, mouth open to breathe, and Sy knew you were in the zone. 

“Cause I sure as hell do. Do you know how often I’ve imagined you wrapped around me when it was just my hand?”

Sy whispered it in your ear, but pulled back to see your reaction, which was wide-eyed lust. You licked your lips and nodded, ready to hear more. 

“Time and space is nothin’ to fight this powerful magic that is the thought of you, Darlin’. I imagine you, imagining me while you touch your pretty little pussy, circling your little clit with your delicious wetness. I dream of you getting off because of me, just like I cum so fucking hard just thinking of you. Every time.”

Sy watched your eyes close and your chest heave as you tried to regulate. He continued with his seduction.

“...But I know it’s nothing like the real thing.”

Your own fingers ventured below his undershirt, finding thick abdominal muscles there, and a dense happy trail. His stomach clenched in response to your touch.

“Mmmm. Can I touch you too, Buttercup? Are these panties soaked? Can I check to make sure?”

You were nodding as your hands went up his pecs, grabbing them, your fingers ghosting over his nipples. Sy moved his hands at a glacial pace it seemed, because you wanted him instantly where you needed him most. 

He found your sodden center over the gusset of your panties and you pressed into his light touch. He groaned as he started rubbing up and down your clothed seam and pressing the now sticky material into you. You leaned forward and started licking and sucking the veins that popped up on his neck. He moaned.

‘You got me so far gone, baby. I wanna…’’

He grabbed the side of your panties and you whimpered with need.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop. But right now I can’t help myself. Need to feel you, touch you, taste you.”

“Don’t stop, Sy. Been waiting so long.”

Sy put his forehead against yours, breath huffing in time with yours. You again asked for what you wanted.

“Sy. I need you. Need to feel y-”

Your words caught in your throat as Sy pulled your panties to the side and sunk his fingers into your wetness. The obscene slosh of you made Sy pulse in his pants. He trailed up and down your cut, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“Why?” 

He looked up at you as if you had wounded him, blue eyes blazing.

“Why are you so fucking…so fucking wet? How do you expect for me t-to f-f fuck! T’ function when…?”

The stutter did you in.

“‘S’all you, Sy. Got wet when I first saw you t’night…”

Sy pulled his fingers out and tasted them, moaning, then growling, and then took a hold of your waist and practically threw you in the back of the truck. He leaned over the gate, pulled your thighs apart, then tore your panties off, causing you to squeal.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Gotta taste you, Buttercup. Can’t believe it’ll be my first time.”

“Go for it.”

You winked and smiled at him, but the look was wiped from your face as he dove into your crease, tongue licking a rude stripe from the bottom to the top of you. You put your hand over your mouth as you moaned.

Sy looked up at you, offended.

“Don’t keep your sounds from me, baby. Need to hear the real thing instead of my imagination.”

He went back to work kissing your clit, then sucking it into his mouth with increasing intensity. The slight burn from his beard was delicious. You got a grip of his hair as he manhandled your thighs, keeping you in place as you writhed and arched beneath him. He moaned against you while talking to your pussy. 

“So fucking good for me.” 

“Taste like a jar o’ spicy honey...”

“Hmmm. Beard’s all soaked now. That’s my girl.”

“Gettin’ even wetter for me, that’s what I like. Gimme.”

“I love this pretty little pussy.”

His proclamations were punctuated by kisses, licks, and sucks and finally, he pushed one thick finger into you as you called his name. The cunilingus, penetration, and praise had you teetering on the precipice.

“Syyyyyy!”

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Damn, you’re so fucking hot and so godamn tight. Dream about giving you my cock, but I don’t know if you can take it…”

He knew he had you as he leaned back down to suck your clit like taffy candy again. You watched him and moaned. Then he added another finger. You stiffened. Then he crooked his fingers, telling you to come to him, and you did. And all over his face.

Sy took off his tank and wiped his face with it, then unbuckled his pants and fisted his cock, crawling in the back of the truck with you.

“Don’t have any condoms, just let me… just let me rub one out…so fucking hard for you Buttercup.”

Sy was so far gone, his mind was mush.

“C’mere, Baby…”

You reached for him as he shuffled near you on his knees and started stroking, admiring the large mushroom cap of his cock glistening from pre-cum in the starlight. You fell in love with the way his length curved into the curls on his abs, and the way his breath hitched as your hand tried to close around him. You pressed your nose into his belly to inhale his scent, careful not to stop what your hand was doing. 

It was your turn to pleasure him.

“I do think about you, Sy. I imagine deep throating you while you play in my pussy. Makes me cum so hard against my little bullet.”

You pressed a kiss near his belly button as his cock jerked in your hand and his abs clenched. His hand went to your hair. You could tell that he wanted to move your mouth to his dick, but that he was holding back. You lifted your hand, jacking him faster as you kissed his balls, which were so tight against him.

“Wan’ you to cum all over my stomach, my tits…”

Sy groped your chest, searching for and then twisting your taught nipple when he found it. He was outright panting as you talked him through it.

“.... my ass, my lips, Sy…”

His groan was louder now and his knees were shaking as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, pausing, to purse your lips and gloss them in the clear fluid at his tip. You gazed up at him as you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked him.

“Truth is, I’m a slut for you. Fuck my face Sy,”

“Shhhhhitttttttt….!”

Sy grabbed your head and used your mouth while you concentrating on taking his thick length and breathing. 

“You’re a slut, hunh? My slut?”

You nodded as best you could, only to have your eyes roll as he pushed down your throat.

“Dream about swallowing my cum? D’ya? Like a good girl?”

“Ummhnnghhh!”

There were tears rolling down your face and saliva dripping down your chin.

“So fucking pretty swallowing my cock. Fuck….here it… fucking… comes….. Fuckkkk!”

Sy roared as his dick pulsed cum directly down your throat and you received it, letting your jaw go slack. Sy groaned as he pulled out and stroked the last of his spend on your outstretched tongue.

“So fucking nasty, Buttercup, who woulda thought?”

He beamed at you as you showed him his handiwork. He closed your mouth and you swallowed before he pulled you in for a filthy kiss. He cleaned your face with his tank top, straightened your clothes and his, and then pulled you to him.

“That was…”

You were hoarse, and you laughed. Sy laughed with you.

“That was hot.”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“I love you, Buttercup.”

There was silence on your end. You shivered as you thought about what was holding you back.

Sy didn’t want any awkwardness. He kept it moving.

“It’s getting chilly out.” 

He climbed out of the back of the truck and picked up his shirt, flicking any dust off of it and put it on you. Then, he put his tank top back on.

“Sy! That’s… Dirty.”

You blushed as you thought of your fluids all over it.

Sy lifted it and smelled it, then grinned back up at you.

“Yeah, smells like your pussy. Don’t think I’ll ever wash it.”

“Jacob Syverson!”

You swatted at his chest.

“Don’t act all shy on me now, not after what we just did, Buttercup.” 

He lead you back around to the passenger seat again and buckled you in. You bit your lip wondering what came next. Was this really happening? 

In a few minutes you were back at your car. The parking lot was empty except for your rental. Sy jumped out and opened your door. When you were back in your car, he leaned through the window and kissed your lips. 

“You’re here until Monday, yeah?”

It was Friday night. There was a weekend of activities for the reunion planned.

“Yeah. I’ll be at the cookout tomorrow, and church and brunch on Sunday. And I have a job interview Monday morning.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at that last bit, but didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Can I see you tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Okay.”

Why were you so breathless?

Sy was anxious at letting you go.

“I’ll follow you to your air bnb. Just to make sure everything’s safe.”

You smirked at him. 

“Alright.”

Sy followed you to your old neighborhood, which now seemed to be gentrified, got out and checked out the house. Then, you walked him back to the front door. He leaned on the door frame and towered above you.

“G’night, Buttercup."

He licked those sinful lips of his.

"Sweet dreams.”

He leaned down and kissed you and then straightened up, eyes on you hungrily. He was driving you crazy, looking like a sex god. You thought about the amount of time you had left and you made a decision. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the house.

“Get your fine ass in here, Sy. I’m not done with you tonight.”

----

Next part Here

If you like it, hit reblog!

[myjealouseyes]

Fever Warm

HJP x wolfstar!daughter!reader.

A/N— baby fic is FINALLY posted and I feel kind of good about it suprisingly. One of the tots finally making an appearance in a fic. We used to pray for times like these 🙏🏾🙏🏾

No content warnings! Family fluff, overthinking, dad!harry (swoon!!)

“Estrella…” you hum to your newborn softly, failing to keep the exhaustion out of your voice. “C’mon, baby. It’s bedtime…”

your baby doesn’t take as well to your gentleness as you hoped. Her cries seemed to get louder as you rock her a little more firmly. You’d tried everything. She wasn’t hungry, and she wasn’t tired. You tried changing the blankets in her crib and even changing her into a lighter onesie, thinking she might be hot. ‘Is she hot?’ You press your hand to her cheek gently. She does feel warm. But is it a good warm? Because you wouldn’t want her to be freezing. Should you get the thermometer? That’ll make her cry even more but at least you’ll know for sure if it’s a fever—

You zone out in your worrying, not even noticing when Harry walks into the nursery. You’re still rocking Estrella on autopilot as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“She’s still crying?” He presses his chin in the crook of your neck, cooing at the baby. “Poor girl. Must be exhausted.” You only nod as you turn toward him and hand her off gently. “Does she feel warm to you? Like fever warm? Looking for a second opinion before getting the thermometer.” Harry furrows his eyebrows as he lightly touches her skin like you did earlier. “Don’t think so babe. Feels normal to me.”

Your face scrunches up as you look down at your baby. What could be making her so uncomfortable then? “Are you sure? ‘cause I’ve tried everything, and I do mean everything.” You wring your hands anxiously, mentally going through your list again. Maybe Harry is right and she doesn’t have a fever, but it never hurt to be cautious—

“She’s just wet, darling.”

You pause and swing your head back toward Harry, who’s already laying her out for a change. All the worries leave your head as you look on dumbfoundedly. You had thought to change blankets and onesies, thought of a million and one ways to get her to nurse, sang several lullabies in English and French, but somehow never considered a soiled diaper? Absolutely ridiculous.

Harry coos at you once Estrella is settled and comfortable on his shoulder. Logically you know it’s not meant to be patronizing in any way, but with the way your brain is muddled with lingering exhaustion, self-doubt, and embarrassment, you can’t help but take it that way. Lovingly, he pushes you down into the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. He makes sure his grip on Estrella is firm and steady before kissing your forehead. “You’re just fried. That’s normal, all the books say so.” His words come out swimming in sugar. It makes your heart flutter. “I’ll handle putdown tonight. Go lay down and if you’re not asleep by time I get done we’ll have a bath. ‘Kay?”

You don’t have it in you to disagree, giving him a slow nod as love leaks through your pores. You stand up and walk to bed. Only pausing briefly to watch him tuck her in and kiss her forehead. Every time you think you couldn’t possibly love Harry any more than you do at present, he takes two seconds out of his day to unknowingly prove you wrong. It’s one of those things he’s really good at; making you fall deeper and deeper until you’re drowning in your absolute fondness of him.

Once you can come up for air, you take his advice and ease yourself into bed. You don’t let yourself fall asleep though. A bath sounded really nice.

[nebuladreamerrr]

Holaaa can I request another Mbappe imagine where you’re married to Kylian but somehow his family never noticed that you don’t drink. While you’re at his parent’s house and his mom offers you wine you told her no thanks. And she got a mini heart attack thinking you were announcing that you’re pregnant😂

I hope you like it, sweetheart ❤️❤️❤️

Problematic beverage| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: To commemorate you and Kylian's last night in France you decide to have a farewell dinner, but one drink will set off alarm bells among all the guests.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and I am not a doctor so some medical information might be wrong. 

As I indulged in a tranquil shower and meticulously selected my attire for the upcoming occasion, a sense of gratitude washed over me knowing that the celebration would be held at my mother-in-law's residence. While venturing out to explore new culinary delights with Kylian was a beloved pastime, today, the allure of a cozy night at home held greater appeal.

Since the morning, I had been grappling with slight abdominal discomfort, but it was the violent expulsion of my breakfast that sent alarm bells ringing. A sigh escaped my lips, a reflexive response to the familiar discomfort that had plagued me since childhood. From a young age, I had endured sporadic bouts of stomach pain, often coinciding with stressful events like ballet competitions or pivotal exams.

My mother, recognizing the pattern of discomfort over time and the occasional severity of the pain, decided to seek medical advice. It was then confirmed by the doctor that I was suffering from chronic pancreatitis. Fortunately, this diagnosis did not thwart my aspirations nor impede my plans. Nevertheless, there were limitations imposed by my condition, one of them being the prohibition of alcohol consumption.

I vividly recall the bewildered expression on my face when the doctor delivered the news that alcohol was off-limits due to its potential exacerbation of my condition. Despite having never partaken in revelry or imbibed alcohol, I comprehended its central role in youthful socialization. I anticipated feeling excluded and feared it would hinder my ability to forge friendships. However, fortune smiled upon me as I found companions who reveled in diverse activities, such as leisurely picnics punctuated by impromptu art sessions and beach outings adorned with sunset photography. While occasional forays into nightlife did occur, they were infrequent. Moreover, my aversion to alcohol transcended mere medical necessity; it stemmed from a profound apprehension regarding its transformative effects on individuals, a sentiment that prompted a steadfast commitment to abstention.

I crossed paths with Kylian at a charity gala where young French athletes, each with an inspiring tale to share, were invited to engage with children and organize activities, with the proceeds earmarked for various charitable causes. His speech resonated deeply with me, capturing both his pride and underlying sense of unease at being in the spotlight. His exact words, etched in my memory, were: "It's in these moments that I often feel out of place because, despite many of you seeking wisdom from me, it's I who must truly learn from all of you and your resilience in the face of adversity." Fortunately, I also captured his attention. When my presentation concluded, he couldn't resist approaching me, ostensibly to delve deeper into my world as we leisurely meandered through the buffet arrayed by the gala's organizers.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when I declined his offer of wine, yet my reassuring smile assuaged his concern as I disclosed my health condition, explaining the potential ramifications of alcohol consumption. Eager to learn more about me, Kylian exhibited a genuine interest in every facet of my life: from my ballet classes and training regimen to the nuances of my medication routine and anything remotely connected to me. Thus, a swift friendship blossomed between us, evolving into a profound romantic bond over the course of just a few months—a connection I wouldn't trade for anything in this world.

Four years ago, when we embarked on our relationship, we were both young and full of energy. Kylian, in particular, made the most of his free time by hanging out with friends, often leading to lively gatherings. Despite this, Kylian maintained a sense of discipline and restraint when it came to alcohol consumption. Instances of indulgence were typically reserved for national festivities or significant triumphs for his team or the national squad. However, everything changed when he met me. Suddenly, I became his top priority.

Kylian's transformation was profound. He meticulously documented all of my medications in a calendar, ensuring that I adhered to my prescribed regimen. If he couldn't be present when I needed to take my medication, he set an alarm to remind me. Additionally, he curtailed his social outings significantly, and on many occasions, he refused to attend events if I couldn't accompany him. When we did venture out together, our excursions were brief, as Kylian was adamant about not subjecting me to any discomfort.

On our wedding day, Kylian solemnly declared that his every decision would revolve around me, promising never to take any action that didn't prioritize my well-being above all else.

Thankfully, my illness never prevented me from attending any of Kylian's games. He cherished my presence, considering me his "lucky charm." It was through these matches that I had the pleasure of meeting my in-laws, whom Kylian introduced me to after one such game. As the Ligue 1 season progressed, so did my relationship with his parents, and I couldn't help but feel blessed by the bond we shared. Kylian's parents took immense pride in their son's career, and when I mentioned my occasional ballet performances, they eagerly pledged their attendance at my next show. This promise was fulfilled a few months ago when I took to the stage, greeted by the sight of my partner and his parents in the audience.

The decision to depart from France proved to be a challenging ordeal for both of us. It was a place that held significance for each of us individually; for Kylian, it was where he found trust and unwavering support, particularly during his darkest moments. Likewise, for me, it served as the backdrop for my personal and artistic growth, particularly in my beloved pursuit of ballet. However, I was acutely aware that leaving France would entail a narrowing of job prospects, given that few other nations accorded dance, especially ballet, the same level of priority.

Thus, when Kylian broached the idea of a modest gathering to mark the conclusion of a significant chapter in our lives, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. Initially slated to unfold at a private restaurant in the heart of Paris, a venue Kylian frequented with his friends and where he once celebrated his maiden PSG paycheck, the plans swiftly shifted. Sensing my discomfort on the eve of the event, Kylian promptly altered course, opting instead to host the gathering at his mother's residence—a more proximate locale to our abode. Here, I could seek respite in the guest room if my discomfort intensified, shielded from any prying eyes or unwelcome scrutiny.

With a sense of urgency, I hastened to complete my preparations, summoning Kylian to assist with the delicate task of fastening the gray satin dress adorning my frame. His admiring whistle upon beholding me in the garment, accompanied by the endearing epithet "my beautiful woman," served to ignite a flutter of warmth within me, intensified by the tender kiss planted upon my collarbone.

As we stepped into my mother-in-law's abode, she greeted me with an exuberant embrace, sharing how she had procured my favorite appetizers and guiding me toward the others, while Kylian grumbled behind me, visibly "irritated" by his mother's preference for embracing me first. In response, I couldn't resist playfully sticking out my tongue.

Upon crossing the threshold onto the terrace, Kylian's friends extended warm welcomes. Kylian, ensuring my comfort and safety, opted to leave me engaged in a delightful conversation with Melissa and his mother.

"How are you, y/n? I was genuinely concerned when Kylian mentioned you weren't feeling well," Fayza remarked, her tone laden with worry.

"I've been better, but thankfully, at the moment, my discomfort is limited to stomach issues, so things are more or less manageable for now," I responded, seeking to allay their concerns.

"Well, y/n, do tell us. Have you managed to secure a place with any academy or instructor for your inaugural performance in Spain?" Melissa inquired eagerly.

"I've reached out to several, but I've had to turn down many options because they weren't the right fit for me. They seemed more interested in my relationship with Kylian than my craft. However, in recent days, I've connected with one that genuinely seemed invested in me, so let's hope this one pans out."

"Sweetheart, can I get you a glass of wine while you continue telling us about the move?" Fayza asked, retrieving a bottle from an ice bucket.

"No, it's okay. I can't have wine because of my condition," I replied with a smile, which quickly faded when I noticed everyone falling silent and Fayza dropping the bottle to the floor.

"When were you planning on telling us?" Ethan teased his brother.

"Telling us what, exactly?" Kylian asked, attempting to lock eyes with me for an explanation, but my cluelessness only heightened his concern.

"That y/n is pregnant," Fayza blurted out, barely able to overcome her shock.

"What?!" Kylian and I exclaimed, unable to shake off our bewilderment at his family's confusion.

"Yes, it all makes sense now: y/n's frequent vomiting, her occasional dizziness, her abdominal discomfort, and her abstaining from alcohol," Melissa exclaimed excitedly, envisioning her children having a cousin to play with.

"What? No, no, there's been a misunderstanding. I can't drink because of my illness, and Kylian and I... no, we're not planning for a baby right now," I explained nervously, seeking Kylian's confirmation of my statement.

"Exactly, as she said, for now, we won't know for three weeks," Kylian chimed in, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke, but his attempt fell flat when met with my glare of disapproval.

Gradually, the atmosphere returned to normal as Fayza apologized to both of us for her reaction. It wasn't that she didn't want grandchildren; she simply thought we had chosen to keep it a secret and would find out through the media when her son was abroad.

And so, we savored our final evening together, cherishing the memories to bring comfort in times of homesickness. However, Kylian couldn't help but hope that the next time we entered that house, it would be to announce a pregnancy.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies. 

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole. 

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body. 

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg. 

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you. 

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’ 

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't” 

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to. 

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you. 

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt. 

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding” 

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks! 

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag. 

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two. 

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was. 

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it. 

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now- 

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him. 

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now. 

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering. 

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!” 

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!” 

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man. 

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind. 

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?” 

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car. 

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask 

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry

[mysticmunson]

Alpha!eddie purposely being kept away from omega!reader because he has the urge to breed her. He becomes extremely aggressive and stronger than usual. Everyone keeps them apart because reader hasn't been with anyone before and they are worried eddie will hurt her. But he finally gets out and while reader is taking a bath he slowly pushes the door open and well you know what happens next. 😏

little glass doves: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

authors note: oh my, i love ur mind, i had so much fun with this and hope you enjoy it. feel free to send thoughts, feedback, or more ideas. much love :)

warnings: mentions of smut, brief smut, a/o/b dynamic, sexual markings (hickeys) (18+ no minors)

The relationship was only a few weeks old when Eddie presented as an alpha and, mere days later, you an omega. 

Isolated for your presentations, you were inseparable when released, constantly by each other's side. Everything from your body spray, your toothpaste, and natural scent was making him drunk. It was just so fresh still, an entirely brand new situation for you especially who had never had a boyfriend.

Before, you and Eddie had been close friends and then started to date. He pulled out all the classics, a drive in, a walk in the park, and even going to some pop concert you had been talking about for weeks. But the farthest you two had gotten was oral. 

Tasting you was intoxicating, still feeling the way your folds kissed his lips that dripped with your arousal. Your mouth on him made him weak, feeling like he could burst at any moment with only one thought on his mind. You.

So as you reunited, something always came up when you tried to be alone together. Nancy had, for some inexplicable reason, been walking behind the school when she spotted the two of you making out. He had the urge to just scream for her to go away, but it also made him realize fucking against the back of the school wasn’t an ideal first time.

Despite this, he littered your skin with hickeys from the quick make out seshes he could muster in between classes. His hand was like a vice on you, not wanting any space between your tingling skin. Only people could force him away from you.

It was the very reason Eddie sat with Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle at the diner just outside of town. The waitresses knew them by name, letting them have the best booth in the house, starting with french fries for the table.

“Dude, these fries feel like angels tap dancing on my tongue.” Argyle mused, mixing his ketchup and mayonnaise into an interesting pink color, dipping a crisp potato. 

The surrounding boys agreed and Eddie ate reluctantly, only envisioning you. He would do anything to have you alone right now, but Nancy, Eden and Robin insisted on taking you shopping. 

“Hey!” Steve yelped, blowing the paper of his straw at Eddie’s reddened cheeks due to a strange mix of frustration, arousal, and anger. “We’re trying to talk to you.”

“What.” He bit, crossing his arms and leaning against the turquoise leather seats that squeaked. 

“We’re going to the movies later, you’re coming. It's the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” Jonathan explained, taking a sip of his Coke, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Shaking his head adamantly, he scoffed, bewildered they would even suggest. Typically, that would be his type of night, but not when he knew you'd be alone, ready for him at home. With your body becoming accustomed to your omega needs and desires, all Eddie could think of was pumping you full.

The idea of having kids didn’t thrill him until you, now he wanted to fill you to the brim, watching it slip out so he could push it back in with his fingers. He’d chuckle at your sensitivity as he gave you another load, your mascara running down your pretty cheeks as you begged him to fill you one more time. 

He could see it perfectly, tempted to just crash wherever the girls had taken you and bring you to his trailer. Or even your home, decorated in soft colors and scented like pastries from the assortment of candles. He had only been over a few times as his trailer seemed to be the common meeting grounds, but even then, he thought of making you fall apart. 

He’d get hard as you sat innocently, gasping when you felt him, sitting on his lap with wide eyes. He’d get you naked, grabbing your hips and fucking into you with miniscule time in between. It was almost shameful how much the idea of using you like a fuckdoll turned him on, but he would always make you finish, comfortable and loved. 

“You’re not gonna see her tonight, man.” Steve sighed, looking with empathy at Eddie’s stern face that clearly was holding back a lot of emotion. Each word they spoke seemed to derail his plans, forcibly jostled around as if in amusement.

“What the hell are you guys talking about? I’ve been trying to see her alone for two weeks and something always comes up! I’m fucking over it.” Eddie huffs, voice raising slightly, drawing the attention of the older couple in the front, sipping their coffee. 

They looked away once Steve swirled his finger, making them turn back around in shame that they had been caught. 

“Can’t have any lil Munson-reno’s out there.” Argyle hummed, creating the nickname from the crevices of his brain, giggling to himself after he said it. 

“That’s none of your business what we do-“ Eddie snapped, hands going to the table as he leaned forward, clutching the white, wooden table.

Jonathan grabbed his shoulder from beside him, yanking him to sit upwards and patted his back. He attempted to take a deep breath, knowing he was on a hormonal high, but also notoriously not a fan of people telling him what to do.

“C’mon man, she didn’t even do it before presenting and we all went to the same health class so we know alphas are a lot. Now, she’s an emotional mess and you,” Jonathan accentuates by poking his chest, “Are basically a hormonal bomb ready to impregnate anything. Just wait.” 

Cringing at his wording, Eddie’s face scrunched as he grumbled. It was crude, but the worst part was that he was right. You probably needed something more gentle than what Eddie could give you at his heightened state.

“I won’t be rough, asshole.” Eddie all, but growled, fisting the white napkin in his fists.

“Eddie, you’re not a violent dude, we know that. But this? This is instinct, it takes over the second it happens.” Steve lectured as kindly as he could, “We know you care about her, but you’re already marking her up with the few minutes you do have alone.”

Why did they have to be right? He wished he had a shock collar that would zap anytime he went too rough, but you were so receptive, basking in it even in the few moments. His thought process was cut short when the waitress brought over his burger, thankful for even the smallest distraction. 

The boys did a good job of entertaining Eddie for the next few days, just as the girls had been for you. Keeping you distracted was a different type of battle though. 

You weren’t aggressively trying to run towards him, elbowing anyone out of the way. Your response was more solemn as you emotionally craved your boyfriend, not officially becoming alpha and omega paired. It registered as almost a cruel rejection, wishing for even a moment alone to prove how good you could be for him.

Thinking of him made your eyes haze, clutching to the shirt he left over weeks ago and not wanting to leave bed. Or crying over not seeing him for a few hours, something you never would’ve done previously. 

“I know it sucks, babe, but we’ll be here to cheer you up!” Eden consoled, rubbing your back in small circles as you laid on your side on Robin’s couch. Eden was the only one who truly knew how you felt, presenting as an omega a few months ago, but Argyle hadn’t. Boys typically presented later, stereotypically alphas, but sometimes omegas or betas.

A week went by, Eddie was getting restless as were you. The brief moments in school were refrained to holding hands and sitting beside each other with far too many layers of clothes between. 

He had accidentally dropped his DnD dice in your English class, having to rush out to meet a customer in the woods, so you picked it up. Twirling the blue D20 with white numbers, still not entirely understanding the game, but knowing enough to watch every Friday. 

Passing by Dustin, you told him to mention the dice, when Eddie made his way back to campus. He nodded, not paying much attention as he and Mike argued about if riding their bikes to school was dorky or not. 

You had made it home by the time Dustin told Eddie, holding out his hand for the sketches the older peer promised to lend him to trace. The younger boys rode off as he walked to his van, sitting in silence for a moment. 

This was his chance, he could finally be with you alone in your home, surrounded by your dainty trinkets on your night stand and pretty dresses in your closet. Everything about you made him swoon no matter how mundane. 

He talked himself out of it, reminding himself that you might need more time and getting riled up will only make him pent up. More than anything, he craved intimacy in other ways like your movie nights that occurred when you were just friends. 

He hadn’t even realized he made it to your house until he stepped on your doormat, the crunch beneath his feet making him knock. A few seconds passed by until he knocked again, sighing with no answer. 

The spare key was hidden under the mat, figuring you were listening to music or studying, and you assured him that he could let himself inside, even when just friends. His hands were shaking as he unlocked it, taking off his white sneakers inside. 

Wandering around the quiet halls, he was growing more curious as to where you were, knowing you didn’t do any extracurriculars this week. Curiosity was shot down when he saw the light from the bathroom creeping into the rest of the walkway.  

With no one due home for hours, you had left the door wide open, sitting inside the pure white tub. You looked completely relaxed, dewy from the heat steaming from the water, glancing over when you saw him. 

“Oh, hi Eds,” You smiled, slightly embarrassed, “Y-your dice are in there.”

Fuck the dice. Not when you were sitting completely naked beneath a sea of white bubbles, skin soft from the creamy body wash you used. He trudged forward, clenching his eyes tight and inhaling.

He mentally slapped himself, making his way over to your bedroom, his dice resting beside your two petite glass doves. The two birds connected at the mouth, something you found at a trinket store, insisting you purchase it. He tried to forget you were in such a compromising position only feet away, but the memory only reminded him how gentle and sweet you were. 

The pattering of feet brought his attention to the doorway as you stood, wrapped in a yellow towel, heat rising to your cheeks from the cleansing and intensity. He didn’t say a word as he shoved the small piece into his pocket, crossing his arms firmly, not in an intimidating manner, but just to keep him restrained.

“I’ve missed you, Eds.” You smiled, hand tightening around the top of the towel, covering just above your breasts. He felt his blood rushing, opening his mouth with nothing coming forward.

He reciprocated the longing with a chuckle, soon pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as you swarmed him. It was almost as if you were confining him. But all you had done was take a step closer, pressing your lips against his like he was being sunkissed on a fresh spring day.

“Sweetheart, I need you to say you want this or I need to leave.” He blurted, hating his proposition, but knowing he was far too gone to be around you. His jeans tightened as he bit his lip, feeling your covering skid over his goosebump littered arms. 

“Please.” You whimpered, knocking all the wind from his gut as he grunted, lifting you up to toss you on the bed. 

His kiss was fiery, plush lips tasting your vanilla lip balm, feeling your hands mangle through his curls. His hands went to your towel, ripping it away in a quick swipe, making you gasp at how it ran across your body.

He stood up to remove his clothes, a low growl filling the air as he stared at you. Your breasts still coated in droplets of water, your legs scented like your cotton candy shaving cream, and your pussy on display. 

As his cock sprang free from his boxers, knot forming quickly, you gasped and he could see the way you clenched. The arousal seeped from your desperate hole, not mentally even understanding just how badly you needed this, how much better you’d feel.

Running his fingers through your folds, he leaned on top of you, one knee on the bed for balance. He felt your trembling, hands gripping his shoulders as if that would slow him down, but you didn’t want the motions to cease anyways.

“Want to be your omega.” You cried, his finger swirling around your hole, bringing his digits to his mouth. Somehow, you tasted more divine than before, like a perfect palate made just for him. 

Angling himself, he planted both knees beside you, breathing heavily over your face. A tear or two fell against your cheeks, mouth opened for any form of touch he wanted to give, whether it be lips, fingers, or even just to humiliate you, you wanted to entertain him. To be his starring role, even for the next ten minutes, drawing the curtains until he was ready for the next performance. 

His tip ran through your lower lips, moaning at how you felt, feeling so horny, yet so emotional. He felt like he could cry, how dainty you appeared to him in this moment, and how he just wanted to ruin you. He wanted you to be chanting his name, unable to construct any other thoughts than him. He chuckled, looking down at you with his soft brown eyes that now held something more domineering. 

“Oh sweetheart,” He cooed as you awaited his response, seeing how desperately you wanted to be his omega, he thrusted into you as you cried out, “You already are.”

hi, thank u for making it to the end, im giving u a forehead kiss.

[soap-ify]

can I ask for some general fluff headcanons for our soapy boy?

AT YOUR SERVICE ANON!! i don't usually do hcs but i wanted an excuse to ramble about him. so i present you soap hcs that start off as general but gets oddly specific!

cw — very fluffy and mildly suggestive at some places.

˙ᵕ˙ (not so) general soap hcs !

the most widely known thing is that johnny is clingy as hell. annoying but you really wouldn’t have it any other way. he is always holding onto you tight, never letting you go even if you’re desperate to get out of the bed for a shower or some breakfast. the only time he’d sometimes let you go is when you’re running late for work. he likes having his arm around your waist all the time, nuzzling his head into your neck and smothering you with kisses without any shame in front of others, especially the taskforce. is this his weird little way of marking you? maybe.

very open about how much he loves you. he’s always speaking his mind, telling you about every single thing he loves about you, all your quirks and habits.

can’t imagine this man ever being a cheater. i imagine him being raised by his mother quite well, and god forbid if he ever cheats, his mother is going to be so angry. he has been taught to treat his lovers in the best manner possible. and so he does. even if he is very playful and just awful at courting, always too eager, he still buys you lots of flowers and takes you on dates, giving you all the love that he has.

he likes hugging your leg. like actually. you’re laying down? he’s beneath you, arms wrapped around your legs, hugging it tight while his face is resting on your upper thigh. he can’t even explain why he does it.

he LOVES it when you press kisses on his crows feet. the same thing with the scar on his chin!

this man watched blade runner 2049 once and had an identity crisis for a whole week. you were concerned.

there is this very specific type of french fries that he likes with certain toppings that he can’t really find in any other fast food place and it annoys him to hell.

he begs you to match with him. it can be from watches that come in pairs for couples or maybe keychains! just match with him or else he’ll be pouty for the whole week.

once when johnny was drunk, he showed you his huge art journal. you weren’t even surprised to know that more than half of the pages were just drawings of you.

johnny loves having strangely deep and philosophical conversations with you late at night. sometimes he just can’t sleep, feeling too active and energetic. if you are luckily awake too, be prepared to question the meaning of life and the existence of everything around you both with him.

he is so disgusting when it comes to sending gym pics (you love it). all flushed and glistening with sweat, he’d be sending your mirror selfies while flexing his muscles, a proud happy grin always adorning your looks.

has a mole on his inner thigh and on his right shoulder! you love kissing them so much.

he bites. hide before he bites your tummy.

he loves taking you to snowy mountains and showing you around his homeland! expect to be attacked with lots of snowballs by him, he really doesn’t show any mercy.

loves drawing on your thighs if you’d let him. he would grab a marker or a paintbrush, drawing pretty things on your skin, loving the way you would giggle at the ticklish feeling. he might accidentally touch your other ticklish spots too just to hear you laugh.

i am a firm believer of johnny having sisters and being the only son in the family! he’d take you to meet his family once, and his sisters showed you all of his childhood pictures while telling you of his silly actions, all while johnny was in the back, face all red.

he can knit! learnt it from his eldest sister. he likes knitting you sweaters or gloves, always choosing your favourite colour.

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW!Eddie and Steve debauchery--I cannot get enough of those idiots. What was their friendship like before they each got married and had kids?

You are all in for a wild ride with this one. All humor is courtesy of @munson-blurbs as usual. Please enjoy the chaos that has sprung from our minds!

Warnings: alcohol consumption, stripping, dumb boys

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had originally never thought he’d have more than one bachelor party in his life because he hadn’t planned on ever getting married more than once. But when the first wife was Brittany, it’s no surprise that marriage didn’t last.

This second bachelor party he’s having is already way more fun and is with people he loves—not that he doesn’t love his high school friends with all his heart. But nothing could beat palling around with his sons. 

Wayne sits next to Eddie in the passenger’s seat of the car, while Steve is in the back, squished between Ryan and Luke. The steakhouse they’re going to isn’t far from the apartment and then they’ll be headed to the bowling alley for some friendly competition amongst them. 

“This is nice,” Luke says, folding his hands and relaxing them behind his head, “just us guys.”

Eddie chuckles to himself as he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot. As insane as his first bachelor party had been, it didn’t have the humor that Luke would undoubtedly inject into this evening. 

“I would like to order the chicken fingers. Not the ones on the kid’s menu, the ones on the adult menu,” Eddie’s youngest son informs the waitress when she comes to take their orders. Eddie half expects the precocious child to wink at the waitress or call her “doll.”

Eddie can’t stop smiling. Being out with his kids, uncle, and best friend for a nice evening to celebrate his upcoming marriage. To you. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life. How could he not be ecstatic? 

Even his bowling game gets off to a good start until Wayne begins to wipe the floor with him. For an old man with arthritis, he’s impressively skilled at bowling. 

After Luke’s third gutterball in a row, he huffs a sigh of annoyance and eyes the arcade in the back corner of the bowling alley with interest. Lights flash and whistles blow from the small room, calling like a siren to any child within its grasp. After his big brother has his turn and only manages to knock down two pins, Luke recruits him in asking their dad if they can go into the arcade. 

“Sure,” Eddie says. He pulls a twenty out of his wallet and raises his eyebrows at the boys. “This is for you two to share. Evenly. I don’t want any arguing. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” the brothers agree in unison. Ryan takes the twenty from his father and the two kids make their way towards a basketball arcade game, their bowling shoes squeaking on the polished floor beneath them. 

Steve eyes the bowling alley around them, his hands on his hips as Eddie bowls a frame behind him. It’s fairly empty, save for a bowling team at the other end of the lanes. Some old 80’s pop is playing dully over the speakers and the scent of beer and French fries stains the air. 

“This sure looks a whole lot different than your first bachelor party,” Steve remarks. 

Wayne raises an eyebrow at Eddie as he comes back over towards the ball return, keeping an eye out for the twelve-pound blue marbled ball he’s been using. 

“Was that the time this knucklehead—” the older man starts to ask, mirth lighting his face.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says with a bark of laughter. “It sure was.”

November 1988

The Hideout is the same as it always is: dimly lit, every surface sticky with spilled beer, music crackling through ancient speakers. Tonight, however, there’s a liveliness that isn’t usually present. 

“Another shot, Harrington?” Jeff calls out, raising two tiny glasses filled with tequila. “Or are you pussing out on us?”

Steve grins and accepts the drink, though he’s already a bit wobbly on his feet. “You wish.” He jabs a playful finger towards the guitarist. “Shot for shot? Winner gets to be the best man.”

“You’re on, man!”

Dustin rolls his eyes, the beer in his hand giving him a false sense of maturity. That, and the wispy mustache he’d been trying to grow out to avoid being carded at the bar. No one had the heart to tell him that The Hideout would probably serve bourbon to a baby.

He leans over and whispers to Eddie. “They don’t know that you already asked me to be the best man?”

“Nah, but don’t say anything. This is entertaining.” Eddie watches as the two men throw back shot after shot, taking a sip of his own rum and Coke. 

Steve is ultimately the winner, throwing a fist up in victory. “Looks like I’m the best man,” he gloats, cackling as he practically falls into the booth. 

Jeff just shakes his head, balancing on the bartop and silently chastising himself for the loss. 

None of the men pay attention when the door swings open. It’s only when the person speaks that their ears perk up. 

“Is there an Eddie Munson here?”

Eddie swivels around to see a police officer standing there with her arms crossed. She looks serious, determined, and he combs through any recent activities that would land him in the slammer. 

He tries to keep his composure, clearing his throat before saying, “I’m Eddie Munson.”

The officer smiles, sauntering over to him with a stride that Eddie had never seen from a cop before. It isn’t until she’s standing in front of him that he notices the way her cleavage spills out of her low-cut top and the high heels that would render her unable to chase after a real criminal. 

Oh, hell yeah. 

“I’m afraid you’ve been a bad boy, Eddie,” she coos, tilting his chin up with the pad of her forefinger. “And bad boys get arrested.” She whips out a pair of black fuzzy handcuffs and gestures for him to drag his chair to the center of the room, to which he immediately obliges. 

“Okay, which one of you bastards did this?” He says with a giant smirk, only to be met with a disapproving tut from the dancer. 

“Eyes on Vanilla, big boy.” She presses a button on her portable CD player and a sensual beat fills the room. 

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on her, just as she ordered. He watches as she slowly unbuttons her tiny uniform, her bare breasts spilling out once the final button is opened. 

“I think I’m in love,” Steve says from his seat, but Eddie barely registers it. Not when he has a pair of tits in front of him. The Russians could drop an A-bomb and he wouldn’t even notice. 

Dustin’s eyes widen as Vanilla reveals her lacy black thong. “Eddie should marry her instead of Brittany,” he muses. 

“Not if I marry her first,” Steve quips back. 

Vanilla’s bare ass grinds over Eddie’s lap, and he smiles through the arousal kicking up in his pants. He never wants it to end—the dance and the attention. It vaguely occurs to him that his own fiancée doesn’t care this much about his pleasure. 

This woman is paid to care, he reminds himself. That’s why. 

With one final roll of her hips, the song ends, and Vanilla stands up. She’s flushed from all of the movement, her lipstick slightly smudged from where she’d kissed Eddie’s collarbone. 

Steve glides over to her as best as he can in his inebriated state, holding out his hand. “Hi. Steve Harrington. Former Hawkins High swim team co-captain and Keg Stand King.” He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Can I interest you in a shot?”

Enamored by his attempted chivalry, Vanilla blushes and accepts, buttoning herself back into her costume. 

“Leave it to Harrington to charm the goddamn stripper,” Eddie mumbles, but he grins as he rejoins the party. 

It only takes a few moments before Steve and Vanilla are making out in the corner, just a blur of limbs and tongues. He’s grabbing her ass so tightly that it’ll probably leave bruises, but she certainly isn’t complaining. 

“Hey, you guys!” Gareth says, flinging one arm around Eddie and the other around Jeff. “What if we do a little trial run before the big day?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Jeff asks. 

Gareth rolls his eyes as though the answer is obvious. “I’m talking about using my new ordination skills on those two lovebirds.” He gestures towards Steve and Vanilla. “That way I’m not as nervous for Eddie’s wedding.”

Too drunk to argue, Eddie shrugs. “S’okay with me if it’s okay with them.”

“Harrington! Vanilla!” Gareth yells far too loudly. “Do you two wanna get hitched?”

Steve pulls away for a second. “Hell yeah!” He calls back, and Vanilla nods emphatically. 

“Looks like we’re having a wedding!” Will chimes in. “Okay, let’s make this legit. Everyone needs a role. I’m the wedding planner, of course.” He assigns Eddie the role of Best Man and makes Mike the Maid of Honor. Frank is the ring bearer, and Lucas volunteers to be the flower girl. 

“Erica got to do it when we were kids. Now it’s my turn,” he explains. 

Dustin starts walking Vanilla down the aisle, as Jeff plays Here Comes the Bride using the painfully out-of-tune guitar he’d snagged from the bar’s tiny green room. Steve and Gareth wait for Vanilla to join them on the Hideout stage. 

“Dearly Beloved,” Gareth begins, “we gather here to wed this man and this bombshell exotic dancer in holy matrimony…shit, we don’t have rings!”

Steve leans back to Eddie. “Is he allowed to say ‘shit?’” He mumbles. 

“Guess so. He’s not a priest.”

Gareth shakes off the snafu and continues. “It’s fine; we’ll skip that part.” He turns to Steve. “Do you, King Steve Harrington, take Vanilla to be your wife? In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part—Jesus, that’s dark.”

“I so fuckin’ do.”

“And Vanilla,” Gareth continues, “do you take Steve to be your husband? In sickness and health and all that other bullshit I said before?”

Vanilla smiles drunkenly. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Gareth announces. “You may continue dry humping in the corner. Oh, but first,” he digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out an official looking piece of paper, “I picked up this bad boy today. Let me make sure I get this right. Just need a pen…”

Dustin procures one from the bartender, and Gareth shows the newlyweds where to sign. “Oh, and we need a witness, too. Eddie, c’mere.”

Eddie shuffles over, grinning as he writes his name in sloppy cursive. He’ll have to remind Gareth to get a new license before the actual wedding, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie giggles, “your wife gave me a lap dance.”

“Shut up, Munson. I’m gonna get one later.”

“Thank God for annulments,” Steve says with a sigh. 

Eddie grabs his Styrofoam cup of Pepsi resting on the chair next to him. He holds it in the air as he says, “To ending marriages and finding actual love.”

“Hear, hear,” Steve agrees, knocking his own Styrofoam cup against his buddy’s.

Wayne takes a sip from his can of beer, shaking his head in amusement at the pair of them. 

“You weren’t with Nancy at the time, were ya?” Wayne asks.

“God, no,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “Was pretty damn funny when she first found out about it though and learned that her brother was the maid of honor.”

“How the hell you got Nancy to marry you is still a mystery to me,” Eddie says with a laugh before lifting his cup up to his lips. 

Before Steve can open his mouth to defend his honor (or say the same about Eddie with you), the boys come skipping over, a few skimpy prizes in their hands that they won. The yellow slinky was sure to get lost by tomorrow and the little hot dog shaped whistle was something Eddie was already planning to “misplace.”

“Can we get ice cream?” Ryan asks as the boys switch from their bowling shoes to the sneakers they arrived in.

“That sounds all right to me,” Eddie says. 

The rental shoes all get returned at the counter and Luke takes his father’s hand as the gang walks out into the parking lot.

“What flavors are you guys gonna get?” Luke asks.

“Well,” Eddie says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “I know Uncle Steve will go for Vanilla.”

Steve silently shoots daggers at his friend before replying, “And your dad won’t decide until he gets there because he likes the newest flavors.”

Two soft thuds have Ryan turning around. He sees both his father and uncle holding the back of their heads while his grandfather walks past them, shaking his head. 

“Ow,” Eddie complains, but Wayne just ignores him and keeps walking towards the car.

“I’m sitting in the backseat with you two,” Wayne tells the boys. “Probably more mature than these two knuckleheads—Ed, if you grab that man’s nipple one more time, I swear to God, I’ll leave you both here.”

[hsficrecommendation]

Hello Everyone! This is masterlist #4 (June of 2023!) for the all fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE •••

Valentine's Day | Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. - @nationalharryleague

French Fries | Harry kept glancing at her as he drove. “M’sorry about our date,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she shrugged and reached over to squeeze his arm while he held the steering wheel. “I had a lovely time.” - @1d1195

Shy | Close | Motherly Love | Don't Leave Me | Mother's Day | ♡ When Harry runs into a perfect stranger at a supermarket, he doesn’t know what to expect. After having been single for over a year and raising Amelia without a mother, dating somebody new feels impossible… that is, until she wins over the heart of his daughter. - @harry-writings

Vogue Beauty Secrets | Actress!Y/N does the Vogue Beauty Secrets video, and Harry decides to help. - @astranva

Gonna be Better in the Morning | Jeff and reader get into a fight and Harry takes Jeff's side. (As always, there is a happy ending with lots of comforts) - @harryhoney-bee

Work of Art | A cute little fluffy artist!Harry piece with a hint of angst! - @nationalharryleague

Update | The Best Present | Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube. - @watchmegetobsessed

When The Levee Breaks | You're a waitress and Harry is being stood up. - @songbirdstyles

Playball | ♡ The reader owns a bakery and hates baseball, but what happens when her town’s bigshot MLB player walks into her bakery and she finds herself catching feelings unaware of his occupation? - @writingsbymarie

The Con Artist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ♡ You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you- he finds it difficult to resist your charms. - @gurugirl

Baby Steps | You’re Harry’s son's therapist, and he isn’t the only one you end up helping. - @enthusiasticharry

Mute | ♡♡ Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n. - @harry-writings

Score and Smash | In which their university holds an annual boy vs girl football match, the highly anticipated game of the year has arrived and Harry and Y/N hate each other just as equally until Y/N is under Harry.

Quid Pro Quo | Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst! - @talesofstyles

Six Months (Part 23) | ♡ Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together? - @fishnets-fingers

2022 : Masterlist #1 , #2 , #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 2023 : Masterlist #1, 2, 3 (June masterlist would be continued in the next list!)

My official writing account in case you'd like to check out my fics too: @0oolookitsme :)

[littlestpersimmon]

I have an incomprehensible question. But I think having to think of an answer to this will already bias you guys way of thinking (like how being reminded to breathe makes you breathe manually rather than automatically)... but oh well. If you guys were presented a meal of French fries, but arranged out in rows rather than just thrown in a bowl. Do you guys think you'll eat it one by one next to each other like slicing a brownie tray- or pick out fries at random with disregard to any size or any physical feature? Or will you rearrange them? Cuz In the philippines, it's considered rude to scoop out rice from the pot directly from the middle. You're supposed to scoop out from the side first. Nonsense question but I just saw a video of a monitor lizard eating fish laid out in a row and it was picking the fish haphazardly. And wondered if humans would do the same

[lexirosewrites]

this might b too late for slick sunday 8/25 so feel free to use this for next week

inspired entirely by the videos of music festivals booking symphonic orchestras to headline

Here it goes

A!Eddie & Corroded Coffin (who r p much all alphas) have made it big, r selling out stadiums, r headlining festivals, r richer than any of their family past or present

They agree to headlining a metal/rock festival in Indianapolis bc I mean come on Indiana is their home state they go out of their way to start or end US tours in Indiana & this festival was putting in the leg work to get primarily bands from Indiana so they're generally excited, r booked for the main stage during a prime nighttime slot so they have time to either wander around disguised or b in VIP/the wings of the stages watching performances

The band is booked for the 2nd night of the 3 day festival, Eddie & Gareth decide to just rest in the hotel for the 1st day while Jeff & Felix (unnamed freak) go bounce around various VIP spots watching different artists

Well Jeff & Felix come back later tht night slightly drunk smelling of weed but overwhelming smell like alphas in love, Eddie & Gareth r intrigued to say the least, especially when the 2 begin praising an omega they met in the VIP section of a smaller stage, Steve was his name, he apparently smells like sunshine & apple juice, is the most beautiful omega in the world, apparently is performing the main stage tomorrow at around 3, they were invited to watch from the wings & please please please Eddie & Gareth have to come w them bc they definitely tripped over themselves like the dorks they r & they NEED their fellow band mates there to support them in their endeavors to woo this omega, so the band look up what act is performing on the main stage at 3 tomorrow so they can maybe prepare only to b met with the words "Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra"

Meanwhile across the city in an apartment omega Steve is pacing the floor of their living room while O!Robin sits leisurely on their thrifted couch & lets him freak out bc Steve is half in love w these 2 alphas who were so charming & dorky & respectful & definitely Famous & he asked them to watch their performance from the wings tomorrow oh God Robin what is he meant to do!? Robin calms him down by plying him w french fries & rootbeer & reminds him tht not only is he lovable but he's also smoking hot so these alphas r lucky Steve even looked at them plus he's first chair cello for a reason!! He's good at what he does! The whole orchestra is good! They've been practicing for this festival & everyone has the set their conductor put together memorized so well everyone is joking they won't need sheet music tomorrow!! The performance is going to go well & if these 2 alphas don't care abt the music Steve has dedicated his life to then its their loss! (Yes they both know Corroded Coffin is at the festival but neither of them rlly pays attention to the music scene outside of the classical genre & their co-created feel good playlist full of classical & bubblegum pop & pop punk so Steve did not recognize them & Robin doesn't care to investigate)

So the day of the performance dawns, Steve & Robin get dressed in the outfits the orchestra had agreed to: fitted black dress pants, white cotton dress shirts made to look splattered w blood & the dark vests everyone had gotten together & decorated w patches/pins/embroidery (embroidery taught to the rest of the orchestra by Steve + 2nd chair violinist Carol, yes she's here they dropped Tommy as a friend at the same time bc he didn't take their music srsly & she's an alpha deeply platonically bonded w stobin at this point)

Steve lugs his cello down to the street where Carol meets them w her car bc it's actually big enough for his cello (cellists must book an additional seat when traveling bc their instrument will fit absolutely nowhere else & any musician of a classical wood instrument never leaves the life of their instrument up to the Fates i.e. booking it as baggage) they get to the festival very early to beat parking gremlins & make their way thru the festival

Corroded Coffin got up ridiculously early to listen/watch recorded performances of the orchestra this dream omega is a part of & Jeff is getting even more excited bc before he picked up the guitar he trained in the violin & look!!! Guys!! That's Steve in the cello section!!! Felix recognizes him but to Eddie & Gareth it's just a blob in a sea of people

So they make their way to the main stage & observe a growing crowd of metal heads & rock fans as the orchestra makes their way onstage & begin briefly tuning their instruments, this is when Jeff & Felix point out Steve bc look!!!! Steve is first chair cello!!!!!! That's a big deal!!! & indeed Eddie & Gareth see the most beautiful omega on earth & also maybe fall in love a little

Then the individual Jeff told them is the conductor walks onstage, the tuning stops, the crowd actually grows silent then the orchestra launches into a set list that begins w songs ppl recognize both in classical genre & the general rock genre & everyone is getting into the passion of the musicians, the dramatic movements of the conductor, the undeniably blood pumping rhythm of the music, Eddie watches the moving ocean of people in the crowd

Ideas for the set list: Bohemian Rhapsody (first song they play to get everyone engaged w the music) Symphony No.5 in C Minor, Op. 67: I. Allegro con brio, Eye of the Tiger, The Planets, Suite for Large Orchestra Op.32: I. Mars- The Bringer Of War, Romeo & Juliet Suite No.2 Op. 64ter I. Montagues and Capulets (dance of the knights), Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, The Show Must Go On, & the very last song is In The Hall Of The Mountain King

Steve gets offstage & meets not just the 2 alphas he'd invited last night but an additional alpha w long curls & a beta w a tattoo of a drumstick & a drumstick (chicken) ONLY THEN do Steve & Robin learn the level of fame they have thanks to Carol

Corroded Coffin take Steve on a date each & then all together bc Corroded King is the true agenda of this little idea

i love when i can tell it’s gonna be corroded king, but i still hold my breath until the end to make sure it’s corroded king before i get too excited🤭

[luveline]

jaaaade!!! I wish we could see more of eddie and reader alone!!! Would you be open to writing about another date without roan or maybe roan at a sleepover??? xoxoxoxoxoxo

hey!!! eddie and roan without the roan!!! cw suggestive (they are deprived of one another its not my fault (it is technically my fault))

It's disconcerting to come home from work when Roan isn't there. There are no cartoons playing on TV, no shiny black Mary Jane's at the bottom of the stairs, no red vinyl raincoat on the bannister. Eddie's instantly visible across the hall in the kitchen, though his back is turned to you, arms buried in the sink. He's wearing your Walkman, head bobbing to music.

You nip into the living room even though Roan isn't home to feed Lucky the fish. 

"Baby?" Eddie shouts, loud, like he's mad. 

You quickly close the fish tank and present yourself for scolding. "What?" 

He's set the Walkman aside. 

His shirt is one of those shirts that he uses for both everyday life and bed. There's a hole at the neckline, and a wet patch near his stomach from the dishes, and the whole thing comes off in about ten seconds. 

You gawp at him. Eddie can be forward, but this forward?

He bursts into boyish giggles. "Your face! What are you thinking?" 

"What am I thinking?" you ask, on the defensive instantly, because not being so gives him room to dig his claws in. "I'm thinking me and my boyfriend are home alone for the first time in at least a month, and he's just called me like a dog and stripped in front of me, and- Eddie! Get away from me, don't you dare!" 

He snaps out like a snake and his arms are around you python tight, pulling you against his bare chest unabashedly. 

"I'm not your boyfriend. We're to be wed, if you forgot. And… You are such a nympho." 

"I am not," you say, grinning with laughter even as you struggle in his arms to get away. 

"You are. I took my shirt off because it's wet, not to come onto you."

"Do you remember when you used to be nice to me?" you ask mildly. 

"No." 

"No, me neither. Be nice to me, Munson, or you can make your own dinner." 

"You're making dinner?" he asks, eyes widened in surprise. 

"Don't act like I never make dinner." 

"Sorry," he says, "it's not that-"

You pat his cheek. "You do always make dinner, though. 'Cause you're a sweetheart, through and through." 

"Well you clean the bathroom, and we know how gross it is. Roan's a little freak." 

"She's a witch. Her latest potion included at least a quarter of your hair mousse, by the way." 

He leans in close to your face. "I'll make you dinner for the rest of our lives, if you want me to." His romantic side quickly fades back into the shadows. "But if you're offering, it's definitely your turn." 

"Nice," you say wryly. 

He hums his agreement, gives you two quick but well-meaning kisses, and let's you go where he'd herded you to the front door. "I'm gonna put on a dry shirt. Bring your pyjamas down?" 

"Please, handsome, if you will." 

"Duh." 

You spirit into the kitchen and turn the oven on. Then you wash your hands, pull a sack of potatoes from the cupboard, and get to chopping. 

"We're having homemade french fries and burgers. Unless you don't want burgers?" you ask, not looking as Eddie returns to the kitchen. 

"That's not funny. You know I always want burgers." 

You shove all your skin-on fries into the colander and you and Eddie swap. "Wash them for me, please?" 

"I'm already feeling like you cooking tonight is a lie." 

"I'm not lying!" you say, pushing your pants down to your thighs. 

You step out of them one leg at a time and shake out your pyjama pants. Eddie looks at you for a second, turns back to the faucet, and then double takes hard enough to make his neck click. You boo at his theatrics and pull on your new pants before he can waylay you with his nice hands. You're excited for some 'private time' with him, more excited to fill the aching pit of hunger in your stomach, and he could likely seduce you with one well aimed touch, so best to get dressed. 

"You have the fucking hottest thighs-" 

"Don't, Eddie," you plead, already laughing. 

"I'm being so serious right now. Fuck, can I just squeeze one?" 

"That's not even romantic." 

"I'm not trying to be…" He sets the washed potatoes aside on the draining board and quickly scrubs his hands dry. "I'm being honest with you, if I don't get my hands on your legs tonight I'm gonna pass out." 

His methods are questionable, but it's nice to be hyped up like that, especially when he usually keeps it PG. "You look so pretty today," doesn't ever lose its potency even when he says it every day, but the rarity of his more salacious comments means that each one makes you wanna jump him. 

"I think…" you say softly, tipping the fries on to a sheet pan and drizzling them with olive oil. He waits for you to finish. "We can make a deal." 

"What kind?" 

"Kind where you take it easy tonight and let me spoil you, and I'll make it worth your while." 

He takes it easy. He sits at the dinner table and you get to talk about things you haven't been able to for a while, properly, like bills and work and worries you don't say in front of Roan. Then you move on, talking about movies and music and heading into Indianapolis soon like you always say you will for an author event Eddie wants to go to. By the time the burgers are done, you're elated, head swimming with Eddie. You love Roan and love your life with her in it, but, separately, you adore Eddie. Everything about him. Even the way he talks is important to you: bravado and genuineness interlinked, making for an animated recount of his thoughts and feelings. 

You place a plate down in front of him with a great burger and a heaping pile of fries, and then you grab a coke from the fridge and pour it into a glass for him carefully. 

"You want ketchup?" 

He squints at you. "I can get my own ketchup." 

You take that for yes and retrieve the ketchup from the fridge, putting it with his plate and glass. 

"Where's yours?" he asks, covering his mouth as he chews a fry. 

You slowly, carefully, ease your way into his lap, giving him time to refuse you. 

He doesn't. 

You sit with your side to his chest and feel perfectly content as his arm wraps around you to hold you in place. "The deal is I get to spoil you," you remind him, stroking a curl out of his face. 

"I thought you meant, like, dinner," he says. 

"I do mean dinner. Dinner and everything else. You know you- you work so hard, 'n' you think I don't notice, I bet, but I do. You're the best dad, the best to-be-wed," you drawl. "You're my fucking guy, so you'll have to excuse me if I wanna get you the ketchup out of the fridge, loser." 

"You're a fucking loser." He's beaming. 

You stare at him, smile bright no matter how hard you try to tamp it down. "I love you. Let me hand feed you French fries like a serf holding grapes over an ancient courtesan, okay?" 

He tilts his head back in wait. 

Eddie lets you feed him fries, and somewhere between them his hand ends up exactly where he'd wanted it, between your legs and squeezing at the doughy flesh of your thigh. He couldn't look any happier. 

"You know what else would spoil me?" he asks, nosing at the skin under your ear. 

Your breath catches, sure he's going to say something awful. "What, baby?" 

"If you ate your food." 

You snort, spell broken, and go to stand, but Eddie's hand slides high up your thigh and lingers. "You'll need your strength," he adds. 

You push at his chest with your hand, tempted to roll your eyes at his smirking and nerdy delivery. "Whatever, baby." 

It's safe to say you aren't so dismissive of his bold claims later that night.