#deep eddy vodka

[lunar-goodness]

I have had 2(two) different drinks from 2 different bars on 2 different days that had deep eddy vodka in them. I have not in any way, shape or form put the words deep eddy into my phone until typing this right now. How…HOW did tiktok know this and show me a deep eddy vodka commercial just now???? You cannot convince me our phones are not listening to us!!!

[askchilchuck]

Im not much of an alcohol fan but I’ve liked cruisers before, whats your opinion on them?

Don’t think I’ve tried one before, one second. He grabs a bottle and takes a sip or two. You’re not sure where he got it from.

It’s alright. A little sweet for my liking, though. Here, you want the rest? He passes you the bottle. It’s raspberry flavored.

[sweatermuppet]

- mostly gay

- not married

- don't fuck in a way that requires condoms

> condoms + for my wife card

[gmax-centiskorch]

in the kitchen straight up drinking it. And by it?

haha well let’s just say. My peach

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Wine. aka - Cherry, Part Two.

everything feels like love when you're drunk... right?

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. characters who wouldn't even recognise their own feelings if they smacked them in the face.

word count - 3k

author's note - I love it when people walk each other home... if you couldn't tell. I think some of our most honest conversations happen on the street at 3am. thank you so much for all the love on Cherry!! I hope you enjoy this part two. friends to lovers might just be my favourite trope ever. it gets me everytime :(.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics <3. thanks, angels.

part one. part three. part four. series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

His eyes are glued to you.

They have been since he watched you pour just a little too much cherry vodka into your red plastic cup.

He keeps trying to catch your gaze across the smoky room, multicoloured lights clouding his vision. There's some sort of punk song playing through a stereo system somewhere, the beat of the guitar thumping through the wooden floorboards and into Steve's bones.

You're laughing, head thrown back at something Eddie has said. He's funny, Steve thinks. But not that funny. He watches carefully, refraining from intervening right up until the moment you almost trip over your own foot and into the curly haired boy. Steve's moving across the room before he can even process it.

"Cherry," he teases, hand snaking around your waist to hold you upright. "You okay?"

You turn in his hold to throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Stevie."

You say his name so sweet that he stumbles and almost takes you down with him.

"You okay?" you giggle.

"I'm good. You good?"

"I'm good."

You sway with him for a second, closing your eyes and revelling in the warmth of his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

"You're a little tipsy, huh?"

"Just a little."

"You wanna go home?"

You chew on your lip for a moment, weighing up your options.

"Can we go to your place? I don't wanna face my parents like this."

Steve leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair back from your face.

"Of course. Let's go, hm?"

"Let me grab my jacket. I'll meet you by the door."

You slink off upstairs, leaving Steve alone with Eddie.

"Just friends," Eddie mocks under his breath quietly.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Steve stares at his friend with a brow quirked, stormy look on his face.

"All I'm sayin' is - I don't look at my best friend like that. Don't hold 'em like you just did. Don't have sleepovers either."

"I've known her since we were kids. It's different."

"I've got friends I've known since kindergarten. I don't kiss them on the forehead."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Steve mumbles, finished with the conversation. "Whatever, man. You don't get it."

"Oh, I get it. You're in love. Steve and Cherry, sitting in a tree-"

"Don't call her that."

"See? You're defensive over her nickname, because you gave it to her. Don't be an idiot, Steve. Life's too short."

"Yours will be, if you don't shut up."

Eddie takes that as his cue, shaking his head as he leaves to go and complain about the music choice.

Steve meets you outside, chuckling when he sees you shivering as you hold your jacket.

"Cherry, put your coat on. You're freezing."

You look up at him, slightly bewildered, and he fights to keep the smile off his face. Taking it from your hands, Steve slips the jacket around your shoulders, hands skimming up your arms to warm you.

"Better?"

"Better."

You slip your hand into his and begin to walk away from the noise, finally taking a deep breath when you're down the street.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, nudging him with your shoulder. "Feet hurt though. Fuckin' shoes."

You both stop, Steve kneeling down in front of you to unbuckle your heels. You look at him questioningly and he winks, cheeky and full of love.

He slips them off your feet and sits down on the curb, taking his sneakers off and gesturing for you to step into them.

"No, Steve. I chose to wear these, it's my own fault."

"I know, and they looked cute. But now you're going to wear these."

You step into the shoes reluctantly, holding back tears when he kneels and ties your laces tightly. Rising to his feet, he presses a kiss to your forehead before intertwining your fingers again, picking up your heels with his other hand.

You're both quiet, as you walk. Neither of you needs to say anything. It's always been this way. Steve's not good with silence usually, but with you, it's more than comfortable. Sometimes, you'll sit for hours in his bedroom doing your own things, content to just know the other person is there.

"Minnie Lawson kept asking about you tonight."

You try to keep the disdain from your voice as best you can, praying Steve doesn't pick up on it.

He does. He doesn't mention it.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

You keep walking, smiling occasionally when you catch sight of Steve's socked feet next to yours.

"What did she say?"

You mentally kick yourself for bringing it up, but take a deep breath and tell him anyway.

"Kept asking if you were single."

"And what did you say?"

"Told her she needed to ask you herself and that I'm not your secretary."

Steve cackles at this, loud and endearing. The sound makes you grin, whether you want to or not.

"Shit, Cherry baby. What did the girl ever do to you?"

"I didn't mind when she asked the first couple times, but the more she drank, the more she forgot. She couldn't remember if she'd already asked so kept asking again."

He laughs again, squeezing your hand where it still holds his tightly.

"She didn't talk to me."

"Didn't think she would."

He looks at you for a moment too long, your eyes meeting the floor to avoid his gaze.

"Mikey was asking about you tonight, you know."

You'd had a crush on Mikey in ninth grade, the summer after he'd gotten tall and started to look less like four walking limbs and more like a man. He was a nice guy, if not a little boisterous sometimes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Said you looked pretty. Wanted to know if you were still with the Douchebag."

You chuckle at the hatred in Steve's voice at the mention of your ex boyfriend.

"And you said..."

"That he was in the wind, thankfully."

"Dodged a bullet with that one."

You lean into his arm, savouring the warmth of his skin you can feel through your jacket and his long sleeve shirt.

"Mikey wants to ask you out."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Is that so hard to believe? You're a catch, you know."

"I don't know. Boys like Mikey never look at me, usually."

"I look at you."

Your breath hitches in your chest. It's like your heart has forgotten how to beat.

"Yeah," you whisper. "But you're Steve."

After a moment, you add,

"My Steve."

You rest your head onto his bicep, still clutching his hand. He leans down to press a kiss into your hair, resting his cheek there for a moment.

"You're worlds apart from boys like Mikey, Steve. He's nice, but he's not you."

You're not sure where all this sudden truth is coming from, but you're wondering if the cherry vodka has maybe hit you a little harder than you first thought.

"And you and Minnie Lawson aren't even in the same league. You've got nothing to worry about."

You both process Steve's words, before he starts stuttering.

"I mean, not that you, not that - it's not like you were worried, I'm sure. I bet you weren't. I just mean... you know what I mean, right?

Thankfully, you do.

"I know what you mean. I always do."

He stops walking, turning to face you on the sidewalk, hand never dropping yours. You're not sure where you are, but you know Steve knows. He'll keep you safe. Always.

"Okay," he breathes.

"Okay," you breathe.

"I love you," he breathes.

"I love you," you breathe.

"I don't want you to date Mikey Carter," he breathes.

"I don't want you to date Minnie Lawson," you breathe.

You both inhale deeply, following the other person's lead.

"I can't stop thinking about the other night," Steve whispers, so quietly you'd have missed if it you weren't so in tune with him.

Your lungs constrict for a second, all the air leaving you at once.

"Me neither."

You're stood in the street whispering to each other, frightened you'll burst the bubble you've accidentally created.

"I feel bad," you confess.

"Why, honey?"

"Because I... I didn't return the favour. I just let you get into bed and fall asleep. Sorry."

Steve's hands come up to cradle your face, eyes searching yours as if he's reading his favourite book.

"I didn't want you to. I told you, it wasn't about me, it was about you. I didn't... I didn't initiate it so I could get something in return."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologising, Cherry. You've got nothing to apologise for."

"Sorry," you reply without thinking, causing both of you to double over into fits of laughter.

Steve wipes the happy tears from your cheeks, gaze never leaving yours. You look at each other for a moment, feeling the atmosphere shift. The world could collapse around you both, and neither of you would notice. It's just you and Steve. Nothing more, nothing less.

He leans in gently, pressing his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss. He tastes like beer and spearmint.

"You're wearing your lipbalm."

"You've been chewing your gum."

He chuckles, kissing you again softly.

"You wanna go home?"

"Please. You're in your socks, and I look like a clown."

He looks at your feet and laughs, the sound much too loud for the early hours of a Sunday morning.

"Let's go, Cherry baby. My warm bed awaits us."

The stars guide you home hand in hand, Steve stealing the occasional kiss when you happen to be looking in his direction. You kick off his shoes by the door, running straight up the stairs to change out of your uncomfortable dress. Steve stops by the kitchen to grab you both a glass of water, bounding up after you and spilling half the liquid in the process.

He stops in the doorway when he reaches his room, breath caught in his throat. You're stood in just your panties, bare back to him, rifling through his drawers to find the soft grey shirt you always steal.

It's a sight he's seen before. Something is different this time.

"Where is it?" you ask, not turning around.

You know he's there. You know he knows what you're looking for.

This is what love is, he thinks suddenly. The knowing. The unknowing. The knowing that the other person knows. The other person knowing that you know. Unspoken knowledge.

"Bottom drawer, left," he chokes out. "Washed it."

You slip it on and turn around, pouting. The boy quirks a brow at you in question.

"Doesn't smell like you. Smells like your detergent, but not you. Will you wear it, when I leave?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, fighting the blush from rising across his chest. "Anything you want, baby."

Steve shrugs off his clothes, slipping on a fresh pair of boxers before sliding into his side of the bed. You're in the bathroom, humming a tune that he can't quite place but knows he heard tonight. He watches you through the open door as you sway gently, ready to jump up and catch you if need be. You pee with the door still open, and Steve chuckles. It's like you've been married for twenty years.

"Can you please turn the fan on? I'm hot."

"Anything for you, Cherry Pie."

You jump into your side of the bed, sitting up to face the boy next to you. It might be 3am, but you're both wide awake, veins buzzing with endless possibility.

"I've been thinking," you murmur quietly.

"Never a good sign."

"Shut up."

You both laugh, and you can't help but grin. What a miracle, you think. To be alive at the same time as a boy like Steve Harrington. To know him. To love him.

"Will you let me return the favour?"

It's a vague question, but Steve knows exactly what you're asking. He chokes on his breath, tilting his head to look at you.

"Babe, you don't have to-"

"-I want to. So badly."

Steve inhales deeply, willing himself to calm down.

"I don't have to, if you don't want me to. But I can't stop thinking about the way you'd taste."

The boy thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Dreaming, maybe.

"Honey... fuck."

Steve nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Please. Jesus."

He's breathing so frantically, you're worried he might pass out. The last thing you need is your best friend unconscious.

"Breathe, Stevie. It's just me and you."

"Me and you."

"Always."

He comes back down to Earth, so you lean in to kiss him, all tender and cherry flavoured. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you push him backwards so he's leaning against the headboard. You straddle his hips, plush lips pressing into his neck, his chest, his collarbones. Steve's practically melting, a puddle of love and affection beneath you.

"Let me take care of you," you whisper into his ear, and who is he to deny you when you ask so sweet?

You crawl down his body until you're situated between his legs, thick thighs bracketing you in. You kiss along the inside of the muscle, nipping as you go and revelling in the way he jumps and hisses. It's nice to be the one in charge for once.

You scratch your nails along the bulge in his boxers, smirking when his hips buck up into you. You think, for a moment, that you'd happily lie here and tease him like this for hours, just to see when he'd snap. But this isn't the time for games, so you store that thought for another day.

"This still okay?"

"More than okay," he replies, all breathy and ungrounded. You link your fingers with his and squeeze, and all his nerves melt away.

You don't let yourself begin to think about why he's nervous. You know Steve's a ladies man, you know he's done this many times... so why is it different with you? You wonder if maybe you should talk about it afterwards. You're not sure if either of you are ready for that.

Mouthing at him over his underwear, you hum in contentment at his warmth. He's always run hot, every part of him. It's one of your favourite things.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug them down, throwing them onto the floor somewhere. The room is dimly lit by the lamp on the nightstand, the lightbulb casting shadows across Steve's slightly sweat damp skin. The fan acts as a soundtrack, white noise breaking up the silence.

You look at him and bite your lip, buzzing with anticipation. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before, but it's different like this.

"Just... tell me what you like or what you don't like as I go along, okay?"

Steve smiles in adoration, running his thumb over your cheekbone gently.

"Okay."

You wrap your hand around him and curl your wrist, holding back a smirk when the boy whines. It's a pretty sound. You'd like to hear it again and again until he loses his voice.

Leaning in, you lick up the length of him, groaning at the salty musk. His taste, his scent, his sounds... it's all so Steve. He's the centre of your universe, everything around you just Steve Steve Steve.

Taking him fully into your mouth, a hand flies into your hair, tangling his fingers. He doesn't move you, just tethers himself to something real, something grounding. You take him as much as you can, working up a rhythm between your tongue and your hand. Steve's breathing as if he's just ran a marathon, chest heaving and lungs burning.

He finds his voice, suddenly.

"Oh fuck, baby."

"Shit, Cherry. Fuck, just like that."

"That's it, atta girl. Perfect girl. My girl."

"Oh, you're so good. So fucking good."

He tenses, fingers tightening in your hair once again.

"So close, baby. Don't stop. Please."

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist in that way you've figured out he likes as you hollow your cheeks and suck. The boy sees stars, vision going white.

The noise he lets out as he finishes will be forever engrained in your mind, a never ending symphony that no orchestra could ever recreate.

He goes lax, collapsing back against the bed as you swallow, never breaking eye contact. You stick your tongue out as proof and he groans, deep and gutteral.

"Kiss me," he chokes, too blissed out to move.

You crawl up his body and press your lips to his, squeaking in surprise when he slips his tongue into your mouth to taste himself.

"Filthy," you laugh, resting your forehead against his.

"You love it."

You shake your head, but can't wipe the grin from your face.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

After a second, you giggle.

"What's funny?"

"I'd like to see Minnie Lawson do that."

Steve laughs, loud and melodic in the low light of the room.

"She's got nothing on you, Cherry baby. No one does."

You process the words, heart stuttering in your chest.

"We should talk about this," you whisper.

"We will," he assures, tugging you into him so your head is resting on his chest. "Tomorrow."

Lines have been crossed, lives have been changed, but the stars above your heads remain the same. They'll always guide you back to Steve.

The lamp flickers, the fan hums, the crickets sing their night time lullabies.

The boy leans down to press his lips to yours. He tastes like cherries and every kiss for the rest of your life.

@allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @enigmaticloki

[corroded-hellfire]

From one ginger to the other I absolutely adore the as you wish series! <3

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader goes out with Nancy for brunch for the first time after having Eliza. And her alcohol tolerance is obviously lower than pre-Eliza. And she gets quite tipsy, and Eddie has to pick her up, and she's all over him and just spewing nonsense about how much she loves him and their family.

And she admits how much she loved having his baby, and Eddie is just totally smitten as she just keeps going on and on.

Anything for a fellow ginger! This is silly and cute and I hope you like it 🥰

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexy talk

[As You Wish masterlist]

The sun brings warmth to the breezy spring day as you finish up your brunch with Nancy. It’s the first time the two of you have gotten to do this since you gave birth to Eliza. You had been aware that things would change drastically after giving birth, but you hadn’t even realized how long it had been since you and Nancy had a girl’s day until she invited you a few days ago. 

Mimosas seemed like a perfect way to celebrate when you arrived, but by the time you had finished your second glass along with your French toast, it was too late to remember that your tolerance was lower now. 

“Same thing happened after I had Danny,” Nancy tells you as you take a long sip from your water glass. “Steve and I went to a work party, and we had to leave after I had one vodka cranberry.”

“I don’t feel drunk,” you tell your friend, the lightness in your head giving you a pleasant buzz of happiness on top of the already enjoyable day. “Just tipsy. But I know I can’t drive like this. I’ll go call Eddie.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy offers. “I can just drive you home.”

You shake your head as you carefully push yourself up from the cushioned chair. 

“No, it’s okay. Wayne’s over so he can stay with the kids.” 

It is the truth, but the main reason you want Eddie to pick you up is because you really want to see your husband right now. Like a pregnancy craving for food turned into a yearning for a person, you feel as if your hands are not on Eddie within the next few minutes, you’re going to lose your mind. It’s all you can think about as you put one foot in front of the other as you walk inside the restaurant from your porch table.

The hostess shows you to a phone and your fingers eagerly skip over the familiar numbers for your home.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of his voice sends a chill throughout your body—one the warm spring day outside could never eradicate. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you say. Even you can hear the smile in your voice.

“What, baby? Are you okay?” The concern in Eddie’s voice does nothing to help the burning deep within you.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you tell him. “I had a, uh, couple of mimosas with lunch and I did not realize my alcohol tolerance would be this low after having Eliza since I haven’t drank in a while.”

There’s an exhale of relief on the other end of the phone. Eliza babbling in the background and Luke’s raucous laughter has you grinning into the mouthpiece you’re clutching on to. 

“I’ll be right there, okay?” Eddie assures you. “We’ll get your car later.”

“Okay!”

Eddie chuckles at your carefree attitude and can only imagine how cute you look right now, all smiley and bubbly. 

“I’ll see you soon, princess.”

“Okay! Bye.”

When you get back to the table, amongst the empty plates and discarded silverware, you see that Nancy has already paid the whole bill and you give her a soft glare.

“What?” she asks innocently, large eyes making it even more convincing. “I’m pretty sure you paid last time.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble as she stands up and grabs her purse. “I’m sure you remember that from, like, a year ago.”

No response from Nancy on that, she just gives you a wink and loops her arm through yours. The two of you walk arm-in-arm out to the parking lot in front of the restaurant. 

Nancy’s car is parked in the shade so there’s a coolness on your backside as you rest against the trunk of the silver Lexus. Your friend tugs a little on the cream-colored sweater she’s wearing but you wish you had Eddie’s arms around you to keep you warm. Thoughts of Eddie’s arms lead to thoughts of his hands all over you and you’re unable to keep a dreamy little hum from slipping out.

“Thinking about Eddie?” Nancy asks, though the amusement on her face says she already knows the answer.

“I’m always thinking about Eddie,” you admit with a shrug. 

“God, you two are adorable,” Nancy says, mostly to herself. 

A squeal of excitement and you hopping off the car in excitement lets the brunette next to you know that Eddie’s truck has pulled into the parking lot. It’s her clue even before the metal music can be heard soaring out of the open windows. 

Eddie leaves one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to turn the volume dial down as he slows the truck down right behind Nancy’s car. He lifts an eyebrow and looks you up and down appreciatively. 

“Need a ride, gorgeous?” he asks.

The giggle that tumbles out of your lips has both your best friend and your husband smiling as he puts the truck in park and steps out of the car. As soon as he walks back around the bed, you throw yourself at Eddie, who catches you and lets out a surprised huff of laughter.

“Hello to you, too,” he says. Protective as always, he wraps a sturdy arm around your waist to make sure you’re steady before he looks over at Nancy. “She wasn’t any trouble, was she?”

“Nope,” Nancy says. “Ate her vegetables and went to bed on time.”

“Hey!” You pout, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I’m the babysitter, not the baby. I mean…I was the babysitter. Now I’m the Mommy.”

Your two compatriots share an amused smile before Nancy gives you a wave and gets in her car. Eddie leads you over to the passenger’s side of the truck. You have no intention of letting him go though, so you wrap your arms around his neck so he’s leaning over you in the seat.

“Uh, babe?” he says with a chuckle before realizing it’s better to just humor you. 

Rapid fire kisses get smacked all over your face which has you squirming on the spot and gets you to loosen your grip on your husband’s neck. But the moment Eddie climbs in the driver’s seat and closes the door, you lean over the center console to grab at him again. 

“Sweetheart,” he says with a laugh, amused at your touchiness, “I have to drive us home.”

Silently, you decide that’s okay because that’s where your babies are, so you let go and slip back into your own seat. The older man puts the truck into gear as you buckle your seatbelt and then he pulls out of the parking lot, onto the main road.

It’s quiet only for a matter of seconds before you speak again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We have the cutest family ever.”

Eddie nods his head in agreement, trying to keep his laughter inside lest you think he’s laughing at you.

“Absolutely,” he agrees.

“And it’s because you’re so cute!” you gush, throwing your hands in the air with a dramatic flourish that Luke would be proud of. “What do Ryan, Luke, and Eliza all have in common? Your genes! That’s why they’re so stinkin’ adorable.” You sigh dreamily and rest your head against the headrest as you gaze at your husband. “You’re such a DILF.”

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of laughter at that and looks your way as you pull up to a red light. Glee dances in his eyes as he tilts his head. 

“Isn’t that ‘Dad I’d like to fuck?’” he asks. “You have fucked me, baby. Many, many times.”

“Fine. You’re a DIHF.” The different pronunciation has a raspberry blowing out of your mouth at the end of the word. “‘Dad I have fucked.’”

This is the most entertained I have been in so long, Eddie thinks to himself as the light turns green. It only reinforces the insane amount of love he has for you, and he feels the need to reach over and hold your hand. Luckily, yours is resting on your thigh now so he does just that. Softly, his thumb begins to stroke the back of your hand. 

“M’so happy, Eddie.”

“Good,” he says, “I’m glad you had a good time with Nancy. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to go out.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, I am happy because I got to spend time with Nancy today but that’s not what I was talking about. I meant that I’m so happy cause I got you and the boys and little Liza. Best things that ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same way, princess.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I really, really loved having your baby.”

Eddie can’t help the big grin that stretches across his face at your words. God, he could never hear that enough from you. 

“I had something that was half you and half me growing inside me,” you explain as if Eddie doesn’t know what being pregnant entails. “It felt crazy. But like, a good way. Like, I couldn’t believe it was happening. A little piece of you right here.” Your free hand pats your lower abdomen and when Eddie glances over he sees you looking down at that part of your body.

“I wanna do it again.”

Eddie almost swerves off the road at those words.

“Huh?” he asks, hand tightening on yours.

“I wanna have your baby again! I mean, not right now. Fucking hell, my vagina would fall out having babies so close together like that. Ow.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Eddie raves. “But yeah, we don’t want your vagina falling out. Pretty sure we both really, really like that part of you.”

A sly smile grows on your lips as Eddie turns the truck into your neighborhood. You know it’s a little mean to turn your husband on when you’re about to go home to a house full of kids and his uncle, but you just can’t help it. You’re having fun and it’s alcohol-induced and Eddie’s done way worse things while under the influence. 

“Well,” you start innocently, “maybe if my vagina hurt you could kiss it better?”

“Fuck,” Eddie growls, glancing over at you. “Really gonna do this now?”

The maniacal giggle you let out already has Eddie forgiving you, his heart soaring with how much love he feels. He’d let you tease him and taunt him until the end of time. And God knows you’re the only one allowed to. But that makes it even better, Eddie thinks, because then he gets a pass to act as an over-protective asshole once in a while when the jealousy monster rears its ugly head. It’s a fair trade you can both live with. And if Eddie’s cross to bear is you getting him all worked up when there’s no time to do anything about it, he thinks he’s pretty damn lucky. 

[novacorpsrecruit]

Care to Dance?

Inspired by @imfinereallyy’s post

Robin, Steve and Eddie planned this night for weeks. They drove up to Indianapolis to spend the evening at the gay bar. A place where they could be themselves and not worry.

Steve took a shot of vodka before turning around at the bar, facing the dance floor. He could see Robin speed talking to a girl about Nancy’s height, the girl gently playing with the edge of Robin’s jacket.

Eddie … well, he looked hot as ever. He was playing billiards in the corner of the bar with another guy, showing him how to angle the cue just right for the perfect hit. Steve could feel jealousy in the pit of his stomach, but he knew he wasn’t Eddie’s type.

Steve’s been harmlessly flirting with Eddie, putting himself out there on the ledge, only for Eddie to talk about some other guy he met in Indy. Steve wondered if this was the guy. If Eddie had planned this night so he could see his guy. It wasn’t wrong if he did. Steve just wished he knew so he could prepare himself for the heartbreak.

He knew Eddie wasn’t his, so it really shouldn’t be a problem, right?

“Hey, baby,” a deep voice said hotly against the shell for his ear. “How come a pretty thing like you is all alone tonight?”

“I’m not alone,” Steve said, turning to face the man — to face the dark, brown eyes, the devilish grin. “Not anymore. You want a drink?”

“I’d much rather see you on the dance floor,” the man said, lifting his chin. His grin still plastered across His face. “Or are you more interested in staring at that metalhead?”

“No, I’d like to. Dance, I mean,” Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat up. He didn’t realize he was that obvious for Eddie. The man put his hand on the small of Steve’s back as he lead him out to the dance floor. It started out innocent at first, arms raised, slowly wrapping around each other’s body as they danced to Depeche Mode. Eventually, Steve had his back pressed up against the man’s front. The man pressed a hot kiss against Steve’s skin. Suddenly, Steve realized he didn’t know the man’s name.

“I’m Steve,” he said, a little loud to be heard over the music.

“Dan — Hey!”

Steve felt Dan’s body yanked away from him. Steve turned to see Eddie standing in between him and Dan, now on the ground. He felt someone grab his arm, he yanked it — before realizing it was Robin holding onto him.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Dan spat.

“You,” Eddie snarled back, venom on his tongue. “You’re dancing on my friend.”

“Eddie —“

“Steve, I got it,” Eddie said over his shoulder, before turning his attention to Dan. “What gives you the right to dance on him like that?”

“I did,” Steve snapped, pulling himself out of Robin’s grip and stepping in front of Eddie. “He asked me to dance and I said yes. What gives, Eddie? What are you doing?”

“Protecting you,” Eddie wrinkled his brow, like it was obvious. “We know he isn’t your type, Steve.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Steve snapped.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Eddie said.

“I don’t know what you have going on,” Dan interrupted, leaning against Steve. His lips were hot near his ear. “But Pretty Boy, you dump the metalhead, you know where to find me.”

“That’s it —“ Eddie nearly lunged forward to chase after Dan, stopped by Robin and Steve.

“Eddie, what the fuck is up with you?” Steve snapped. “We came out to have a good time and you’re ruining it.”

“I’m ruining it?” Eddie scoffed. “He was the one dancing against you! Does that not bother you?”

“No?” Steve wrinkled his nose. “I liked him.”

“Steve,” Robin said, stepping between the two, trying to calm the tension. “You can’t be leading him on like that.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, feeling his gut twist. He knew he was obvious with his crush on Eddie, but he would get over him. He could. If he just found the right person.

“Steve, you’re straight,” Robin said. “He’s probably thinking he was gonna take you home.”

“I’m … straight?” Steve repeated. “What planet are you from?”

“What?!” Eddie and Robin snapped at the same time. Steve looked between the two of them, his expression dropping.

“You guys thought I was straight?” Steve gaped. “I’m grinding on some guy and you think I’m straight?! We’re at a gay club, and you thought I was straight?”

“You’ve always just talked about girls,” Robin said. “We just —“ she looked at Eddie for help, but he provided none. He stood there, shocked, processing.

“Because the guy I want, doesn’t like me that way,” Steve groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m going for fresh air.”

He pushed past Robin and Eddie to the front of the bar and onto the street. He turned down the alleyway, leaning against the building. He took a deep breath, letting it out.

“Hey.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, offering a cigarette from the box.

“I’m sorry about ruining things with Dan,” Eddie said. “You wanna talk?”

“I just — thought you both knew,” Steve said, taking a cigarette. Eddie flicked his lighter, lighting Steve’s cigarette. “I thought I was obvious. And you even said that ‘Us, queers find each other.’”

“I did say that,” Eddie nodded. “I just thought you were safe, and not …”

“Bisexual,” Steve said, officially coming out. “I’m bisexual.”

“Proud of you,” Eddie said. “Now tell me about this guy you like. And why you don’t think he likes you.”

“He’s super cool. Bad ass,” Steve said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I know I’m not his type.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been flirting with him for weeks,” Steve said, putting his heart out on the line. If this failed, maybe Dan won’t mind letting him cry on his shoulder. “And he’s ignored all my advances.”

“Maybe he didn’t realize you were flirting with him,” Eddie said. “You know, maybe he thought you were straight?”

Steve’s eyes snapped to Eddie, attempting to read him. Eddie took a drag off his own cigarette.

“Maybe you could try again?” Eddie offered. Steve felt his heart beat rapidly against his chest.

“Eddie —“

“Yes,” Eddie breathed. “Whatever you want. Yes.”

“You,” Steve said. “I want you.”

Eddie crashed his lips against Steve’s in a hot, messy kiss. A little teethy, as they couldn’t help but smile and laugh. They broke away breathless.

“Come on, big boy,” Eddie said, pulling at Steve’s arm. “Let’s go dance.”

•••••

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 2

Part 1

Eddie hadn't forgotten about Steve the next day. Far from it. But his early morning thoughts had been occupied with getting up in time and going through his morning routine. It wasn't until he got dressed and put his jacket on, the same one from yesterday, that he was hit with the remnants of Steve's scent. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath.

His number was still in the pocket. Would texting him now seem desperate? Eddie took another breath. Fuck appearances. He had to see him again.

-------------------------

Steve had been prepared to chalk up last night to a fever dream. Or even if it was somehow real, that Eddie wouldn't call or text. Or even if he did, it wouldn't be until weeks or months later when he remembered the pathetic omega he'd met one rainy night.

And then he checked his phone on his lunch break and saw that he had a few messages. All from an unknown number.

'hey' 'it's me' 'Eddie' 'that guy you met last night?' 'I was thinking that i could maybe take you out to dinner again?'

Steve beamed so hard anyone looking might think he was insane. How cool should he play it? Maybe he should wait until he got off of work. Would it be better to call? By the looks of the texts, Eddie seemed really into him. Would Steve be able to string him along for longer?

The moment the thought passed through it was gone. He had woken up this morning, yearning for Eddie's scent. If he got close to him again, there was no way that he could make him wait.

Steve told him that he was free any time.

It probably came off as desperate but he didn't care. He wanted Eddie and wanted to be wanted by him. He couldn't afford to play it cool.

Three days later, Steve was standing outside of a nice restaurant. Eddie had sent the location and Steve dressed in the best clothes he owned. Thankfully he didn't have much of a reason to wear them, so they looked fresh and he went the extra mile to iron them. It was a nice collared shirt in blue and some khaki pants. A car drove up and Eddie came out of it, tossing the keys to a valet.

Eddie had offered to pick him up from his apartment but Steve refused for some reason. It felt like a dignity thing.

"Hey there, handsome", Eddie grinned. He had a red button down over black slacks and that leather jacket again. Steve needed to bury his face in it, in Eddie.

Steve got part of his wish when Eddie slung an around his waist and led him inside. He refrained from turning his head to dip his nose into it and drown himself in Eddie. They sat down and a waiter was with them right away for their drink orders. The waiter asked about wine as Steve looked at the menu.

"Hmm, whatever's red and sweet, my good man", Eddie said.

"We have a nice Cabernet, if you would like."

Eddie looked like he was about to agree when Steve spoke up. "Eddie, what are you eating?"

The alpha glanced at the menu before pushing air out of his mouth. "Probably a steak, beautiful. I'm actually not all that picky."

"We'll take a Caremenare", Steve said. "One from Bordeaux if you have one, if not anything on from southern France is fine."

Eddie gave Steve an appraising look as the waiter walked off to get their drinks. He let out a low whistle and then Steve stiffened.

"You know your stuff."

"I uh, yeah", Steve cleared his throat. "This seems like a real classy joint. Normally a server will ask what you plan on dining on before giving a wine suggestion."

"Ah, so he thought I was some bum who would've been happy drinking some cooking sherry?"

"Basically." Steve hadn't meant to show off like that. It just came out.

Eddie didn't look put off though. If anything, he looked impressed.

"You know, I'm not hard to please. I'm the type to drink whatever they put in front of me. Unless it's vodka." Eddie stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"I figured a rock star would have more refined tastes", Steve said.

"Oh I think I've got great tastes", Eddie said, licking a canine.

Steve had been looking at the menu, about to ask what he meant he saw the look Eddie was giving him. He quickly snapped the menu back up to cover his face and how warm it felt. Steve was no stranger to blatant flirting. He'd frequently laid it on thick himself. But knowing who Eddie was and how they'd met put an extra layer on it.

Did Eddie like him for himself? Or because he seemed easy? They started talking, the conversation now about traveling. Eddie was telling him of a particularly wild night in Italy and Steve was halfway in thought.

Would he feel different if Eddie was just a normal alpha? Or was it the fact that Eddie knew he was half the way to destitute that made Steve hesitant? Above all, Steve just didn't know if Eddie respected him or if he felt sorry for him. Eddie hadn't ever said anything condescending about him or omegas in general though. He'd never made Steve feel lower than him. He made sure he was comfortable with rides and being paid for before doing so.

Steve remembered what his best friend told him before abandoning him (getting her dream job) across the country. Basically, waste not, want not, but applying it to everything. If Eddie wanted to take him out and buy him meals and drinks, who was Steve to deny him? And if he wanted something sweet after, well Steve wouldn't be upset.

"Wait, you tried sneaking into the catacombs? You know it's a tourist site? You can just get a guide and go in", Steve said.

"Yeah, well Jeff had this bright idea of going in without permission, cause you know, rebellion is totally more metal than just hiring a tour guide, and going at like 2 am because that's the 'best time'", Eddie did air quotes and rolled his eyes. "And also tried to get into more restricted areas."

"Lemme guess, Jeff's a free spirited explorer?"

"I like adventure as much as the next guy, but I also like seeing the sky", Eddie said. "And Gareth's worse. Dude froze solid the moment we got down there. Hell of a time to learn he's got claustrophobia."

Their orders were taken and Eddie watched probably with a bit too much interest as Steve ate. He was enjoying this ritzy fare as much as he did the bar and local restaurant from before. Maybe Steve was the type to fit in anywhere. Eddie wanted to give him more. He'd seen some of the couples around them. People with clearly money to spare and they lavished it on the beauty dining with them. Gilded omegas. Kept omegas.

"I just wanted to, I don't know, take care of him", Eddie had lamented to his band mates while on a Zoom call.

"What, like a puppy?", Grant asked while in the middle of doing laundry.

"No! Yes? Like, ugggh", Eddie ran his hands down his face. "I know how this is gonna sound. Don't judge me."

"Holy shit", Gareth paused in his gaming to look at Eddie's face on one of his screens. "Dudes, I think it's finally happening."

"No fucking way", Jeff said.

Eddie turned around in his chair, trying to turn his back to them but he went to hard and did a 360 instead.

"Eddie, do you wanna be his-"

"Please don't say it out loud", Eddie covered his face with his hands.

"He does", Jeff said. "He wants to be a sugar daddy."

"This guy's gotta be hot. You got pics?", Grant asked.

"No one's that hot", Gareth said. "Chrissy was that hot and you still didn't-"

"Alright, forget I said anything. This is supposed to be a brainstorming sesh", Eddie quickly changed the subject.

Eddie wanted Steve to be his. But he didn't just want to date him. He wanted to spoil him, take him on exotic vacations, show him off, have Steve lie in bed without a care outside of being Eddie's baby.

But he couldn't just ask that, could he? That was probably one aspect of celebrity life Eddie, nor any of the other guys really knew too well. Getting a date? Easy. Getting someone like this? Would Steve even want to do that? He probably had his own goals and aspirations that went beyond being some guy's plaything. God though, Eddie would treat him so right. Steve really wouldn't want for anything.

"So, I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but how does a uh, fine vintage such as yourself find him single?"

"'Fine vintage'? Are you calling me old?", Steve asked with mock offense.

"Well you wear it very nicely", Eddie quipped back.

"For the record, I'm not chronically single. I've just been pretty busy lately. Had a few quick lays, but nothing serious for a while."

"How about somethingggg not serious buuut pretty exclusive?", Eddie asked. He leaned a little closer to Steve and was able to smell the increased interest. Good.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you, me, on a French beach in about a month. You could really show off that wino talent."

Steve snickered and moved a little closer to Eddie. "Well you can start with not calling me a 'wino'. And if you really want me to show off, you'll have to take my to Italy."

Eddie put an arm around Steve. "That can be arranged." He started to kiss his neck and let out a soft growl at the way Steve melted under his lips. His hand found Steve's thigh and gave it a squeeze.

Steve hummed and turned his head to kiss Eddie's cheek, then grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. He gave Eddie's lips a rather chaste kiss but then whispered against them.

"Take me to your place."

dont @ me on the wine stuff i literally drank a $7 bottle of vermouth yesterday and enjoyed it clearly i am not an expert.

Part 3

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIFTEEN

in which Eddie learns what it means to be honest, and you learn that some answers can only lead to more questions.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 4.7k+

→ a/n: this chapter is my enemy. that's all. all the homies hate this chapter for the hell it gave me both in writing it and posting it

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part���

15:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

“Is that the dude who stood you up?” 

His voice is weak as he asks the question, a breath that barely reaches your ears as you jump at the unexpected proximity. 

“What?” you spin around to face him, “Jesus Christ, why are you creeping over my shoulder at my phone? Trying to see who else doesn’t follow me on Instagram?” 

He cringes at your bitter tone, all the vodka you’ve turned to venom in your hurt, “You didn’t answer my question – is that him?” 

“Why do you care?” 

It’s the short version of the real questions binding you. A million different threads of confusion, and each one constricts you tighter than the last, all of them tangling together in the confusion. 

Why do you care when you dislike me so vigorously? Why do you care when you’ll only use my answer as ammunition against me? Why do you care to hurt me so badly tonight? Why do you care if Nancy and I are friends? Why do you care to point out how I don’t belong in this group-

“I don’t,” he interrupts your internal panic, pausing the restless twisting of anxious twine. 

You take a deep breath, you let your eyes wander over him, taking him in. He’s ditched the soft-spoken act, his voice coming out powerful finally. The confidence is almost overdone; he sounds as if he’s trying to make up for something not there. 

You crave for distance to be put between the two of you, but he makes no move to step away as you ask, “Then why do you keep asking me?” 

You can’t begin to understand him, completely unsure of where to ever start with the task. He’s a hollow stranger of the man you’d initially met that night in the bar. You’ve seen how he acts with the others, how he treats Nancy like royalty at times and how he’s warm with Argyle. You’ve seen him share joints and laughter alike with Jonathan. It’s hard to miss when he and Steve both begin to get overly passionate about a topic, Robin always finding a way to join in. Eddie is capable of warmth and care, of friendship and genuine love, but not when it comes to you. 

“I was just curious, sue me.” 

“If I had a good lawyer, I would,” you snap back quickly, patience wearing thin. 

It makes him grin – a damn grin. Shit-eating as ever as he replies, “I know a guy if you’d like one,” and he keeps grinning, and you don’t even notice when a line is crossed and that faux glee no longer meets his eyes as he continues,  “Speaking of knowing a guy – do you know the guy on your screen?” 

The threads are twisting again, and the friction is leaving your blood boiling. “Fucking obviously.” 

“Is he the one who stood you up?” 

“Fuck off, Eddie.” 

You can’t handle this right now. You’re drunk – not so drunk you won’t remember the night, but still damn drunk – and you’re overthinking. Letting the threads cut off circulation to your brain, letting yourself only be consumed with overthinking about your place within the group. You don’t even have the capacity to question why Eddie is so persistent in finding out about the bartender who left you looking like a fool the night before; you miss his genuine, burning curiosity and the anger that still broods in him as your anxiety bubbles up. 

Were you and Nancy friends? Maybe Instagram did matter. Surely, she followed everyone else in the group, didn’t she? 

“Why won’t you just answer the question? Why are you so damn stubb-” 

“You don’t care!” you nearly scream, throwing your hands up in defeat, slamming your phone down onto the counter beside you, “You don’t care, you’ve made that clear, so I don’t understand why you need to hear me say it so fucking badly. Why do you need to hear me admit how pathetic I am? We both know where this is going – I say yes, you use it against me, I end up looking like a fool for a second night in a row,” your chest heaves and your eyes burn, but you won’t look at him. You can’t bear witness to him watching you bleed in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, “I’m not doing it. Not tonight.” 

He looks as if you had slapped him. Stunned, aghast, taking a step back to finally give you the space you had so desperately craved. You don’t even really care about it anymore; the damage is done and you’re already spiraling, thanks to him. 

“Do you think so little of me?” 

His voice is small again. Deceptively soft, a treacherous whisper you know you can’t look into. He’s not really hurt. It’s all probably an act, a guise to get you to play into how he wants the night to go. 

“With what you’ve given me to work with?” you scoff, still blinking your eyes rapidly, trying to stave off the waterworks, “Yeah. Yeah, I am starting to think that little of you.” 

“Have you considered I was just trying to be friend-” 

You’re not sure how his sentence is going to end, whether he would claim to be trying to be friendly or trying to be friends. You’re not sure which one makes you more livid.

It’s the second one. “You just mocked me, made me doubt if I had fucking friends all because of Nancy not following me on Instagram. Don’t you dare say you were trying to be friends with me right now.” 

If you were more sober, you would have cursed yourself for blatantly revealing to him that he’d gotten to you. Your wounds were now on display for him, and you stiffened as you realized and awaited the expected handful of salt he’d be rubbing into them. 

We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.

The fight’s only just begun and you’ve already lost – not just this battle, but the entire war.

You know they would choose him. If your friends were given the choice between you two, they’d choose him. And it shouldn’t sting, it’s expected given how long the group has known each other, but Eddie’s animosity towards you has done nothing to soothe the ache stirred by that truth. You would never ask them to choose, you know better, but you’ve always known the answer.

It’s him, not you. 

“I was joking-” 

“No, that was not joking. It wasn’t funny. It was mean.” 

Mean, cruel, ruthless. What Eddie did rings sharply in your chest, in your brain that’s currently running on overtime to process your waves of emotions. The threads are so tight, you expect to see a puddle of blood at your feet on Steve and Robin’s kitchen floor. 

“As if you’re any better,” he sharply laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, “You want to talk about mean? Let’s talk about my date with Chrissy and you’re fucking fiasco.” 

Your stomach drops. The battlefield lurches into uneven ground, because what you did really was unfair. But you had been bitter, and you had been mean, and you had been…. 

You had been jealous. Jealous not of the romance that was honestly leaving much to be desired between him and Chrissy, but that platonic friendship. The kind you had yet to earn from him. The kind you were starting to doubt if you ever had, genuinely, with the rest of the group. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry? Yeah, well, sorry don't make her call me back.” 

This is where, if you were speaking with anyone besides Eddie, you offer a real, genuine apology. 

But you’re speaking with Eddie. You’re burnt out from a long week, your pride still remains wounded, you’re suddenly questioning if you even have any friends, you’re drunk, and you’re speaking with Eddie. 

A genuine apology would be like terrible shards, dredged up your throat and being clung to desperately by your whining pride. You’re bleeding enough as it is without that. 

“My apologies, friend. I am so terribly sorry you weren’t able to get your dick wet.” 

You both deserved what was coming, really. You deserved it. Because suddenly, just as it always ended up between you two, hateful words were exchanged. The worst part isn’t when Eddie snarks about how at least he can get his dick wet, unlike you, nor is it when you spit out how being a slut isn’t something to be proud of. It’s a blur of sharp tongues and jabbing knives, both of you swiping for any which way to make the other bleed. 

It’s the cruelest you’ve been to each other yet, because somewhere below all of the surface-level insults, there’s real pain pulsing there. There’s your bloodied threads of anxiety, wretched thoughts and doubts as to if you should even be in this apartment tonight. There’s something more in the lines that form between Eddie’s furrowed brows as he matches your anger. His volume raises right along yours, and whenever his voice breaks over certain quick-dagger remarks, you don’t look into it. Especially not when it happens as he brings up the bartender again. All the failed dates, as he so kindly reminds you of. 

“For someone who claims to not fucking care, you sure do talk a lot about those ridiculous fucking dates,” you seethe finally. Somewhere in the argument, you’d downed the rest of your drink, leaving an empty glass beside you. 

“Because they prove my point!” he shouts in exasperation, “Because you… you… you can’t take a fucking hint.”

A final thread wraps around your throat. You feel as if you can’t breathe. 

“And what is that hint, exactly?” your tone shakes as you ask it, past anger and past heartbreak. 

Why do you still care what he thinks? Do you still care what he thinks?

The vodka says yes. 

Yet Eddie says no, shaking his head immediately.

“Oh, so now you don’t want to speak your mind?” you hate how vulnerable you are, the lilt of your voice with unshed tears and the crack in your chest that you’re sure he can hear. You want to scream, you want to pound your fists against his chest. You want to throw a proper tantrum, like an absolute child. Like a little kid on the playground who no one wanted to play with, “You had all this shit to say, and now you bite your tongue? Fuck you, Eddie.” 

“You don’t want to actually know,” he says flatly. He’s emotionless, and it burns you even further. Here you are, overflowing your cup with all your emotions, and his well has run dry. Even the tick you had managed to get out of his jaw is gone. All the anger, all the false signs of him actually caring have vanished.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to take a deep breath. Trying to even your anger, to bring yourself down to his level. You’re tired of the uneven battle ground. “I don’t? I never knew you were a mindreader.” 

“Don’t have to be a mindreader to see the way you’re about to burst into fucking tears.” 

You suddenly wish you could take the glass on the counter beside you and just toss it at him, full force. Make him physically bleed as he continues to stab at your pride, your ego, your emotions. 

You’re not even sure he’d bleed at this point. Maybe he’s a fucking robot designed to do nothing but hurt you. 

“Fuck you,” you state plainly as the first tear falls, repeating yourself with a more vindictive tone, “Fuck you. It’s not like you care about my fucking feelings, so just say it.” 

 “Fine,” he’s still so indifferent, still so emotionless, “You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted. Not by those assholes, not here-” 

It’s your final breaking point. You don’t care to hear the rest of his sentence, temper taking the reins as you reach for the glass beside you. 

You throw as hard as you can. 

You tell yourself it’s dumb luck and bad aim when the glass shatters against the wall behind Eddie and not his shocked face. Not mercy. Not the ghost of hope, evaporating with a whisper of glass shards as the final shovel full of dirt falls upon the grave. You can see it clearly, the gravestone that marks the fresh grave: Here Lies Possibility. Here Lies All That Could Have Been. 

It’s over. Eddie knows it – his emotion finally shows, but you don’t stick around to see it. 

Eddie’s wrong. For once, you see you’re not wanted, and make the choice to leave.

—

HOUR FIFTEEN - 6:00 AM

“It was about you. I got banned because of you.” 

You don’t know how to respond at first. Honesty hangs heavy between the two of you, suffocating in the morning light. 

You asked him for honesty. He gave you honesty.

It should be a celebration, but all it does is build a pit in the bottom of your stomach that threatens to weigh you down to the bottom of his ocean. 

When you finally respond, you enunciate each word carefully, “Eddie. What do you mean?” 

“I got banned. From the bar. Because of you.”

“No, yeah, I gathered that,” you stress, the crease between your brow deepening, “But…. I… elaborate?”

You can hear the cars on the street below, echoing honks and engines thrumming. Songbirds sing in the distance and shops are opening; the entire world surrounding you two is awakening with a long yawn and a gentle stretch. 

Your world feels as though it is coming to a full stop, but life is carrying on. 

“Which part?” he breaths out a humorless laugh, “The part where I got banned, or the part where it was because of you? Because the ban is pretty straight forward – I threw a punch at a guy, he threw a punch back, now I can’t step foot in Fat Tuesday on Mill Ave-”

“The part where it’s because of me, you idiot,” you interrupt him in exasperation, “What the hell do you mean you got banned because of me?” 

Silence. You’re met with silence. 

Maybe honesty has run dry, just like that. 

You search his face and count your luck, at least he admitted this much, before sighing, “Okay. You don’t have to tell me-” 

The honesty comes bursting out of him. The well of it is anything but dry, “It was the bartender that stood you up. He was there that night after our fight, after the party at Steve’s.” 

The bartender. 

You hadn’t thought of that guy in ages, had long since forgotten his name and face since he’d bruised your ego. 

“I…” your voice trails off, unsure and unsteady as you take tentative steps away from the balcony’s railing, “I’m… honored?” 

Honored isn’t quite the right word. You really don’t know how to feel right now. Should you be thanking him, assuming it was in your honor that he started the fight? Or should you press on, test the limits of honesty and figure out if you’re interpreting this entire confession incorrectly? 

Eddie chuckles dryly before he suddenly walks over to one of the two lounge chairs on the balcony, a small table separating them adorned with a crystal ashtray, “That’s all?”

“Should I not be?” Confusion bursts and blooms across your face, and Eddie’s only reaction to it is furrowed brows as he sits down, “I mean, you just told me you not only threw a punch, but took a punch from some dude who stood me up on a first date once. I think at the very least I should be-”

“I expected you to have more questions,” Eddie cuts you off as he taps his carton of cigarettes on the table beside you, more of a habit than a necessity. His knee is bouncing with each tap, an invisible beat you try to track and end up failing miserably before you take the other chair beside him, “You always have more questions.” 

I do, you think immediately, I have a million and one questions I can’t ask.

Each question flurries past you in a blur, and you’re sure if they’re capable of making you dizzy that there’s no way Eddie could handle them all being thrown at him. There’s also a small part of you still terrified that pressing too far will send him running; ask one wrong thing, and Eddie will retreat to his tall, defensive walls, once again separating him from you. Progress, no matter how minimal, is progress. You can’t risk backtracking. 

“Of course I do,” you repay his debt of honesty in a quiet tone, nimbly picking at the hem of his sweatshirt as it brushes your thigh. 

“Then ask them.”

“If I ask you more questions, are you going to shut me out?” 

The entire morning stills. The breeze turns stale, the sounds of the Sunday hustling and bustling seemingly pause. 

You can’t help but look into his big, brown eyes. You try to communicate with a single look, a silent plea for him to please say he isn’t. 

“I won’t shut you out,” he’s hardly louder than a whisper, but that’s enough for you.

You don’t know where to start: Did you punch him because of me? Did he say something first? Did you have an ulterior motive? Did you know about my date with him before that night? Did you guys talk about me?

The final one sparks a chill down your spine, uncomfortable at the thought of Eddie having discussed you with the bartender, having been the one to tarnish the man’s view of you enough to leave you stranded at a restaurant alone. 

Normally, you’d slowly ease him to the point of your actual question. But your patience has vanished as you look at him now, as you watch him under the promise that he won’t shut you out.

“How did you know him before the fight?” 

His lips twitch with a grin, “I was a regular, he was a bartender. Can I make it anymore obvious?” 

“Are you quoting Avril Lavigne to me right now?” you ask, flabbergasted before shaking your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts and move past this joke, “You know what? Forget I asked – so he served you often? Were you…. Were you friendly?” 

“Well, he once took me out behind the bar and kissed me, but he never got around to buying me dinner. Might have been because of my mean right hook, but who knows-”

“Eddie,” Your voice cracks in desperation, “Please, be serious. Just for one minute.” 

It kills you to say it, because part of you is convinced this is a vision of the boy you’ve been chasing after for so long. This is the boy who is best friends with Nancy. This is the boy who is always invited without hesitation to smoke with Jonathan and Argyle. This is the boy that Steve and Robin had ranted and raved about in all those classes before you’d met him. This is the boy you’d met that first night in the bar in brief passing, and had been seeking out ever since. 

A boy who felt like coming home after a long week.

It kills you to tell him to quiet down all the grins and jokes that are making your heart ache in such a terribly peculiar way.

“I’m sorry,” something in you gleams with gratuity when his grin takes it’s time fading, him throwing up his hands in faux defense, his playful tone still woven carefully. He’s not shutting you out. “I can be serious. I- Give me a second. Scout’s honor, I can stop fucking around.” 

“You better,” you jilt, caving into the joking ever so slightly. 

It’s easy to do when he looks at you this way. His eyes sparkle as if the honesty has freed him of some great weight. However he had expected you to react, it wasn’t this way. 

All at once, he has become something brand new to you. You’re in his sweatshirt, barefoot on his balcony as you can still smell his last cigarette lingering in the air, and you wonder if you’ve never considered yourself a morning person because you’ve never experienced a Sunday morning with Eddie. If you had felt his morning light like this before, even in a sleep-deprived haze, you would have certainly enjoyed the early hours sooner. 

“Okay, okay,” he takes a deep breath, forces away the grin you can still see in the crinkles beside his eyes, “To answer your question, no. We weren’t really friends, I didn’t even know his name and I’m pretty sure he didn’t know mine. He just knew my order.”

“Whiskey and coke,” you whisper, pulling a knee up to your chin, resting it and looking at Eddie with unbridled softness. Fifteen hours ago, you couldn’t have known nor cared about his go-to drink.

“Whiskey and coke,” he confirms. It’s in the pull of his lips – he’s fighting another smile, feeling just as soft as you are at the way you’ve learned something new about him, “Not that it’s hard to remember. Definitely easier than an amaretto sour.” 

“Amaretto sours are not hard to remember,” you shake your head ever so slightly, chin slipping and lips dragging across the skin of your knee. Eddie’s eyes waste no time focusing on the movement, “Okay. So you two weren’t really friends, that’s good to know. I guess my next question would be, was he working that night?” 

Eddie leans forward, elbows pressing into the tops of his thighs, “Are you asking if I’m badass enough to storm into a bar and throw a punch at the bartender on duty to defend your honor?” 

His words paint quite the picture for you. “Did you?”

“No. Lower your expectations of me, please.” 

It takes everything in you to not just throw your head back in laughter, having to settle on giggles suffocated against the skin of your knee still. You wrap your arms around your shin tightly, keeping your leg folded up into you as you shake with the soft laughter. 

“Okay, one last question - who threw the first punch?” you sigh. The image of how fearful Eddie had looked when he’d first admitted to this entire ordeal is silly now. You already know the answer to this question, he wouldn’t have been so nervous to tell you if he hadn’t been the one instigating the entire thing, but you ask it to humor the two of you. 

It’s a good distraction from the buds and blooms alike, all awakening along your vines. The vines don’t feel so constricting anymore. As a matter of fact, you think you’re able to recognize their beauty for the first time. Verdant greenery lined with splashes of reds, of violets, of yellows that are almost the same brilliant shade of gold that his eyes seemingly flash every time the sun hits them just right. 

“I did,” he answers just as you expected. He also shrinks into himself, just as you had also expected, “I just saw him there, and- actually, I don’t know if this next part is just an insult to injury but I…” he trails off, not taking a single breath as he meets your gaze. You’re sure he’s searching for anger, for repulsiveness, for hurt. He’ll find none. You only nod your head and encourage him to keep going, “Okay, he was there on a fuckin’ date, sweetheart. A date, the night after he stood you up. So I just…I just decked him. And honestly? I don’t regret it. He deserved it.” 

When he’s finally finished spilling his guts, you’re left fighting a grin and an overflowing chest of blooms. He’s flushed and nervous and goddamn it, he beat the shit out of some dude in your honor. You should scold him or be more upset, but you only start laughing again. 

“Why are you laughing?” Eddie scrunches up his face, continuing to lean forward, almost as if trying to get closer to you, “Seriously, what’s so funny about that?” 

You’ve thrown your head back in delight now, just as you had wanted to earlier, and release your hold on your leg as it falls back down from your chest, “Jesus Christ, I wish I could have seen that in person.” 

Eddie’s stunned. But you mean it – if your heartbroken self from six months ago had witnessed that, you would have considered Eddie your best friend immediately. This entire feud would have been cut six months short just from one simple punch. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp out, desperately trying to compose yourself once more, “I really shouldn’t condone violence. I just – man, I cried over that guy. A whole month of those stupid, cheesy, ‘good-morning-beautiful’ texts, and he had just left me hanging, y’know? I mean, I’m sure he’s not a bad person-”

“No,” Eddie interrupts, smiling right along with you, “No, as far as we should be concerned, he’s a fucking asshole. Fuck defending him, we’re never going to see him again anyways.” 

 We’re never going to see him again. 

Eddie probably has no idea what he’s done, referring to the two of you as a joint unit for the first time in a future tense, but it makes you ache all over. That heartache and warmth you felt for him is no longer secluded to just your chest; you feel it from your toes all the way to your scalp, traveling and leaving kisses of goosebumps in its trail. A sudden yearning floods your entire nervous system, the entire roadmap of your heart and your veins and your arteries – you like the image of you and Eddie, Eddie and you, still being a resemblance of a pair beyond just these measly twenty four hours. You like to imagine being able to call him up out of boredom some time next week. You like the thought of him joining on bar crawls with you and the girls. You like the thought of spending every Sunday morning with him from here on out. 

Some of those are reasonable. Some of those aren’t. The yearning rushes through you all the same. 

“Yeah,” you agree softly, “We’re never going to see him again. Fuck him.” 

Eddie hums and leans back in his chair, finally beginning to relax, leaving you a moment to reflect. 

He was telling the truth, he had been honest; he had gotten banned from a bar for you. He’d seen the bartender who stood you up, and he’d decided to defend your honor. Even after that night. Even after that fight. Even after the glass you had thrown. 

Even after the cruel words he had said. 

The yearning stops in its tracks, coming to a rough halt as you glance up at him sharply. 

Even after the cruel words he had said, even after claiming you weren’t someone who was wanted, he’d defended you. 

“You know what?” he suddenly says, but your mind is still whirling and you can only hum in response, “I kind of like honesty. I sort of dig it,” you wish you could muster up more than a smile as he boyishly grins at you, “What else do you wanna know? Hit me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. The yearning rushes past the floodgates, the pink strikes your cheeks, the ache rings out from the very hollows of your bones. 

You know what you really want to ask him can’t be answered right now. Because even with the change in him, the one that weakens your knees and has you wishing for things in the future, he was still once the man from that night. He still once made you bleed, made you cry. And even if he’s apologized, and you know he means it, it can’t erase that fact. 

And it worries you. Because as all the feelings swell in your chest, you’re left with yet another unanswered question. 

Why would you defend me after that fight?

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[eds6ngel]

Can I request a Steve Harrington fic please?

Him and the reader are always throwing insults back and forth to eachother (enemies to lovers if you will) they’re both at a party, the reader on their own on the couch and Steve comes over to “bother” her. While bothering the reader he sees a girl he used to hook up with but told her that he can’t see her anymore (you can pick the reason why) and he begs the reader to act like his new girl for the rest of the night. He makes her pretend that they’re going up to a room for you know what👀 and the rest is up to you <3

mutual (dis)like ⋆˚✿˖°❀

steve harrington x fem!afab!reader

summary: with yours and steve's feud hitting the four-year mark, what will happen when you have to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night?

warnings: SMUT!! fem!afab!reader. unprotected p in v (pull-out method.) fingering. hickeys. kissing. consent checks. use of pet names (honey, baby, babe.) swearing. alcohol and drug use (everything is still consensual !!) r is 17, steve is 18. some angst and hurt in the middle. fluff and comfort at the end. [3.2k.]

a/n: thank you for requesting, lovely!! sorry it took so long, i experienced some writing slump :') but here you go!! i hope this is what you wished for ♡

To say that Steve and you didn’t get along would be an… understatement.

It all started when you joined Hawkins High in freshman year, Steve a sophomore. Tommy and Carol had decided it would be a fun idea to encourage Steve to target another one of the poor drama students, slowly adding to his ‘King Steve’ status.

However, what Steve thought would be an easy way to keep you down was quickly proven wrong. What he thought would be an easy bully session soon turned into an equal sparked feud.

Every morning at Hawkins High would be Steve turning up to your locker to bother you, you snapping back at him, before you both went your separate ways to class.

Tonight, Tina had invited you over to her house party to celebrate the end of the school year. You were thankful junior year was finally over, and Steve was grateful he actually managed to graduate.

You weren’t much of a partier, so to speak, so Eddie Munson always offered you some weed, which you were very grateful for. It helped mellow out the loud sounds of music and drunken states of sloppy teenagers.

However, like always, ‘King Steve’ (although, he had recently lost that title) came striding over to where you were relaxing on the vodka-stained couch.

“Of course you’re not partying. Why am I even surprised? How much did you suck Munson’s dick to get that bag?”

You scoff, taking another puff of your cig, “Not one bit, actually. Not all guys think with their dicks and some are actually nice around here. He doesn’t need to compensate like you do.”

He whistles as you stand up, smirking as you take a sip from the glass of whiskey in your right hand, “Oh yeah? And what makes you think my dick is so—”

However, Steve falls into a stunned silence as he notices someone very familiar behind you.

“So small? Well, I’ll have you know—”

“I need you to be my girlfriend.”

You splutter on the drink, coughing as you regain your breath, “Fucking hell, Harrington. Are you seriously that desperate—”

“Stephanie,” he blurts out, “She’s my ex-fling and I told her I couldn’t hook up with her anymore as I’d fallen in love with someone else and I need you to pretend to be that someone.”

You shake your head and laugh, “Uh… Yeah, that’s gonna have to be a no.”

About to turn around, Steve grabs your arm at the last minute. Damn, he must’ve really fucked things up for himself.

“Will you just do it? Every other girl in here I’ve either fucked or hates my guts, so—”

“I literally hate you as well, dickwad,” you cut him off, giving him a deadpan expression.

He leans in closer to your face, his eyes pleading as he says in a low whisper, “Yeah, but you’re also the only drama student I know, and if it’s anyone who can help me get out of this situation, it’s you.”

You take a deep breath in, before putting your joint out in the ashtray and your whiskey on the table, “Fine,” you arms flail, “But you better re-pay me for this… What do you need me to do?”

“So, this is the girl you fell for?”

Stephanie was definitely the IT girl around Hawkins. Beautiful blonde perm, luscious lashes, perfectly-shaped nails and an hourglass figure. Her entire outward persona made you feel extremely self-conscious, the whole story becoming even more unbelievable to you.

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, you trying to hide any signs of discomfort, “Sure is. This is my gorgeous girlfriend.”

Stephanie and her friends cackle, almost on level with a witches laugh, “You’re joking. Seriously? This freak?”

That word just made you shrivel up into a ball. You wanted to leave, to run away, to cry into your pillows. You could take insults from the guys, they would never understand what it was like to live in your shoes. But other girls? Women who went through the same universal experience as you living in this century? That stung. That cut deep.

“Steve, just leave it. This is ridiculous—”

But, before you can make your attempt at escaping, Steve grabs tightly onto your upper arm, “Yeah, actually, she is a freak. And for that reason, she makes a much better time than you ever did.”

Stephanie gasps, putting a hand to her heart, “Oh screw you and your shitty girlfriend, Harrington!”

“You know what?” he taps his chin with his finger, “I think that actually sounds like a great idea. You wanna head upstairs, babe?”

You nod subtly, “Yeah. Um… sure.”

“Sweet,” he takes a hold of your hand, “Don’t worry Steph, I’m sure someone else around here will happily take you for a good time.”

He winks, Stephanie scoffing and rolling her eyes, turning her back as the two of you make your way up to one of the spare bedrooms in Tina’s house. Lucky for you, the first room you came across was empty, not having to face the disgusting consequences of seeing two classmates going at it on the bed.

You’ve already parted from Steve, walking over to the other side of the room, hands interlinked behind your head as Steve closes the door.

He tries to make his way over to you, reasoning, “Look, I didn’t know she was going to call you that, I just—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Steve?” you yell at him, tears streaming down your cheeks, breaths coming out ragged as you struggle to catch them in your throat.

“How is this my fault? I didn’t call you that! I didn’t know she was going to say that!” his voice rises, matching the volume of your own.

“Do you even know what it’s like to get bullied by someone of the same gender as you? It’s humiliating! If I can’t trust another girl to be nice, then how can I—”

“Actually, I do!”

His statement shocks you into silence. When in the world has Steve Harrington ever been bullied? He’s been king of the school for almost four years now. He was the bully himself.

“Look,” he takes your wrist, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed, “This whole bullying thing that happened, I…”

He takes a deep breath, afraid to admit the real truth about their ongoing four-year feud.

“Tommy and Carol forced me into it. They told me to target you, and like the stupid person I was at the time, I followed through. But…”

Your eyes are filled with confusion, looking at the brown-haired boy with intrigue, his expressions confusing you, nervous as to what he was about to say.

“The longer it went on, the more I started noticing things about you. I saw the way you would doodle little animals in your notebook in Biology, the way you would always order the same food for lunch, Mac & Cheese, mashed potatoes and—”

“And carrots…” you finish off his sentence, looking at him with pure shock. But, the emotion quickly turns back into that same anger, “But… if you paid that much attention to me, why did you continue to target me? Even when you ditched Tommy and Carol, you still fucking continued—”

He sighs, frustrated and disappointed in himself, “Because… I was frankly embarrassed to be with you, which is 100% a me problem, nothing to do with you. I still couldn’t let go of the fact that I could fall in love with someone who wasn’t ‘popular.’ I kept bullying you in hopes that you would hate my guts so much that even the pure idea of dating you would be impossible. Which is probably true now, so… mission accomplished for me, I guess…”

His hand was holding yours now, you giving it a small squeeze as you replied, “I don’t hate your guts, Steve. I just…”

Always something else. You still hated him. You had to. He convinced himself of that.

“I saw you bully everyone else, and you hurt a lot of fucking people. I didn’t want to let you win. It wasn’t that I hated you, I just didn’t want to let my guard down. Didn’t wanna act like I did with Stephanie down there.”

Steve notices you grit your teeth at that. You were angry with yourself. Angry with your insecurities, your weaknesses, your lack of ability to so easily defend yourself from everyone.

“So… I continued to fight back. I needed to be strong. I couldn’t let myself break after all these years. I would only stop when you did which… I guess is now.”

You look up into his eyes. You don’t know whether he got closer or you did, or maybe you both closed some distance. Maybe your bodies were trying to tell you something your brains were actively fighting against.

“So…” Steve gulps, “You don’t hate me?”

You laugh softly, grinning from ear to ear. Steve had waited to see that up close for years.

“No, Steve. I don’t hate you. I never did hate you. I just rebutted off of your hatred of me.”

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t hate you either. In fact, I think I said a very different word to describe how I feel about you.”

He was the one leaning closer now. His attitude taking more of a flirtatious tone, eyes staring completely into yours, a mood you’d much rather reciprocate for a long period of time.

“You sure did.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“Absolutely not.”

He grins, lips hovering just above yours, “So I assume you wouldn’t mind if I also did this.”

You manage to purr out an “Absolutely not,” before slotting your lips between his.

Your hand naturally went out to cup his cheek, his palms resting neatly on your waist, gripping your dress tightly, wishing to feel your natural skin against him.

The kisses quickly turn desperate, a plea in the form of a whine escaping your throat as Steve takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He lightly taps your exposed thigh, “Come on, pretty girl. Get on top of me.”

You turn to putty in his hands, following his exact orders as you swing your right leg over his body, straddling his lap. Both of your hands remain on either side of his face, his hands sliding lower, perching under the curves of your ass.

The desperation seeps from both of you, your teeth and tongues attacking each other’s necks like a dog in heat, leaving love marks on every inch you had access to.

Your hands explore underneath his shirt, feeling the sparse hairs of his happy trail tickle against your soft skin. Steve’s arms are already guiding yours, lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor behind you.

You can’t help but let your body take over from your mind, your hands roaming completely over his chest, feeling every muscle and curve he had to give. It was yours now. All yours.

Steve had taken his time tracing your thighs in his fingertips whilst you were divulging in his neck, ever so slowly pushing your dress upwards, bunched up against your waist.

“Can I? Will you let me, honey?” he asks, fingers sitting at the waistband of your panties.

“Do what you need to, baby,” you reply in a sultry tone, lips moving to his collarbone. However, as you soon found out, your lips wouldn’t be attached for much longer.

Steve didn’t even need much preparation. A quick slide up your slit, coating his fingers in your juices and he was slipping his middle and ring finger into your hole.

“Oh fuck, Steve,” you moan out, head falling back, eyes closing as you bask in the pleasure.

“Yeah, honey? Like the feeling of my fingers inside you?”

Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, leaving red marks as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Despite this being your first time together, it feels as if he knows your body inside and out, catching all the right spots to send you to Heaven, fingers moving at just the right pace, curling into the perfect spot.

“Uh huh. You’re so good at this, baby.”

Baby, baby, baby. He could listen to that pet name escape your mouth every single day, especially if it was being whimpered from your vocal chords. The exact throaty strangle he needed to hear.

There’s a sudden curl of his fingers that make you shiver, Steve chuckling as he teases, “Yeah? That the spot, honey? Got you figured out already?”

“Mhm, Jesus, babe.”

“You wanna cum on my fingers, is that it? Fall apart for me, honey?” he taunts, you trying your hardest not to rock back onto them, bringing yourself closer to your release.

“Not on— Fuck, not on your fingers, baby…” Your hand snakes down to the bump formed in his jeans, pressing your palm to it as Steve lets out a groan.

“Oh, you wanna cum on my cock, is that it, honey? Wanna ride me?”

You nod ferociously, “Yeah, yeah. Wanna cum on your fat cock.”

Steve pulls his fingers out of you in an instant, you leaning down to un-do his belt, him shifting the material down his legs along with his boxers.

Your statement about his cock being fat was apparently no lie. His dick hit his stomach, slightly curved to the right, cut, and had to be around 6 inches, a girth of over 5.

You had to contain yourself from drooling, grabbing his dick in your hand and rubbing it against your soaking pussy.

The mere touch of your hand around him had him containing a moan, watching in delight as you lined yourself up above him.

“You good?” you ask him, making sure he’s on the same line of thought as you. This was all so sudden after all, you had to make sure.

“Better than ever, babe.”

You took that as your cue to sink down onto his cock, moans filling the air as Steve gripped onto your ass tighter, ready to guide you if you needed.

“Can I move? Please let me move, Steve. It’s okay, I’m good.”

“Take it away, honey. You can call the shots here.”

“Okay…” you whisper as you lift yourself up, before slamming back down, Steve letting out a choked moan. Soon enough, you begin to find a steady rhythm, your wetness allowing for a ‘slosh’ sound to fill the atmosphere every single time you lowered yourself. With Steve’s balls hitting your ass, it’s like you transcended into Heaven. Why did you ever have meaningless hook-ups when it feels this good with a man who loves you?

Not giving as much as he’d liked earlier, his teeth attack your neck again, pulling and tugging on the skin before soothing it with his warm tongue. His hands help guide you up and down, him trying his hardest not to thrust his hips up into yours. He let you be in control here, and he wasn’t going to take over that unless he needed to.

Your hands come to cup the back of his head, eyes closed as your practically squished up against his face, letting him lean into your chest, feeling his lips press tender kisses between your breasts.

“Ah, ah, ah” is all that can escape your mouth. You’re too far gone at this point. You didn’t even realise the pace of your hips were slowing until Steve’s grunts increased and his cock was hitting a spot so far back that you didn’t know it existed. But, all that you cared is it felt good. Really good.

You could feel the knot begin to tighten in the pit of your stomach, even Steve’s thrusts becoming sloppy, uneven, his cock twitching inside of you, ready to burst any second.

“Shit, gonna cum soon, babe. Where do you want it?”

“I’m close too, baby,” you pant, “I’m not on anything, so my stomach, please.”

“Gonna hold off for you, honey. Wanna feel you tighten around me. Wanna feel you strangle my cock. Can you do that for me? Strangle my cock?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, basically becoming limp in his arms as he continues to pound up into you, your release building and building, before the tide quickly spills over.

“Shit, you’re so tight, honey. Such a good girl for me, fuck.”

Steve is struggling to hold off. The loud noises you are moaning directly into his ear, combined with the tightening of your walls around his cock has him gripping your ass for dear life.

As soon as your moans begin to settle, he quickly pulls out of you, beating his cock until his head is thrown back, four spurts of his cum landing onto your stomach, the rest pooling around his hand and falling onto his happy trail.

You’re sat on his thigh, head leaning against his shoulder as you both pant, his hands now tracing circles on either side of your waist, trying to catch your breaths and enter your post-orgasm hazes.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Steve lets out, lifting your chin so he can lean the side of his face against yours, a sloppy kiss being pressed to your cheek. “I love you so much, and I know that’s really soon, so don’t feel pressured to say it back, but… I just needed to say it again.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, “I get it. It is a lot and I’ll say it in due time, okay? And hey… you’re pretty fucking amazing too. But…”

Steve begins to panic at that, but your next words just make the two of you laugh, “The feeling of your cum drying on my stomach is not as pleasant, I’m afraid.”

Holding onto your hips, he stands up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bathroom to clean you up. “Don’t worry honey, I got you. You just relax for me whilst I get you cleaned up.”

“M’kay… Thank you… for everything.”

He smiles at you, wiping the cum from your stomach with some toilet paper before throwing it in the trash can. He looks back at you, admiring your blissed out state. Your make-up was ruined, hair astray, but you never looked more beautiful to him.

He holds your chin as you slot your lips together once again, him mumbling, “’Course beautiful girl. You deserve it, ‘kay? Now… Tina won’t mind us sleeping in here, right?”

You shake your head, “Should be fine, baby. A sleep sounds good right now.”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, lifting you up into his arms from where you were perched on the toilet seat, carrying you back to the bed and tucking you in, before climbing in next to you.

He wraps his arm around your waist, dragging you closer to him as he presses one final kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight, honey.”

“Night, baby.”

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[flowerfan2]

Steve doesn’t talk about his nightmares.  He assumes they all get them, it’s clearly just something you have to accept after going through the shit that they’ve gone through.  He deals with it, like he deals with everything.

One night he wakes from a nightmare and there’s someone in his room, and he’s frozen and he’s terrified and he can’t reach his bat.  He feels like his chest is about to explode until a second later when the figure moves in front of the window, hands held up in front of him and eyes wide with concern.

“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice scraping out of his body.  “What – what are you doing here?”

Eddie cocks his head.  “Many, many vodka shots, couldn’t drive home, crashed on your couch, etc. etc.  You don’t remember?”

Steve does, now, the sound of Eddie’s voice bringing reality back, and he nods.  “Yeah, uh, so many vodka shots.  But…?” he trails off, gesturing to his bedroom.  

“I heard you.”  Eddie shrugs, then climbs onto the bed like it’s no big deal, shoving aside the messy blankets and sitting cross-legged next to Steve.  For a moment he’s backlit by the light outside, his curls a frizzy halo.  “Nightmares suck.  You okay?”

Steve sucks in a long breath and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face with a shaking hand.  “Uh, sure.”  Eddie doesn’t look convinced.  He heard him.  “What, um, what did I say?”

Because sometimes the dreams are about things that actually happened, like him and his friends being attacked by monsters, and sometimes they’re about things that didn’t actually happen but almost did, like Eddie and Max dying.  Sometimes they’re about brand-new horrors that he hasn’t even experienced yet.  His mind is impressive that way.

“You just screamed a lot.”  Eddie holds his gaze, and Steve feels sick to his stomach.  Probably explains why he wakes up with his throat hurting so often.  Benefits of an empty house.

Eddie shifts, all limbs, and lays down on his side, head propped on one hand.  Steve’s plaid comforter is pushed down by his feet, and Eddie tucks his bare toes underneath it. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Steve fights the urge to bury his face in his pillow.  “I can’t.”

Eddie accepts this and rolls to his back, hands clasped over his chest briefly until they start waving around as he speaks.  “I get nightmares all the time.  Always have.  Used to be they were about regular little kid stuff, then all the normal high school shit – showing up somewhere without your clothes on, whatever.  Wayne was always real nice about it, didn’t make me feel embarrassed, just kind of sat with me or brought me water, you know.”  Eddie glances over to Steve’s bedside table where there’s already a glass of water, and he meets Steve’s eyes.

“No, I’m good,” Steve says, with a little snort.  “Do you, um, have different nightmares now?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Eddie says, turning back on his side to fully face Steve.  “I keep thinking they’ll be great material for song lyrics, or campaigns, once they stop scaring the living daylights out of me.  Worst ones are where I’m getting bitten over and over by those god damned demobats, man.  Fucking sharp-ass teeth, ripping me apart.  Hurts like hell, can’t believe how much it hurts.  And that thing where you wake up and still feel it, right, like the pain is real for a minute even though it’s just a dream?  Like a pain-echo?  God, I hate that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, and he takes in a deep breath and lets it out.  “It’s like that for me, too.  Really scary.”  He stretches, feeling some of the tension leave his body, and relaxes down into his pillow.  He no longer feels like he’s on a rollercoaster without a safety bar.  He’s not alone.  “Thanks.”

Eddie studies him, then reaches down and tugs on the sheet, eventually getting part of it untangled, and pulls it up over Steve’s legs.

Steve knows what’s going to happen next, but he suddenly can’t let it.  Without thinking too much about it, he reaches over and touches his hand to where Eddie’s lies between them on the bed.  “Would you stay?”

His heart is beating hard in his chest for a reason having nothing at all to do with nightmares, when Eddie twines his fingers together with Steve’s and nods, a shy smile tugging at his mouth.  “Yeah.”

[miss-bushido]

everything counts a little more than we think

Rating: Mature Tags: Drinking, drunk kissing, implied/referenced sex

Notes:

This fic was inspired by a tweet from @jquinnworld on Twitter: “thinking about “straight” steve who seemingly just Can’t stop kissing dudes when he gets drunk”. Title of the fic is from ‘Ada’ by The National

~*~*~*~

Whenever Steve gets drunk, he kisses boys. It’s well known among the teens and young adults of Hawkins, has been for the last two years. Put a shot of tequila or three in his hand, or one of those Long Island Iced teas, and very soon, you’re getting kissed by King Steve.

He still kisses girls, too, of course, but more often than not, you can find him on the couch or pressed up against a random guy in a corner, sloppily making out with them. It doesn’t matter the social clique: jocks, nerds, freaks, Goths, punks. Steve takes all comers (no pun intended).

His partners are left flushed and gasping. Hair mussed and lips pink and shiny. They are dazed and pleased in equal measure, the memory of getting kissed and pawed at by Steve Harrington not something they would ever forget. Or would ever want to.

Steve has a reputation as a good kisser for a reason. He’s soft when he needs to be, never uses teeth, knows when they need it hard and rough. When to use his tongue and when to back off. Sometimes he’ll be so into everything that he kisses down to the neck, sliding his hands everywhere to heighten everything.

Some people call him a slut, but Steve seems to lean into it. He laughs and jokes about it himself, masking the hurt he feels deep inside with another vodka shot (or four), another boy (or five more) pulled into the dark corner of a basement.

Lots of the boys and girls in town explore their own bodies in the privacy of their bedrooms at night. Imagining it’s Steve’s hands and his body on them, the kisses deepening. Everything is sticky sweet and slow like honey with him in their imaginations, especially when these fantasies turn sexual, how they wished things would happen in real life.

And so it goes. Each party thrown: Steve drinks, and he kisses, and touches. And everyone is fine with it. All the guys are straight. Of course they are. Especially Steve. They’re all just having fun. Inhibitions dulled from the copious amounts of alcohol found in their parent’s liquor cabinets. They give one another knowing smiles in the hallways at school, but don’t talk about it otherwise. It’s a sexy dirty little open secret what goes on at the Hawkins High parties, and how Harrington can’t keep his mouth off of everyone.

Because of all these things, the night everyone saw Steve making out with Eddie Munson on the couch, no one batted an eye. It was only natural that The Freak would also get kissed by The King. No one said anything when Steve and Eddie went into a bedroom and shut the door, not coming out for hours.

Harrington must really be drunk to spend so much time with The Freak they comment, laughing into their red Solo cups before starting another round of beer pong.

It was only after several months that anyone put two and two together as to why Steve stopped drinking as much. Stopped kissing everyone he could get his hands on at the parties.

Everyone except Eddie Munson.

By the time everyone realized they hadn’t seen Steve at a party in over six months, he and Eddie had been quietly dating for the better part of that time.

And when Steve kissed Eddie, he was sober.

And it finally felt right to do it.

[andvys]

Everlong // part five 

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, mentions of depression & anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of ptsd, physical fight, the boys throw some punches..., slut shaming

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // Steve Harrington x fem!reader 

Summary: One night is all it took for everything to fall apart. Almost everything. 

Author’s note: @prettyboyeddiemunson thank you for helping me with some of the ideas for this part! <3 also, happy valentine’s day!

series masterlist 

-

As Steve is walking back and forth in his driveway, his mind keeps replaying the scene that happened in front of him mere minutes ago. He is both angry and hurt, his heart is hammering against his ribcage, his throat feels tight, angry tears fall from his eyes. He can’t believe that you kissed Eddie.

You love him, right? You don’t love Eddie, he is sure of that. You and Eddie are nothing but friends– he tries to convince himself of that but the kiss looked nothing like a kiss that was shared between two friends who played a drunken game of truth or dare.

You aren’t drunk and neither is Eddie, the kiss wasn’t just a kiss. The way you looked at him and the way you held onto him when you kissed him showed him that there is more than just friendship, no matter how many times he tries to deny it, it’s obvious.

He runs his fingers through his hair, he looks up into the dark sky and he takes a deep breath “man, what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he closes his eyes.

His mind takes him to the day at the diner, when you told him to let you go. He kissed you and you kissed him back but something felt off, he could tell that there was something on your mind or someone.

He thought about the movie night at his place. Him and Robin got suspicious of the marks and hickeys on his neck, Eddie looked at him with a smug face, like he did something that would anger him.

“You wouldn’t like the answer, Steve.”

His eyes open and he drops his hands, he lowers his head and his eyes fall on his car, suddenly it all begins to make sense.

Hot rage shoots through him, he clenches his hands into fist and huffs in anger.

“I can go on dates and hook up with other people too, right?”

You asked him to let you go, so you could move on. You asked him if he would be okay with you going on dates with other people, not because you wanted to find someone else but because you already found someone; Eddie.

Of course he noticed that you have gotten closer but he never questioned it. You and Eddie have always been friends but you weren’t close until recently.

He never questioned why both you and Eddie started to cancel plans with him, he never questioned why you suddenly always drive home with Eddie instead of him after you all hang out, he never questioned the looks that Eddie gives you, he never questioned the subtle touches between the two of you but now he questions it all.

Steve feels betrayed and cheated on. You promised him that you would wait for him, you promised him that you wouldn’t move on and yet you already did, with his best friend out of all people. And Eddie? He knows how he feels about you and yet he had no problem betraying his best friend like this.

“They always sat in history class together and he always stared at her with this look in his eyes and now look at them, that’s so romantic!”

Eddie has been pining after you for so long already. While he listened to Steve talking about you, he had spent time thinking about you himself. He always knew that Steve wanted you and yet that didn’t stop him from going after you, it didn’t stop him from trying to steal you away from him.

He storms back inside the house, the loud music suddenly hurting his head and all the people make him angry, the smell of vodka stings in his nose. He pushes past a few people and goes back into the room you have all been in but he finds it empty.

He slams his fist into the doorframe and steps back into the hallway.

He goes through every room, trying to find you and Eddie, the more time passes, the angrier he gets. A part of him feels nervous that he might find you and Eddie in one of the guest rooms or even worse, what if he finds you fucking in his bedroom? The thought leaves him seething.

But he doesn’t find you in his bedroom, he finds you and Eddie in the kitchen, he freezes as he walks in and for a moment, he does nothing but stare at the two of you.

You are sitting on the kitchen counter, Eddie is standing between your legs, his hands on your waist, his face buried in your neck as he presses kisses to your skin. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your eyes are closed as you giggle.  

Steve’s heart drops to his stomach, his brows furrow and his eyes burn with tears.

“Eddie,” you giggle, moving your hands to his face, you cup his cheeks and pull him away from your neck “that tickles,” you mumble. Staring into his eyes, you smile as you pull him towards you “kiss me.”

“Gladly,” Eddie says before he smashes his lips against yours.

You moan against his lips and wrap your legs around his waist as you deepen the kiss.

Yeah, this is definitely nothing new. You and Eddie have kissed before and as he thinks of how flustered you looked at the garage yesterday, he knows that you have done more than just kissing.

His jaw clenches in anger and he feels the urge to push Eddie away from you and hit him.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak up, Robin stumbles in, through the living room “hey, lovebirds!”

You and Eddie pull away from each other and stare at your friend with shy looks on your faces.

“As cute as this is, I gotta steal y/n,” she grins, winking at Eddie who grows flustered. She grabs your hand, trying to pull you away from Eddie but he tightens his arms around your waist “nope, get your own girl, this one is mine.”

Both you and Robin burst into a fit of giggles.

“I wanna dance with her!” Robin exclaims, trying to push Eddie off of you.

He groans and rolls his eyes playfully “okay, fine.”

You smile at him and ruffle his hair as you press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere without me!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie smirks as he takes your hand, raising it to his lips, he kisses the top of your hand “I’ll wait for my princess.”

You giggle and Robin rolls her eyes “oh my god,” she mumbles as she pulls you away from Eddie and out of the kitchen.

Eddie looks at you like some lovesick puppy, a smile lingers on his face even after you’re gone. He looks deep in thought, a blush is coating his cheeks.

“What the fuck, Munson?”

Eddie’s smile falls and he turns around, eyes locking with Steve’s angry ones.

Steve walks closer to him, his fists are clenched and he looks like he is ready to fight him.

“What was that?”

Eddie shrugs, “what was what?”

He can see the rage in his best friend’s eyes and it makes him angry.

“The kiss back there, this kiss right now?” he asks, “explain that to me, why are you kissing my girl?”

A laugh leaves his lips and Eddie shakes his head “your girl?” he scoffs, “she is not your girl, man.”

“You know how I feel about her.”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at his best friend with a pissed off look on his face. If Steve just knew how Eddie feels about you, how he always felt about you.

“And you know damn well how she feels about me,” Steve says angrily.

“Are you fucking serious, Harrington? You say that now while you got some other girl here?” Eddie scoffs, shaking his head “tell me, how do you feel about y/n, when you take other girls out on dates or when you fuck other girls, hmm?” he asks.

Steve’s words only ever leave him with so much anger inside of him, his ignorance never fails to surprise him.

“What does that have to do with anything? You are touching something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and a humorless laugh falls from his lips, “something?” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath “man, you are my best friend but you’re a real fucking asshole.”

“You’re one to talk, I told you how I feel about her, I told you that she is the girl I want to marry and yet you go behind my back and try to take her from me?” he asks as he inches closer to Eddie.

Eddie clenches his jaw, he uncrosses his arms and narrows his eyes as he looks into Steve’s darkened eyes “she doesn’t belong to you, I’m not taking her away from you,” he mumbles, “she’s not a fucking thing that you own, that you can just play with whenever you feel like it. You brought another girl here tonight, you touch her and kiss her in front of the girl that you call ‘yours’ and expect her to what– be okay with it? But the moment she kisses someone else, you react like this?” he scoffs as he points to his angry face and the glassy eyes “you expect her to be the ‘pretty little thing’ that waits around for you until you’re done fucking every girl in this shitty town but oh wait– she is supposed to be the cute little wallflower who waits for the asshole to swoop her up into her arms. Man, grow the fuck up. You don’t deserve her and you never fucking did.”

Steve looks into his eyes and right now he feels nothing but hate for the man he considers his best friend.

“And you do?” he mutters.

Eddie shrugs “I don’t know but I sure as hell know that I’d take better care of her than you ever could. Unlike you, I only ever had eyes for her.”

“So do I,” Steve mumbles, glaring at him.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, “yeah sure, man.”

Not feeling like talking to him anymore, Eddie pats his shoulder and turns to walk out of the kitchen, something that only leads Steve to get more angry.

“This is why you got so mad at me, right? Because you want her, because you want her to move on with you. Well guess what? That won’t happen.”

Eddie halts in his tracks, he stares at the ground, anger rising up in him.

“She loves me, Eddie. No matter what. You can take her out on dates, you can kiss her all you want but that’s all, I will always be the one that she will love.”

Eddie’s eyes darken and his face settles into an angry frown, his knuckles itch and it feels like the only thing that will relieve this tickling feeling is a punch to Steve’s face.

“Yeah well, guess what?”

Eddie doesn’t mean to bring this up, for all he knows, you still want to keep this a secret but with the way you kissed him in front of all your friends and even now, where anyone could have walked in, he guesses that you no longer care about anyone finding out about your little ‘affair’.

He turns around to look at his best friend.

“She begged me to make her forget about her feelings for you, so it doesn’t really seem like she wants to love you any longer, Steve,” he mocks him, tilting his head.

His eyes flash with hurt and he draws back a little “w-what?”

“She doesn’t want to love you anymore, she said so herself and guess who’s fault that is? Yours, man. It’s all your fault, you pushed her away from you, you kept breaking her heart over and over again and even if she does give you a chance, things will never be the way she wanted them to be because you ruined it, you broke her trust, you showed her that she is not good enough for you, can you imagine how much she was hurting?”

Steve opens his mouth to say something but Eddie cuts him off.

“No you can’t because you don’t care. If you did, you wouldn’t have done all of this, you wouldn’t have presented your girls to her, you wouldn’t kiss her and then tell her that you aren’t ready for a relationship because you keep wanting to have ‘fun’ and you definitely wouldn’t think it’s okay to hurt her, you can’t make it up to her, man. It’s too late, even if she’s gonna choose you in the end, a part of her is broken because of you.”

Steve shakes his head and he huffs angrily, he wants to say something, anything but he doesn’t. He looks down, trying to blink the angry tears away. In his head, he didn’t do anything wrong, it’s still Eddie who is at fault for this mess.

“Did you fuck her?”

Eddie needs a second to react, he blinks and stares at Steve with a dumbfounded expression. He really thought that he had changed, especially after everything he had gone through but a part of him was still King Steve.

“Are you fucking serious? That’s all you care about?” Eddie asks, the volume of his voice makes the other man flinch a little.

“I just asked you a question, Eddie,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Why do you care? Do you expect her to stay a virgin for you?”

Steve doesn’t answer his question, he just stares at him as though he still waits for the answer.

Eddie scoffs and throws his hands up “you know I really thought that you have changed but you are still a fucking asshole, King Steve.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for a reaction or a word from him, he turns away and walks out of the kitchen.

Steve swallows harshly, he grips onto the edge of the kitchen counter and closes his eyes. Anger and jealousy is deep in his bones and he feels like crying and screaming.

He is mad at Eddie and he is mad at you for hurting him like this.

He sighs and reaches for the whiskey bottle on the counter, he takes it and storms out of the kitchen.

-

Dancing with Robin quickly turned into dancing by yourself once Nancy was back from wherever she went when Robin came looking for you. For once, you have thought that she wanted to spend time with you because she just felt like it but of course she only came looking for you once her new best friend was nowhere to be found.

Robin is holding Nancy’s hands, they both laugh as they dance to the music. You watch the smile on Robin’s face as she leans in to whisper in her ear, something that makes the other girl giggle as she holds her hand in front of her mouth.

You don’t know why but seeing your best friend replace you so easily with someone else hurts you more than Steve picking other girls over you. You never thought that Robin would do this, you never thought that she would put someone else before you. You used to be inseparable and no one could come in between the two of you but things changed, they always did.

If your best friend, the one that you grew up with, the one that you did everything with, the one you shared all your secrets with, the one you almost died for could do this to you, then what can you expect from other people?

It’s always only a matter of time until someone better comes along and takes the spot that you only owned because you were the best option at that time.

You should just turn around and walk away but you need to talk to her, you need to know why she replaced you with Nancy out of all people– it’s not that you don’t like her, you do but she seems to get everything that you want.

First it was Steve and now it’s Robin.

You walk towards them and grab Robin’s hand, trying to get her attention. She turns to look at you, the smile on her face remains.

“Can we talk?”

“Huh?” she shouts over the music as she leans towards you.

“Can we talk, please?”

She nods and is about to pull Nancy along but you stop her, putting your hand on her shoulder “alone,” you say as you avoid looking at the other girl.

Her brows furrow and she turns towards Nancy “I–”

“It’s okay! I wanted to check on Jonathan, anyway!” she says cheerfully before she lets go of Robin’s hand and walks away. You watch her leave, walking towards Jonathan who talks to Eddie and Argyle.

Your eyes meet Eddie’s briefly and you give him a small smile before you turn back to Robin.

“Let’s go,” she says as she keeps holding your hand while she guides you out of the living room, pushing past a group of guys, she opens the front door and leads you out. You let go of her hand to cross your arms over your chest as you feel the cold wind on your bare arms.

You can hear the wind blowing through the trees and thunder rumbling somewhere far away.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Robin asks.

As you stand in front of her and look into her blue eyes, you can’t help but feel nervous. You never liked any type of confrontations, especially not with people that you care about.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest and you dig your nails into your palms as you think of what to ask first. She stares at you, waiting for you to speak up. She looks impatient and maybe even a little annoyed.

“Are you.. mad at me?” you ask slowly.

She frowns and tilts her head, “why would I be mad at you?”

“Well, we barely talked to each other since you came back and the summer is almost over. You are leaving soon and we haven’t hung out once together,” you shrug.

She furrows her brows and looks at you with a dumbfounded expression on her face, “what do you mean? We hang out all the time!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up, “we just danced together.”

“Yeah, you and Nancy danced together,” you say, huffing in annoyance “we only ever hang out when the whole group is together and even then, you hang out with Nancy and barely talk to me– hell, half of the time you act like I’m not even there and when you do it’s because Nancy is too busy with her boyfriend or whatever. Also, don’t forget about all the times that you have ditched me and canceled our plans just to hang out with her!”

You take a deep breath and look away as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

Guilt crosses her face and she sighs, she didn’t mean to me to hurt you like this, she never wanted to hurt you but truth be told, Robin felt herself drifting away from you, she started to lose interest. There was nothing wrong with you or your friendship but she grew out of it. Maybe it was just a phase but she needed distance from you.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore then that’s fine but don’t do this to me, just talk to me!”

She can see the tears in your eyes that are about to spill any moment, your hands are shaking and she doesn’t know whether it’s from the cold or from your anxiety.

She blinks, licking her lips, she looks away for a moment, “I-I do want to be your friend, I just–” she pauses, she avoids looking into your eyes “things aren’t the same anymore since last year.”

“Since you went to college you mean?”

“No,” she whispers, looking down at her hands, she starts to fiddle with her rings “since what happened in the upside down,” she mumbles, “with Eddie, I mean.”

Your face twists into confusion as you stare at her “what do you mean?”

“You haven’t been the same since that night. You shut everyone out after that.”

You had nightmares, every single night you saw him dying in your arms and there was nothing you could do about it, every night you woke up drenched in sweat with a racing heart and the same fear that you felt that night you held his dying body in your arms. You had to remind yourself that he was okay, that he made it out alive. Sometimes, you even called him just to hear his voice and make sure that he was okay– you needed to hear him, even if just for a second.

For the first time in years, you could finally let your guard down, you could finally rest, knowing that the upside down was gone forever, you should have been celebrating it but instead all the trauma caught up with you. All the fights took a toll on you that you haven’t felt all these years until you were finally able to rest.

You lost a part of yourself in the upside down but who could blame you? Who can just walk out of this as though nothing happened?

But it wasn’t the fights and the monsters that broke you, it was Eddie’s pleading voice and the way his glassy eyes looked back at you as he held your hand so tightly “don’t let go, please, don’t let go, y/n.”

You were struggling. You didn’t sleep much, you didn’t eat, you lost interest in things that you used to love. And it took you a while to get better but eventually you did. No one knew how much you were struggling and it was better that way, you didn’t want them to know.

“That’s not true,” you mumble as you sigh in disappointment, letting your arms fall to your sides “I never shut anyone out. You shut me out when you found someone better.”

She is getting frustrated and you can see it. Her eyes flicker with guilt but also with anger.

“That’s not true–”

“Yes it is,” you cut her off “and that’s okay. I just want to know why it was so easy for you to replace me with her. I mean, we’ve been best friends since we were little, we’ve known each other for years and then you spent a week with Nancy Wheeler and suddenly you are inseparable and I don’t matter to you anymore?”

Robin sighs and runs her hand through her short hair, she hesitates and looks around.

“This isn’t even about me, is it?” she asks.

“What?”

“It’s about Nancy! You’re pissed because it’s her– because I know you wouldn’t care if it was Eddie, Jonathan or even Argyle that I was hanging out with. You’re just angry that it’s the girl who once took the ‘love of your life’ away from you!” she says, mocking you.

She knows how much you were hurting when Steve asked you out on a date, just to cancel it to hang out with Nancy instead, shortly before they started dating.

Your eyes widen and you take in a sharp breath.

“Have you once asked yourself why I don’t want to hang out with you anymore?” she asks, “all you ever do is complain and whine about Steve, it’s tiring and I’m sick of hearing you complain about a love that will never happen!”

You know that she’s drunk, her red rimmed eyes and the way she slurs her words make it obvious. You know that you should have waited until tomorrow to talk to her but at least she gave you the truth now.

You feel angry and hurt. Yes, you did complain about Steve but she also complained about Vicky and her other crushes.

“You got someone who cares about you. Eddie likes you, so don’t fuck it up by talking about Steve all the time or he’s gonna get sick of you as well–” she stops and her eyes widen.

You blink, raising your brows, you nod as you look down.

So she did get sick of you and your friendship.

Robin sighs, “shit, I’m sorry–”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself,” you shrug, acting like she didn’t break your heart.

“”I just– I just don’t think that we work out anymore. We aren’t the same people we used to be,” she mumbles, waiting for you to look up at her, “I still want to be your friend but–”

“You want distance, I get it,” you say, looking back at her, you notice the guilt in her eyes. She knows the damage she has caused and yet she will have no problem walking away from you and going back to her new best friend as though nothing ever happened.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

Robin goes back inside after you lie and reassure her that you are okay, that everything between the two of you is okay. You still stand in the same spot as you did before she left. Tears well up in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, you close your eyes and take deep breaths.

The only sounds filling the silence is the music from inside the house and the wind blowing through the trees.

“Sucks doesn’t it? Being replaced.”

You open your eyes and turn around, you find Steve walking towards you. A half empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his hair a mess and his eyes glassy and red as though he had been crying for the past hour.

You blink your tears away and walk towards him as you eye him up and down.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask.

The last time you saw him like this was when Nancy broke up with him. He came to your house late at night, drunk and crying. You held him and let him sleep in your arms.

You reach for the bottle and take it away from him “did you drink this all by yourself?” you gasp, staring at him wide eyed.

He ignores your question, a look of betrayal rests in his eyes “why did you do that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you kiss Eddie?”

Oh.

You did notice the empty spot next to his date after you pulled away from the kiss but you honestly couldn’t care less, you were too focused on Eddie and the smile on his face after you kissed him in front of your friends.

“Because I wanted to.”

He furrows his brows and blinks as a new wave of tears well up in his eyes “but I thought you love me.”

Do you? Do you still love him after everything that happened?

“Is that why you’re drinking?” you ask, raising the bottle, “because I kissed Eddie?”

“That’s why you asked me if you could go on dates with other people right? If you could hook up with other people? You wanted him!”

You don’t know where the rush of anger comes from but you can’t stop yourself from snapping at him “oh my god, you are such a hypocrite, Steve!”

He draws back, eyebrows snapping up in surprise “excuse me?”

“You go on dates, you fuck other girls all the damn time and claim to love me even though you do all of this. But the moment I kiss someone else, you act like I fucking cheated on you!”  

“That’s because you did!”

A surprised laugh falls from your lips.

“This is a joke right?”

His face remains serious and he gives you a look that says ‘do I look like I’m joking?’

You sigh and shake your head at his behavior “do I have to remind you that we aren’t dating?”

He clenches his jaw and takes a step towards you “but you are mine.”

“No, I’m fucking not.”

He huffs, raising his hand, he runs it through his messy hair and looks up into the dark sky. The anger in your voice and in your eyes throws him off. You have never acted this way towards him, you have never once snapped at him before but you have obviously changed and he wonders if your feelings have changed as well.

It’s all because of Eddie.

The thought of you and him together makes him blind with rage. Everything was fine until he pushed his way in between the two of you.

“I’m not yours and I have never been yours, Steve. You didn’t want me, remember? So don’t stand here and pretend to be my boyfriend when you’re not!”

Steve can’t believe you, he looks into your eyes and right now he sees nothing but resentment. Gone is the love and the softness in your eyes.

“We went through so much together and you are throwing it all away for.. him?”

You laugh and shake your head “I am not the one who threw it all away, you did.”

“I have loved you ever since we were little kids, Steve!” you exclaim as you feel the frustration building up in you, the anger and the pain all catching up with you as you look into his glassy eyes.

“I have waited for you, for years and years but look what you did to us! You choose other people over me all the goddamn time. You broke my heart, you played with me and my feelings!”

It all goes over his head, there is only one thing that he cares about.

“Did you fuck him?”

Your shoulders slump and you roll your eyes as you lean your head back for a moment before you meet his eyes again.

You are done, you’ve had enough.

“Yeah. I’ve been fucking him this whole summer!”

His eyes went wide and his mouth twisted into a frown. His heart dropped and for a moment he just froze.

“He fucked me in his trailer, in my apartment, in your bathroom, he even fucked me on your car yesterday and I fucking loved it, every second of it,” you spit those words out and they lift the heavy weight off of your shoulders. The hurt look on his face does nothing to you in that moment– if anything, you feel good knowing that he finally gets to feel what you felt all these years.

Steve blinks, he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or to scream but the moment that Eddie walks out of the house and comes looking for you, rage and anger take over him and he looks back down at you.

You, the girl who swore to wait for him, the girl who swore to love him no matter what hurt him in ways he can’t even begin to describe.

He can’t stop himself, everything inside of him screams at him not to say those words and yet they fall from his lips anyway.

“You’re a desperate slut.”

Your lips part in surprise and you feel as though you have been punched, you freeze and stare at him in shock.

Steve regrets his words right away, his face falls and his heart jumps as he realizes what he just did.

Eddie’s eyes widen as well, his chest burns with anger and he clenches his hands into fists as he walks towards Steve “what did you just say to her?”

You step away, watching him through your blurry vision, your hands begin to shake and your heart starts racing as you see the anger on his face, “Eddie–” you gasp as he throws a punch at Steve’s face, who stumbles back in surprise, falling to the ground, he grunts in pain.

Eddie steps forward and leans down, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, “you wanna say that again, asshole?”

You watch them in shock, you want to jump forward and pull Eddie away. You don’t want them to fight because of you.

Steve looks up at his friend, turning his head, he spits the blood out “fuck you, Eddie,” he mumbles, taking him off guard, he throws a punch at him causing him to stumble back in surprise.

“Eddie!” you gasp, you finally drop the bottle you were holding this whole time and rush towards him, wincing as Steve throws another punch at him. This time it’s Eddie who falls to the ground and your heart instantly stops as you get reminded of the night in the upside down. When he was lying on the ground, struggling to breath, struggling against the pain in his body.  

You run towards Steve, stepping in between him and Eddie before he can throw another punch, you place your hands on his chest and push him away “don’t touch him!”

His eyes flicker with hurt as he looks down at you “y/n–”

“Stop, just stop!” you snap at him.

He watches the tears fall from your eyes, your bottom lip is quivering and you look at him with so much hatred in your eyes.

You step away from him and turn towards Eddie, who sits up, holding his hand up to his nose.

“Eddie,” you whisper as you kneel in front of him, pushing his hands away, you grab his face and look at him in worry.

Eddie can feel your shaky hands, you sniffle, trying not to cry. His eyes soften as he hears you say “I’m sorry.”

Steve watches the two of you, he breathes heavily. His anger won’t disappear, if anything, it keeps getting worse. He wants to hit Eddie, again and again. His feet carry him forward, he sees red, his hands are shaking from how tightly he clenches them. He can’t stand the sight of you taking care of Eddie that way, looking at him as though you love him, as though you only ever loved him while you turn your back to the one you always claimed to love.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

You look over Eddie’s shoulder, Argyle and Jonathan make their way towards you, confused and worried expressions on both their faces as they look between you three.

Eddie grabs your hand as you both get up, you hold his tightly, scared that he and Steve will throw more punches at each other, you put your hand on his chest, looking into his eyes “please, can we just go?” you whisper to him.

The action and looks you share with Eddie seem to anger Steve even more, he steps forward, wanting to pull you away from Eddie but Argyle steps in before he can touch you.

“That’s enough big guy,” Argyle mumbles as both him and Jonathan stop next to you and Eddie.

Jonathan eyes him warily. Steve stares at Eddie the way he once stared at him before they had gotten into a fight.

“Let’s go inside,” Argyle says to Steve as he slowly approaches him.

Steve shakes his head.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, pushing Argyle’s hand off his shoulder before he walks towards you again but this time it’s Jonathan pushing him back.

“Don’t touch me, Byers! Don’t you fucking touch me!” he yells at Jonathan who tells him to calm down. 

You have never seen Steve this angry and violent but it scares you.

“Let’s go, Eddie. Please,” you whisper, tugging at his hand.

His eyes meet yours and they soften when he sees the scared look in your eyes.

“Please.”

He nods.

“Okay.”

If you had known what this night would turn into, you would have never come to this party.

Friendships broke tonight.

Not just yours and Robin’s but also Steve’s and Eddie’s.

Guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Steve looked at Eddie with so much hatred in his eyes, he didn’t even hesitate to hurt him back and it’s all your fault.

You never wanted this to happen.

Tears roll down your cheeks as you walk into your apartment, keeping your head low so that Eddie won’t see you cry but he isn’t stupid, you kept staring out the window on the drive home, not looking at him even when he asked you questions. He heard your quiet sniffles and you refused to let him see you cry.

He doesn’t know whether it’s because of what Steve called you or because of something that happened before Eddie found the two of you arguing in the empty driveway.

You are crying because of the argument with both Steve and Robin but you are also crying because of all the flashbacks and pictures in your head after you Steve punched Eddie hard enough for him to fall to the ground as blood began to drip down nose and lips.

“Wait for me in the bedroom? I’ll be right there,” you say quietly as you walk into the bathroom and shut the door.

Eddie nods to himself, he turns to look at himself in the mirror, you wiped all the blood away when you got into his van, the spot under his eye is aching though and he already knows that he will spot an ugly bruise.

He hears your cries in the bathroom, his heart breaks at the sound. He turns around and stares at the door, he can’t just walk away and wait while you struggle all by yourself so he walks in, despite you telling him to wait for you.

His eyes soften at the sight of you sitting on your bathroom floor, holding your knees against your chest as you cry.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers softly, he kneels down in front of you and cradles your face in his hands “sweetheart,” he sighs.

Your cheeks are wet, your eyes are all red and puffy already, the mascara runs down your cheeks. Your bottom lip is trembling. You look into his eyes and put your hand over his.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whisper shakily.

Eddie furrows his brows, shaking his head “what are you sorry for?”

“Everything.”

Your shoulders begin to shake and you shut your eyes tightly, you press your lips together as you try to keep yourself from sobbing.

“Oh, y/n.”

He sits down next to you and grabs your waist, pulling you on top of his lap so he can hold you. You lay your head on his chest and wrap your arms around him. Eddie holds you tightly, running his fingers through your hair.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

His heart breaks at the sound of your cries, he does his best to calm you down but he figures this is exactly what you needed. Crying it out.

You rarely show your vulnerable side, you never cry in front of other people, you keep it all to yourself, you are the one who stays strong for others but you can’t do it tonight. It’s all too much and Eddie can tell that you are not just crying because of what happened at the party, it’s all the things that came catching up to you.

You breathe his scent in, you focus on his voice and on his heartbeat. His touch makes you feel warm and comforted. Being with him feels like being at your favorite place, where the sun shines down on your skin and you can let go of your pain and forget about all the things that cause trouble to your mind. With him, you feel free, you feel light and safe. You can let yourself fall knowing that he will be there to catch you.

“I got you, Sweetheart,” he whispers.

You move your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, hugging him tighter than before. He rubs your back and leans down to kiss your shoulder.

Eddie closes his eyes as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your sweet scent in. Your cries quiet down after a while but you remain cuddled against him, not letting go just yet. He can feel your hand in his hair, brushing through his curls.

You whisper something under your breath but your words are incoherent and he can’t make out what you said but he feels surprised to feel you clinging to him the way you do.

He felt surprised when you kissed him earlier. He felt surprised when you jumped in front of him when Steve went to attack him for a second time.

He doesn’t know what to think or what to feel but tonight, you chose him. Not Steve. 

Tonight you are his. 

He pushes all the anger and all the pain away, wanting to focus on just you. 

“Eddie,” you whisper as you lean back to look at him, raising your hands towards his face, you lay your palm against his cheek and look into his pretty chocolate brown eyes.

“Yes?”

He brushes your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ears.

“I’m sorry that he hurt you,” you whisper as you stare at him with your glassy eyes. Resting your thumb on his cheekbone, you eye his face, making sure that he has no other injuries.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is, he wouldn’t have done this–”

“He’s a hypocrite. You aren’t his girlfriend and you and I can do whatever the hell we want, okay?” he mumbles, giving you a pointed look.

“But he hurt you,” you mutter, moving your thumb down to his lips, “I never wanted this.”

“I know you didn’t.”

For a moment, you are quiet as you look into his eyes and you realize just how lucky you are to have him here with you.

“I was so scared,” you whisper.

Eddie doesn’t know that you are talking about a different night.

“Nothing happened, I’m okay, you hear me?” he whispers as he leans in, kissing your lips “I’m okay, I’m here.”

You nod, putting your hands over his.

“Now let me clean you up, you’re a mess, baby,” he smiles a little as he pinches your cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He expects you to get up but instead you lay your head on his shoulder again causing him to chuckle.

“You want some cuddles?” he smiles.

You nod against him, “yes,” you place your palm on his chest, looking up at him “will you stay with me?”

“Always.”

He smiles down at you, you lean up a little and press your lips against his. He kisses you back right away, cradling your face as he closes his eyes. The kiss is sweet, soft and gentle and yet you feel every single emotion he pours into the kiss.

Your heart flutters just the way his does. Your kisses and your touches always feel so magical to him, like they heal him and give him strength, they make him feel your love.

You stay in his arms for a few more minutes before you get up, to clean your face, you look into the mirror and sigh as you see the mascara streaks on your face “I look horrible.” 

Eddie chuckles as you pout, “nah, you’re adorable.” 

You smile as you stare back at him through the mirror, you reach for your cleanser and turn the water on. Eddie remains standing behind you, he gathers your hair, pulling it back, he grabs one of the scrunchies on the counter and puts your hair into a ponytail before he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, he watches you with a small smile on his face. 

He is upset by what happened tonight. Steve hurt him without a moment of hesitation, he looked at him like he hated him and Eddie can’t deny and say it doesn’t hurt because it does. He is his best friend but he also hurt you and that is not okay. 

“Let me,” Eddie says as he reaches for the moisturizer in your hand. 

“Okay,” you whisper, smiling as you watch him place it back on the counter, he washes his hands quickly before he grabs the moisturizer again, opening the little container, he gathers some of the cream and puts it on your skin, tapping your nose, playfully. 

He looks concentrated, his brows are furrowed, his tongue pokes out between his lips as he applies the moisturizer. 

Eddie is beautiful, everything about him is beautiful. 

You love his chocolate brown eyes and the way they look back at you with so much softness in them. 

You love his plump lips and the way they feel against yours when you kiss. 

You love the way his hands always feel so gentle on your skin. 

You love the way his hair shines so prettily in the sun and even the way they tickle you whenever he buries his face in your neck. 

You love his voice, you love hearing it in the morning and late at night when he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. 

You love his laugh and the way it makes your heart flutter. You love the way he makes you feel. 

Your face grows serious as you into his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat as you heart starts beating strongly in your chest. 

You always tried to make sense of your fear and of the pain that you have felt when he almost died in your arms and when you woke from your nightmares every night after that moment but you never understood, not until now. 

“Wanna have some of the leftover chocolate cake?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You nod, smiling. 

“Come on then.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you lean in and kiss his cheek, he places his hands on your waist. 

“I adore you,” you whisper. 

He smiles, “yeah?”

You nod. 

“I adore you, Sweetheart.”  

And I love you. You both think to yourselves. 

-

@prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @lnnlove @corrodedcorpses @mysticmunson @strangermarvelss @yogizzz @metalhead-succubus @aftermidnightwriting @somethingvicked @shelbycillian @lorielulu7 @munsonsuccubus @tlclick73 @manda-panda-monium @hey-rowan @sherrylyn628 @luna-munson83 @qnsfwthoughts @mxcheese @e0509 @eddielives1986 @tvandfanfic @miarosso @m4nulup1n @likeficsinthewnd @hazydespair @ogoc-19 @mopeymopeymouse @clilxlx @yssnxiw @sweet-villain @soanxiousimcalm @olrjmarvete @personofyou @thewritersoldier1918 @levylovegood @elvendria @honeyglee @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @aysheashea @littletittygothgirl @freeshavocadoooo @sllooney @gracieluvthemoon @martaboj92 @let-love-bleeds-red @kissylovie @sheisjoeschateau @big-ope-vibes @i-me-mine @turtlehyung @corrcdedcoffin @spookycreepycookie @freezaz123 @boinkybarness @babyloutattoo89

[munsonhoneybaby]

i’d love to see a drabble or a blurb with eddie and the fishnets👀

yet again this one got away from me lol so it's a little long for a drabble but i hope you enjoy !!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering

A/N: takes place in the too much in common realm but isn't a part of the main series !! song is witchy woman by the eagles <3

In a town like Hawkins, there weren’t many occasions that fishnets were suitable for. So, by the time you did eventually wear them again, you had pretty much forgotten about the ‘promise’ you’d made Eddie. He hadn’t, of course.

“Are you sure we have to go, baby?” His fingers clawed at your hips through the thin black dress you wore. “C’mon, let’s just stay in tonight.”

“I didn’t just spend two hours getting ready to ‘stay in’. Plus, I’m excited. I like getting out of town and doing things every now and then, and Steve said this place is supposed to be really cool.” You eyed him in the mirror as you swiped on some lip gloss. The red of his button-up was so deep it was almost black, tucked into his black jeans with the top three buttons undone. Silver chains hung from his belt loops, matching his rings and the barbell in his tongue that had just recently finished healing. Another silver chain sat around his wrist which was soon joined by a hair tie, his boots thudding heavily– even on the carpet– when he grabbed it from your nightstand.

“I don’t know how much of a club person I’m gonna be,” He warned you. “I don’t really dance.”

“Just because you don’t doesn’t mean you can’t,” You pointed out. “And you don’t really have to dance, I’m not expecting you to waltz. You just have to grind on me, and that I know you can do.”

He gave a conceding sigh. “Fine, I guess if it’s an excuse to dry hump you in public we can go.”

“Ever the romantic, Munson.”

The others were already ordering the first round when you got there, the bartender passing out shots until you reached the bar and Steve pushed two more toward you. “Took you guys long enough!” He called over the music.

“Can’t rush perfection, Harrington.” Grabbing the small glass, you passed the other one to Eddie. Knocking it back, you determined it was vodka and not tequila with a grateful nod to Robin. “Are we getting a table?”

“You two grab one, I wanna get another round!” Robin shouted back with enthusiasm.

Flashing her a thumbs up, you grabbed a hold of Eddie’s hand and ushered him toward a big, dimly lit corner booth. “There’s a lot ‘a people here,” He observed as you set your purse on the table.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Drawing him in with your arms around his neck, you hummed, “Just you ‘n me, as far as I’m concerned.”

He palmed at your ass through the silky black satin of your dress as he countered, “The things I’d do to you if it were just you ‘n me would get us arrested if I did them here, babe.”

“Alright, you guys can play grab-ass in a minute, we’re doing more shots!” Steve called as the three of them approached the table, all of them carrying at least one.

“No more for me, I’ve gotta take her home after all this.” Leaning over your shoulder, he prepared to push it back across the table to Steve but was stopped by your hand over his.

“Uh, excuse you. I can drink for two, thank you.” Holding his hands up in surrender, he raised his eyebrows, making a smile crack through your falsely offended expression. He didn’t blink as he watched you swallow down one shot after the other. A clear droplet escaped your mouth, rolling down your neck to disappear between the valley of your breasts and into your dress. He could so vividly imagine how it would taste to follow the intoxicating trail with his tongue.

His gaze was ripped from your chest by the snap of Steve’s fingers, who was giving him a knowing, playfully chastising look. “Could you keep it in your pants a little while longer, Munson?”

You were too engrossed in a conversation with Nancy to pay them any mind as he responded. “Shh, you’re gonna get me in trouble. And I’ll have you know, I have the patience of a saint,” He added unconvincingly.

That finally got your attention, making you let out a little snort. “Oh-kay, babe, if you say so.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just c’mon, I’m ready to dance!”

“You mean you’ve drank enough to now?” He scoffed as you dragged him away from the table.

“Yep!” The music vibrated through the floors as you led him through the half-crowded dance floor. You weaved through the various friends, couples, and parties until you found a comfortable gap. Your boyfriend just chuckled and shook his head.

Turning to face him, you let your arms settle loosely around his neck once again as you moved to the music. His hands squeezed at your waist before moving lower to knead at the small of your back. The two of you eyed each other lovingly, with you brushing a few unruly strands of hair back from his face as he admired the hazy halo the lights cast around you. Before you could think of something to say to excuse your silent drooling, the sound of the next song beginning distracted you. The soft, deep thrum of guitars and bass had the faintest excited gasp escaping your lips. “I love this song!”

raven hair and ruby lips

sparks fly from her fingertips

echoed voices in the night

she’s a restless spirit on an endless flight

His hands held you steady as you bowed back ever so slightly, head tilting as you swayed in his arms. You slowly began to wind your hips in time with the music, silently mumbling the chorus. Eddie smiled softly, humming along as he watched your eyes fall closed.

woo-hoo, witchy woman

see how high she flies

woo-hoo, witchy woman

she got the moon in her eye

He caught you by surprise when he took both of your hands, spinning you and bringing his arms over your head to cross around your waist. You giggled and squealed quietly, tilting your head to look over your shoulder at him as your back pressed to his chest. “See, Munson, you’ve got moves!”

“As long as I still don’t have t’a dust off my waltz, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” He promised.

 

she held me spellbound in the night

dancin’ shadows and firelight

crazy laughter in another room

and she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon

You could already feel him half-hard against you as you wound your hips more intently. Eddie’s fingers dragged up your fishnet-covered thighs, lifting the skirt of your dress dangerously high before moving to grab at your waist again. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy, baby. Know I love you so much, right?”

Head falling back against his chest, you gazed up at him with glossy eyes and a tipsy grin. “I love you too, Eds. Love you so much.” His hands wandered, rubbing over your sides and your stomach as his hips ground into you. Your own hand reached back to wind into his hair, curls growing frizzier in the warmth of the club. Goosebumps began to raise on your skin when he mouthed sloppily at your neck, teeth grazing a sensitive spot before lifting to tug at your earlobe. With the way the blood was rushing in his veins and his head was starting to swim, he may as well have been as drunk as you. The sweet smell of your perfume and the taste of your skin was still enough to make the room spin.

woo-hoo, witchy woman

see how high she flies

woo-hoo, witchy woman

she got the moon in her eye

Far be it from him to complain when you grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in the direction of the bathroom before the song could even reach its instrumental break. You had never been so grateful for a single-person restroom in your life. Eddie hissed and laughed when you let the door slam shut, fingers clawing at the buttons of his shirt as he reached around you to lock it.

You only managed to get two of the buttons undone before his hand covered yours, pressing it against his chest to stop you as he chuckled softly. “Baby, baby– not here.”

Huffing, you pouted up at him. “Then why’d you let me bring you in here?”

“Well, it wasn’t to strip naked in a public bathroom,” He confirmed. Urging you backward, he didn’t stop until your lower back met the sink counter. “I do seem to remember a promise a certain someone made me a couple months ago, though.”

“Eddie,” You whine. Clutching at his shirt, you tried to draw his body to yours completely as he stood between your legs. “I don’t remember, just touch me. I’ll do whatever you want me to later, but–”

“Oh, I’m gonna need that in writing, babe. Right now, though, you just have to lean back and spread your legs f’me. Okay, sweet girl?”

Nodding, you were already sighing in relief when his hands guided your thighs back toward your chest. He peeled your panties to the side from underneath your fishnets, and it wasn’t until you felt his tongue drag through the wetness he found there that you finally remembered the oh-so-important promise you’d made. 

well, i know you want a lover; let me tell you, brother

she’s been sleepin’ in the devil’s bed

and there’s some rumors going ‘round, someone’s underground

she can rock you in the nighttime ‘til your skin turns red

You were already a mess, your dress bunched around your waist and straps falling off your shoulders. Your disheveled hair wouldn’t be so easy to fix, but it was clear to see you had little concern for what your fellow patrons would think. No, you were too focused on the feeling of Eddie sliding two fingers into you as his tongue ring massaged your clit.

If he were a responsible boyfriend, he would remind you to quiet down, but he just couldn’t help himself. He loved when you got drunk– loved when he could see the tension in your shoulders melt away and you got warm, and giggly, and loud– loved when you’d moan and gasp his name without even realizing you were doing it because the first and only thing you were thinking about was how good he made you feel. 

So, when you cried out that you were gonna come, he didn’t stop. He didn’t hush you, or cover your mouth with his hand. He just crooked his fingers to the spot he knew always made your insides melt and hummed encouragingly against the wet warmth of your cunt, mesmerized by the sight of you writhing on the counter before him.

Hips still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you pulled him to you for a sloppy kiss that had him panting like a dog in heat. The doe-eyed look you gave him when you finally spoke was almost enough to make him drop to his knees for you a second time. “Take me home, Eds.”

woo-hoo, witchy woman

see how high she flies

woo-hoo, witchy woman

she got the moon in her eye

<3

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[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Pride | Word Count: 1031 | Rating: M | CW: Alcohol/drug abuse, driving under the influence, car accident | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Stranger Things, past Steddie, Eddie is a very bad boy, possibly downright unlikeable, ambiguous ending

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Come on, man.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Eddie!”

He’s not listening, not tonight. Tonight he has a calling from on high. Tonight he has places to be, a person to see. A person to touch.

Tonight he’s driving

He climbs into the car, his beautiful Ferrari bought with the spoils of fame. There are three cars in his garage, but this is the fastest. This is the one he wants to be in tonight. It’s a racer, meant for speed, a rocket ship of possibilities. 

There are voices behind him, the band arguing amongst themselves. Maybe they’re shouting at him, but he’s not listening. He’s only had a two or three vodkas, and coke doesn’t have the same effect on him as it used to, back when he was a kid and all this was new to them. The pills were nothing, just something to keep him awake, something to chill him out. But he’s older now and those things aren’t new anymore. Booze and drugs are supplements, part of the regime, part of his five a day. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything.

It’s Gareth that follows him, climbing in beside him a second before Eddie turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing, man? Come back inside.”

“Get out.”

“I’m not—”

“Get out!”

Gareth buckles his seat belt tight and glares at him.

“Fine,” Eddie spits at him. “Fuck you then.”

He revs the engine repeatedly, the vibration like electricity through his body. It only goads him on. He slams his foot to the pedal and the car streaks out of his garage and onto the streets.

The city is magical at night, blinding lights, a stratospheric glimmer of colour. He knows if he was walking out on the road it would be quiet, there’d be no sound, just the occasional car speeding past on the empty streets, just like he is now. There’s music in the car, a blasting thump of drums and bass and he feels his foot drop on the accelerator; he doesn’t look at the speedometer because he doesn’t care. Part of him wishes he’d taken the bike, his black Yamaha that barely gets ridden anymore, then Gareth would still be back at the house with Jeff and Matt and their girlfriends, and not with him shouting for him to slow down. 

“—wait till tomorrow. Nothing will have changed. Let’s just go back, you can talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t like to be ignored, doesn’t like his calls going unanswered. So no, actually, it won’t wait. He wants him tonight. Deserves to have Steve tonight.

“Eddie, slow down.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie! It’s red!”

It’s a challenge, him against the stop light, him against the cross traffic. The road is empty, he knows it will be fine, Gareth just worries too much. He always has. Cocky until he’s not, that’s Gareth. If nothing else it will be a good lesson for him. Eddie didn’t want him here so he can consider this his punishment. 

Eddie floors the gas pedal, the engine butter smooth as it gives him the speed he wants, and he howls out of the open window as he flies through the stop light, laughing into the hot summer night.

Gareth is heaving in deep breaths beside him and it only makes him laugh more, he can barely hear himself over the sound of the engine and the music. 

The Ferrari speeds over the freeway and he feels like he’s flying. He feels like he’s free, and when the fuck was the last time he felt like that? His face is everywhere, his every second accounted for, every moment of his life planned. Stand here, wear this, do what we tell you, say what we tell you. He just needs a moment to fly.

Gareth is on the phone, but the engine noise and music drown out whatever he’s saying. Eddie doesn’t really care. He can call Jeff, he can call Wayne, fuck, call the cops for all he cares. What are they going to do? He’s Eddie fucking Munson.

He lifts his foot of the gas just a little, just enough so that when he floors it again he can feel it. It’s like warp speed, he’s Han Solo and Gareth is Chewbacca and the laughter fires through him again, the utter absurdity of it all. He loves his life.

He hates everything.

When he checks on Gareth he looks like he’s going to be sick, and there’s no fucking way he’s going to be sick in his Ferrari, so he lays off the gas. Gareth hangs his head out of his own window, the wind blowing his hair back. It’s warm out tonight, it just makes everything headier. Makes his need feel deeper.

He needs Steve. It’s in his head now, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t be without Steve. That there, that’s the heart of it, he doesn’t know how to be without him. Can’t get his head around him leaving, can’t comprehend why he’d walk out on this. They had everything, Eddie gave him everything, and he threw it back at him. Like, how fucking dare he work, go out on the road, make money for them? They were fine, they had a system, it worked for him, it worked for Steve, he’d have said if didn’t. It was Robin getting in Steve’s head again, telling him this wasn’t normal, ‘it’s not a relationship if you’re never together, Steve’, and when did she become such a meddling cunt? 

He drops his foot on the accelerator.

It’s not instant. The streaks of light are lining the road, leading him to heaven, and then it’s the light polluted sky he sees, the distant glimmer of weak stars filling the windscreen. He thinks Gareth is screaming beside him, but Eddie’s not scared. He feels like he’s floating, feels the hot night air whip around him, feels the dizzying spin of the car, his own fairground ride in the sky. The strips of white lining the asphalt rise up to meet him. 

He never feels the hit.

Yes it's essentially Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, but this prompt was fighting me so hard and I've spent days trying to make another story work and it just wasn't. Then this came on, and yes I may have looped it for half an hour while I wrote, but I competed the prompt!

@the-unforgivenn

[thankspete]

Swimsuits & Sangria | dob

Word Count: 8.7k Rating: M Summary: All it takes is the hot summer sun and some boozy fruit to turn good friends into a little something more. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: friends to lovers, drunk flirting, mutual pining, SMUT (oral, fingering [F receiving], masturbation, praise kink, orgasm denial, unprotected sex) ⋅ ⋅  ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ 

You knew you loved Dylan when you were sitting at his poolside minibar, all sunglasses and swimsuits, watching him place a tiny umbrella in your drink. It was a Saturday, sometime past four and the heat beating from the sun had you sticky with a combination of SPF and sweat. Guests wouldn’t be arriving for at least another 45 minutes, but Dylan invited you to come early. You’d shown up two hours ago to make your sangria recipe as he requested. It took no longer than fifteen minutes to cut up the apples and citrus, then combine them with sugar and alcohol in a pitcher. It was placed in the fridge, ready to drink, at 3:09 and the party didn’t even begin until 5:30. Knowing your friends, that meant 6:15.

Dylan isn’t an idiot, he must’ve known he invited you far too early, but you didn’t want to feed into your own delusion. You’d met eight months ago in an ill-lit dive bar on trivia night in an unintended merging of yours and Tyler’s friend groups. Your team had managed to claw your way to third place by the end of the tournament, despite you shoo-ing Tyler’s phone away when he tried Googling answers. Dylan sat across from you on the innermost part of the booth, your friend Jade to your right. Two vodka lemonades in and you were struggling not to try to get a better look at his face. Despite the tug you felt to do so, you were terrified to really look at him, terrified that the tips of your ears would get red and your cover would be blown. You pulled the claw out of your hair and let it settle around your shoulders. You didn’t think it would be more than a silly drunk crush, primed by Deep Eddy and the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. Drunk enough to feel a tug in your abdomen when you watched his hands as he shuffled a deck of cards and dispersed them among you, but not dumb enough to try to do something about it.

The only difference now is that you could look at Dylan without feeling like you were going to fall over. Barely. Pregaming the party certainly wasn’t necessary, your sangria was boozy enough, but taste testing a new cocktail recipe devolved into three and now you’re both giggly and droopy-eyed under the California sun. 

“I think the last one was the best,” he sets the glass down on the counter and pushes it in your direction. You pull the straw to your lips and take a sip.

“Hm.” Another sip. “I don’t know. The amaretto really goes off in this.”

“No, no,” he tuts, reaching for the last glass you shared. “You need a reminder.” He swaps the glass of drink three with drink two in front of you, then takes a swig and makes a face. Maybe amaretto just isn’t the liqueur for him. 

“There’s, like, nothing in this, Dylan.”

“That’s definitely a taste-worth’s amount of liquid.” You look at him in disbelief. “Look, if you’re not gonna drink it I’m gonna go ahead and lick the glass clean. You have five seconds.”

“Shut up.” You take the glass and tilt it over your mouth, with no more than seven drops dripping onto your tongue. 

“So? Definitely better.” He grabs the cup from your hand and replaces it with the drink he dislikes. 

“Definitely good, but I made it so that’s not really news.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You’re making it for me again soon.” He’s leaning on the bar counter in front of you on his forearms, eyeing the empty glass and seemingly genuinely debating if he should lick it clean.

“Maybe if you ask politely, Dylan.” You stir your drink with the straw before taking a big sip. 

“Sorry, baby.” He grabs your hand and leans closer to your face. “Could you, please, make me that delicious drink again sometime?”

“I could send you the recipe.” You take pleasure in the way his face twists to your response. You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses.

He squeezes your hand. “No, it’s not the same. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You laugh out loud and push his glasses up to sit behind his hairline. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.” He takes the glass in front of you and pulls his glasses back onto his face. “Ugh,” he says after taking a drink. “We gotta end on a better note than this. I’m making a tequila sunrise.” He passes the drink back to you.

“You’re gonna let me finish this on my own?”

“Yeah.” He grins, all straight teeth and wide lips, as he pats your arm before leaning down to get a bottle of Espolon from under the counter. 

“Dick,” you grumble as you pick up your drink and stand from the barstool. There was a set of four lounge chairs on the right side of the pool and you settle on the nearest one. On your phone, you connect to the Bluetooth speakers set up behind the bar where Dylan stood. The sound of your phone unexpectedly pairing to the speaker spooks him and you hear the ice tray fall onto the counter.

“You okay over there, butterfingers?” You take your glasses off and look in his direction.

“Yeah. Play something good, will ya?” He throws a broken piece of ice at you and misses. You put Microwave’s Much Love on shuffle, the sound of crunchy guitar blasting from the wall behind him. 

Dylan walks to the chairs, two drinks in hand. You are nearly done with your drink, but happily put it aside to accept a new one. 

“Are you trying to loosen me up right now?” You cock your eyebrow at him when he sits down. “I’m gonna be a whole drink ahead of you by the time I’m done with this.” You keep your eyes steady on his face while you drink. There’s so much grenadine you can’t even taste the tequila. 

“You make it sound like it’s easy.” His voice is even and his lips settle into their neutral position. You wish he would take his sunglasses off. 

“It’s hard? I don’t know about that.”

“Maybe boozing you up isn’t the preferred gameplan,” Dylan says flatly. He lets the words settle between you for a beat. “Let me finish your other drink.” He holds his hand out and you pass him the glass. 

“Thank you.”

You sit in silence together, soaking in the sun and occasionally humming along to the music. There’s no point in dissecting whatever the hell that was, not when Jade had already texted that her, Jenny, Marcus, and Tyler were en route. But… had he done it on purpose? Just a taste, less than a taste, but more than enough to pique the part of your psyche devoted to some of your most private fantasies. Your skin felt hot, but not because of the ninety degree dry heat or the sun, far lower in the sky than when you arrived, but of the perceived intentions of the man to your right. Your sunglasses are back on, but its thin frames don’t hide your side-eye look-over of him. It’s like he was expecting it, the way he immediately turns to look at you, head tilted. You surrender and shift your torso to face him head-on, too tipsy to feel embarrassed about getting caught peeking. Maybe it was delusional, but the tightness in your lower abdomen was as real as the straw dangling from his lips. Your reflection is small in the impenetrable black of his Ray-Bans and you allow yourself to dwell on the idea that he was enjoying a far greedier look at your body than yours at his.

“Were you going to say something?” His words interrupt your train of thought, which had gone entirely off the rails as you struggled to separate your thoughts into what was and was not appropriate to say aloud. He was right, you had turned to him so confidently, but with nothing else for him to work with.

“Can a girl just have a look?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, eyebrows high and mouth ticked into a loose smile. “Are you objectifying me right now?”

You let out a noise of dismissal and grab your cup from the small glass table between you. “You love it. From the right people.” The end of your sentence is punctuated by the sound of air sucking through your straw as you finish your drink.

“You think you’re ‘the right people’?” Dylan licks his lips and finally pulls his glasses up to the crown of his head. His taunt only makes your core beat harder, body entirely uncaring of what was real and was in your imagination. If he was setting up a game, you happily play along–and win.

“I’m pretty certain, Dyl.” You shift your body again to sit up and place your feet flat on the ground. “If it were up to me, I’d be the right person.” You gather the three empty glasses from the table and get up to bring them inside.

You don’t hear him stand to follow, but you see his reflection not too far behind yours in the sliding glass door. You can’t tell if you expected him to follow you back in or if you just hoped for it. Either way, you couldn’t help but be struck with a vision as you step into his home and the kitchen island comes into view: Your chest pressed flush to the cold granite, breasts spilling out of the tiny bikini top you embarrassingly wore just for him today. One foot on the floor while your balance is supported by your knee on a stool, spread and gasping underneath the pressure of his big palms on your hips and his cock slipping in and out through the side of your swim bottoms. You attempt to get to the dishwasher without stumbling, mind hazy from the drinks and the intrusive daydreams. Dylan’s long strides bring him to the counter at the same time as you, reaching around your hip to hold you steady. His other hand opens the dishwasher and pulls out the top tray. You work together to arrange the glasses among existing dishware, awkwardly clinking against one another in an uncoordinated symphony. Despite having an approximately equal number of drinks, he was composing himself much more than you thought you even were capable of right now. Was it risk it all territory? You were unsure. LA traffic was atrocious, but not bad enough you were willing to attempt to make your wish come true. There was no way you’d be able to sneak to the bathroom, even if your little hole was already pulsing and sensitive, clenching around nothing at the sensation of his fingers resting on your side. You could do it fast, you feel like you’re about to blow, but you’re haunted by the fear he’d know. Your eyes might give you away, or maybe the way you talked to him. Even with hands freshly washed, he might smell it, might be so curious as to ask what got you so worked up while you were here, alone together. What level of desperation caused you to slip away just to get off on your own. Fuck, honestly you might even want it. 

He shuts the dishwasher door, hand remaining on your hip. “Thank you for helping.”

You don’t respond to his words, focused on the light pink color spread across his cheeks and nose. “Sunburn?” You ghost your thumb over the area. He raises his eyebrows. You press down on the area, thumb a few centimeters below his eye and fingers framing the side of his face. His hair is thick, but soft against your fingertips. His skin turns from white back to pink as the blood rushes back into the region. “That hurt?”

“No.” The shade of pink deepens slightly. Not a sunburn. 

You stand there playing a game of chicken with one another, trying to read the situation as if his palms weren’t sliding up your waist and you hadn’t removed your hand from his face. You refused to be the one who did it, especially after today. 

The sound of the doorbell causes your hand to fall from his face, but he is unmoved. Dylan presses his lips together as he looks at you, then past you toward the direction of the door. 

“Be good and get the sangria out, okay, angel?” His hands release your sides and he gently shakes your chin before brushing past you to greet your friends. You let out a breath when he’s out the room, dnomi from his proximity to your face. Your task is simple and you get to it. Six small glasses are fished from the cabinet to the left of the fridge and you get the ice tray from the freezer. Two cubes go in each glass and you refill the tray before placing it back in the freezer. You hear everyone before you see them, Jen excitedly chattering about a date last night while Tyler laments about the drive up. Once the six glasses are full, you’re greeted by a hug from Jade as the crowd enters the kitchen. Dylan wordlessly takes the half-empty pitcher from the counter in front of you, unnecessarily reaching around you for it. You savor the moment where his hand rests on your skin, warm and firm against your stomach.

 You and Jade stay behind as the group moves through the room to the backyard, shuffled rock music blasting from the speaker connected to your phone. Once the room is empty, you turn to her in disbelief. “Today was weird. Like, good weird, but weird.”

“I saw… That man did not need to get so close to you to get that pitcher,” she laughs.

“He said… I don’t know, interesting things? Like, now-I’m-horny types of interesting. I don’t know, Jade, I literally–”

“I’ve been telling you! He wants it so bad and you…” She gestures to your swimsuit, “...look so fucking hot. I’m personally struggling with not motorboating you right now.”

You laugh and hope that you’re not both too delusional to read the situation. “Ah, well… We should go, they definitely think we’re talking shit.”

“We’re not?” She giggles and picks up both of your drinks. “Alright…”

The sun slowly sets as you lounge and watch your friends play 2v2 pool volleyball. Dylan and Jade are on one team, Tyler and Jenny on the other. Marcus is sitting to your left, scrolling through Twitter and occasionally tilting the phone in your direction to show you memes. Tyler and Jenny were winning, namely as a result of Dylan’s uncoordination. It was nearly a shut-out, with Marcus eventually playing ref and calling the game once it got ridiculous. 

Dylan is soaked, cold water dripping from his hair onto your chest as he leans over your shoulder post-game. Goosebumps appear on your skin from the sensation.

“Can I help you?” You turn your head to face him.

“Can you make me that drink? A consolation prize? Pretty please.” His right hand is on your neck, thumb rubbing up and down the bones of your spine.

“What do I get if I do?” You stand and he removes his hand from your neck. He follows you to the bar, roles reversed as he sits on the stool and you stand behind the counter.

“What do you want?”

You line up the drink components on the counter and grab two empty glasses that had previously held your sangria. “I think you’re smart enough to figure it out, babe.”

“Honey…” He’s tapping his fingers on the table. The drink comes together quickly and you push a cup in his direction. He’s looking at you contemplatively and you lean on your elbows, pushing your face closer to his. He’s coated in the yellow glow of the sunset, light peeking from behind his hair like a halo. His brown features are enhanced by the warm light, your stomach doing flips as you try not to stare. You’re close enough to smell the sunscreen on his face. “Play volleyball with me and we can discuss.”

You roll your eyes, disappointed in his response. “You’re kinda ass at volleyball, Dylan. I don’t like being on the losing team.”

“I promise you’ll win, angel.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement. “You promise?”

“With me?” You pretend not to catch the way his eyes move between your face and your breasts for a moment. “Yeah.”

You lose against Tyler and Jade, as expected. However, with the few successful spikes you were able to pull off, Dylan exhibited terrible sportsmanship. He gloated, picking you up and parading you, cheering in celebration around your half of the pool. You weren’t afraid that he would drop you, but happily took the opportunity to cling to his shoulders and press your breasts to the side of his face as he lifted you up and out of the water. It wasn’t winning, not yet, but you were lying if his grip on your thighs didn’t feel delicious.

Marcus starts up the grill while Jen begins to chop kebab vegetables on the bar counter. Tyler and Jade vacate the pool to help with the meal while you and Dylan remain. You sit closely on the steps on the far side of the pool, sunglasses on even as the sun disappears behind the horizon.

“Should we help out?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

Dylan shrugs. “I’m providing the grill, the venue, and the propane. I don’t feel too bad about waiting a sec before stepping in.” His hand rests on your inner knee.

“Can’t say those things apply to me, Dyl.”

He smiles. “But you’re keeping me company. Counts for something.”

“When you’re already deeply indebted to me…” You place your hand on his forearm.

“There was no way in hell we were winning that game, baby, you gotta know that.” You purse your lips and he continues. “But you don’t want payment now, do you?” His hand moves further up your thigh and he moves his face closer to yours. “Not with all our friends here, right, angel?” You narrow your eyes at him. You’ve reached an impasse, heart and pussy pounding in sync with one another. His free hand cups your face and you can see all of your friends distracted on the other end of the yard in your periphery.

“Dylan,” you breathe. His hand moves further up your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into your upper inner thigh, mere centimeters from your sensitive center.

“You can be patient, can’t you?” His cheek is pressed to yours. You can’t tell if you're imagining the kisses scattered down your cheek. “You’ve been so good all day for me, yeah?”

You nod limply, but pinch his forearm lightly before dragging his hand from your thigh to the edge of your swim bottoms. 

“That’s not being patient.” His tone is firm, but the tips of his fingers dip into the fabric. “We could have avoided this entirely if you just said something, baby.” You glance back at the group, still enjoying their time and minding their business. “Would’ve called it all off if I knew…” You shift your hips so he has easier access to your core. His fingers find their home between your folds, exposing the extent of your pent-up arousal. You let out a soft sigh at his touch and he pulls his face from yours to look you in the eye. Dylan continues, rubbing up and down the entirety of your cunt slowly. “Have you been like this all afternoon, angel? Thinking about when you get to go home and fuck yourself?”

“Please,” you whimper, gripping his arm.

“Do you think of me? I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for months. And now… Now when everyone is here, you’re so desperate for me. It’s torture, baby. Do you want our friends to see? To watch you fall apart beneath me?” 

You shake your head, unable to form a coherent sentence. He moves his hand from your swim bottoms and places it back on your thigh. 

“Then be patient. You’re my good girl, yeah? I know you can do it.” Dyaln presses a chaste kiss to your lips and stands from the pool. He chats with Marcus as he heads the grill, then collects empty glasses to bring inside. Your head is spinning as you get up and make your way to the bathroom, being sure to detour your route to brush past him a little too closely.

It’s a mostly bare room, walls hosting a couple of pieces of Mets memorabilia and not much else. Your reflection looks far less wild than you feel internally, the warm lightbulb making you look a little jaundiced. Your heart is pumping faster than it has since you met Dylan and you steady yourself on the counter. Desperately, one hand snakes into your bottoms and you’re hit with a rush of sensitivity. A few targeted rubs cause your orgasm to wash over you like a dam break. Your fingers stutter when it hits, body falling over on itself while your lonely pussy clenches around nothing. Your bottom lip is between your teeth, muffling any cries that manage to escape. Dylan’s fingers and voice were nearly enough as is, but the reality of fucking him was dawning on you. It was mere hours away, but the idea of adding them to your 8-month pining streak wasn’t favorable. A sigh of frustration leaves your mouth as you stand there, looking in the mirror and pressing your thighs together. You piss and clean yourself up before making your way back outside. It couldn’t have been more than seven minutes since you stepped in the bathroom, but when you lock eyes with Dylan, you know you’re fucked. He raises his eyebrows at you like you’re both in on a joke. You avert his gaze, embarrassed of how quickly he clocked you, and sit to chat with Jade.

“Hey, so… What’s your plan for the rest of the night?”

“Subtle.” She gives you a knowing glance. “Jen’s got work in the morning and Marcus and Tyler are going to a concert tonight. So… we’ll probably head out not too late after dinner. Got plans? More pool canoodling?”

“Fuck off.” You clear your throat. “Well, yeah. Actually. I think.”

She grins at you. “I’m tellin’ ya, your tits look–”

“Food’s ready!” Tyler calls from the grill, clicking the tongs together.

You gather around where the plate of kebabs sat on the bar counter, across the circle from Dylan. Over dinner you learn they’re seeing A Day to Remember tonight, followed by an apology for needing to dip so soon.

“No problem, man,” Dylan assures, but he’s looking at you when he says it. 

Once full, everyone helps by collecting plates and glasses and stacking them near the dishwasher. Marcus loads the dishes in while you, Jen, and Jade change into dry undergarments and fresh clothes. Tyler lost, found, and lost his keys again within the span of three minutes, causing everyone to search tables and between couch cushions. Dylan’s antsy, grumbling about how Tyler’s shit memory is the weed’s fault, until Jenny finds them. Once his keys are in-hand, your friends gather their things and file up at the door to leave. Maybe it was because you were experiencing the same anticipation, but Dylan seemed to rush the group out, saying something about getting to the concert in time to get merch without ridiculously long lines. 

You go to the kitchen, leftover alcohol-soaked fruit calling your name from the empty sangria pitcher. You hear everyone bid their farewells one at a time as you fish a fork from the drawer near the sink. The citrus was cut a little too thin for your liking, courtesy of Dylan’s knife skills, and slipped off the tip of the fork each time you tried impaling it. It’s fine, the apple chunks absorb wine best anyway. You are on chunk three by the time you hear the door shut.

Once the door is locked, Dylan makes his way into the room and points in your direction.

“You,” he says, walking towards you.

“Me.” You poke into a piece of apple and wave the fork in his direction. He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for your shenanigans, but you poke the fruit between his lips anyway. His face doesn’t move and he grabs your wrist to tilt it away from his face. You accept your defeat and pop the apple chunk into your mouth instead. No need to waste it. 

“What did I say about being patient?” His hands rest comfortably on your hips and he pulls you close. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe some more back and forth, but it certainly wasn’t getting straight to the point.

“I’ve been patient, Dylan.” You put the fork down and place your hands on his biceps. Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hoping to charm him into fucking you now.

“Mmm… I don’t know.” He starts to press kisses to your neck. “You were in the bathroom for a while…”

Your face flushes with blood. “It was like, five minutes. Dylan… please.” You avoid verbally confirming his suspicions of what you were doing in that time. 

“You don’t need to hide from me.” He bites down hard enough to leave a mark, then licks the sting away. “But that’s not fair, is it?”

“Dylan.”

He pulls back from your neck to look at you, brown eyes dark under the soft lamp light. “Do you want to cum tonight?” It catches you by surprise, wide eyed watching him closely. “I said, that’s not fair, is it?” You blink, nod, then furiously shake your head. “Let me hear it.”

“No, it’s not fair. I’m sorry.” It takes everything not to squeeze your thighs together for some relief.

“Haven’t even had a taste yet and you’re helping yourself. I thought you were going to be good for me.”

“I am, Dylan, I promise.” Your hand moves from his arm to the nape of his neck, pulling at the short hairs that reside there. The game continues, and you can’t tell if you’re winning or losing right now. 

His lips press messily on yours. One of his hands travels from your torso to cup your core outside of your shorts. “You gonna keep touching yourself, baby? Or are you gonna let me handle it?”

“I’m gonna let–” your breath catches when he applies hard pressure over your center. “You, please.” You’re fighting the urge to pass out, breaths shallow and labored. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, all along? You could’ve told me, angel; I would’ve done it for you.” He’s reaching under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your stomach as his fingers find one of your nipples. “You think I’ll live up to your imagination? Tell me, baby, how hard do you think I can make you cum?” You let out a strangled groan, senses overwhelmed by his hands and voice. “Wish I thought of getting you hot and half-naked in my yard sooner. Didn’t know that’d be what did it.”

“At the risk of getting another lecture on patience, could you politely get on with it?”

He removes his hand from your cunt to hold your jaw. His lips are in a sweet pout. “Honey… you’ve got a lot to learn.” You’re unmoving, unsure of what he has planned. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” All the blood in your body feels like it’s rushing between your face and your pussy, back and forth as the words fall from his lips. His eyes are unrelenting, holding your gaze like a deer caught in a snare.

“Well…” you let out a shaky breath. Your hands spread to the kitchen island behind you as you speak, “Us, right here.” Dylan’s still stoic, seemingly unaffected by your confession. The game was just getting fun, even if your mind was screaming to tap out, go home, figure out another way. You can hear your heartbeat conducting through the bones in your head and feel it pumping all the way to your fingertips. You’re trying to focus on the man whose face is mere inches from yours, the way he’s touching you, but the thick, heavy pump in your chest overwhelms your senses.

“Go on.” His hand moves from your jaw to your collarbone. “I know that’s not all.”

You’re trying to hide the tremble in your arms as you lean back against the edge of the countertop. “I guess…” You slowly turn 180 degrees, palms flat against the granite and his hot chest flush to your back. His hands remain on your body as you move and travel down your back. They land exactly where you’d envisioned they would. “Something kind of like this.” You raise yourself on your toes, pushing your ass into his crotch and leaning your elbows on the counter for support. 

“Kind of?” One hand moves up your back underneath your shirt while the other fiddles with the elastic on your shorts. 

“Less clothes, maybe?”

He laughs for the first time since your friends left. “I think I got that part.” His hands move again, this time settling on your outer upper thighs, gripping the area where your legs meet your torso. You don’t know what else to say. He is toying with you, seeing how much humiliation you can bear before begging for some relief. “Feeling shy? That all you wanna tell me?” You gulp and nod. Hopefully it’s enough. His left arm wraps around your torso to lift you to press tight against his chest. His right hand is still firmly on your pelvis, pulling you to rest on his semi. “You don’t need these, do you?” Dylan’s right hand moves to your front, fingers just barely dipping past your waistband.

“No.” It comes out far shakier than you intended.

“Take them off, then.” He releases you from his grip and you’re left supporting your own weight. Your arms and legs feel frail, like they should snap at any moment. You can sense his frame looming behind you, just far enough that you’re unable to touch him. Your clammy fingers wrap around your waistband and gently slide the shorts over the curve of your ass and down your legs. They fall to the floor with a gentle swish. After all the dreaming, three quarters of a year’s worth of thoughts kept between you and your bedside drawer, you feel unsure of what to do next. The anxieties of fumbling your course of action disappear as you hear Dylan drop to his knees and use a firm hand to spread you apart. You’re trying to steady your breathing, or at least reduce the noise you’re making, as he pulls your underwear to the side. “Hm.” Hm? “You put these on, like, half an hour ago. Already pr’soaked through.” Your head falls into your hands.

“Dylan.”

“Yeah, angel?” His fingers are gentle in their prodding, spreading your arousal to the outer edges of your cunt. “You’re real pretty.” He glides his wet thumb once over your clit, causing you to twitch into him.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He taps your leg and pulls a stool from your left. You’re fucking kidding. You appreciate the extra support as you lift your knee to the plush seat. With the new angle, he’s able to fully spread you with two fingers.

“I–anything, Dylan, please just touch me.” He blows air over your sensitive core and as much as you try to restrain yourself, your body betrays you. Your hole pulsates at the stimulus, as minor as it was. He circles your entrance with his thumb like he’s trying to calm the area, hysterically clenching and grasping, begging for his fingers. 

“I know, it’s not fair.” He pulls your underwear back to its proper place and pulls your leg down to stand. This is retribution. The game is sick, you’ve come to learn.

He stands up and turns you around, fingers holding your hips beneath your waistband. Your hands are pressed to his stomach. “You’re evil.” He smiles at that, proud of his ability to get you so distraught with nothing more than a few words and fingers.

“You don’t mean that.” He moves a hand to cradle your face. 

You nod. “I do mean it.” For all your begging to God to make this moment happen, you still need to beg Dylan to give it to you. 

“I keep my promises, baby.” He helps you sit up on the counter and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna win.” He kisses you deep and slow, strong hands shifting your hips to hang off the edge of the granite. One of your arms is locked around his neck holding you flush to him. Your right hand ghosts the waistband of his swim trunks before pulling the drawstring out of its knot. He grunts when your hand brushes his clothed cock as you pull the shorts down his legs. He pulls your hands from his body and holds them on the countertop behind you, pressing himself into your core as he licks the inside of your teeth. Your ankles lock behind his back and press him further into you. You groan into each other's mouths as you rock against each other. He’s calculated in his thrusts, snapping his hips right as your cunt rocks over him. The friction against your sensitive little nub pulls the strings in your abdomen tight, soon to snap. You attempt to break free from his grasp to no avail. Your movements stutter as every swipe feels like it’s shooting electricity up your spine.

“Ah, please, harder. Please!” Your legs tremble as your orgasm begins to overcome you. Dylan steps back from your body abruptly, the force of his movement unclasping your ankles and leaving them without support. Your hands are still held flat on the counter, keeping you from touching him. His eyes are dark, lips swollen and open from his labored breathing. You’re frustrated, shaking and reeling from your almost-completion. “What the f–!”

“Don’t move.” He pulls his hands from yours. He moves your thighs to spread you open for him again. He palms your cunt over your underwear, pressing firmly as you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna make this easy on you?” 

“Clearly not,” you huff. 

“You haven’t made it easy on me either, angel.”

“Is this some sort of sick revenge for you?” You regret your rebuttal as soon as he stops the circling of his palm.

“You love it. Swear to God…” He pulls your underwear aside again, reviewing his work. You are glistening everywhere, cunt clenching and dripping for him. “Just need the right person.” He places the underwear back where it belongs. “Are you feeling tired, angel? Spent all afternoon lounging in the sun and now here I am, taking care of you, and you’re still unhappy?” He caresses your face, but keeps his hard dick away from your core. “Tell me, baby, do you really think I’m evil?”

“No.” You’re overwhelmed, and maybe he is evil, but you have one goal in mind. “I want you to fuck me,” you say bluntly. 

He chuckles. “You only had to say so.”

He pulls you off the counter and tugs you to his bedroom with him, leaving your discarded shorts on the kitchen floor. He’s not so coy here, open mouth on yours and hands tugging to remove your shirt. You assumed it’d be more of a marathon than a sprint with Dylan, but he had you completely naked, lying on the bed within two minutes. He was a gentleman, of course, stripping himself of his underwear to match your level of vulnerability. You try to keep your focus on his face, but his red-hot cock pressing into your thigh is understandably making it difficult.

“You’re gonna tell me what you like, okay angel?” He slips a finger between your folds, collecting your wetness and rubbing your clit vertically like he was in the pool. You nod. “How’s that?”

“Mm… it’s good.”

“Just good?”

“A little to the right maybe? My right?” He shifts slightly, finding the spot you use to make yourself cum. You cover your mouth with your hand as he uses the tip of his finger to gently brush over the area, sending shockwaves through your body. You were already so sensitive from your denied orgasm, you had no clue what you were capable of handling.

“Better.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. He continues, kissing up your neck and telling you to relax. “Remember, I got you. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay? I’m here to make you feel good.”

“Ah..!” You twitch away from his hand from the hypersensitivity. “Uh-huh. You got me.”

His finger moves from your clit to your pulsing little hole, circling it and spreading your wetness slowly. It wasn’t going to make you cum on its own, but it still felt divine. “Can I taste?”

“Please,” you beg. 

“So needy for me.” He bites your breast on his way down. “My needy baby. How long have you been dreamin’ about me, angel?” He’s kissing your inner thigh, waiting for a response to his question.

You’re honest. “Forever. Since I met you.” The words rush out with your breath, uneven. You sit up and look at him, big brown eyes and pink lips mere inches from where you wanted him.

“Forever,” he mumbles into your skin. “You did a good job keeping it to yourself for the first few months.”

“I’m glad I don’t anymore.”

“And why’s that?” He’s smiling up at you, far too goofy for being between your aching legs. 

“Ugh. I take it back.” You groan and lie back down on the bed. 

“Okay, okay…” He taps your clit with his thumb. “You still gotta tell me what you like, okay?”

“Okay.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair as he swipes his broad, flat tongue over your cunt. You can’t help the noise that comes out of your mouth, nor the clench of your pussy that he certainly felt against his tongue. He circles your clit, saliva mixing with your own arousal and creating wet noises that are sure to reappear in the fantasies that result from this encounter. You scratch his scalp lightly. “I think vertical is a little better.” He grunts and changes his technique. You squirm at the feeling of his hot, wet tongue pressing onto you, eating like it was his first meal in months. His left arm is wrapped around your leg, hand resting on your lower stomach pulling you to his face. You’re unable to move under his grip, every twitch or flail impeded by his strength. His tongue travels further down to your hole, slipping in and out of it as excruciating intervals. It feels good on its own, but great when coupled with the way his nose brushes against your clit with every pump. “That’s good. That’s so good,” you gasp. Your forearm is clamped between your teeth, muffling your cries. 

“You’re close?” The vibration of his words against your cunt cause you to twitch into his mouth. 

“Uh-huh.”

“I can feel it.” You tug on his hair, encouraging him to allow you to finish. The way his tongue licks up your pussy, pushing and rubbing firmly against your clit, elicits a choked moan. Again, he pulls back suddenly. You thrash your hips in frustration, letting go of his hair to grip the sheets beneath you. Before you’re able to complain, he presses his wet lips to yours. His tongue tastes like you, tangy and familiar. He settles between your legs, pressing his cock between your folds. Dylan rocks across you, never moving from your lips. The only noises in the room are the wet ones coming from your two points of connection. To regain some semblance of control, you snake your hand down between you to grab his cock. It’s already well lubricated from the way it was nestled in your cunt. He bites down on your lip when you grasp him, losing control for a moment and fucking into your tight fist. Your hand twists around him so your fingers are pressing into the most sensitive part of his cock and your knuckles brush against your core. He’s gasping and biting at your neck as you pump him, clearly wound up after your afternoon of back-and-forth. He’s not distracted for long, as the sweet symphony of your cries tip him off to exactly what you’re doing. “That definitely counts as touching yourself, angel,” he says while pulling your hand away from where your bodies meet. You’re frustrated, body brought so close and kept so far from your release for what felt like hours.

“Can you blame me?” Your breathing is heavy; your eyes are looking into his for an ounce of mercy. He only holds your gaze for a moment before sitting back on his knees and scanning your body, saving its image for his own lonely nights. 

“No,” he says, caressing your thigh. “Definitely not. Roll over.” You do, making the decision not to press your hips into the bed for a twinge of relief. Dylan is being needlessly cruel, but the end has to be near. You can be good; you can do it for him, give him what he likes. You never thought you’d see this side of him, domineering, competent, and so incredibly sexy. It was almost worth the eight months of fumbling and awkward quasi-flirting–given that he actually lets you finish. The game was fun, but you both knew the feeling of clenching around him with stars behind your eyelids was infinitely better. He sighs as he pulls your hips up off the bed, finally ready to play fair. Gently, he pulls your legs apart. His fingers are no longer exploratory; his purpose is explicit as he swipes his thumb against your clit at a casual pace. His middle finger circles your hole so lightly it feels like a tickle. “This okay?” He presses onto your entrance, but doesn’t push in. “Jus’ wanna see…”

“Yes,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets pressing against your face. 

“Wanna know what you feel like,” he continues, talking to nobody but himself. His middle finger slides in easily. “Jesus.” Your body is ecstatic to finally have something to tremble around. “Why y’been keeping this from me, baby?” He pumps slowly, rotating his wrist to push down on your g-spot. His thumb still rubs across your clit in an almost excruciating manner. You’re lubricated and loose enough to allow him to put his index finger into the mix, your cunt grasping and twitching around him. 

“I could say the same thing,” you sigh. Your arms are outstretched to hold onto the mattress for support as you move your hips to softly fuck onto his fingers. He’s motionless, fingers curled and allowing you to use him for your pleasure. It’s good, it’s building, but it doesn’t fill you right. “Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not gonna let me cum on your fingers, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” His thumb picks up speed on your clit, continuing to play with you, to challenge you. Your breath hitches, sheets between your teeth. 

“Please, Dylan, I think I’ve learned my lesson.” You clench around his fingers, hoping to entice him for just long enough to want to know how his cock would feel inside of you. A soft groan escapes his throat. You’re warm and soft and wet, perfect and ready for his pretty pink dick. “I need you to fill me up. Please, I can’t–“ You’re interrupted by your own pleasure, shooting it’s way up your body as he presses into your g-spot and taps your clit in unison. 

“You need me that bad? Been waiting for so long, haven’t you?” He purrs and removes his hands from your center. Despite the shakiness in your thighs and the beat of your cunt, relief washes over you. 

“Please. So bad.” Dylan pushes your lifted hips back down onto the bed and lies overtop of you.

“Okay,” he says while tucking your stray hair behind your ear. He’s looking at you–really looking at you for the first time since your friends left. You wish you knew what his eyes were searching for. He’s the same Dylan he’s always been, but it’s different. His tousled hair was your doing, as were his kiss-bitten lips and the haziness behind his eyes. You soak it all in on the off-chance this is a fluke, that you’ll never find yourself here again. He rubs the underside of your thigh as you hook your ankles over his back. “Are you ready?” His tone is softer than it’s been in nearly an hour. 

“Yes.” He aligns himself with your entrance and gently presses into you. 

“Ah, relax…” He braces himself on one hand, placed to the left of your head. His other hand grips your side. He continues to inch himself into you, eyes watching your face to gauge your comfort. You’re gripping his shoulders, trying not to dig your nails into his skin. “It’s okay, relax, I got you.” 

“Okay, okay,” you whisper as he bottoms out inside of you. He grunts, pressing in as much as he can and holding it, pubic mound pressing to your clit. He partially pulls out, then pushes himself back in. Air escapes through your teeth as you cling harder to him, no longer giving a damn if you mark him or not. He fills you just like you hoped he would: to the brim until it stung with pleasure.

“Fuck.” Dylan finds a comfortable pace to allow you to get used to him, mumbling expletives and replacing his faded bite mark on your neck. “So wet for me.” You use the leverage from your locked ankles to meet his thrust midway, pushing him even deeper into your core. You squeak with every scrape against your g-spot, bottom lip clamped firmly between your teeth. His hips quicken their pace as his lips press to yours. You feel a shift behind your head, then Dylan pulls back. “Up,” he says, tapping your hip. He slides a pillow, silk case and all, underneath your ass to provide him with better access. He pushes your leg up so your knee is near your head and holds it there as he begins to roll into you. His head pokes into your g-spot at the same cadence of the skin of his lower stomach scraping against your sensitive clit. Your pussy clings to him each time he pulls out; its only purpose is to milk him dry. The adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he watches himself disappear within you. “Jesus Christ, how are you still so tight?” It rushes out of him in one breath. You tug him back down, needing to feel his chest on yours as he brings you, finally, to your completion. Every thrust feels like it’s stretching the rubber band in your stomach further and further, its elasticity painfully endless. 

“Ah, yeah, like that.” You can feel your cunt gripping him, pulling at him as he hammers into you. “Don’t stop, please, Dylan, please,” you cry, holding on for dear life as his thrusts begin to shake the bed.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Me too, baby.” All his weight is on the elbow by your head, spare hand on your hip to hold you still as he stutters into you. The pit of your stomach feels like you’re on a roller coaster lift, up, up, up until–

“Oh, my God.” Your eyes screw shut when it hits you, the pulsations of your cunt reverberating up your torso and through your limbs. Your back arches uncontrollably, stomach pressed to his. Your heart is beating out of your chest, wet and heavy like the cock still pistoning in and out if you. 

“You’re so good. Fuck, you’re so good.” It’s muffled in your ears, your overstimulated body focusing on the stretch of his dick and the shakiness in your thighs. He presses himself fully into you and holds it there, a yelp escaping from your lips as he does. “Where?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you choke out. He sits up as he pulls out quickly, though you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t. Next time, maybe. Before he’s able to finish, you grasp and pump him from where his cock rests on your mound. It takes one tight squeeze before he twitches in your fist and ribbons of cum adorn your stomach. He’s holding onto your knee for support, breathing labored. You’re flat on your back, sinking into the mattress to center yourself and organize your thoughts. 

“You okay?” He leans over you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you notice the sweat on his brow. He grins and places another kiss on your mouth before getting up and retrieving a towel from the en suite. He wipes your pussy first, needing to hold you still as the feeling of the towel is still too much, then delicately cleans up your stomach. The towel gets tossed to the floor, a responsibility for another time. The room is dark, but he finds you anyway, pulling you to his chest. “Was it worth the wait?” You laugh, unsure if he was referring to the day or the year. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He feigns offense at your response.

“I need a few more data points before I’m sure.” He scoffs.

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs and pulls you tighter to him. “You don’t need some elaborate ploy to get me again, baby. I saw you–no, felt you cum so hard; no need to be coy with me.”

“Okay…” You fiddle with the hairs on the back of his neck. “Definitely worth it, but I want it again. And I don’t wanna wait.”

“I can make that happen,” he says while ghosting kisses on your shoulder. You lie comfortably together, skin-on-skin listening to each other breathe. Your mind is a haze of the day’s activities, unsure of what memories you can truly believe.

“Dylan?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“What did you mean when you said I did a good job ‘keeping it to myself for the first few months’?” He laughs and his hand travels down to rest on your ass.

“God, see this is why I couldn’t do anything. You tried making out with me on, like, four separate occasions at Jenny’s birthday party. Very persistent.” You groan as you remember, or more, don’t remember that evening. The first thing you know about Jenny’s party was walking in, already riding the high of a successful pregame, with a bottle of tequila tied with a bow for her, and taking a required shot at the door. The second thing you remember is waking up in Dylan’s spare bedroom the next morning. This was three months ago.

“That… explains a lot.” You hadn’t noticed at the time, far too in awe of Dylan’s attention, but he did act differently as the spring transitioned to the summer. He would sit next to you at group brunch, suggest outings with just the two of you, occasionally get a little handsy, and start peppering pet names in his conversations with you until it became second nature. You weren’t delusional, at least not in the ways you thought you were.

“It’s okay. It’s cute.” He rubs your thigh as he speaks. “It’s funny though, you refused to get in an Uber with Jade to take you home. You literally wouldn’t let go of my hand.”

“So fucking embarrassing.” You cover your eyes with your hand as you cringe at the thought. 

“Look where it got you, though.” He pulls your hand from your face and presses a kiss to your lips.

well. that’s it. hope u enjoyed <3 i have some (many) ideas for continuing this soooo maybe that’ll show up soon ;) pls feel free to leave me feedback, like, n reblog!