#custom food trailer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderenightmare · 10 months ago

Text

TW: nsfw, anal, suggestiveness & pressuring

fem reader

Thinking about really boyfriendly boyfriends – simpy and helpful and sweet – boyfriend material perfectly cut as if custom-ordered – boxed and shipped and sent express mail from the boyfriend factory with love.

He’s interested in your hobbies and studies and is equally passionate about sharing his interests with you. He’s comfortable and playful with your family and makes a true effort to befriend your friends. He’s even outgoing at parties where he doesn’t know anyone but you instead of sulking and asking you to leave like so many past boyfriends have.

He likes sharing food, sings loudly in the car, texts you throughout the day, and calls you when he’s at the store before coming over, asking if you need or want anything. He’s open and honest and geeks over new releases – that movie trailer, that game, those sneakers, that album, that car, and all that other boy stuff – and yet never fails to tell you how beautiful you are every time he sees you.

And he likes taking you on dates – cinema, arcade, roller rink, amusement park, road trips, picnics, beach days – or simply hanging out at his or your place – making food, binging a series in bed, kissing and dry-humping…

He’s just, all in all, everything you could’ve ever wished for. Perfect in every way.

Only… there hasn’t been a single time he’s had you in bed where he hasn’t all but begged to fuck your ass…

He’s literally crying for it while moaning, “Please~ lemme put it in~ just wanna try it once, please, baby~” with his hands squeezing your butt over your shorts and his head under your shirt, kissing and sucking your tits with the prayers on his lips as he humps his tented crotch against your clothed cunt – making your panties hot and damp.

You squeeze your eyes shut with a suppressed whine.

He keeps pleading, “I’ll be gentle~ just the tip~ I’ll go so slow~”

His fingers dig into the crevice of your cheeks, wedging your shorts and undies through your slit. Everything clenches from the friction.

Your face is heated, biting your lip with cinched brows. You knew he’d ask for it again today – he never doesn’t. Even though he’ll get pussy-drunk and pound your poor womb in a tight mating press the second he’s made you cum on his fingers.

He slurps your nipple, still begging, “Please, baby, please~ it’ll feel so good~ so-so-so good~”

You’d been deliberating giving in to his incessant proposals for a little while. He’d been so unrelenting you were starting to feel bad denying him for so long.

Not like past boyfriends hadn’t been equally relentless in the ask.

But this one was different… unlike the others… you really like him.

You think you might be in love with him, even though it’s a little early to say.

Still… since he’s so perfect… you want to do your best to be perfect for him, too.

So you’d made yourself ready for it this time – done preparations in the shower.

But… you pout… it was all so embarrassing, and your poor mind was riddled with doubts as though you were a virgin all over again.

What if something… gross happens? What if it hurts so bad you have to stop? Will it disappoint him? What if you hate it but go through with it anyway, only for him to keep asking? What if you have to break up because you won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again?

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” His voice slips through the inner turmoil.

He’d resurfaced from beneath your shirt on account of your silence, only to see you’d covered your face in both hands. He gently peels them away – revealing your eyes and the shy way you nibble your lip.

“I’m sorry…” He apologizes then. “I’ll stop asking-”

“No!” You blurt. To his surprise – staring at you with those big puppy-dog eyes you just couldn’t handle seeing look so disheartened. “I mean…”

You look away, cheeks burning – voice just barely above a whisper.

“If you really want to… I’m fine with it…”

He seemed to perk up at that. If he’d had a tail, you know it would be wagging behind him.

His chest swelled, eyes big and unblinking, swallowing thickly – breaths already thick with containment.

He leans in close and nose-kisses you, brushing your lips with heated words, “Really? You’ll let me?”

You made a small sound, too humiliated to say or do much more than nod your head in confirmation.

He seemed to shudder, closing the space between you, kissing your lips softly – he tasted like static – buzzing with restricted urgency. Parting with a soft-spoken yet strained, “Thank you.”

Both his hands messaged your waist – fiddled with the band to your shorts as though he couldn’t wait to drag them down your thighs and free you.

Still speaking against your lips, “Can you turn around on your knees for me?”

Everything was burning – from the tips of your ears to your lips and deep down in your stomach where something equally hungry and anxious was preparing for something.

He moved back to allow you to crawl into position, taking a pillow and placing it underneath you – patting it while telling you to “Lie down.”

You did like suggested, lying with your face and chest against the soft plume, sinking into it with your back in a slope and your ass presented. Heart pounding in your head, loud and hot, as he took position behind you – placing his hand back on your hips.

He hooked his fingers into the band of your shorts again, pulling them back over the fat of your haunches, then dragged them down slowly until they pooled around your knees. You felt the damp heat of his breath immediately hit the peach fuzz on the small of your back – seeping through the cotton of your panties – making your belly brew with butterflies.

“Just relax, okay? Tell me to stop if I go too far.” He said, sensing how you quaked as he placed both palms on your globes – denting the plump flesh with greedy fingers.

It’s not like you haven’t fucked in this position before – it’s just that you knew this time was going to be different. You felt so exposed.

He fingered the frill of your panties and started peeling them off – baring your naked skin and the pretty dip between your cheeks.

You yelped. His mouth was on you before he’d even finished undressing you – placing a sloppy half-bite half-kiss on your upper ass before proceeding to slurp the crack.

You whimpered – flustered and flushed as the heat of his tongue laid wet trails down through the valley until his lips met with your rim. You shuffled your thighs and balled the pillow in small fists as he groaned into you. Shamelessly squeezing your fat with his hands, spreading the cheeks to let him at your little puckered hole.

Your eyes screwed shut while you hid your face in the pillow beneath you – muffling all uneasy sounds as he canted his mouth against your ass. Chin rutting into your puffy cunt while bobbing his jaw, lipping at your taint and rim – nose nuzzled between your cheeks – mouth fully closed around you – moaning at the feel of it pulsing on the tip of his tongue as he runs it over the tight scrunch again and again.

Your shoulders brace as he tries and screw the wet muscle inside. You tense up way too tight for it to happen.

He smacks off with a raunchy sigh. Your heart is in your throat.

Slick from your ignored cunt feels sticky on your swelled pussy-lips – hot and twitching in the cool air.

He pops the cap of the little bottle of lube the two of you always keep on hand. You flinch when his slick fingers come back to rub your hole. He gives it slow and soothing circles before easing the tip inside. Filling you up only to the first joint, waiting for you to relax and loosen before sinking the rest inside.

He hums at the display, groaning, “Fuuh-ck~” Sliding the digit in knuckle-deep before slipping it out to the tip again – repeating the motion while feeling your muscles ripple around it. “You’re so cute, baby~ so pretty~”

He bows and places a chaste kiss on your buttcheek, laying his face on it like a pillow – his eyes half-mast while looking at his finger disappear inside you.

He works another in with the first, shuffling them – messaging the tightness, slowly training it to stretch. His hot breath fans over your wet skin, making you go goosefleshed.

“Fuck, baby – so pretty with my fingers inside yah~” He hums, almost in a whine while curling them inside you. “So fucking hot how you swallow and squeeze on ‘em like that~”

He pulls himself up again, tugging on his belt with one hand – keeping on fingering you with the other.

His pants drop to the floor a moment later, and he lifts his neglected cock out of the sticky mess he’d made in his boxers – throbbingly fat and hard, pulsing in his fist and leaking pre, another pearl each time he rubs over the bulge of his tip.

He looks at your hole – eyes misty. You seem to have loosened up a bit – enough for him to part his fingers.

He pulls them both out with a schlick. “I think you’re ready…” His voice is sticky – stuck to his throat. “I’m gonna try ‘n put it in.”

Your hands curl into the pillow as you nod your head – eyes still squeezed shut. It hadn't felt too bad so far – just weird. Embarrassing and… clinical. A bit like a doctor’s visit. But you knew that would all change now.

His hands glide across your back, catching your crop top in balled fists, stretching it as his tip works on stretching out your opening – nudging against it, coaxing it into accepting the head.

“Fuh- oh fuck~” He moans, lost to the sight and feel of your butt seizing around him – closing up around his tip.

You look so fucking perfect like that – face-down and kneeling with your ass pressed back against him – giving him your second virginity.

His eyes flitter across the slope of your spine – looking over your creamy skin, looking so pretty, all glossy with dew, until he reaches your face. Your brows are pinched together, gnawing on your bottom lip, eyes shut tightly.

“Are you okay?” He pants.

You nod your head – curt and rushed.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You’re so perfect, so good to him – the best girlfriend he could have ever asked for. Trusting him like this, letting him do this even when you’re so nervous about it. You must really love him.

He’s nearly crying, holding onto your hips as he fucks you with just the tip – loosening the rim up and going just a little deeper for every shallow thrust. He nearly barrels over, standing there with his back hunched – bowing his head, looking at where the two of you connect while sweat drips from his weighted bangs.

“I love you, too.” He confesses out of the blue, and you blink, looking back at him – seeing his mouth parted with blissful moans, his eyes wet, and brows softly curled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect fo’me – so good.”

He loves you so much he can barely take the blossoming in his chest, feeling like he wants to eat you up and swallow you whole. His girl – who laughs at all his silly jokes and holds his hand everywhere you go and doesn’t tease him when he yelps and holds you close during horror movies. His perfect perky girlfriend – who lets him fuck you raw and cum inside, and now… even letting him fuck your tight round ass for the very first time.

He's almost all the way in now – just a few more thrusts, and you’ll have him swallowed down to the base with his balls pressed firmly against the puffy lips of your wet pussy.

“Fuh-uuck-” He breathes out again, gripping your hips tight as he bottoms out.

He nearly cums right then, having to bite his lip to hold back – savoring how you ripple and squeeze him – so tight and firm.

You’re such a good girl taking him so well and so deep, lying so sweetly beneath him with your ass presented – letting him nestle his entire length inside you. Curling your toes all cutely as you adjust with only pretty girly mews leaving you.

You didn’t expect him to mount you.

But he does. Now standing with his feet in the bed, squatting over you with his cock sinking balls deep in your ass. Freshly broken-in, it’s tight and firm and twitchy as though it’s confused as to why there's a big fat cock stretching it out.

He can’t help but smile, perched on top of you – hands still hooked upon your hips for balance while he leans forward, settling even deeper.

You moan, and it nearly drives him wild. Barely holding himself together as he pulls out – wishing he had something to bite into instead of his lip as he focuses on the way your firm walls clench on him, clinging to his shaft so tightly it’s hard pulling out despite the wetness – it’s so good he’s losing it.

He’s taking his perfect girlfriend in her perfect ass. And it feels so fucking good his hands leave their grip on your hips as he slugs forward, bending over you until his chest presses into your back, and his head rests on top of yours, cheek to cheek – slinging both arms around you, putting you in a headlock – leaving you to do nothing else but pant, squished between his biceps and his cock kisses your guts.

“Can’t believe I'm fucking your little ass, baby.” He rants breathlessly. “It's so tight and good, gripping me so fuckin’ hard.” Huffing and groaning with his back hunched as he curves into your butt as deep as he can – stuffing into you from behind slowly and carefully as though he’s savoring every single flutter of you hugging him.

He’s barely even pulling out – kneading as far as his cock can reach instead – cock-warming himself inside you.

“Fuck, baby – I can cum inside, right?” He whimpers against you, kissing the corner of your mouth with his tongue out.

You’re so squished beneath him you can only just wheeze out the word. “O-okay-”

“Oh- fuck, I love you.” He cries when he blows, squeezing you so tight you’re choking as he pumps pulse after pulse of thick hot cum deep inside you. “I love you, I love you- love you- love you so much- so fuckin’ much-”

And you don’t know if it’s the confession, the headlock, or the cum being pumped up your guts – but your clit’s pulsing and your cunt’s twitching even though it’s around nothing, gushing down your shaking thighs as your butt pushes itself flush against your boyfriend’s cock, clenching hard around it and milking him free of every drop.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Touya-Dabi, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ AOT – Armin ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei, Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

4K notes · View notes

just-aake · 17 days ago

Text

Endearing Entanglements

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You give Natasha a visit in Norway and remind her she has more friends to call on for help.

Warnings: fluff, implied sexual themes

Words: 1300

Pulling up to the safehouse, Natasha’s eyes narrow as she catches a faint trail of smoke curling from the trailer’s ventilation.

Instinct kicking in, she turns off the engine and quickly reaches for the gun stashed in the glove compartment.

She’s still on the run, and Rick isn’t due to check in for another week, which means the sign of someone else being here is a red flag she can’t ignore.

Sliding out of the car, Natasha moves silently. As she approaches the door, her grip on the weapon tightens as she takes a steadying breath.

With a practiced calm, she swings open the door, stepping inside swiftly with her gun raised. Her eyes dart across the room, scanning for any immediate threats.

But instead of chaos or an ambush, she’s met with the quiet, domestic sound of sizzling food.

Your back is to her, the scent of spices mingling in the air as you casually tend to whatever is cooking on the stove.

You don’t even flinch at her dramatic entrance.

“You should go freshen up, love. Dinner will be ready in ten,” you say, your tone easy and unbothered, not even sparing a glance in her direction, as though she hadn’t just stormed in with a weapon aimed at your head.

Natasha freezes, her suspicion warring with confusion. She sweeps her gaze around the small trailer once more, confirming that you’re alone, before finally lowering her gun with a disbelieving huff.

Her tension melts into exasperation as she holsters her weapon and crosses her arms.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

You chuckle softly, finally turning to face her. The spatula in your hand gestures toward the small, cluttered living space.

“I came by to drop off your package,” you reply, your tone light but with a teasing edge.

Natasha’s eyes flick to the black case sitting on the rickety table. She knows without opening it what’s inside—customized weapons and gadgets uniquely gathered and prepared for her.

Like you’ve done countless times before for her.

“I didn’t order anything,” she says skeptically.

“Hmm, you’re right. You didn’t,” you say with an exaggerated nod. “You called Mason instead. And he got you this…quaint little setup.”

The lights flicker as if on cue, emphasizing your skepticism about the condition of the safe house.

Natasha catches the faint jealous pout in your tone and sighs, moving closer until she’s leaning against the counter beside you.

“It’s nothing personal,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “I just needed something quick and discreet.”

Your lips twitch into a slight smirk as you turn to her. Without warning, you tug her closer, capturing her lips in a kiss.

You nip at her bottom lip in reprimand before pulling back, your eyes glinting with amusement.

“Love, isn’t that how most of our…entanglements end up?”

Natasha huffs a soft laugh, her smirk matching yours. Her hands find your waist, pulling you in closer.

“How much longer did you say dinner would take?”

Your grin widens as you turn off the stove, tilting your head closer to hers.

“All done,” you whisper against her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Leaning back against the wall of the trailer, Natasha sits on the bed, a now reheated plate of food in her hands. She eats quietly, her mind half on the simple meal you had prepared and half on the intimate moments you and she shared earlier.

The room is still, save for the occasional flicker of the dim overhead light and the low murmur of your voice.

At the edge of the bed, you handle a phone call that interrupted your dinner with her.

“No worries, love, I can get it to you by then,” you say smoothly, your voice oozing charm as you multitask, the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder while you pull on your pants.

Natasha’s brow arches slightly at your casual use of the term of endearment. Setting her plate aside, she moves toward you.

“Have I ever let you down?” you continue your conversation nonchalantly, though, the slight tilt of your head indicates you notice her movement behind you.

Wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, she leans into you, her warmth pressing against your back. Without a word, she begins trailing soft, deliberate kisses along your bare shoulder, her lips lingering just enough to send a message.

For a split second, your voice falters, the smooth flow of your words disrupted. You clear your throat, attempting to maintain composure.

“I—I gotta go,” you murmur into the phone, your tone edged with faint exasperation as Natasha’s kisses continue. “Mmhmm, I’ll call back later with the details.”

You end the call quickly, sliding the phone onto the table before turning to face her.

Your expression is a blend of amusement and mock disapproval as you take her in. “Really?”

Natasha shrugs innocently, feigning ignorance as she murmurs against your shoulder, “I thought I was ‘love.’”

Your lips curl into a smirk, your brow quirking as you tilt your head to meet her gaze.

“Oh, are we making certain things between us exclusive now?” you reply, your tone light but carrying a playful challenge.

Natasha huffs a small laugh and rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring your question as she leans back on her elbows, watching you with a small smile as you finish getting dressed.

After zipping up your jacket, you lean over the bed, running your hand along her bare legs before resting it on her thigh.

“I do have other clients besides you, you know,” you say, rubbing your hand in small circles before pinching her skin lightly, “Just like how you have other contractors.”

Natasha slaps your hand away with a scoff.

“Rick’s just a friend,” she says reassuringly.

You hum thoughtfully, your smirk widening.

“And you’re the only client I ever end up in bed with.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, unable to hide the flicker of satisfaction at your reassuring words.

Grinning, you pick up the black case from the table and set it on the bed.

“So…I guess that means we’ve come to an understanding.”

But Natasha’s smile fades as she pushes the case back toward you.

“I can’t take that.”

“If it’s about payment, I can give you a discount this time,” you offer, your tone playful. “Considering your…circumstances.”

“It’s not that.” Natasha shakes her head, her gaze dropping to the bed. There’s a moment of hesitation, a rare crack in her usual composure. Finally, she murmurs softly, “I don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

Your expression softens, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. You step closer, catching her chin lightly with your fingers, tilting her face up until her eyes meet yours.

“That’s sweet, love,” you say gently, your voice warm but unwavering. “But unfortunately for you, you’re my favorite client. That means your problems? They matter to me, too.”

Her lips part slightly, a breath catching as the weight of your words settles in.

You smile, a slow and reassuring curve of your lips, at the sight of the Black Widow so caught off guard by the care laced in your voice and tap her nose playfully in goodbye.

Before she can respond, you turn on your heel, heading toward the door.

Pausing in the archway, you glance over your shoulder, your silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from outside.

“Oh, and,” you add, your voice carrying a casual charm that hides just how much you mean it, “whenever you want an upgrade from this charming little safehouse, you know how to contact me.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as you lock eyes with her one last time.

“Always looking forward to your call, love.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Natasha sitting there, a small, fond smile on her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a little cute fluff before I get back into my series. thank you for reading!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

603 notes · View notes

iliketangerines · 3 months ago

Note

pov you randomly facetime johnny while he's busy working and you're fucking yourself stupid on a dildo that HE CUSTOM MADE FROM HIS OWN COCK AND BALLS and he's just so caught off guard like

made by you

a/n: @partycatty last request!!!

pairing: johnny cage x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), soft!Johnny, needy (like really needy) reader, masturbating (?), praise kink, phone sex, not proofread

Johnny rubs his eyes with one hand, squinting them at the unfinished script of the video game

the pen in his hand shakes as he circles and scribbles in comments about what he liked and what he didn’t like about what the script writer had put in

he wonders if he had hired an idiot because the dialogue sounded stiff and the staging of the scene seemed to make no sense

perhaps he should just hire a new editor and write his own script and then send it to an editor to have them tweak any small details he might’ve missed

his hand reaches out for the coffee cup next to him, and he lifts it up only to find it empty

Johnny looks up from his script with a disgruntled look, lips curved downward and eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the empty cardboard

throwing it into the wastebasket beneath his desk along with the three other empty coffee cups, he stands up from his seat, hearing the bones in his back creak and his knees pop with pain

he groans and presses both of his hands to his lower back, stretching out after spending so long hunched over his desk trying to edit this ridiculous script

maybe he should just go to bed, wake up with a fresh head and fresh eyes

Johnny glances once more over to the script, the red pen decorating the paper at almost every corner, and he lets out a displeased hum

for as much as the weight on his eyelids felt heavy, he really wanted, needed, to get this done tonight, at least before the next shoot happened

he checks his phone for the time, greeted with the sight of you as his lock screen, a bright smile on your face with the sunset perfectly framing you

you hadn’t been able to come with him this time to shoot the current movie, a new project at work had a deadline that happened to cross over into the workflow of the shoot, and you couldn’t afford to slack off

every day and night, he would text you updates about his day, how he felt, whether the food was good on set tonight, and you tried to do the same, complaining about your colleagues, your boss, the traffic getting to and from work

it never failed to make him smile as he read your texts

lately, however, the actors had pressing questions, the cameramen had questions and positions to be marked, the stuntmen needed more clarification on the moveset

he hadn’t had much time for you, and he tried his best to respond to you, typing as fast as he could with one hand as he went on lunch breaks, eyes glued to his screen whenever the actors needed a short break before they could continue

it was absolute hell for him to not be able to talk to you so freely

Johnny steps out of his trailer, trudging over to the coffee machine, checking his phone for any new messages from you

there are a few from a few hours ago, telling them that the dinner party you had been to had been a bust and that one of your colleagues had passed out from drinking too much

he smiles at the text and goes to text you back, quickly pressing the buttons on the coffee machine to give him the largest coffee possible, when your face shows up with your caller id

that was strange, it was past midnight for you usually you’d be fast asleep at this hour, always claiming you needed your beauty rest to get an early start on the grocery shopping on the weekend

nonetheless, he picks up the call, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing up so late?” and he blows on the steaming coffee in his cup and takes a sip

“‘m miss you, miss you Johnny,” you sound breathless, words all slurred together and slightly too high-pitched to be normal

panic strikes through his heart, had something happened? were you safe? had something happened? Shang Tsung?

the memory of you being at the dinner party flits into his memory, and he realizes that you’re probably just drunk and a little needy for him, just as needy as he was for you

“are you drunk? you should go to bed, honey. drink some water before you do.” Johnny takes another sip of his coffee as he starts striding back to his trailer

he wonders if you’ll be able to get up in the morning, you always complained so heavily about hangovers, he’ll send you a text in the morning to remember to take some medicine

“no, not drunk, want you, Johnny, hah-” you practically whine into your phone, and Johnny stops in front of his trailer, hand frozen, his phone tucked right between his ear and his shoulder

suddenly, with his phone so close to his ear, he can hear the faint shuffle of the bedsheets, the way you breathe heavily into the mic and the familiar wet squelch of your pussy

Johnny practically rips the door open in his hurry to get inside, “oh honey, i know, what do you want? tell me.”

suddenly, the coffee in his hand seems redundant, not when adrenaline rushed through him, the thought of you so desperate for him on the sheets sending all of his blood rushing downwards

he places the coffee on his desk and sits on the edge of his bed, pressing his phone as close to his ear as possible to hear you

“want you, want you to kiss me, mark me all over, want you fucking me right now,” you pant into the phone, a low drawn out moan escaping you

Johnny swears his hand is dangerously close to cracking his phone with how tightly he grips it, and he presses his free hand against the bottom of his chin, still trying to remain calm as thoughts of you naked and covered in a slight sweat filters into his thoughts

“i wish i could, honey,” he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose as he tries to imagine what you look like, the soft caress of your skin against the sheets, your eyes that glossy faraway look, lips turned into a slight pout, “tell me what you’re doing right now.”

“mm, wearing your shirt, your favorite, missed you, i miss you,” Johnny resists a groan at the image of you wearing nothing but his shirt, the purple one that had cost too much money

still, it was worth all the money, especially now that you were wearing it right now, all needy and whiny for him

“what else are you doing, honey? c’mon keep talking to me, you’re doing so well.” he encourages to talk more, to fill out the details of your want for him so that he can fuel his own imagination of you

“riding, riding you, but it’s-i-i can’t,” you sound pained at the end, your voice tinted with tears

“hey hey, what’s wrong, what can’t you do?” Johnny presses his chin further into his free hand, trying to decipher what you meant by you riding him

he wasn’t there, but you wouldn’t take on another partner just for this, you wouldn’t do something like that, at least not without his permission

Johnny closes his eyes, listening to you whimper, voice slightly warbled through the phone line, “can’t make myself cum, can’t without you, please, Johnny.”

you sound so desperate for him, and he exhales through his nose, almost proud of himself for ruining you for anyone else, but he could stroke his pride later

“honey, why don’t you facetime me? show me what you’re doing, i’ll guide you. how does that sound?” he hears your small sound of confirmation on the other end, and he pulls his phone away from his ear and waits for your caller id to show up again

as soon as it pops up, he clicks on accept and is met with the sight of you, the phone resting on the headboard of the bed, slightly tilting as you move away after setting up the camera

you look divine, better than he remembered, better than anything he had ever seen actually

his heart slightly aches at the sight of you, just as desperate as you to see each other again, to feel your touch on his skin, to feel your warmth hold his soul

Johnny sucks in a breath and concentrates back on you, how he can slightly see your chest through the unbuttoned front of the shirt, how your thighs slightly trembled as you ride a toy

your baby hairs stick slightly to your forehead, and you look breathless, lips parted in a moan and your brows furrowed upwards as you sink back down onto the toy

he stares at it, rummaging through his mind which one it could possibly be when it suddenly clicks in his head

you were riding him, him as in the prank gift he had given you on your birthday before presenting you with your actual gift

Johnny thought you had thrown it out, but you had kept it and now you were riding it, riding him and his lips slightly part in surprise

as he stares at you, you continue to ride the dildo and let out a long whine as one hand travels downward to rub harsh circles onto your clit

it snaps him out of his shock and back into the moment as he coos at you, “you look so gorgeous, so pretty on my cock.”

a slight hum escapes from you as you stare at the camera with half-lidded eyes, drinking in his praise, and Johnny has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cumming into his pants at the sight alone

“that’s it honey, slow down your hand, you’re being too rough on yourself,” he says it gently, voice a little breathy as he strains to control himself, and you listen obediently, your fingers on your clit slowing down into small gentle circles

you whine pitifully, wanting more, but you listen anyway, trusting him

the fact that you do so easily in such a vulnerable moment fills him with something more, something proud and smooth, like gold shining underneath the sun

“good, you’re being so good for me, sweetheart. use your other hand to pinch your nipple,” he stares, unblinking at his phone as you follow through, legs shaking as you ride him slowly, whimpering as you twist and pinch your nipple

Johnny can’t look away, not, he drinks in the sight like you were the stars in the sky, the galaxies flying in the universe, a marvel, a miracle, a beauty to behold

because you truly were, something wonderful and marvelous and more than anything you would ever know

“that’s it, just like that, speed up just a little bit, good, so good for me” he watches as you bounce a little faster, your fingers against your clit just a bit faster, your pinching at your chest just a bit rougher

“haah, ahhh aghh, Johnny, please, please,” you can barely speak, mewls of pleasure interrupting your own thoughts

“let go for me,” it’s all he needs to say as you moan loudly, and you sink down fully onto the toy, fingers rubbing against your clit desperately as your thighs tremble and twitch

he watches as you ride through your orgasm, as your breathing slows, as your body slouches over, exhausted and spent

“you did so well, so well for me,” he isn’t sure if wants to push it, to tell you to try and get yourself cleaned up, and he decides against it as you lower yourself to the bed and grip onto a pillow, no doubt the one on his side of the bed

his fingers itch to stroke your hair, to massage out your muscles, to hold you close in his arms and fall asleep next to you

Johnny settles with watching you fall asleep on the bed and then ending the call, sending you a text message asking how you felt and to call him when you woke up

setting his phone off to the side, he drags a hand over his face, the image of you riding the toy, the toy based off of him, buried deep inside of you

he stands up and rummages through his drawer, he needed a change of his clothes before he went to bed

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #mk1 x reader #mk1 x you #mk1 x y/n #mk1 smut #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage smut

342 notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 12 days ago

Text

Blizzard

Eddie Munson x a Blizzard treat

MINORS DNI - +18 ONLY

For @jo-harrington. This was meant for your birthday, but we know that didn't happen. I love you forever.

Summary: Eddie works at the DQ and gets weird with some ice cream.

CW: Male masturbation, food play, brief discussion of vomit.

Eddie is torn between two paths of thought - needing cash in his pocket, therefore needing to go to work - and wondering what is the point of selling ice cream in the winter. The defroster in the van quit working in early spring, and Eddie had done what Eddie does - put it off. Well, now it’s cold again, and he’s wiping off as much of the frost accumulated on his windshield as he can with the crumbled Burger King napkins he found on the floor of the passenger’s seat.

He’s thinking about simply turning around and heading back into the trailer where he can at least crawl under the comforter in his bedroom to keep warm, and then he remembers that he can’t fix the defroster in the van without some form of income. Goddamn Rick for getting pinched again so soon after the last time. Eddie’s more than a little concerned that the next time he gets picked up it’s going to be for longer than the usual 90 days in lock up. How many strikes has it been? Surely more than three. Eventually Magistrate Johnson won’t be able to turn him loose on the good people of Roann County, even if that means facing the wrath of Rick’s favorite second cousin who also happens to be his wife.

It could be worse, he could be working at the arcade still. It was 4 blissful hours behind the cash register before that red headed kid, Brant?, puked all over Donkey Kong. Eddie had a fleeting thought that he might be able to handle the situation, and then the smell hit him square in the face. He was out the door before Keith could get the mop from the back room, reaching back in to leave his name tag on Pac-Man as an afterthought.

Of course he knows that vomit can happen anywhere, but Eddie is fully prepared to immediately quit any job that requires him to get up close and personal with someone else’s bodily fluids. Technically, it’s a part of his side work to clean the bathrooms at the DQ after close, but technically, no one ever fucking checks, so technically, it’s the problem of whoever opens the next day. It doesn’t matter, this job is just a placeholder. Well, that’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Eddie climbs up into the cab and turns the key. The old girl coughs back, but ultimately turns over. He kisses the ends of his fingers and pats the dash. Good girl. He cranks the defroster while saying a little prayer that maybe it fixed itself overnight. Regardless, he needs that air to keep the windshield from fogging up while he makes his 15 minute commute to the edge of town. It’s a blizzard out there, and the irony isn’t lost on him. Driving in a blizzard to serve blizzards for $3 an hour.

—

“There he is,” Eddie can hear Lynn before he can see her. He’s late again.

“Sorry,” Eddie calls as he shakes the snow off his jacket. He grabs an apron that’s just clean enough to not give him the heebie jeebies, and heads towards the front of the store. “The roads suck, maybe we should just shut it down for the night…”

Lynn is standing at the cash register, but she’s not alone. A customer is standing in front of her, and not just any customer. It’s you. Eddie slows his steps and lowers his head, as if he could disappear behind the curtain of his curls.

“Eddie, can you please get your ass over here and take over the register? I need to get home before the babysitter decides to take off. Three days in a row, Munson.” Lynn doesn’t wait for Eddie to acknowledge her words, she’s pushing her way through the kitchen to the back door while he’s still tying his apron strings.

Eddie takes in a breath and looks up to meet your eyes. He’s pleased to see you still looking at the menu above his head so he can scan your face unobserved. You got your hair cut since he last saw you; it’s sitting on your shoulders under your blue knit hat.

“Can I get a small Oreo blizzard -” you bring your gaze down to the person standing at the cash register and “- Oh, Eddie. I didn’t know you work here.”

It’s a blur, the next 10 minutes. As soon as it’s over, he couldn’t tell you what he said. The only thing he knows is that there’s heat in his cheeks even after he watches your back go through the front door of the store holding the paper cup of ice cream. If you had asked him before this interaction tonight, he would have pegged you as an M&M blizzard person.

Eddie remembers that you liked M&Ms. You sometimes ate them secretly in Algebra class when Mrs. Harrison wasn’t watching. He would watch you reach into the front pocket of your backpack to get a piece of candy, and place it on the end of your red tongue. Just the memory is making the front of Eddie’s jeans uncomfortably tight.

He sighs to himself, you’re not a goddamned teenager, Eddie. He’s looking out into the empty parking lot as your red brake lights disappear in the swirling snow. It really is stupid to be selling ice cream in this weather. The dining room is empty. Hell, the roads are empty. And you’re as hard as a rock, Munson.

Logic is out the window now, his erection is running the show while he prepares the ice cream treat. Not Oreo, but M&M. He tries not to consider that the smell of vanilla soft serve is making him even harder as the vibrations of the blizzard machine travel up his arms. He’s not thinking about where this is inevitably going to end.

Eddie locks the doors - front, side, and back - all with the blizzard clutched in his hand. Vanilla ice cream is melting down the palm of his hand. He scans the street again, only to continue to see no signs of life. He sighs in relief that there are no witnesses to what he’s about to do.

He allows himself to have a brief feeling of regret about not cleaning the bathroom thoroughly before pushing the thought out of his mind. It’s not that bad. Not really. Besides, his back is staying firmly against the door. It’s locked. He lets himself envision your open mouth, tongue peeking between lips. With his free hand, he feels the outline of his erection and moans.

Ice cream is dripping on the floor as he unzips his jeans and frees himself. He brings the ice cream to his mouth and his tongue laps at it. He strokes himself. He licks at the cold, sugary treat. He squeezes and bites the lip of the paper cup. Sticky melted ice cream runs down his chin while he runs his thumb over his slit.

He doesn’t think about it. It’s instinct. His erection shrinks at that initial shock of cold, and then he gets his rhythm. The cup is too small to accommodate his entire length, but Eddie doesn’t even notice. He’s thrusting as hard as he can, his cock threatening to break through the bottom of the paper cup.

Oh, Eddie! I didn’t know you worked here. You look so good. Eddie’s eyes are closed tight. He sees you with that blue knit hat on your knees in front of him. Mmmm, M&Ms, my favorite. It’s embarrassing how quickly he can come just at the image of your open mouth. Your tongue.

Eddie’s hips thrust into vanilla ice cream with crushed candy bits while his jeans are dropped around his ankles until he unloads his need into the back of that paper cup. He’s left with an M&M and jizz blizzard dripping down his thighs at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday evening in a fairly disgusting DQ bathroom.

“Fuck it,” Eddie says, pulling up his jeans over his sticky legs. He wipes up most of the ice cream and M&M pieces from the tile floor, it would be wrong to make Lynn clean that up tomorrow. He leaves his apron and name tag on the counter before walking out the back door.

Maybe Johnny over at the Shell is looking for a clerk.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction

133 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: Eddie's guard is back up after overhearing people gossiping about a secret that only you would know about. When he lets his animosity take over, the damage may be too great to repair.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 3.7k

Chapter 4/20

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

Eddie is still fuming when he pulls into the music store’s parking lot. He’s opening today, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the keys. All of those parents are going to know that he’s a failure of a father. The Munson reputation clung to him like a bloodsucking leech, regardless of his numerous attempts to shed it. He’s destined to be an outcast at best and a monster at worst.

Finally managing to unlock the door, Eddie flicks on the lights, blanketing the shop in a hazy glow. The silence is deafening, and he swears that his brain will implode if he doesn’t get some background noise. He walks to the section labeled ‘METAL’ as if on autopilot, grabbing Metallica’s Master of Puppets and shoving the cassette into the player. Ash insists that they play classic rock over the crummy little sound system; something about it being ‘palatable’ for the customers, but she’s not here to scold him.

He thinks back to when this album was released, towards the end of his third senior year. The good ol’ days, when I only worried about passing O’Donnell’s class and planning Hellfire campaigns, he thinks wryly. But, no; that isn’t quite true. He’d had to worry about the trailer getting repo’d, or whether he and Wayne could stretch their food stamp budget enough to feed two grown men. Concerns that his uncle had tried to hide from him until he no longer could.

“Ed, you’re eighteen now,” Wayne had said, just one month after Eddie’s birthday, “and I’m gonna need you to start payin’ some bills around here.”

At the time, Eddie thought he was just being a bastard. It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d spotted the envelope marked PAST DUE in bold, red letters that he realized it wasn’t a punishment, but a necessity.

He’d been selling for Rick ever since. Well, until now.

“Battery” fades out to “Master of Puppets,” and Eddie flips the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. He glances at the calluses on his hands and smiles sadly, thinking of all the hours he spent learning the chords in his room. After weeks of non-stop practicing—Hetfield’s solo was a bitch—he’d raced down to Gareth’s garage and played all eight minutes straight through. Watched as his friends’ jaws dropped in awe. Gave him a standing ovation. Told him he was a fucking rockstar.

“You’re a rockstar, all right,” Eddie sarcastically grumbles now, clanging a roll of pennies against the counter before dumping them into the till. “Getting ready to drop your new hit single: Do you want a receipt with that?”

His morning has been nothing short of monotonous: help the customer find what they want, ring them up and make small talk, and then organize (or, in his case, pretend to organize) the store when it’s not busy.

There’s too much down time for him to be left alone with his thoughts. As soon as he has a moment to himself, he’s ruminating on his regrets of the past. He turns up the music volume in a half-hearted attempt to drown them out, but they manage to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his brain.

Eight years ago, a twenty-two year old Eddie Munson left his podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana to pursue rock stardom. He’d driven to Chicago with only the pocket change he’d saved up and his guitar on his back. A big city for a man with even bigger dreams.

It didn’t take him long to realize that being Eddie Munson meant next to nothing in a place that was bursting with musicians desperate for the chance to become famous. He appreciated the anonymity at first; he could blend in without being chased by taunts of Freak or Loser. But after nearly a full year of auditions where he was just another guitarist who could carry a tune, he’d started to lose hope. Prepared to return to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, he’d stopped at the nearby bar for one last drink.

“We can’t go on without a lead singer and guitarist!”

A frantic voice captured his attention, drawing his gaze from the pint of beer in front of him.

“Well, Sam bailed. Again,” another man points out, tone heavy with irritation. “So either we go on without him, or we don’t go on at all.”

Eddie finds himself standing up and walking into a conversation where he was never invited. “I, um, play guitar. And sing?” He winces as it comes out like a question. “I can show you, if you want.” What was he doing? He couldn’t line up a gig to save his life, and now he’s offering to play for some band he doesn’t even know?

The two guys, both about his age, exchange a dubious look. “All right,” says one with shaggy dark hair. “Let’s hear what you got, Guitar Boy.” He hands him his own guitar, and Eddie adjusts the strap before diving headfirst into the chorus of the first song that comes to mind:

If you think I'll sit around as the world goes by You're thinkin' like a fool 'cause it's a case of do or die Out there is a fortune waitin' to be had You think I'll let it go you're mad You've got another thing comin'

The other guy cocks his head, a delighted smirk spreading across his face. “Judas Priest. Solid choice.” He paces a bit, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. You got a name, Guitar Boy?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Eddie Munson.” He sticks out his hand, silently willing it to stop trembling, and shakes theirs.

“I’m Marcus,” the shaggy-haired man says. “This is Bryan. I play backup guitar; he’s on drums. Our bassist should be here soon; his name’s Pete.”

“And Sam was our lead guitarist and singer, but he’s a fucking asshole,” Bryan quips, and Eddie chortles at his brazen attitude. “Anyway, we mostly do covers…check out the setlist and see what you know.” He hands Eddie a crumpled piece of paper, filled with familiar songs and artists.

“I can do any of these,” Eddie says, a satisfied warmth filling his chest as he watches the guys grin even wider.

“Tell ya what,” Bryan says, plopping behind a drum set plastered with a logo reading Hard Knox. “If you don’t suck tonight, you can play with us permanently.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees. “We’re gonna be big, man. We just need someone to help us get there.”

“Let me run back to my place and grab my ax,” Eddie tells them, adrenaline propelling him to his apartment. This was it. This was the break he needed. Just as he was about to give up, God or fate or destiny or whoever was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

The show went off without a hitch; Eddie’s guitar skills bringing a normally quiet audience to their feet. Bryan clapped him on the back as he looked at Pete and Marcus; the three nodding at each other. “Welcome to Hard Knox!” he announced.

“Sam leaving was the best thing to happen to us,” Pete laughs in agreement. A bartender in a tight skirt and fishnet stockings brings over a round of shots, and the four men clink glasses.

“Fuck Sam!” Eddie shouts before taking the drink. The tequila burns as it coats his throat, but he doesn’t dare reach for the lime. No, he has something to prove.

“Fuck Sam!” the rest of the band echoes enthusiastically. Their choral response reminds Eddie of the way Corroded Coffin used to be before he’d left: when he’d say something, Jeff, Gareth, and Danny would listen. He was born to be a leader.

Things started to fall into place. His one night endeavor with Hard Knox turned into a biweekly gig at the bar, which eventually turned into shows almost every night at various venues across the city. He’d even convinced the guys to play some original work of his, reminding them that cover bands don’t get record deals.

He had a steady income. A group of friends who appreciated him and his music. Beautiful women who eagerly threw themselves at him at the end of the show. And then it would repeat the following night in a new place. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night’s chaos has you all disheveled; it wasn’t until you got to work this morning that you realized you hadn’t even packed your lunch. You try to convince yourself that you can wait until you get home to eat, but about fifteen minutes before your break, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl.

“I’m gonna run to the deli and grab something,” you tell Will, throwing your jacket over your shoulders and digging out your car keys. “Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Uh, Tylenol?” he grimaces, rubbing his temples. The kids had music class today, and the sounds of ten preschoolers singing off-key combined with their clashing tambourines served as a recipe for a pounding headache. “And maybe a bag of sour cream and onion chips?”

“You got it.” You shoot him a thumbs-up as you make your way to the parking lot as quickly as possible, determined to get your food before the lunch rush starts.

You manage to just beat out the crowd of hungry nine-to-fivers, grabbing a veggie wrap to-go. Crunching on a cucumber slice as you take a big bite, you start back towards your car, but the music store next door catches your eye.

A check of your watch confirms that you have a few minutes to peruse, maybe grab a copy of the new Toni Braxton cassette you’d been wanting. If there was ever a day to treat yourself to a little gift, it’s today. Your mind is foggy and your body feels like it’s dragging sandbags as you make your way over. You knew that taking care of an ailing relative would be physically demanding, but you weren’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Seeing your grandma helplessly laying on the bathroom floor scared drew all of the oxygen from your lungs, filling your body with worry. And just a few hours later, she was furiously swearing at you, claiming to hate you. She’s an ever-swinging pendulum, and you’re downright exhausted.

A small glob of hummus lands on your lower lip, and your tongue licks it off haphazardly as you push open the door to the music store. The jingle of the bell is meant to alert the employees that a customer has entered, but when you look around, there’s no one there to help you.

You walk towards the aisle labeled R&B, starting by thumbing through the “B” section–nothing. Perplexed, you make your way to the “T” section, still with no luck. Was Toni Braxton so popular amongst Hawkins residents that they’d bought out every copy of Secrets?

“You can’t eat in here,” a terse voice calls out. You’re so startled, you nearly drop your sandwich. A piece of tomato flies out of the tortilla when you jump, hitting the linoleum flooring, and the irritated person sighs. “Aaand this is why.”

You pick up the fallen vegetable and turn around to see Eddie Munson standing before you. “You scared me!” you say, but your body visibly relaxes. Twenty-four hours ago, you never would have guessed that he would have a calming effect on you. How quickly things can change, you muse silently. “Can you help me find the new Toni Braxton? The Secrets cassette?”

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you follow simple instructions? No. Eating. In. The. Store.” He rolls his eyes. “Just because you teach preschoolers doesn’t mean you get to act like one.”

The smile that briefly danced across your lips slips into a frown. What the hell happened in the few hours since he’d dropped Harris off at school? Did you imagine that you two had gotten along?

“Are you okay?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I can put the wrap in my car, just give me a sec…”

He shakes his head. “No, actually, I’m not okay,” he sneers. “But I bet you knew that already.” He shifts his posture so he’s standing a bit taller. “Y’know, you have some fuckin’ nerve, coming in here after what you did.”

“Did I miss something?” Your voice gets smaller with the gnawing feeling of brewing confrontation acting as a brick on your chest. “I thought–”

“Tell me what you thought,” he interrupts, leaning on a box of tapes. “Wait, no; let me guess. You thought that because I rejected you, you could go around blabbing my personal business around the school.” He scrunches up his face, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Did I get it right?”

“Your personal business?”

“Mhm,” he answers pointedly, spinning a skull ring around his finger. “Is that not it? Was it because you were embarrassed that I heard your grandma say that she hates you? I don’t blame her, by the way.”

Your force your gaze to remain trained on him, staring into his brown eyes that have hardened with fury. “She doesn’t hate me,” you breathe out, “she just can’t remember me anymore. When she knew who I was, she loved me. A lot.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that everyone and their goddamn dog knows about the CPS report.”

“What CPS report?” you ask, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. “Is Harris okay?”

He takes one look at your puzzled expression and barks out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You can drop the innocent act.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” you snap, frustrated at his unwillingness to hear you out and your own lack of understanding. “All I know is that this morning, you didn’t hate me–or maybe just hated me a little less–and now you’re back to being the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

Eddie scratches at the shadow of a beard that’s formed on his jawline; an itchy reminder that he didn’t get to shave last night. “You should consider yourself lucky if I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Tell me, what have I done? Thrown some insults your way?” He claps his palm to his chest exaggeratedly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Mock me and my teaching skills, pretend like you’re going to call when you knew damn well that you weren’t, call me a bitch, and your latest and greatest,” you counter, ticking off the instances on your fingers, “accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

He considers this for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “So you’re trying to tell me,” he starts, gritting his teeth, “that we were in the same wing of the same hospital at the same time, but you weren’t the one who told people about the CPS case they opened on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you hiss.

“Then how the fuck did Carol Perkins find out about it?!” His volume raises to a roar, and you wince at the sting it leaves echoing in your eardrums. “Because I fucking heard her talking about it with Steve Harrington! So if you, the person who was there, didn’t open your mouth and tell her, who did? The CPS fairy?”

“I don’t fucking know!” you shout, swallowing thickly in a meager attempt to bide time before the tears inevitably leak from your eyes. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his frizzy curls, smacking the other on top of the nearby box. “Just…just get out,” he mutters. “I can’t listen to any more of your bullshit.” He starts back towards a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY before turning back around, eyes narrowed.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t have hooked up with you that night if I knew that this is how you handle a one-night stand,” he says, pursing his lips as he steps closer to you. “And I never should’ve let Harris step foot in your classroom. I would drive him to a school in goddamn Timbuktu if it meant having you out of my life.” He pauses, scraping his teeth across his lower lip and exhaling a terse laugh. “It’s too bad I can’t forget about you like your grandma did.”

The words knock the wind out of your lungs. Your knees buckle slightly, and you have to steady yourself on the closest shelf. Tears blur your vision as your legs carry you out of the store; you feel yourself walking, but it’s like an external force has control of your body. The words fuck you sit on the tip of your tongue, or maybe you say them—it’s too hazy to tell. The world is covered in a shiny layer of cellophane; you can see everything, but you can’t touch.

You’re crying too hard to drive, so you sit behind the wheel, seatbelt clicked in place, letting out sobs that leave your whole body shuddering. It’s all too much, and though you logically know that Grandma didn’t want to forget you, his comment hit a raw nerve.

It wasn’t a straight path; Alzheimer’s never is. A few months ago, she could remember you in the morning but forgot you by the afternoon. She would call you by name at 9 AM but ask who you were at 2 PM. One day you were her granddaughter; the next, you were a total stranger. You thought it couldn’t hurt more than it already did, but the repeated reminders that she no longer recognizes you at all is a constant knife through the heart.

You’ll be late if you don’t start driving back to work now, so you turn the key in the ignition and adjust the gear shift to reverse. As you look up to glance in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of him. He’s dumbfounded, and you could laugh at how ridiculous it is that it took him seeing you bawling in your car to realize that he went too far this time.

Unable to stomach the thought of further confrontation, you take a deep breath and drive away, leaving him to mull over what just happened.

He’d assumed you’d left already when he’d walked outside for a smoke break, placing a cigarette between trembling fingers before he’d even left the store. He almost drops the lighter on his scuffed sneaker when he sees you hunched over, resting your arms on the wheel as your body heaves. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring when you lift your head, exposing tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your gazes lock for just a millisecond, but it tells him everything he needs to know.

It wasn’t you.

When Eddie arrives at the school for pick-up, he scours the crowd of impatient parents for Carol. He finds her talking with another mom; no doubt spreading more gossip about him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended that their Satanic cult rumors didn’t bother him when they were back in high school. Maybe if they knew, they would understand that he’s just a goddamn person trying his best, just like everyone else.

“Hey,” he starts, pushing the fear from his voice and willing his strength to remain unwavering. “Who told you about the CPS stuff?”

Carol plasters an obviously fake smile on her face as she responds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says simply. Her carefree tone pushes Eddie to his limit.

“Cut the bullshit,” Eddie growls, quickly losing his temper. “I heard you talking to Steve Harrington about it. So either you tell me now, or I’ll make sure your husband knows about that guy I saw you with at the Hideout a couple of months ago.”

Her face blanches, color draining from her cheeks. “It was Jason Carver,” she mumbles, biting her thumbnail. “His wife, Chrissy, is a nurse at the hospital and saw the report. She told him, and he’s been telling, well, everyone else.”

Eddie swears that steam is billowing out of his ears. Everything is coated in a red haze, and he finds himself unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. “Where is that sonofabitch? I’m gonna punch him in his smug little–”

“Mr. Munson?” you cut through his rant. His head snaps in your direction. You’ve fixed your makeup; if Eddie hadn’t seen you crying earlier, he would’ve been none the wiser. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. “Actually, I needed to tell you someth–”

“I think you’ve said enough today,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just wanted to give this to you before Harris comes out.” You hand him a pink piece of paper. “It’s a transfer slip. Starting next week, Harris will be in Ms. Marion’s class. I didn’t tell him anything about it, so you can say whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” That’s not quite true; the idea of Eddie feeding Harris lies about you makes your stomach curdle, but there’s only so much you can control.

Eddie’s, usually quick with a retort, is uncharacteristically quiet. “I, um, I thought…the secretary told me that all of the classes were full.” It’s a cop-out, but he can’t push himself to tell you what he knows now. Not when you’re already bruised.

“They made an exception because I was the one who requested it this time,” you explain, clenching your jaw. “Looks like you got your wish. You can forget about me now.”

He takes the paper and shoves it in his back pocket. The confession is on the tip of his tongue, an apology not far behind. Say it, he berates himself. Just fucking say it. You might be able to fix this if you just—

“I’ll go get Harris,” you tell him, breaking into his thoughts. “Good-bye, Mr. Munson.”

taglist:

@littlepotatobeansworld @kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @definitelynotecho @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @theactualf0ck @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights @eggo-segual @rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff@meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea @fckyeahlames @chaoticgood-munson @rachofficial @poofyloofy @girlintherubyslippers @shotgunhallelujah @thirddeadlysin @sinczir @vintagehellfire @ieatmunson @behind-thebrowneyes @southblizzard @ilovetaquitosmmmm @blueberry--lemon @chrissymjstan @eddiesguitarskills @corrodedcoffincumslut @foreveranexpatsposts @scarletwitchwhore @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @moldy-khunt @simars3

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @luceneraium @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

2K notes · View notes

ghostdiva · 27 days ago

Text

TADC Ep 4 Trailer Dropped

I've taken many screenshots, and it's time to theorize about how I think the episode will go.

if I'm right, then there will be spoilers ahead, so read at your own volition.

now, I think that for this adventure, Caine utilized the Suggestion Box, after getting the feedback from Zooble that no one really liked his adventures.

However Caine, ever desperate to keep his guests happy and entertained, takes multiple suggestions at once, and turns them into the retail hell the circus crew is about to experience.

before that tho, I think Gangle gets some advice from Ragatha

This advice might backfire considering what happens later.

Gangle is also given a new mask by Zooble, who brings her to their room to give it to her.

Gangle Checks out the new mask, figuring out how it functions in comparison to her comedy mask. my personal guess is that it makes her more confident and assertive, which might boost her moral, but change her attitude in a possibly negative way.

also a small side note that's completely unrelated: there's not a single shot in the trailer that shows Kinger in this adventure. So it's possible he either sits this one out, or just straight up doesn't get much screen time. We got a small clip of Kinger in the circus, but that was it.

Anyway, as Gangle is trying out her new mask, her and Zooble's absence prompt Pomni, Jax, and Ragatha to go see what's up.

Jax and Ragatha will likely question Gangle about the new mask. Pomni might voice her curiosities on how it works too (it's only Pomni's 3rd day in the digital world, so there's a lot she still might not know yet).

Nonetheless, after checking in with Gangle and Zooble, they all head back to the main area, where Caine sends them to work at Spudsy's.

Orbsman is probably the "quest giver". though this time it's not really a quest, it's more like minimum wage food service hell. despite that fact, he still assigns the employee roles to everyone, making Gangle the manager.

Gangle, I think, would be sheepish about this role at first, however the assertiveness and confidence from the new mask helps push her to step up to the plate. So Gangle starts assigning different tasks to everyone. Ragatha, Jax, and Zooble seem to take on tasks like prepping and making food for the orders, like frying the burger patties, assembling the burgers, etc. and Pomni, who can't cook to save herself, ends up running one of the tills at the counter.

and Jax runs the drive-thru for a bit.

eventually, customers start to come in, most of them being wooden artist dolls. However, Caine did reuse some NPC's for this one, which is unfortunate for those who remember them.

idk how to make gif's here, but aside from the gloinks pulling up to the drive-thru, I think Pomni will end up taking Gumigoo's order. Pomni is understandably surprised to see the NPC she bonded with in the second episode, as she literally startles so hard she falls over.

Incidentally, Gumigoo probably doesn't remember Pomni at all, and Pomni might struggle to hold herself together when she realizes it.

Like, look at her. she looks like she's emotionally breaking, but forcing a smile because well, customer service. She also could just be happy to see him alive. I think she might try to sneak off to see if Gumigoo remembers her at all.

idk what else this image could be, outside of like, picking trash up from the ground or something.

Jax also seems to genuinely hate the Fast Food Adventure, in fairness, very few poeple enjoy the fast food industry.

he also takes a moment to cause some mischief

Anyway, onto the main plot. this episode is about Gangle. and with the pressure of being a manager, Gangle might start to boss people around a bit.

there are a lot of shots of characters looking like they need a break, especially Ragatha.

I think it's possible that Ragatha gets tired and worn down from milling about and completing orders. and despite Gangle trying to hype her up, Ragatha just can't summon the energy to keep going. Poor Ragatha is clearly exhausted, and needs a break to like, put her head down for a bit and relax.

Gangle continues to be somewhat bossy, her behavior worsening as time goes on. we see this as Gangle get progressively more unsettling, almost acting crazed whenever someone complains or voices a problem they're having.

Gangle probably starts off trying to hype up the others to get them to do what she needs them to do.

However, none of them really see Gangle as a source of authority, and thus don't take her seriously until she starts to lose her composure.

in this clip, she seems to say the word "now". and look at her. she's clearly struggling with the stress of wrangling everyone, and getting them to do what has to get done for things to flow properly.

However, (except for maybe Pomni) everyone on this adventure hasn't worked in the food industry, or any job for that matter, in years. they've gone on wild adventures every day instead, which is wildly different. on adventures, everyone is kinda left to their devices, to do what they want within the general confines of the adventure. Following orders, and doing monotonous, intensive tasks, both physically, and mentally, is not something they're used to doing. at all.

Thus Gangle struggles to get everyone to do what she needs to, and snaps from the stress.

I think after she snaps, the mask breaks, leaving Gangle with her tragedy mask. so she goes outside to get some fresh air, startling Pomni.

I think Pomni and Gangle chat for a bit, since that seems to be a theme. Maybe Gangle will just be expressing remorse for treating everyone poorly while wearing the mask. she might feel guilty for pushing them all as hard as she did.

and Gangle carries that guilt with her after the adventure ends too.

it seems Zooble has words to share with her tho, so it looks like she gets to have 2 heart to hearts, maybe.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc episode 4 #tadc ep 4 #ragatha tadc #jax #gangle #tadc gangle #the amazing digital circus gangle #pomni #ragatha #caine #zooble #tadc ep 4 theory

57 notes · View notes

customconcessions · 9 months ago

Text

Revolutionize Your Culinary Business with a Customized Mobile Kitchen

Are you ready to take your culinary venture to the next level? Look no further! Discover the unparalleled convenience and flexibility of a custom-built mobile kitchen tailored to your exact specifications. Whether you're seeking a sleek concession trailer, a reliable food truck, or custom hoods kitchen builders to bring your culinary dreams to life, we've got you covered.

Your Perfect Culinary Companion

Step into the world of mobile gastronomy with our exquisite range of custom concession trailer for sale. Crafted with precision and innovation, these trailers are designed to elevate your culinary experience and captivate your customers. Say goodbye to limitations and embrace the freedom of owning a mobile kitchen that reflects your unique style and culinary vision.

Unleash Your Creativity - Explore The New and Used Food Trucks

Searching for the perfect food truck to kickstart your culinary journey? Look no further than our extensive collection of new and used food trucks. Whether you're a seasoned chef or a budding entrepreneur, our diverse range of options ensures that you'll find the ideal vehicle to bring your culinary creations to the masses. Don't wait any longer – unleash your creativity and start your culinary adventure today!

Elevate Your Workspace with Custom Hoods Kitchen Builders

Transform your kitchen into a culinary masterpiece with the expertise of our custom hoods kitchen builders. From sleek and modern designs to functional layouts tailored to your specific needs, our team is dedicated to bringing your vision to life. Say goodbye to cookie-cutter kitchens and hello to a space that inspires creativity and efficiency.

Convenience at Your Fingertips:

In search of a convenient solution for your culinary endeavors? Look no further than our selection of food trailer for rent near me. Whether you're catering a special event, testing a new concept, or expanding your business, our rental options provide the flexibility and convenience you need to succeed. Discover a world of possibilities and take your culinary venture to new heights with our premium rental services.

Conclusion:

Your culinary journey begins here. With our customizable mobile kitchens, bespoke concession trailers, top-notch food trucks, expert kitchen builders, and convenient rental options, the possibilities are endless. Don't settle for ordinary – elevate your culinary experience with us today. Let's turn your culinary dreams into reality!

#custom concession trailers near me #new and used food trucks #food trailer for rent near me #concession food trailer #custom food trailer

0 notes

ashprince-of-bel-air · 2 months ago

Text

Eddie Musnon: Battle Aftercare

You and Eddie are neighbours, you were friendly and would often flirt, to scared to address the chemistry between you both. After Eddie was attacked by the Demobats in the Upside Down they brought him to your trailer and left him with you, not knowing where else to take him. Y/N and Eddie 21+. No smut.

The noise of the urgent knocks on your door broke your peace, you let out an annoyed groan and placed your wine glass down on the coffee table in front of you. It had been a stressful week for you working at the local diner, customers shouting at you and complaining about the food was a daily event, tonight you wanted to de-stress with a bottle of wine and watch some old horror films, yet now you couldn’t do that because some asshole was bothering you in your own trailer. You had only had the one glass of wine so at least you were sober enough to deal with whoever was calling, you opened the door to your trailer, ready to go on a vituperative rant to whomever was daring to disturb you, until you caught sight of Eddie. Eddie was held up by several kids, you never cared to learn their names other than Dustin, he was the one that began to plead with you.

“Y/n, please help him, we don’t know where else to take him” His voice was laced with desperation as he tried to hold Eddie up, pulling his arm around his shoulder to keep him upright. You stood there like a deer in the headlights staring at Eddie, normally you would have had a clever quip and told them to take Eddie to an actual hospital but the cuts on Eddie’s body made you go quiet. After a short pause and looking over Eddie’s current condition you waved them in, instructing them to place him in the bath at the end of the hall, it would be easier to clean, plus you would be near your first aid supplies.

After placing him in the bath per your instructions the kids sped off, not even stopping to explain what had happened, Dustin managed a hasty “sorry” but it did nothing to assuage your confusion. You were slow in your approach to the bathroom; you knew you would find Eddie in the bath, but you were just nervous to see the extent of the injuries on his body. You had some basic first aid knowledge, silently thanking your school counsellor for pushing you to do the first aid course years ago for the sole reason that it would look good on your job applications, if the cuts on his body were only minor then you could treat them, yet you were still hesitant.

You pushed the door open slowly and walked into the room, Eddie was laid exhausted in the bath in front of you, as he heard you enter he lifted his head and gave you a weak smile. His injuries did not appear to be life threatening for now, you would see what you could do for him. “Jesus Christ Munson, what happened?!” You were now knelt beside the bath looking astounded at him as you saw the blood leak through onto his shirt. Eddie spent his nights playing DnD and practicing on his guitar, he wasn’t a man that got into trouble often, yes he did deal some drugs but nothing major, nothing that would lead to him getting attacked like this.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you Princess.” His voice was shaky as he chuckled at you, he knew that you were anxious for him, his injuries were not too bad, so he did not want you to worry unnecessarily. A small scoff escaped your lips, you would not press the matter further for now, your immediate concern was cleaning his wounds. Leaning forward you instructed Eddie to lift his arms, you needed to remove his shirt to attend to the cuts underneath, gripping the base of his shirt you delicately pulled it up and off him, trying hard not to aggravate the cuts on his chest. The t shirt was thrown to the ground, left to sit there as you attended Eddie, you had never seen him shirtless before, you were close and flirted often but nothing ever came of it, yet the sight of his shirtless form threatened to make you blush slightly.

After removing his shirt, you began to gather your medical supplies: alcohol gel, medical tape and bandages were what you would need the most. You took your time assessing each one of the cuts on his body, thankfully none of them would need stitches, just a good clean with alcohol and maybe a bandage for the more egregious ones. As you came across the largest cut on Eddie’s chest you felt his hand instinctively try to move you away, wincing from the sting of the alcohol gel as you cleaned his wound. You pushed his hand away softly and carried on with your care.

“I know it stings Eddie, but you need to let me clean it” As Eddie heard your soft voice he rolled his eyes and leant his head back in annoyance, he knew you were right and did not know how to deal with it. “Your hands are far too cold Y/N” His comment made you chuckle as your finished cleaning his last wound, of course that would be his main issue.

“Oh, I do apologise my Lord, I will endeavour to warm my hands upon the hearth the next time you grace my humble abode covered in injuries.” Your tone was playful, this was a game you and Eddie had established previously when one of you was upset or sad, acting in the way of a medieval servant, it was silly and stupid, but it made you both smile. Eddie lifted his head and looked at you, he looked tired and washed out, he looked weak. “What good luck did I have to end up here with you Y/N?” His gaze upon you was soft, his eyes committing every feature of your face to memory as if it would be the last time he would see it. You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark and retorted. “Ha, more like bad luck you ended up with me chief” You stood and began to discard the blood-soaked rags you had used to treat him, turning your back to him, trying hard not to let him see the blush that was now threatening to spill onto your face.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, I saw you checking me out” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke to you, of course he would still be this insufferable in this state, nothing could stop him from teasing you at this point. As you placed the rags into a bin you stood and leant against the counter, staring down at him shirtless in your bathtub. He did look good, he did not have chiselled abs or defined muscles, but he was lean, the tattoos that were hidden by his clothes only intrigued you more, you had never seen these and it took all your strength not to bite your lip and stare.

There was always a little rivalry between you both, neither of you wanted to lose and this would be no exception, you would not let him have the upper hand and cause you to fluster. Walking around the room you put unused items away until you came up behind Eddie, putting something away in the cabinet above the bath. You knelt bend him and leant forward, your lips almost touching his ear. “Awfully confident words for a man that had been raking his eyes over me for the past hour.” Your soft voice caused Eddie’s body to stiffen as you stood up, his eyes following your body as you walked away and stood at the other end of the room facing him.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it, Princess?” Eddie was flirty with you on a regular day but the fact he was attacked seemed to have amplified his motives, as if he had realised that if he did not claim you now then someone else will. “Well Eddie, I was planning on going into my bedroom and sleeping, because it’s the middle of the night obviously” Sarcasm dripped from your lips as you spoke to him, you had not planned on going back to your room, you were too concerned about Eddie’s wellbeing to sleep, yet you did not want to admit that to him.

“You would leave me all on my own? That’s just cruel, what if I need help in the night?” His voice was playful, he know full well that he would make a full recovery, yet he wanted to test how far he could go with you, to see if you felt the same way he did, he thought you did but had been previously scared to act upon it, a near death experience giving him the confidence he always needed to act upon his desire for you.

You rolled your eyes again at him playfully, thinking he was just being silly and flirty as usual, you had never thought he had been interested in you. “You are a big boy Eddie, I’m sure you can look after yourself for the night.” Chuckling as you spoke, even in his injured state he would make the effort to make you smile.

“You’re cruel Princess, what if I need special help in the night? Who is going to help me then?” His voice was suggestive, finally taking his chance with you, even if you did not take his offer in the moment, he at least wanted to know that you would not reject him altogether. You roll your eyes playfully at him, helping him up out of the bath, it would not be comfortable for him to stay there, you sling his arm around your shoulder and begin walking him to your bedroom. “I’m only doing this because we are neighbours” You tease softly.

As you walk Eddie slowly to your bedroom you feel him kiss your temple gently. “Because we are neighbours, obviously.” His kiss makes your heart flutter and your face turn crimson from your blush, though you were now flustered slightly, Eddie did not see it. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like ages, your arms wrapped around each other as you guided him to your bed, knowing that he needed a comfy place to sleep. You placed him down gently, checking that his wounds had not re-opened, a fact that made Eddie laugh as he pretended you were doing it to check his body once again, teasing you once more.

After laying him down gently you turned to leave, although unable to do so as you felt Eddie’s hand upon your wrist, pulling you close to him desperately. “Don’t leave me” There was something about the tone of his voice that affected you, he was upset and scared but in this moment you felt as if he only wanted you. You could not deny the request, you had wanted this yourself after all, it would be a lie to say you did it for his sake, you knew that you laid next to him of your own selfish desires.

You laid next to him in the small bed in your trailer, he grabbed your hand and held it onto his chest, feeling your fingertips stroke softly against the cuts on his bare chest, he had spent months skirting around the attraction he had for you, life was too short for regrets, he would take every chance he could with you now. “Y/N…. please stay with me.” Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper, you could feel how anxious he was as he entwined his fingers with the hand that now lay on his chest, his fingers moving nervously against your own. You smiled at him, you knew he was asking for something more, but he had never been good with expressing his feelings, you leant forth and kissed his forehead, taking great care not accidently open the litany of cuts on his body.

“Go to sleep Munson, we can discuss this in the morning” Your voice was soft and soothing to Eddie, the moment he felt your head on his shoulder he fell asleep, as if he finally felt safe enough to succumb to his exhaustion. You laid there for a few moments listening to Eddie’s deep breaths as he slept, you wanted to make sure that his injuries would be stable, you also wanted to prove to yourself that this was real. You had fantasised about being with him like this, though felt conflicted that this was only because he was injured, for now you enjoyed the closeness of him, feeling his body against your own, staying awake as long as you could to savour the feeling of you together.

#eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic

129 notes · View notes

hudsontrailerco · 5 months ago

Text

Food Truck Financing - Hudson Trailer Company

Hudson Trailer Company provides knowledgeable assistance with Food Truck Financing and is aware of the particular difficulties involved in starting a food truck. Our specialized finance solutions are intended to assist you in obtaining the capital required to launch or grow your mobile kitchen enterprise. In order to help you find the best financing solution for your needs and budget, our team works directly with you to explore a variety of possibilities. You may securely invest in top-notch gear, car modifications, and other necessities to launch your food truck with our advice on food truck financing. At Hudson Trailer Company, we're dedicated to providing you with the financial know-how you need to be successful throughout your whole business journey.

#luxury custom food trucks #custom mobile bar trailers #vintage ice cream truck #budget diy business trailers #business model trailer #pizza trailer for sale #trailer bar #small food truck #financing mobile food truck business #shipping container kitchens #Food Truck Financing

0 notes

foodtrailers · 8 months ago

Text

Craft Your Culinary Vision with Custom Food Trailers in Melbourne

Use unique custom food trailers in Melbourne to revolutionise your food business. Their custom trailers, made to your exact requirements, provide the ideal stage on which to present your culinary delights. Investigate their assortment of customisable choices to realise your distinct culinary idea on Melbourne's streets.

#custom food trailers Melbourne

0 notes

nemo-writes · 11 days ago

Text

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 - 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ synopsis; as days in hawkins blend into a reluctant routine, things take an unexpected turn when you meet eddie munson, the loud-mouthed, theatrical frontman of corroded coffin. new memories blend in with a faraway call from home.

⚠️ warnings; blood + allusions to self-harm

➝ series masterlist, moodboard

➝ previous chapter ; next chapter

Tuesday, February 25 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

The chill of winter began to soften in Hawkins, hinting at the promise of spring. Your motorcycle was still in Sam's hands, a constant reminder of the freedom you were missing out on. Each day, you’d think about it, half-expecting to hear the familiar purr of the engine, but instead, it remained silent, waiting for the day it would be roadworthy again.

It had been nearly a month since you’d arrived, and your days had taken on a routine that felt both boring and foreign. You spent your mornings in the small trailer, sketching in the dim light. You tried to occasionally strike up a conversation with your younger neighbour, but she wasn't around much, and when she was, her responses were short and clipped.

You didn’t take it to heart

The late-afternoons melted into shifts at The Hideout, where you helped Bev with everything from serving drinks to wiping down tables, gaining the trust of the locals and a few friends along the way. Tonight, the bar hummed with the chatter of patrons as you wiped down the bar top, the familiar scents of stale beer and fried food filling the air.

The door creaked open, letting in a blast of the chilly March air. A group of guys you’d never seen before walked in, their voices loud enough to cut through the general noise. Bev perked up beside you, grinning. "Speak of the devil. Corroded Coffin finally decided to show up."

One of them—a lanky guy with wild curls and a leather jacket—spotted you behind the bar and froze mid-step. His dark eyes narrowed, then widened slightly as he did an almost comical double take. You raised an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to say something.

And say something he did.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his hands spreading theatrically as he sauntered closer. “What do we have here? A new face. A pretty face, at that.” He rested his elbows on the bar and leaned in, his smirk all sharp edges and mischief.

You remained completely deadpan, calmly reaching for a glass and filling it with water as he continued his tirade.

“Let me guess—small-town girl, probably here to make a big impression on us poor, unsuspecting Hawkins folk? Oh, wait—no. Bev’s new recruit, right? Just a pretty face to distract the customers while she rakes in the tips.”

You set the glass down with deliberate care, still not looking at him as he continued, his tone getting more obnoxiously smug.

“Y’know, you’ve got that mysterious vibe going for you. It’s almost working. Almost. But you can’t fool me. I—”

Done with him, you picked up the glass and threw the water straight in his face.

The sudden gasp from him and the burst of laughter from his friends made the moment all the more satisfying. He spluttered, stumbling back a step as water dripped down his face and soaked his curls.

“What the hell!” he exclaimed, rubbing his face with his hands as the guys behind him doubled over with laughter.

“Nice one, Eddie,” one of them managed between wheezes. “Real smooth.”

‘Eddie’ shot them a glare, still dripping.

“Are you done now?” you asked flatly, setting the empty glass back down on the bar.

His jaw worked for a moment, but before he could respond, Bev stepped in, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “Cool it, Junior,” she said, her voice laced with exasperation. “And you’re late. Again.”

Eddie straightened, his indignation momentarily redirected. “Ow, Bev, come on. You know I have a life outside of this place.”

“It’s that silly club of yours,” Bev corrected, crossing her arms. “And you’ve blown me off two times this month to roll dice in the school’s basement. You begged me for this stage, Eddie. Begged. So unless you want to owe me even more favours, get your ass ready to play.”

Eddie grimaced, muttering something under his breath before turning back to you with a dramatic sigh. “She’s always like this, by the way. Don’t let tough love fool you—it’s just love.”

Bev snorted. “Love’s about to toss your ass out if you don’t start setting up.”

With a mock salute, Eddie turned and slunk off toward the stage, his friends still laughing at him as they followed, occasionally tossing out teasing remarks that he waved off with exaggerated annoyance.

“Don’t mind him,” Bev said, leaning on the bar next to you. “He’s harmless. A pain in the ass, but harmless.”

You didn’t answer right away, still annoyed as you grabbed the mop and bucket from the corner. You pushed it over to where the splash of water you’d thrown at Eddie had puddled on the floor. As you wrung out the mop, Bev leaned against the bar, watching you with an amused expression.

“He’s got a mouth on him, I’ll give you that,” she continued. “Always has. But he’s a good kid. Runs with his little band of misfits, plays guitar like he’s auditioning for Judas Priest, and spends too much time obsessing over that game of his.”

You hummed in response, more focused on finishing the cleanup than anything else.

“He’ll grow on you,” Bev added, smirking. “Eventually.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” you muttered, setting the mop back in the bucket and pushing it aside. With the floor cleaned and your irritation somewhat mollified, you turned back to the bar, ready to focus on the rest of your shift.

Eddie Munson, you decided, was just another obstacle in an already unpredictable town.

As the music kicked off, you leaned casually against the bar, pretending not to care, but your ears caught enough to form an opinion. They were good—decent, even—but nothing that would blow your mind. Still, their energy was undeniable, and the way Eddie and his friends threw themselves into the performance, grinning and lost in the moment, was oddly charming.

You allowed yourself to watch for a bit, just a little impressed despite yourself. At least they were having fun, and the small crowd seemed into it.

Shaking your head, you pushed off the bar and went back to y refilling drinks, wiping down tables, and ringing up orders. The din of conversation and the steady thrum of the music filled the air, blending into the usual chaos of a busy night at The Hideout.

Then, somewhere between a drink order and a quick scan of the room, a sharp prickle spread through your head. It started at the base of your skull, subtle at first, but then it moved to your temples and pushed forward, forming into a full-blown headache.

You winced, rubbing at your temple and trying to shake it off. The music. It had to be the music—too loud, too much.

The ache became unbearable, and you stepped away from the bar, ducking into the back room where the noise was at least muffled. You leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths, but the sensation only worsened.

Then you felt it: a wet trickle down your nose. Your eyes snapped open, and your hand flew to your face. When you pulled it back, your fingers were smeared with blood.

"What the—"

The sound of heavy footsteps behind you made you almost jump out of your skin. You turned sharply, heart racing, to find Bev standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice cutting through the pain in your head.

You blinked at her, trying to pull yourself together. “Yeah. Just… headache. Must be the music.”

Bev’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer, her hand already pulling the rag from her apron pocket. Before you could protest, she cupped your face gently, tilting your chin up to get a better look at the blood trickling from your nose.

“Hold still,” she muttered, dabbing at your nose with the rag.

You scrunched your nose in disgust. “Bev, that’s gross.”

She tapped your cheek lightly with her free hand, her expression stern but teasing. “Suck it up. It’s not like I haven’t seen worse around here. You look like you’re about to keel over. Take a break if you need it.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled, though you didn’t pull away.

She gave you a long, searching look before letting go and stepping back. “Fine, but don’t push yourself. Last thing I need is you passing out on me.”

You waved her off with a half-hearted laugh, heading over to the small cooler tucked in the back. Pulling out a can of Coke, you cracked it open and took a long, satisfying swig, the sweetness and carbonation hitting just right.

Bev watched, hands on her hips, and nodded. “Sugar rush should do the trick.”

“Here’s hoping,” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath, the drink already making you feel a little steadier, and straightened up. “Back to work.”

Bev gave a small nod, though her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. “Alright, but don’t be a hero. I mean it.”

With a faint smile, you stepped out of the backroom and back into the chaos of The Hideout, ready to dive back into your shift and shove the strange moment to the back of your mind—for now.

By the time the bar had emptied out and the last chair was stacked on a table, Bev came bustling out of the back, slipping her coat on.

“Got somewhere to be?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed you the keys.

“Yeah, a date,” she said with a sly smile, waving you off before you could ask any questions. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve got this. Just lock up when you’re done, okay?”

“Sure thing,” you said, pocketing the keys. Bev flashed you a quick grin before she slipped out the door, leaving you to handle the rest.

Once everything was cleaned and squared away, you stepped outside into the chilly night air, the heavy door clunking shut behind you. To your surprise, leaning casually against a big white van you were certain you’d seen around town before, stood Eddie Munson.

A faint trail of smoke curled up from the joint dangling between his fingers. His big brown eyes caught yours, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “Hey, junior bartender. Long night?”

You crossed your arms, your face giving nothing away. “What are you still doing here?”

“Bev,” he said simply, shrugging as if that explained everything. “She all but twisted my ear and told me I owed you a ride home. Said it was, what was it? Oh, right—an apology for being a jackass.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, and Eddie grinned, clearly amused by your scepticism. He held out the joint. “Peace offering?”

“I’m good,” you said flatly, waving your head. “Quit smoking a few months back.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, taking another slow drag before flicking the joint to the ground and crushing it under his boot.

He lingered for a moment, shifting awkwardly before gesturing to the van. “So... you gonna let me give you that ride, or what?”

You stared at him down, unimpressed and unmoved by his sudden show of helpfulness. Without a word, you rounded the van, opening the passenger door and climbing in. Once settled, you glanced over at him, your tone as flat as your expression. “Well? Are you gonna drive, or are we camping out here?”

Eddie blinked, then let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he jogged to the driver’s side. “Alright, alright. Don’t bite my head off. Let’s go, boss.”

The engine rumbled to life, and as the van pulled away from The Hideout, you leaned back in the seat, still unsure what to make of the guy sitting next to you.

As the van rolled through the quiet streets, Eddie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, clearly trying to fill the silence.

“So…” he began, glancing at you sideways. “You always this talkative, or is it just me?”

You sighed faintly, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie said with a small laugh. He tapped the steering wheel, searching for another angle. “Where you from?”

“Maine,” you answered, staring out the window as the dark streets blurred by.

“Maine, huh? So, what, you traded one black hole for another?” he teased, glancing at you as he manoeuvred the van around a bend. “I mean, no offence, but your choice in places doesn’t exactly scream ‘great taste.’”

You snorted, conceding him that one jab. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Just waiting on my bike to get fixed,” you replied with a shrug. “Then I’m hauling ass.”

That caught his attention. Eddie’s eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly in surprise before he let out an enthusiastic, “No way. You own a bike?”

You glanced at him, and his childlike excitement finally tugged the corners of your lips upward in the first genuine smile of the night. “Yeah.”

“That’s badass,” he said, grinning like a kid who’d just been told he could have dessert before dinner. “What kind is it?”

“1981 Harley Davidson Ironhead,” you said, feeling the faintest flicker of pride.

“Man,” he whistled low, shaking his head in amazement. “A girl who rides a Harley. That’s—man, that’s cool as hell.”

You shrugged again. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal,” Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as if you’d said the most absurd thing. “That’s like saying the sun rising is no big deal. Jeez.”

Eddie seemed to relax a little, his earlier awkwardness dissolving. He glanced over at you again as the van rattled over a pothole

“So where are you crashing while you’re stuck here?”

“The trailer park,” you said, leaning your head against the window.

Eddie nearly swerved off the road. “Wait, what?”

You frowned, glancing at him. “What?”

“You live at the trailer park?” he asked, staring at you like you’d just told him you lived on Mars. “I live there too! How have we not crossed paths before?”

Suddenly, it clicked. The big white van, the one you’d seen so many times. You nodded slowly. “That makes sense. I’ve seen your van around.”

Eddie perked up even more. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes slightly. “I’ve also heard it. Early in the morning, revving up like it’s the Daytona 500. Peeling off like a bat out of hell.”

Eddie let out a bark of laughter, his grin stretching wide. “Guilty as charged. That’s my morning routine. Coffee and chaos.”

Despite your fatigue, you snorted softly, shaking your head. “Explains a lot.”

For the rest of the drive, the atmosphere softened. Eddie’s chatter was relentless but oddly endearing, and you found yourself responding more, though still keeping it short. The weight of the day lingered, but his easy enthusiasm chipped away at your weariness, leaving you just a little less guarded than before.

When you arrive, Eddie drives all the way to the back of the park despite your protests.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said, gesturing toward a closer path. “I could’ve walked the rest.”

“Nah,” he replied, waving you off casually. “Wouldn’t be much of an apology if I made you stumble around in the dark, would it?”

He finally pulled up in front of your trailer, the engine rumbling softly as he leaned back against his seat. Pointing to a larger trailer a short distance away, he said, “That’s me. I live there with my uncle. If you ever need anything—and I mean anything—just knock, alright?”

The offer was surprisingly genuine, and for the first time, you saw something softer in Eddie, a glimpse of sincerity beneath the bravado.

You gave him a small smile, the faintest crack in your usual guarded expression. “Thanks, Munson. I appreciate it.”

The smile caught him off guard, and a flush of red spread across his cheeks, making him look almost like a little boy caught doing something embarrassing. “Yeah, no problem,” he said, suddenly fidgeting with his sleeve.

With that, you stepped out of the van and headed toward your trailer. He stayed put, idling in the drive, waiting until you waved him a small goodbye before you disappeared inside. Only then did he shift into reverse, backing up carefully and heading off toward his own place, the faint glow of his tail lights flickering in the distance.

You went through your simple night routine, the interaction with Eddie lingering in your mind like the faint warmth of a fire. It had been an unexpected bright spot, a far cry from the sour first impression he left. For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to feel a little lighter, a little less guarded.

As you grabbed your toothbrush and stood before the small bathroom’s mirror, your eyes caught something above your lip. A faint fleck of dried blood. Leaning closer, you squinted at the reflection, tilting your head up to peer up at your nostrils. Sure enough, there was still a faint trace of bloody residue inside too.

With a furrowed brow, you stared at the mirror, examining yourself with an intensity you didn’t often allow. The dim lighting cast shadows over your face, highlighting the weariness that had settled into your features. You frowned slightly, wondering again about the sudden pain, the headache that had gripped you earlier, and the blood that followed.

You were tired. It was probably nothing.

Brushing the crusted blood away with a splash of water, and picked up your toothbrush and began scrubbing away the day. When you finally collapsed onto the small bed, pulling the thin blanket over yourself, you closed your eyes, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.

That night, you dreamt of home.

The house glowed in golden light, the kind that made everything feel hazy and soft, like a memory half-forgotten. The kitchen smelled like roasted chicken and herbs, rich and warm, though the scent didn’t settle in the way it used to. You sat at the small table, feet swinging idly, staring at the plate in front of you.

Your mother sat across from you, chin resting on one hand as she watched you with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t be picky,” she said, her voice lilting with the playful chiding you’d always known. “Do you want to grow up all scrawny?”

“No,” you mumbled, your fork dragging aimlessly through the mashed potatoes.

“Then eat.” She pushed the plate closer to you, her smile widening with a teasing edge.

Your grandmother sat across from you, her plate half-empty as she absently forked at a piece of chicken. Her eyes were fixed on the flickering television in the corner, the sound turned low, playing some grainy daytime drama.

You lifted a bite of mash, when the first knock came.

It was soft, almost polite, blending into the warm hum of the room.

Your mother didn’t react. She tilted her head, waiting for you to eat, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table.

The knock came again, louder this time. You glanced toward the door, but no one else seemed to notice.

“Eat, sweetheart,” your mother urged, her smile unwavering.

The knocking turned insistent, the thuds echoing through the apartment, followed by a faint scratching like nails dragging across wood.

“Do you hear that?” you whispered, barely audible.

“Hear what?” your mother asked, feigning confusion as she leaned closer.

Your grandmother said nothing as she continued to watch the TV, as if the pounding wasn’t rattling the walls.

The knocking grew louder, more aggressive, the scratches sharper and longer, setting your teeth on edge.

“I... I think someone’s at the door.”

Your mother didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she smiled warmly, her expression soft and familiar.

“Finish your food, sweetheart,” she said.“You’re always so picky.”

The knocking didn’t stop. It drummed against the door in a steady rhythm, faint at first but growing more insistent, like a heartbeat you couldn’t ignore.

You hesitated, glancing toward the sound.

“Where are you going?” your mother asked, her tone casual as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at you, her head slightly tilted, a questioning light in her eyes.

“To check,” you mumbled, your chair scraping against the floor as you stood.

When you reached the door, the knocking stopped.

The sudden silence pressed against your ears, heavier than the sound had been. You placed a hand on the knob, your palm clammy.

Then, her hand fell over yours.

It was warm and steady, a reassuring weight that anchored you—but sticky too, the dampness seeping between your fingers.

“Don’t worry about it,” your mother said softly. “Probably just someone at the wrong apartment.”

The warmth of her hand suddenly felt wrong now, the stickiness impossible to ignore.

“Come on,” she urged, squeezing your hand. “Let it go. Sit back down and eat while it’s still warm.”

Her words were so normal, so natural, that for a moment, you doubted what you’d felt.

Your grandmother spoke up, her attention still half on the TV. “Listen to your mother, dear. Always something interrupting lunch these days.”

Your mother guided you back to the table, her hand still warm, still damp. You didn’t dare look up at her face. Deep down, you already knew what you’d see, and the thought made your chest tighten.

The knocking started again, louder now, more forceful, rattling the doorframe like it might splinter, but nobody reacted. Instead, you picked up your fork, and took a bite of the food.

“Good girl,” she said after a moment. “Finish up. We’ve got dessert after.”

You forced a smile, though your hands trembled. The metallic scrape of it against your plate was almost drowned out by the banging, now deafening in its insistence.

Your grandmother hummed softly, her fingers still tapping along to the faint rhythm of the TV, her posture relaxed, utterly unbothered.

The sound at the door grew louder, more desperate—the handle rattling like it might break off—but the door stood firm, unmoved.

You focused on your plate, on the meal in front of you, on the clatter of utensils and your grandmother’s quiet humming, her rhythm unchanged. You didn’t look at your mother. You didn’t glance at her bloodied hands or risk seeing the truth you already knew, deep down, you couldn’t face.

But it didn’t matter. Not really.

You exhaled slowly, a strange calm washing over you. This wasn’t new. You’d been here before. You’d gone through this before. And so, you let your shoulders relax, your grip on the fork steadying as you turned back to your food.

Your mother’s voice was warm, familiar, as she said, “Good girl. Finish your plate.”

And so you did, chewing mechanically, each bite grounding you.

The sound at the door swelled, filling the room with its desperate, ceaseless rhythm, but it couldn’t reach you. You knew better than to let it.

You stayed seated, your focus fixed on the meal in front of you, and continued eating.

divider credit

#crossover fanfiction #it (stephen king)#it (stephen king) fanfiction #it (stephen king) fanfic #it (stephen king) x reader #it (stephen king) x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

51 notes · View notes