#i made the fucking best pb&j

[manicchunkydreamdaddy]

Just toasted bread to absolute perfection

[trevination]

one i find like. ridiculously funny is that most of the time when I see brody and sky's pony and johnny, i'm like "best friends :)" but when I see trevor and sky's pony and johnny i'm like "hm... smth gay is going on"

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny can i order banana bread with hard lemonade with max please. make it spicy. make it nasty. make it sloppy. make it fucking filthy😩😩 i fucking love you and all your works and i trust you with baking and cooking

the bakery menu

want to order something? then browse the menu to see what we have! as for this order, i hope that there's enough spice in this for you! i ended up writing this a little stoned, so i hope everything turned out okay!!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behavior, recreational drug use (weed), reference to smoking & drinking, dom!max, counter/kitchen sex, high sex

you liked parties. maybe, not all the time. but once in a while there was nothing like being surrounded by people and drinking the night away before you slinked off to bed to nurse the eventual hangover. max didn't mind that you went out partying. he trusted you to not do anything extremely stupid that would hurt you or your relationship.

there was one rule, no hard drugs. neither of you needed the trouble that came with too much of a mind altering substance. even if he let you go out to party, he still worried about you when he couldn't go with you. so for your best interest, no drugs.

but there you were, seated on top of the counter in max's kitchen while he dutifully made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. you were still in your party clothes with one of his expensive jackets around your shoulders. you claimed that you were cold. you kicked your legs against the cabinets under you.

you giggled a little.

he handed it to you on a plate and said, "eat." before he grabbed a (plastic) cup from the cupboard above the sink and filled it full of water. he handed it to you, "drink. slowly." then rested against the counter, keeping a stern eye on you.

his blue eyes were piercing as he made sure that you did what he said. you already caused enough trouble tonight. from what your friends told him when they brought you home, you had a few too many puffs of a joint. max didn't think that weed was the devil, but he didn't want you doing anything reckless without him.

as a result he had his very stoned girlfriend seated on the counter and happily eat a pb&j sandwich. he then got closer and rubbed your bare knee. he leaned in and licked a speck of jelly on the corner of your mouth.

he said softly, "you have to be a good girl for me. listen and behave. i know it's tempting to want to be like the others, but i need to keep you safe. what would happen if you took too much and someone tried to hurt you?" he kissed you on the lips, tasting the sweetness of your late night snack on your lips.

"i was fine, maxie." you beamed as you felt his kisses pepper your face. you giggled and squirmed, it was cute. you only called him maxie when you were very intoxicated.

he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut as he touched your arms. you looked so good in his clothes. maybe next time you go out, he'll make you wear a little reminder of him.

"my poor treasure.' he said, "you just have to be the life of the party. now, is there anything else you took?"

you shook your head, "nope. nothing else, i promise. i felt too giggly after the joint and then i ended up back home. but, honestly, maxie... i want you."

he chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, "oh i bet. i bet you thought about me on the ride home. you thought about my cock inside of you, i bet if left to your own devices you would've made a mess of the seat of your friend's car." he pushed up the skirt of the 'slutty' dress you wore that night.

you blushed and wanted to hide your face, which only made max chuckle. he pushed the skirt up further until your pretty blue underwear was on display for him.

he licked his lips, "tell me when to stop." he wanted to make sure that you weren't too high to know what was going on. he wasn't a monster.

you nodded and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. you said softly, "give it all to me, maxie." and kissed his ear before you fell apart in giggles. you leaned up against the cabinets and let max take off your panties. he left them dangling on your left ankle.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said honestly, he briefly looked to you and licked his lips.

you watched him take his cock out of his sweatpants, he could see you were already so hot all over. he spread your legs further as he got closer in between them.

his cock was decently sized, nothing to be scared of. nothing that would hurt you if he tried to jam it in. you knew the fantasy was a large cock, but you had you heard stories of bruised cervixes that max was just the right fit for you.

he braced his hands on either side of you on the counter as he slid his cock into your sweet pussy. it wasn't a painfully slow insertion, but when he got his cock to the root. he felt a sense of relief at the feeling of you.

he kissed at your face as he thrusted in and out of you. the tip barely out before he slid back in. he groaned through the kisses that he peppered your face with.

"mmm, that's it." he said, "you feel so good, my treasure. how's that head of yours?" he asked as he thrusted up into you harder. it was quick and hard rhythm.

you felt on cloud nine, with the two shots of vodka, all that weed and now the heightened feeling of having sex all made your head race with thoughts of nothing. everything kind of blended together in your mind.

you held onto his shoulders, your fists tied up in the shoulders of his white t-shirt. you were breathing heavily and felt your core throb. you whined, "max, ah. fuck. i couldn't stop thinking about you on the ride home. i was so fuckin' horny." you whined.

you got horny when you smoked, most would devour a pizza. you'd do that with ease but also want to be fucked until you were a fucked out pile of goo on the bed until you reformed into a human in the morning.

"oh yeah, did you look at photos of me?"

"yes, maxie." you purred.

"were they safe photos?" he asked as he leaned even more up against you. letting him get even closer to you. as if he wasn't already in your personal space.

you giggled, "of course! i didn't want to show my friends what you're packing down there." you had an assortment of nudes from him as he did for you.

he kissed at the nape of your neck, your thighs tightened around his waist as he bullied his cock into you. you were perfect like this, submissive like a little lamb. he chuckled, "good, don't want to cause an incident."

he continued to fuck you on top of the granite countertop in the kitchen. his thrusts were fast and it made you moan loudly against him. you felt your heart thump wildly in your chest.

it all felt so good. you clutched onto his t-shirt as he fucked you rapidly, "please, maxie."

"cum for me, treasure. i know you need it." he whispered in your ear as he continued to move.

you kicked out your legs a little as you came, your noise was high pitched but yet so sweet. it was painfully cute when you did it. it made him hot all over. you felt painfully good.

"good girl."

you held onto him tightly as he battered your pussy with a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you. you panted against his shoulder and clung to him tightly.

he said sweet nothings to you both in english and dutch which made you feel like jelly. you leaned up against him as he finished inside of you with a rough groan.

"my treasure." he purred as he slowed down to a stop. he held you for a moment, feeling your heavy breathing against his shoulder.

"maxie." you purred, still hot all over. the weed was still in your system.

he pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his sweatpants. he admired the bit of cum that leaked out of your poor cunt. it eased any possessiveness in his mind, relaxed him that he was able to make his beloved girlfriend feel good.

"c'mon, finish that water and we'll get you to bed." he patted your thigh before he pulled your pretty panties back up over your hips.

you nodded softly before you carefully got a hold of the cup and finished the rest of the water quickly. you could be good, for once!

-

the following week, max was being nice and helping you put your strappy sandals before you went out for the evening with some of the other partners of drivers.

when he got up from the floor, he reached over down the couch and grabbed a windbreaker jacket with his team, name and number on it. he put it on you before he zipped it up to the top, effectively hiding the suggestive outfit you were wearing.

he patted your shoulders and kissed your forehead before he said, "there, perfect. now remember, no drugs. okay?" he kissed you again, "you're going to be good for me?"

you nodded, "always max. but i am tempted to be bad again. if that means you'll fuck me on the counter again."

max smiled as he tapped your nose, his face close to you, "next time i won't be so generous. if you come home to me high again, i'm not going to be as nice."

you smiled at him, "then i'll be good then." you got up from the couch and embraced your boyfriend. you gave him a kiss on the cheek and felt safe in his arms for a moment, "no weed, no nothing."

"good, that's what i like to hear. now you for have fun, treasure." he kissed your cheek. he walked you to the front door before he saw you out. when he closed the door once you left, he palmed himself through his sweatpants at the thought of you.

he walked to the bedroom and searched in the back of the closet. he pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and a blindfold. he walked back to the bed casually and placed them down softly.

just in case you decided to misbehave again <3

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[menagerofmischief]

Dia's Diner (closed)

diner is closed for catch up as I have too many unwritten orders, time of return unknown

Welcome to Dia's Diner, here you'll be able to order your meal (fic) with as many specifications and dishes as you want. We hope you leave satisfied ;)

first step is choosing who you want your fic to be about, so pick a server (you can even pick two)

SERVERS:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Carlos Sainz Jr.

Lewis Hamilton 

George Russel

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Daniel Riccardo

Alex Albon

Fernando Alonso

Franco Collapinto 

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Lance Stroll

Ollie Bearman

Kimi Antonelli

Mick Schumacher

Arthur Leclerc

Sebastian Vettel

Mark Webber

Jenson Button

Nico Rosberg

Toto Wolff

every good meal starts with an appetizer, by choosing your appetizer you're setting the main trope of the fic

STARTERS:

charcuterie board (dating)

artichoke dip (brother’s friend)

olives and cheese (friends to lovers)

stuffed cherry tomatoes (sugar daddy)

hummus nachos (teammates)

shrimp cocktail (rivals to lovers)

and how you want it served

HOT OR COLD: 

hot appetizer (sweet sex) 

cold appetizer (rought sex) 

now it's time to order the main dish, feel free to choose as many as you want

MAINS:

lobster (“I love watching my cum leak out from your pussy”)

caviar and oysters (“Gonna look so good full of my babies”)

fish and chips (“Where are your manners?”)

steak (“Made just for me. My pretty little cocksleeve”)

burger and fries (“Hurts? That’s too bad baby, should have thought about it before being such a slut”)

buffalo wings (“Count them for me”)

ramen (“What would your brother think if he saw us?”)

gyros (“Gonna fill you up”)

full english (“My pretty little slut”)

pizza (“My good girl”)

pesto pasta (“Slow down, you just told me to speed up. What’s it gonna be silly girl?”)

carbonara (“Look so good on my cock”)

sausage rolls (“I’ll make it fit”)

sushi (“Better quiet down, you don’t want them to hear us.)

tacos (“I’m gonna give you an attitude check”)

chicken quesadilla (“So pretty with my cock down your throat”)

crab cakes (“Yeah, gonna swallow like a good girl?”)

chicken nuggets (“Couldn’t help being a brat, could you?”)

kimchi (“Be a good girl and take it”)

tomato soup (“Running away from my dick? I don’t think so.”)

cheese fries (“I love making you squirt”)

stuffed potato (“Just where you belong … on your knees for me”)

sarma (“Gonna put a baby in you”)

moussaka (“You look your best covered in my cum”)

caesar salad (“Lie to me again and you’re not gonna like what happens next”)

chicken skewer (“Be a good girl and cum for me”)

mac and cheese (“Only good girls get to cum”)

mango sticky rice (“Next time you try that shit I’ll make him watch while I fuck you”)

chicken fingers (“Yeah, you like being filled in both ends like a slut”)

butter chicken rice (“If you want it then you better beg for it”)

eggs and bacon ("Are you gonna stop moving or am I gonna hold you down?")

spring rolls ("All you do is complain, perhaps I should shut you up")

sloppy joe ("You have the prettiest mouth. Why don't you put it to good use?")

kebab ("Look at that my cock is splitting you in half")

grilled cheese ("I buy you nice things and then I get to fuck you in them. Sounds fair to me")

pot roast ("You going to let me take my anger out on you, sweetheart?")

chili ("Look at you humping my thigh like a bitch in heat")

california rolls ("Scream my name - I want everyone to know who's making you feel this good)

PB&J ("Look at him while I make you cum")

dumplings ("Ride this cock - it's your cock")

black pudding ("There we good, you're such a good girl, taking you punishment so well")

smoked salmon ("My good girl deserves a reward")

fish tacos ("Just lie back and let me take care of you")

seafood boil ("Maybe I'll make a mix tape of your moans to listen to while I drive")

spaghetti with meatballs ("Why don't you put on that pretty little set I bought for you?")

veggie burger ("Feel how hard you make me")

hot dog ("Thought about you while touching myself. The real things is much better")

ratatouille ("I'll mark you up so much no man will dare talk to you again")

bacon pancakes ("I love when you wear dresses. It's so easy to flip it up and fuck you")

chicken alfredo ("You haven't been very good, have you? And you know what happens to bad girls")

avocado toast ("Look at you all dumb and crying on my cock")

lasagna ("Where did all that cockiness go now that it's time to take your punishment?)

gnocchi ("You like when I treat you like a toy, don't you?)

mashed potatoes and gravy ("You had no problem getting fucked in here like a slut. Then you should have no problem walking out there with my cum dripping down your legs")

having a drink with your dish really elevates the experience, drinks represent different kinks

DRINKS:

ice tea (oral giving/receiving)

sweet tea (morning sex)

mint tea (body worship giving/receiving)

redbull (filming sex)

vodka redbull (squirting)

white claw (pegging)

white wine (sir kink)

red wine (daddy kink)

rose (spanking)

champagne (threesome)

old fashioned (drunk sex)

whiskey (double penetration)

mai thai (mirror sex)

cosmopolitan (temperature play)

beer (bondage)

root beer (blindfold)

apple cider (spitting)

apple juice (edging)

orange juice (overstimulation)

pineapple juice (wax play)

boba (anal)

smoothie (hickeys)

matcha (toys)

vanilla milkshake (nipple play)

hot chocolate (dry humping)

chocolate milk (thigh riding)

espresso (dom/sub)

black coffee (chocking)

mocha coffee (degradation)

pumpkin spice latte (losing virginity)

fanta (size kink)

coca-cola (somnophillia)

coke zero (free use)

pepsi (car sex)

lemonade (public sex)

strawberry lemonade (breeding)

coconut water (jealous sex)

sparkling water (phone sex)

iced water (dirty talk)

to end the night you might consider getting a dessert, in this case dessert is aftercare

DESSERT: 

yes (aftercare included) 

no (aftercare not included)

special instructions: tell me your favorite track/race at the end of your request and I'll throw you in a freebie on the house that goes best with your order

Thank you for visiting! Here at Dia's Diner your pleasure is our priority, so be on the look out for new additions to our menu. Come back again.

A/N: I'm so grateful for each and every one of your requests, but I just ask that you be patient about waiting for it since I don't have much free time because of school.

[asexual-juliet]

saw the outsiders musical last night (7/20/24) and thought i would make a little post about some of my favorite parts!! brody, sky & daryl were out so i saw trevor wayne as pony, josh strobl as johnny & henry julián gendron as two-bit!

there’s a bit after pony gets jumped by the socs where darry and soda are cleaning the blood off his face and when they’re done and have gotten up johnny comes and sits next to him and takes out a rag and starts also cleaning pony’s face <3 it’s so so sweet

henry does a couple little opt-ups as two-bit in both grease got a hold and hoods turned heroes where i was like “ooh!” i adore daryl tofa so i was a little disappointed when i found out i wouldn’t be able to see him but henry was SO fantastic!! such a talented dancer and you could tell he was having so much fun with the character! such a standout for me.

was deeply impressed by how many items were successfully thrown and caught in grease got a hold like holy shit dude

the LIGHTING in great expectations has pony pointing his flashlight at darrel on “darrel was on his way up in the world” & johnny on “johnny has no kind of chance in this world” and then as the verse goes on he points it at all of the greasers standing all over the stage and the light lingers on them for the rest of the song it’s so fucking cool-looking! and during the chorus the stage starts to look like a starry sky which is a choice they bring back for the little great expectations reprise at the end of far away from tulsa. 

the moment where pony & johnny do their little cool guy walks over to cherry and marcia at the drive-in with their popped collars was so precious to me

i ADORE cherry valance and i ADORE emma’s take on her!! her little convo with pony at the drive-in was really sweet and i loved that they chose not to make the dynamic feel like a crush on ponyboy’s part it was such a nice moment of two people finding and genuinely understanding each other so deeply <3

lighting sound & everything was so next-level during the fountain scene-bob’s death like i don’t even think i can describe it it was so much and so crisp and so visceral in the absolute best way

staging for run run brother was SO cool — there’s a part at the end where they use the tires and boards from the set to make two platforms that the other actors can roll them back and forth while johnny is on one and pony on the other and they roll them away from each other and they are both reaching out so desperately towards each other its so fantastic

i also really liked the part in run run brother where dally gives pony his jacket like he just wordlessly put it on for him it’s so nice

lighting & subsequent blackout at the end of run run brother as pb&j are in the air after jumping off the “train” was ELITE

pony is holding johnny’s switchblade during death’s at my door and at the end of the song johnny reaches out to take it from him but he doesn’t pull away so he’s just holding pony’s hand and then he puts his other hand over pony’s too and they sit there like that until the lights go down <3

LOVED what they’ve done with darry’s character here!! i know people have some nitpicky things with it but he is such a fascinating character and i’m so glad that the musical theater medium was able to do so much with him that the limited pov of the novel couldn’t — brent comer plays darry so so well and my heart aches for him like fuck dude he cares about his brothers so fucking much and he’s doing his best and he’s so so tired :((( give him a break!!

jason schmidt’s voice is SO fantastic holy fuck throwing in the towel was GORGEOUS!! and the little bit at the end where soda hugs darry and it looks like he maybe kisses him on the head a little is so darling <3

the entire “do i look like julie andrews?” scene is so fucking good… genuinely made me laugh out loud. “fine, paul newman, then!” “…no shit?” is so fantastic and johnny’s little “she is pretty as hell :)” about cherry is adorable. and ofc the “goldilocks and her ugly sister” line is fucking great

the way that johnny perks up when he hears “say hey to johnny for us :)” in soda’s letter is so cute

the church fire scene is perhaps the coolest shit i have ever seen onstage

ponyboy is crying so hard after johnny dies that has to sit down on the floor of the hospital room and soda sits behind him and just holds him <3

ponyboy is like actively crying as he narrates dally’s death its so fucking heartbreaking. i liked that they drew the parallels between the train crashes in order to make dally’s death meaningful despite its departure from the book. and the detail about the train derailing when it hit him was wonderfully written. 

there is a scene where ponyboy is like inconsolable sitting on the living room floor with his head in his arms after johnny and dally die and cherry comes by the house because she has been volunteering at the hospital and no one came to pick up johnny’s clothes after he died and she thought ponyboy should have them and she tells him there’s a letter in the pocket addressed to him and after she leaves he just sits there for a while and when he finally moves he picks up johnny’s jean jacket and fucking like hugs it and buries his face in it and it’s so so so heartbreaking and soda has to come over and start reading the letter to him before johnny appears and starts singing stay gold <3

johnny starts SR at the beginning of stay gold while pony is sitting on the car at SL but he is slowly moving closer to pony as the song goes on and right before they start singing in harmony johnny sits down next to him <3 <3 <3

josh’s stay gold made me CRY!! especially him and trevor singing “i have known a love that many never know / and that love lives on no matter where i go” holy shit. their voices blend together so beautifully

overall i fucking ADORED trevor’s ponyboy!! he embodies the role so so well and has such a fourteen-year-old boy vibe when he’s onstage that i definitely did not expect from an actor in his twenties! i’ve heard that his pony is a little more emotional than brody’s & josh’s and that was a choice i really really vibed with!! and his voice was like jaw-dropping, what a talent!!

stagedoor afterwards was so so wonderful! i made drawings for the entire cast and everyone was so so nice and seemed to really like them! the ensemble & understudies especially seemed really thrilled that i had made something for them

henry in particular was so so sweet and seemed like he couldn’t believe that i had drawn him! he was like “is this me for real?” and someone (i think it was trevor) told him to look at the back where i had written his name and a little note and he was really excited about it!! he actually was like “this is awesome i have to go inside and give this to my mom right now so i don’t lose it” and his family was right inside the stagedoor and he pointed me out to them and they were so excited! he gave me a hug too it was really nice :)

trevor was also really excited and was like “this is a drawing of me for real? not brody?” and he was so happy when he turned it around and saw his name <3

i gave melody and sarahgrace copies of the same drawing of both of them and as soon as i gave it to melody she immediately looked around to find sarahgrace and show it to her (she was still inside but it was very cute) and then she told me they were going to put it on the wall in their dressing room!!

sarahgrace was like “omg you even drew my bracelet!” and was excited when i pointed out the detail i put in for the pattern on her dress!

trevor yelled across the sidewalk to tell josh to stop talking to his (trevor’s) mom as a joke lmfao

everyone except jason & kevin c came out to stagedoor and they were all so so sweet!! got photos with most of them and they all signed my copy of the book!! overall such a fucking fantastic experience! the drawings were a lot of work but it was so nice to see the looks on the cast’s faces when they saw them!!

[bloodydeanwinchester]

GOD dark side of the moon is such a good fucking episode!!!!! dean's best memories are all setting off fireworks with sammy and pb&js with the crusts cut off and comforting his mom when she and john were fighting and sam's best memories are all some other family's thanksgiving, running away from home, leaving his family for stanford. dean's are all moments with his family, moments that he was able to take care of them or make them happy...sam's are all moments he got to be away from his family. to be on his own. it really highlights the differences between the two of them. sam says "i never got the crusts cut off my pb&j. i just don't look at family the way you do" and sure that's true and i can understand how that would change the man that sam became. and yeah dean did get the crusts cut off his pb&j. but he also had to comfort his mom when he was 4 years old and she and john were fighting. he'd been trying to hold his family together all on his own long before the yellow-eyed demon ever came and burned their "happy family" down. it wasn't just mary's death and johns spiral into hunting that made dean into the person who takes care of his family and puts their happiness above his own. sure the hunting only made it worse......but it was already part of who he was. he was always gonna be the one taking care of everyone else in his life.

[spectral-phases]

A non-comprehensive guide to my cooking headcanons for the Batfam

I'll add comic panels to support myself when I feel like I'm going very much against the grain of fanon and have to defend my position a little.

Alfred: Master of the craft, learned to cook from French chefs and has been a professional chef as a cover while serving as a spy. He can make you croissants and puff pastry from scratch, but the waffle iron (every waffle iron, yes even that brand new fancy one that is supposed to be so easy to use) was designed in hell to torment him specifically. This may be because even God himself is jealous of Alfred's ability to master a recipe after only reading it once (never refers to it again while working), or watching the video once and so he was given an Achilles heal by the divine. He has a cookbook and personal recipes written down, but very rarely looks at them. He is not the best teacher, and he did not care for children or anyone else in the kitchen, but Martha Wayne was not having any of that, especially for Jewish holidays, and to date, the way he handles kids in the kitchen is his best approximation of how Martha taught Bruce how to cook, but he lacks the requisite patience because he learned how to cook from old school French chefs (Gordon Ramsey without the soft kids mode, but he's never screaming or yelling or cussing people out because he's refined).

He is allowed to cook in the kitchen by himself

The kitchen is his domain and he maintains the right to supervise as needed, with some exceptions

Select people can assist him, but he prefers to do the cooking by himself as its the only thing he adds to the family that they enjoy that isn't cutting off years of his life like medical treatment or running the comms is. He's also stupid fucking fast at it and good at cleaning as he goes, and its hard to have someone else in his very regulated and honed system without mucking it up

Bruce: Contrary to popular belief, the man can cook. Unfortunately, he can only do so if there is a written recipe to follow and it is written in the way that makes sense to his brain. Will read the recipe ahead of time for prep, but will miraculously forget that there is a 3 hour resting period if it is not at the top with the prep time and cook time. Please do not ask him to cook anything after watching a video, it does not stick. Has no sense of what spices do what, so if the recipe says we're using 2 tablespoons of ground cloves, then that's what we're doing. With a good recipe, he can make any food from around the world no matter how complex, however, even something as simple as a tuna salad, ham and cheese, or a PB&J sandwich needs a written recipe with exact amounts and instructions for him to get it done or he will mess it up in ways not even the devil himself could imagine. Look, he has an eidetic memory, but his brain just does not compute that way and he's alway second guessing himself without a written recipe. The only thing he can make from scratch without a recipe are his mother's latkes, but that is, of course, rarely made because of all the emotions, but sometimes he goes through it because he remembers how she had him make them and it feels like she's still there with him, whispering in his ear.

He and Alfred have both agreed to tell anyone who asks that he's not allowed to cook by himself in the kitchen because he will find a way to use three pots and every bowl to make hot chocolate (he will, as a matter of fact), but it's really because when he was younger, he was making a pan sauce that the recipe simply said to “reduce” and managed to burn it so badly it ruined a pan Alfred had inherited from his grandmother and Bruce cannot stomach the possibility of doing that again

He winds up cooking for real these days only if Alfred is injured, but can sit in the kitchen to help supervise (“No, Master Bruce, you'll need a much bigger pot for that”) and explain vague steps in the recipes ("Coat the back of a spoon means that...")(Alexa or other virtual assistants do not help)

He's also a bitch and a boss and a babe and he is? So tired. Most days he would probably wish for the sweet release of death over making one more decision about what to eat and how to get it on the table.

Dick: Despite what his kitchen cabinets may suggest, he makes phenomenal food. He's just putting all his emotional energy into keeping his people alive so if he's on his own then odds are he's having take-out, eating a mix of cereal/granola bars/trail-mix/cartons of protein shakes, or maybe a frozen meal prepped thing from the last time he had the wherewithal and time to do so and is thusly freezer burned to shit. If he is making food for other people? Amazing. Delicious. His repertoire is mainly dishes from Eastern Europe or Southwest Asia, but he has to know what the soul of the meal is if he's making something new. Rarely consults written recipes (unless they're online and have the whole novel of where the recipe came from and what it means and all the pictures of how it's supposed to look at various stages, and he will read that and the ingredient list only), prefers videos, but only from grandmas and grandpas or POC, not the rich white frat boys.

He cooks in any kitchen where Alfred is not and will not be present. You would be forgiven for thinking that he and Alfred could cook in the kitchen at the same time, especially since they can make the same dish with a reasonably similar flavor profile. The fact of the matter is, they both are very much type A personalities (even if Dick likes to pretend he's a type B) and if they are both present during the cooking process they will be at each other's throats constantly about their different methods, even if they are getting to the same destination in the end

Cass: Subsists mostly off of what she can find or what others feed her. She can cook a few simple dishes but they’re not mind blowing. She does make a phenomenal assistant, but she had zero working knowledge of what does what coming into the picture and has been gradually learning. Has learned how to work the waffle iron from Steph, and so is in charge of waffles for breakfast. Waffles has become her thing and everyone lets her have it. She can even make stuffed waffles these days.

Alfred is happy to leave all waffle breakfast adventures in the manor to Cass, she's very polite in the kitchen and doesn't make a huge mess, she'll even clean as she goes so it doesn't interfere with whatever else he is making

She is Alfred's favorite assistant (the rare times that he actually wants one) because she doesn't take his irritation personally because she can see how its meant to be directed at himself and will do exactly as he says

Jason: It's important you know I headcanon his paternal grandmother as Italian (so she cannot be Ma Gunn) and his step-mother as Latina going into this. He can fucking cook like no one's business. He can taste something and recreate it nearly flawlessly. However, he was taught by his nonna and mamita to measure with his heart, so he was presented with measuring cups once and broke out into hives. Only God knows how much of any one ingredient makes it into anything he makes, this includes cakes and breads. The only recipes he's interested in learning are strictly videos from the grandmas and grandpas or POC (Jason has a rule, the shittier the camera quality, the better the food will be, usually). He watched one popular white frat boy cooking video exactly once and was screaming about why they have to dirty approximately sixteen thousand little bowls to measure out each spice by themselves (and that wasn't nearly enough garlic!). He technically has recipes written down by hand from his nonna and mamita, and a few he wrote himself to try and help Alfred understand some meals, they're just hidden away in a drawer that he rarely references for cooking guidance over looking at their handwriting (The set from his family was in the box of stuff the neighbor saved for him that had his birth certificate in it, and he is forever grateful to still have that stuff. He thought for sure it was gone for good). Approximately 80% of all his meals are cooked by him or someone else, even if it's just a quick scrambled eggs and toast.

Jason and Alfred do not coexist happily in a kitchen together. However, they do coexist because Alfred asked him once why he was doing things “that way” as a child and he said his Nonna did it that way and that shut Alfred the fuck up immediately

Jason does not accept help in the kitchen from anyone unless he's making dumplings of any variety or tamales and then everyone's helping put them together

Tim: He only started learning how to cook at the age of 15, so he doesn't have a wide base of experience to draw from or pre-existing knowledge. Tim has a few staple dishes he has learned how to make. It's good, but not winning any awards. However, his hang up is he needs to know exactly how and why things work the way they work in a recipe before he can actually be trusted to cook it on his own. He likes recipes from food scientists, hobbyists or professionals, because they are more likely to explain all the things he needs to know before he can go ahead and cook something more complex. He measures everything in grams, and had to get a scale with 10ths of a gram for spices, once made coffee with lab equipment just for the science of it. Someone got him The Food Lab by J. Kenji Lopez-Alt and it was a game-changer. There is no deity out there that can explain to you the recipes he writes down himself, because their ever changing shorthand only make sense in his brain. Like Dick, Tim does not often have the wherewithal to make complex foods for himself, and so has a bunch of jars of sauces/curries/soups or vacuum sealed pre-seasoned meals ready to go in a sous vide or pot in the freezer to break out as needed. Often freezer-burned because of how little he is at his own place.

Tim is only allowed to cook in the manor's kitchen with supervision because he is likely to make disastrous experiments if left curious and unattended ("I know it's usually done this way, but…" is either going to lead to some delicious food, or an explosion. No way to know for sure unless you're there watching it happen live). What happens in his home kitchen is between him and God

He can make himself useful as an assistant if needed, but usually only for Dick because only he has the patience to put up with Tim in the kitchen

Damian: Has forced himself to learn to cook competently. Will not let himself be outdone by the others, but has learned from all of them. When he's older, he could whip up a Michelin star quality dinner with plating, but doesn't find it worth the effort unless he is trying to impress someone or prove he can. Opts for simple and nutritious meals on the rare occasion he is responsible for his own meals and has the time/desire to cook. Does he measure? Only exactly for baked goods, he will never admit it, but he has no idea how Jason can make baked goods without measuring. There are two things he knows how to make on his own as easy as breathing beyond eggs: Martha Wayne's latkes and Talia's karak chai.

Damian will only cook in the manor if it is more prudent to do so and everyone else there cannot (It's the middle of a blizzard and Bruce and Alfred are sick). Regardless, he is allowed to cook unsupervised in the manor when he's old enough for that to be reasonable.

Will help Alfred but complain the whole time, despite obviously enjoying the time spent with Alfred

Look, he's either helping someone else make something, or he's on his own. Does not care for assistants as he feels like he is constantly being judged.

Barbara: Can cook, will cook, and does cook. She uses slow-cookers and sous vide usually, because she needs something she can throw into a pot and then have to run away from for hours at a time at a moments notice without having to juggle it too. Otherwise it's a microwaved meal. Everything in her kitchen has been fit to accommodate her cooking in her wheelchair and when she's got the time and is really feeling up to it, she can cook a very amazing meal on the stove just for herself or anyone else she's having over.

Will only accept help in the kitchen from Cass or Steph because they are laid back enough to put up with

Steph: Can she cook? Yes. Does she love cooking? No. Cooking is a chore to her and it does not have the payoff she needs to engage with it more than absolutely necessary. She'll look through her pantry and declare that she doesn't have anything good because everything she has was bought when she had more ambition to cook than she currently possesses and then order door dash. The easiest way to get her to cook is to tell her that she's not allowed to. That said, she really loves to bake. She's not winning any awards for her presentation, but it tastes amazing.

Would rather clean dishes than help cook because she does not have the energy to put up with the way the others are while cooking

I haven't read much with Kate, Duke, Helena, or Harper in it, so I don't have anything for them.

[lady06reaper]

hii!!! kenny x immortal! reader???? :DD

I have been WAITING for a Kenny ask, like foaming at the mouth

(ngl ive sent this in to other authors and got nun, no hate to them tho)

Kenny x Immortal! Reader

TW: death, alcohol, NSFW under the cut

Alright, right off the bat yall know each other because your friends with the group but they don't know your immortal whereas you know Kennys immortal (just go with it for now ;) )

How Kenny finds out is you and the four were hanging out by Kennys house in Sodosopa where that big building is

Yall decided to climb to the top and drink and do normal teenager things

like truth or dare

and Cartman being the asshole he is decided you need to jump off the building for the dare

"(Y/N), truth or dare?"

"Dare"

"I dare you to jump off the building"

"Okay, not that far of a fall"

you just shrug that shit off, turn to where your facing the guys and do a free fall backwards

they immediately scramble to see over the building

"Oh my god! Cartman killed (Y/N)!"

"You bastard!"

they just continue on like nothing, but Kenny remembers and the next day he confronts you HARD about it, like interrogation

"YOU'RE IMMORTAL!?"

"Yeah? So are you doofus"

Yall, he was a simp for you then but after that it just made you 10x hotter

you two got closer due to this

granted he can't take you out on fancy dates, but a picnic with PB&J at Starks Pond is just as good

yall best believe you guys tried to see who can hold their head underwater the longest

he VERY clingy now, like if you were mortal he'd still be clingy, but this is something else

like attached at the hip, granted yea you're immortal but that doesn't mean he wants to see you die

I can see either one of you do dumb shit and then die, and when you resurrect the other gives you a lecture like a parent

!!NSFW!!

he would quite literally ask if yall could fuck till one of you dies of an orgasm

I dont think he'd be into any kink that would involve harming you or him

but you best believe the bitch is gonna bite and scratch HARD

like you're bleeding hard

but dont worry! he will take care of you afterwards and make sure you aren't in any sort of medical danger

i fell like even though you're both immortal he wouldn't get tired of fucking you, whether its hard core or vanilla as hell

I hoped you enjoyed it! I'm so happy this was my first Kenny request. I have been thinking about writing an actual oneshot over this but idk.

[shifterdomain]

She called me daddy / Jonah Hauer-King X Reader

Summary: You have a 3-year-old daughter from a past relationship, your former partner walking out on your relationship when you had ‘accidentally’ gotten pregnant. Luckily you met Jonah on a night out about a year ago and ever since he met your daughter the two have been completely in love. Now you were at the Little Mermaid premier to cheer on Jonah, hoping to stay behind the scenes, but your daughter had other plans. Warnings: Cuteness and a cussing toddler Word count: 916

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You had done the best you could at looking as pretty as possible for your boyfriend this evening, as much as you could have done after spilling jelly over your white dress when your toddler demanded her PB&J sandwich.

Hurrying to the venue you had luckily made it on time, watching as Jonah stepped onto the carpet, holding hands with his co-star Halle and laughing. Most people assumed that you would be jealous and you could understand why. Halle was beautiful and you could tell that her and Jonah had a connection, but you trusted him. You trusted the both of them and you knew that it was just friendship. So you couldn’t do anything but smile, holding your toddler’s hand as your eyes followed him across the blue carpet.

You couldn’t be more proud of what he had achieved. Crouching down beside your daughter you wrapped your arms around the little girl. “Look, there’s Jonah,” you pointed him out to her and she looked in awe as she saw him walk alongside Ariel. Her mind lost in the magic of the movies as she refused to believe that it was not real, so you decided to let her. “They look pretty tonight, don’t you think?”

She shyly nodded her head, her tiny fingers playing with her bottom lip as she balanced her weight around a bit. “I wanna say hi,” she murmured.

“You can say hi after they’re done taking photos, okay?” you reply, hugging her a little tighter as you watched your boyfriend pose for his pictures. Your heart swelling with love just as it did the first time you saw him.

Lost in the moment you didn’t realize that your grip had loosened, but Y/D/N did notice and she took the opportunity to pull free from your grasp and run towards Jonah. Your eyes widening in a slight state of panic, hoping that he wouldn’t be too mad as you tried to explain to the security that the girl who slipped past them was your daughter.

As you were doing so, you failed to see your daughter clutch onto Jonah’s pants sleeve, looking up at him with wideset eyes, the same kind of adoration in her eyes that you had in yours when you looked at him.

She shyly turned her face away from the flashing camera’s, causing Jonah to chuckle quietly as he scooped the girl up into his arms, holding her on his hip and hiding her face away from the camera’s.

“Hey sweetie, where’s mommy?” he asked, his voice hushed to keep her calm. She pointed in your direction and Jonah followed the line of her finger to see you talking to the security guards who refused to let you through. “Is mommy in a bit of trouble? Should we help her?”

Your daughter shook her head ‘no’ with a mischievous little smile on her face, giggling softly as she held onto the collar of his shirt. Jonah chuckled quietly as well, tossing her up slightly to hold her more comfortably.

“No?”

“No,” she stated firmly. “I wanna be a famous star and mommy tells me I can’t because she doesn’t want me to say something embarrassing about you like how you always snore in the morning,” she explained, a crimson flushing across his cheeks as he hears a few photographers laughing softly, knowing they heard what she said. “and I think that that is- can I say a bad word?” she cut herself off mid-sentence and Jonah, thinking that it couldn’t be that bad as she was only so young, gave her a nod. “I think that that is fucking bullocks.” she finished, Jonah’s eyes widening in shock as he placed his free hand over his gaping mouth. Hearing laughing behind him, he turned towards Halle, silently begging her for advice on what he should do as he tried his best not to freak out.

Halle couldn’t stop laughing however, finding it adorable how the little girl who was dressed up as Ariel cursed with a soft voice and a heavy British accent. Even if you didn’t have the accent, she had began to pick it up from Jonah and you found it too adorable.

“Did you- did you hear that? Did she really just say that?” Jonah questioned in a state of internal panic, already trying to figure out how to explain to you that your daughter had used such language, and with his approval too. “Where did you learn to speak like that, missy?” he asked asked her, but quickly tried to come up with something else to talk about when he saw you walk up to him. Not wanting to have to explain this to you in such a public setting.

Your toddler, however, had very different plans… again.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, a cute smile on her face as the photographers burst out laughing. You and Jonah looked at her in full-blown shock at the audacity of the normally shy girl.

“Y/D/N Y/D/M/N Y/L/N, where did you hear that?” you asked her sternly.

She didn’t look fazed at all, placing a hand on top of Jonah’s shaven head. “Daddy,” she answered and as you gave Jonah a scolding look he couldn’t help but smile widely.

“You taught her that kind of language?”

“She just called me ‘daddy’,” was all he said, the smile on his face only growing as he pressed a kiss against her cheek, his eyes watering from sheer happiness. “She called me daddy.”

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 16

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :) On AO3

Chapter 16: Reunion (part 2)

Steve placed his hand over Eddie’s wet mouth. “Seriously, you have got something better to use as lube than the peanut butter, right?”

Eddie did, though they didn’t rush anything.

A food-fight with m-and-ms happened first, then PB-and-no-J sandwiches, and crazy head-bashing to Bohemian Rhapsody, ‘Wayne’s World’ style. Much as Steve hated anyone messing with Queen songs, he pissed himself laughing. Laughed till he gave himself a sore throat, and kinda wheezed, and Eddie looked dead worried and asked if he needed his meds.

Steve bit back his instinct to snap and remind Eddie that he could make that call himself. He rolled his eyes only when Eddie insisted on sitting him down on the beanbag and rubbing his back, massaging those tension knots from his long car journey, and the rest of it.

Really, it wasn’t needed. It felt so nice, and he gratefully melted into Eddie’s touch.

He did complain when he was stuck in front of Eddie’s stupid tiny washroom mirror, raking candy from his messed-up hair. Eddie didn’t seem to have a decent brush that didn’t make his hair go all bouffant and fluffy.

“It’s 1992, dude! Why are your hair and accessories stuck in the decade that taste forgot?”

“True rocker tresses are eternal,” said Eddie, slipping his arms around Steve’s waist from behind. “Oh, and I left most of my luggage in the penthouse when I fled from…”

Eddie must’ve felt Steve’s muscles lock up again. He kissed Steve’s shoulder tenderly, took his hand and led him into the shower.

Which dribbled on them.

“My sincerest apologies, Princess. After what we’re used to, its tad bijou,” said Eddie, as Steve slabbed his naked body against him.

“Jesus, like I care.”

Steve hooked his arms around Eddie’s neck. There was nowhere else for them to go. Without much choice either, Eddie’s knee wedged between Steve’s legs, and he grimaced as the lukewarm trickle set them both shivering. Steve pressed his fingers to Eddie’s parting lips, stifling any apology:

“It’s perfect.”

As was life later that day, even though Eddie’s convector heater exploded, and temporarily snuffed out the generator. They stayed warm enough, even while naked. Including when Eddie spread Steve out, face-first, on his ‘bijou’ camp bed, and started fondling his thighs, playing with his ass. It was almost hilarious how familiar this felt. Looking back, Steve understood that Eddie hadn’t as much ‘learned’ what Steve enjoyed, but in fact re-taught Steve to enjoy being touched.

“You know what, Robin—I’ll spiral if I gotta, because he’s still the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”

Yeah, he’d been thinking about the money back when he’d said that. Not only the money. With Eddie, right from the opening whistle, it had never been solely about his debts, however desperate he’d been.

“God, I missed this.” Eddie buried his face in the meat of Steve’s butt.

“Yeah, yeah, you love my ass. I got that message, first night together.”

Steve snickered over his shoulder. Eddie made more of those dippy ‘mmmm, mmmmm,’ noises, dabbing Steve’s hole with his tongue. Touching it so lightly it simply tickled. Teasing and circling, then nudging inside.

“Jesus… Eddie… Christ, you’re gonna get tongue strain! Oh… fuck, that’s good.”

Eddie’s laughter gusted against Steve’s butt, and Steve squeezed him—hugged him—with his thighs. Then Eddie’s slippery fingers got in there, deeper, and Steve quivered with need, inside and out. He literally bit the pillow, sucked it. Yeah, having his ass played with was mega-fun, setting his entire skin tingling like a super-sensitive erogenous zone.

The cool of Eddie’s rings touched his opening. Deep inside Steve, something that wasn’t even sexual crumpled in surrender, and he noticed he was crying. Bawling like a fourth-grade wuss, soaking the pillowcase, and he didn’t even care.

Eddie had done this before, pulling him apart at the seams. But always there’d been that thread of doubt that stopped him completely letting go. Now, Eddie withdrew, bracing Steve’s shoulders and easing him up, as if to gather Steve up in his arms. “You wanna hit reverse gear, Baby?”

“M’good.” Steve flopped back down, remaining toe-curlingly turned on. “Cold without you there,” he pleaded, though he was starting to curl in on himself.

Eddie nibbled a kiss at the corner of Steve’s mouth, blanketing Steve with his body. He scraped Steve’s hair from his eyes, peeping at his tear-stained face.

“What do you need, Stevie?”

“Oh Christ,” he sniffled, “I need you. Want you, Eddie, please.”

“You don’t have to beg, Babe.”

“Not begging then. It’s an order. Fuck me.”

Eddie sat up, patted Steve’s rump, and grinned wickedly: “On your back, love?”

Steve obeyed, lifting his ass so Eddie could wedge a thin pillow beneath. He hitched his feet around Eddie’s hips, while Eddie lubed himself, though he was already dripping. He lined himself up. Then hesitated.

“You know, I wanted to cancel that first night, Stevie. Would’ve cancelled, or at least not asked you back, if it wasn’t for—”

“My ass again?” said Steve, still teasing. Also, still gulping back tears.

“Yeah,” admitted Eddie, slowly sheathing himself. “And the rest of you. Loved you from the get-go, I reckon.”

“Bullshit,” sighed Steve, and Eddie began to move. Steve sighed harder, rocked his hips and gasped and sighed a little more: “Welcome home, anyhow… Shit, was that too cheesy? Oh, FUCK YES, THERE.”

…

Yeah, Eddie was home, cheesy as cheesy nachos, and he never wanted this to end.

He was making love, face-to-face with Steve, enjoying his every twitch of pleasure. He tried to take it sweet and slow, while also impatient to get them both off.

He stooped to kiss Steve. Steve cupped one hand on Eddie’s jaw and took his own dick in hand with the other. Eddie slid into a leisurely rhythm. Dammit, but Steve was so sexy it proved hard not to rut and rush:

“You’re so pretty, Stevie,” he cooed. “Honest… think part… part of my problem was… Honestly… th-thought… you were out of my l-league.”

“Don’t be a moron… Oh shit… I was the h-hooker… Yeah, Eddie, there! Uh… um… You’re not so bad yourself… Clearly there weren’t enough mirrors in that dumb pent… Yes… Oh God! Love you… l-love you… Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Eddie leered adoringly. Steve’s face scrunched up, and Eddie slowed, changing his angle, seeking the ways Steve enjoyed it the most. Then Steve sat up, flung an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. His legs squeezed Eddie closer, and his heels pressed Eddie’s butt, inviting Eddie balls deep. He tossed his head back, his thick hair gone feral, the delicate sinews of his throat quailing, and…. Gnnnnng! Eddie jerked his hips madly. Dammit, Steve kicked serious ass at riding cock, and his lean muscular bod looked beyond kickass while he did it.

They’d sure heated up the trailer till it bordered on stifling. Sweat sizzled from his brow and carved sparkling rivulets down Steve’s.

With Steve now straddled about him, basically in his lap, the smallest twitching movements hurled Eddie to the brink. Steve’s fingertips gouged Eddie’s shoulder. The tiny camp bed creaked, and the single lightbulb flickered. Steve’s hand and hard dick slapped wetly against him. If Eddie could’ve formed coherent words, they would’ve been: “One day soon gonna ride your cock like this, Baby. Gonna make you scream for me… Gonna love you so hard.”

Every fiber in Eddie’s body pulled taut. Steve’s head snapped up, teeth clenched, as he squeezed, super-tight, around Eddie. Kinda too tight, and then Steve’s gorgeous ‘o’ face triggered Eddie’s final, quasi-agonizing, torrent of bliss.

Yeah, the orgasm was gooooood, their gazes locked, bodies in total synch. They kissed through the fade and the afterglow, then collapsed to the lumpy mattress, tangled and sticky.

Snuggling in the aftermath proved as good as the sex, though the lightbulb guttered and died. They talked, at least Eddie did, sharing pretty much everything that mattered.

When Steve finally stirred next morning, he turned over, still in the circle of Eddie’s arms. His knee brushed across Eddie’s groin. He yawned, then his eyes stretched wide, and he greeted Eddie with a sleepy kiss. “Wow. It’s real, then?”

“Yup.” Trouble was, while Steve had his lie in, Eddie had been thinking. Always a hazard. They cuddled for a while, dozing and then chatting, until Eddie said: “I can’t help feeling that the honeymoon’s gonna be over soon.”

“What? I thought this was the perfect honeymoon suite. Okay, the walk-in wet room leaves a lot to be desired, but maybe we can get a discount on the check.”

Eddie’s tongue wagged off before he could stop it: “Well, some of us didn’t grow up with a swimming pool, Stevie.”

“Didn't say I didn't like it, sourpuss. This place is kinda shabby chic—my mom was into that—with a hint of zombie apocalypse. Hey, can we work it into your game?” A line creased suddenly between his brows. “How did you know about the pool? I never told you.”

“Sorry.” Eddie’s heart weighed down with guilt. Way to go not pressuring him to talk too soon, Munson! “Saw your picture in your bag when I was looking for your inhaler that time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Steve shrugged. Didn’t bitch at all. He walked his fingers playfully up Eddie’s chest, then tipped up Eddie’s drooping chin. “I’m starving, dude. You got any breakfast?”

“Cereal, bread, nutter-butters, and… uh, mint candy cigarettes? Might be able to rustle up a banana if you don’t mind them brown and squashy.”

“That’ll do.” As they made their way to the breakfast bar, Steve asked, “Did Robin tell you anything? About my past?”

“Not much. Other than…” Eddie braced himself, mindlessly opening and shutting the cupboards. “You were forced into sex work to pay off some debts, right? You really don’t have to talk about it, honey.”

Steve sighed and dumped his butt down on a rickety bar stool. “Actually, Eddie, I do. Apart from… I also can’t. Okay, I need to fill you in on what your friends have been up to these last few days.”

The plan—courtesy of Suzie, Dustin and Nancy—was mind-bogglingly crafty. “Let me get this straight,” said Eddie, swallowing back a mouthful of dry cereal. “They’re gonna dish some dirt and blackmail Lord Dickchester into dropping the charges against me?”

“Blackmail? Shit.” Steve slammed down his spoon and looked kinda startled bunny. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way, but yeah, I guess. But it’s about more than that. Look, Robin told me stuff. About what I did that I barely remember, the flashbacks at the hotel.”

I remember. You were out of your mind and begging to be hurt, and I will relive that horrible moment until I finally belly-flop into Hell where I belong.

Eddie nodded, the irony not lost on him. Even if he was headed for jail, he’d planned to try and look after Steve. Now, Steve, with all this beyond-terrible shit to deal with, was gonna be the one looking after him?

“Seriously,” continued Steve, “I’ve got more on that bastard than they could ever pick up from the other hotel staff and… Truth is, I-I might still be rich, Eddie.”

“Whut?” It was then Eddie noticed Steve’s face working with emotion. “You really don’t have to talk about this now.”

Eddie dragged his stool closer, slid his arm around Steve. Steve dropped his head to Eddie’s shoulder, as he explained what Suzie had told him about his trust fund.

“If I can get Godchester to drop the charges against you, that’s enough for me. I guess. Nancy promised she could keep my name out of the press. As for the rest of it, I might have to fight for my money in court and stuff. I mean, I can’t even say the name of my parents’ lawyer, the one who started all this, so it’s not like Suzie can go gunning for him. How lame-ass is that?”

“It’s not. Don’t say that.” Eddie sounded as choked as he felt. And stunned as if slapped. “You don’t have to do anything. If you can’t, you can’t.”

“I am lame,” said Steve. “I’m so dumb, I can’t even write the lowlife’s name down. Jesus, you might as well know—I’m pretty severely dyslexic. It took me ages to learn to read and write and I can now, but… I guess it’s a bit like a stutter. I break down under pressure. When I worked in the silver service restaurant, I kept on getting the table numbers wrong, so they demoted me to breakfasts only. I know if I tried to write that name down… I’d crack up.”

“You don’t have to then, Sweetheart.”

Steve looked up sharply. “Oh yeah. I really, really do. I said to Robin that if I could just find you, have us to hold onto, maybe I could tough it out. Now I’ve got you, and I mean to go through with it. It’s just… Oh God, even now, my head’s such a mess. I’ve gone so long blotting those memories out, because it was the only way to survive, and… and… now it seems I was fucking duped on top of everything, and… God!”

Steve buried his face in Eddie’s neck and shuddered violently. “Sssssh, take it easy, Steve. I’ll support you, whatever you decide to do.”

“Yeah, right. From your jail cell?” Steve looked up, eyes red, lip hitching in a shockingly steely snarl. “I gotta do this, Eddie. I’ve got to. To save you, me… and whoever else he might be hurting right this instant. Hey, then if we’ve got a dime to rub between us, maybe we spend it on joint sessions with a shrink?”

Steve kinda giggled at that, which set Eddie off cracking up too. They held each other, laughing and sobbing, the breakfast bar stools rocking beneath them.

In truth, Eddie hadn’t really gotten his head around everything Steve had said. He was rattled by it for sure. Steve was sort of right, in that it wasn’t all dreadful news for once. The notion of what Steve intended to put himself through, partially for Eddie, wracked Eddie with fear for him. Plus, more than a smidgeon of his old pal, guilt.

It wasn’t enough to diminish the totally jammin’ glow that their reunion had ignited in his heart.

Not quite.

“You know the craziest thing, Eds?” said Steve, eventually.

“Hit me,” said Eddie.

“I’m happy! Right now. I’m scared shitless about the future, but I’m in love and it feels so good.”

“Back at ya.” Eddie waggled his brows.

“And… I dunno, it’s a weird weight off my shoulders knowing my parents might not have left me up shit creek without a paddle. I want to find out. I need to find out. I mean, it’s not just us against the world, is it? We got back-up.”

“Your friend Robin is sure a force to be reckoned with.”

Steve harrumphed affectionately. “She sure is that. You know, your gang are pretty solid stuff too, and you got Wayne. I can’t help having this probably deluded hunch it might work out for us.”

They spent the morning sorting through Eddie’s designs for the game. Steve killed himself laughing again and again at Eddie’s billion attempts to draw him. After Wayne had been and gone with supplies, Eddie found himself peeping through a crack in the blinds. It was sunny out and yesterday’s puddles had evaporated, which meant it was getting hot and stuffy in the trailer.

That’s when the insane plan struck. “You fancy a little stroll, Babe?”

Steve glanced up from where he was sorting Eddie’s drawings into piles of heroes and villains. “Woah? You on the level?”

“Look, I’m not gonna promise I won’t run back inside screaming. However, I got myself out of the hotel, and while it wrecked me, I made it here. So, maybe with a little help?”

Steve was already on his feet, rubbing his palms together. “Okay. Let’s do this funky thing. Maybe, when we get back, I can sit down and make a first attempt at doing something truly radical. Like writing down a goddamn name.”

“Baby steps, huh?” Eddie snatched a swift breath. “Okay, I’ll take my baby steps first.”

Steve smiled, stretched out a hand to Eddie, and Eddie took it.

And then Steve opened the door.

...

Part 17 (epilogue 1/2)

perma-tag for the best inspiration friend ever: @wheneverfeasible

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[mayaluvzyou]

Willow Tree

Eddie Munson x Childhood bestfriend!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF. Swearing, slightly implied f!reader if you squint, Eddie being a complete dumbass, angry love confession

A/N: this is inspired by another Eddie x reader fic I found on here. The issue is, I'm not sure who made it. Regardless, I give credits to the original creator of the nickname "Trouble"!!!

You can't recall having a crush worse than this. You were undeniably in love with him. The only problem was that this absolute dreamboat of a boy was your best friend of many years. More than half of said years, you'd had the biggest crush on him.

The two of you were out at the park on a picnic "date" as he called it. Only, he thought of it as a friend date. Nothing more. But you craved and yearned for it to be so much more.

Eddie 'the freak' Munson. Your best friend since first grade. You were head over heels for this man and yet he was absolutely oblivious no matter how hard you tried to nonverbally admit it. He was munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before noticing how silent it'd gone, nothing but the subtle breeze of mid July heard.

"Hey, you alright, trouble?" He inquired, eyebrows furrowing a little as he lowered his sandwich from his face.

Trouble. The nickname he'd come up with for you years and years ago when the two of you would go exploring in abandoned houses and whatnot. You'd been a bit more rebellious than usual, and decided to spray paint whatever spots hadn't already been vandalized. So, he ended up calling you trouble- in the most playful way possible, of course. And it stuck.

"I'm fine." Clearly you weren't. Every person ever would say that when it was agonizingly obviously they were NOT fine.

Your off-white sun dress that was scattered with little, dusty pink embroidered flowers fluttered very slightly in the warm breeze.

It seemed like you had too much on your mind. You rarely made eye contact, you barely spoke for the whole "date", and you ate little to nothing.

Something was up.

"Bullshit," Eddie spoke matter-of-factly, dropping his half eaten pb&j onto a paper towel square. "If it were actually nothing, you would've laughed it off by now. So, stop being a shitty liar and tell me what's going on." Very subtly, his expression softened with care. No matter how consistently Eddie teased you, you were always his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite friend, favorite (and only) person who'd help him after getting beat up by Jason and his goons. You meant everything to him.

"Listen, I already said it's nothing. End of story." Your gaze shifted to meet his with a scowl for a mere millisecond to increase the believability of your annoyance. It didn't work.

"Jesus fucking Christ-" Cutting his mumbles short, Eddie brought a ring clad hand up to his face, rubbing at his eyes in growing irritaion. "If it weren't a big deal, you wouldn't be doing this. Just. Spill. It." His face moved just barely a centimeter with his last three words.

You didn't budge, staying silent as a response. You'd given him the silent treatment once or twice before. NEVER was it a common occurrence in your behavior towards him.

The soft wind blew, causing the branches and leaves of the willow tree you and Eddie used to play under sway.

Some nearby child giggled and squealed with childlike joy as it toyed with the family dog.

One minute passed

A bird stopped a few feet away from you two, hoping a couple times before soaring off into a tree.

A squirrel paused it's scattering run up the willow tree to gaze around for a split second before dashing off.

Another minute.

You couldn't do it anymore. You snapped.

"Fuck it.. I love the way you trip over absolutely nothing and then pretend it never happened. I love the way we'd giggle when your hair got all frizzy from the humidity. I love the way you add just a little more jelly than peanut butter to your stupid sandwiches because of your sweet tooth- so, how? How is it not blatantly obvious that I'm in love with you, Eddie. Horribly head over heels in love with you?" You were near breathless after your sudden ramble of pure emotion. Your annoyed speech of how much you truly loved him seemed to take hours in your mind as your heart rate increased the longer you spewed out words like poetry.

Any expression other than surprise and confusion on Eddie's face had dropped. Whilst you were still trying to catch your breath from gushing about him, he was just sitting. Confused. He opened his mouth a few times as if about to speak, yet, nothing more than a few stuttered letters came out.

"Trouble, I- what? I just- I mean, I love you too- it's just that.. Wha?-" Before he could stumble on any more words, you cut him off with a groan of pure frustration, bunching up the frilly hem of your dress with anger. God damn did you love this man.

"My god, Eddie, you're so damn oblivious and I hate how much I love that. I don't love you, Munson. I'm in love with you. Moronically, irrevocably in love with you and your stupid face..!" To anyone else, the tone in which you barked out your confession sounded like you hated him with every fiber in your being, but your words spoke from an entirely different book.

You hadn't noticed how close you'd gotten to him in your fit of angry adoration. Though, one of the few things that did not go unnoticed was the way his eyes flickered down to your lips for a second. The sight of his gaze going only an inch or two down for a puny second made your breath catch.

"Sweetheart," Eddie began, your mind immediately picking up the sound of his now incredibly calm voice calling you 'sweetheart'. Only on some occasions did he call you that. The last time you can recall him calling you sweetheart was years prior. It was freshman year and Jason had ruined a shirt that Eddie had given you as a gift. You sobbed relentlessly before he found you in a bathroom stall, quickly coming in to comfort you.

"I love you too. I can't imagine not being in love with you- and I have no idea why I didn't say anything." He averted his gaze towards the end of his short ramble, wringing out his hands nervously. You rarely ever saw him nervous. Then it clicked. This was raw emotion. He meant it entirely.

Silently, he dragged his eyes back to yours, that chocolate brown gaze meeting yours. Without another thought, you felt his ringed fingers gently grip your jaw and waist, pulling you towards him. Eddie's lips met yours so perfectly to the point where you swore it was dizzying for a split second. Your arms found their way loosely around the base of his neck. What felt like a millennium had only lasted a solid three seconds. A phenomenal three seconds.

With his hands still in the same positions, he spoke again, his voice coming out much softer than the previous time.

"You're my favorite, trouble. Always and forever."

A/N (again): THIS IS ONE OF MY FIRST FICS EVER SO IF ITS SHITTY PLS IGNORE THAT 😭

[cosmic-light-fics]

I am slogging my way through an extremely tedious bout of writing inertia but I absolutely needed, needed, needed to get my thoughts out about this wonderful piece of work created by @sashafiercer. It's hard for me to articulate myself a lot of the time. I don't always think I am saying the things I want to say in the best way or the right way, and I fear I won't do justice to the works that I long to praise. That's why it's taking me forever and a day to be securely confident in divulging my thoughts on the absolute freaking masterpiece that is intimates conquering intimacy (if you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for? A sign? Well consider this your sign. Go read it and get blessed by brilliance. Seriously).

Back to the point, though. The fact that I haven't been able to fully impart any of my love for this series to the masses of the SydCarmy fandom is ticking me off to levels of annoyance that, up until this point, have been unknown to humankind. So now with my little preamble and aired grievances out of the way, let's get down to the nitty-gritty, which is my long overdue love letter to what I love and cherish most about this series.

What do I love most about a need to amuse and enjoy?

Simple. The fact that it exists. I'm being completely honest. I don't think I have ever stumbled across a piece of writing that felt like it was made specifically for my consumption. I feel selfish a lot of the times when I go back and read the series (I've lost count how many times I've re-read it all. Just know I have a tab open to it at all times). I feel selfish because this series is everything I could have ever wanted in a SydCarmy fic. From all of Sydney and Carmy's interactions, to their spot-on dialogue, to the freakishly accurate humor, to the stark beats of emotional vulnerability. It is all there, in this series, and I get to read it however many times I want to, whenever I want to, for FREE! I get to be in this world that @sashafiercer created and experience all of these super sweet and challenging moments that make Sydney and Carmy so special as a couple. That's not even the half of it though. Reading this series is like watching a special continuation of the show. That's how great it is. I don't for one second feel like I am reading a fanfiction when I read this series. It's perfectly in alignment with the character's canon. And best of all, it's focusing solely on Sydney and Carmy, not only as a couple but who they are as individuals.

I love how no moment between them is a boring moment, even if it is the most seemingly mundane thing ever (e.g.: Sydney wrapping her arms around Carmy while he washes the dishes, Carmy eating a pb&j while Sydney freaks about them having sex for the first time, Carmy finding Sydney eating Mini Wheats in the middle of the night). I could read moments like that between them for the rest of my life and never get bored because there is a magic to those moments that @sashafiercer just grasps spectacularly and executes flawlessly. It truly is magical how this writer puts so much love and care into these intimate moments. It's so needed between them, this constant layer of every moment between Sydney and Carmy being on a level of intimacy and vulnerability that pushes them to continuously acknowledge, confront, and find peace in their love for each other.

Speaking of their love for each other... those sex scenes....

The epitome of fucking with feelings. I feel entitled to rest and recuperation after reading them make love for the first time because WHAT EVEN WAS THAT?!?! How in the world am I going to be able to describe all the ways in which I just COULD. NOT. EVEN!?!? Carmy's gentleness and passion and eagerness and Sydney's eagerness and her vulnerability and their utter devotion to each other is HURTING ME!! In the best way.

with the intention of forever just dropped and I don't even know what to do with myself and all these emotions. I don't want to spoil anything because it's new, but I didn't believe I could root for SydCarmy anymore than I already do. I don't think I will love any other depiction of Sydney and Carmy's love for each other more than I love this depiction. I love this series. I love it with my whole heart and I will be a glutton and just ravish every single word every single time I read it. It's a whole meal. It's seven course, three star cuisine. It's love defined specifically for Carmy and Sydney and I just want to be a part of every single moment. I want this series to go on forever. And if it doesn't, I'll just be so grateful to have what I have, which is everything to me already.

I don't want to stop singing this series' praises, but I've run out of words (thanks, writing inertia).

I love this series with my whole heart and it's the best feeling in the world. Thank you creating this @sashafiercer. Thank you for all the work and hours you put into this work. Thank you for the care and small little details that make this work so exceptional. This series has taken residence inside my entire being and truly is the highlight of my SydCarmy fandom experience.

[s0fti3w1tch]

Not back yet! Thanks for all the support. I'll hopefully come back sometime before autumn but no promises. Still getting to my notifs and stuff so sorry! Mutuals!! Buddies!! If you need me, I will check Tumblr DMs.

I'm also supersuper happy that TD/Villain PB&J/Gemini/SLAU tied!!!!!!! fuck yeah! :>> best of luck for the rest of the competition turn-out! On a side note: I'm working on a non-tmnt joke-taken-seriously fic I had in drafts for a year to accompany a joke edit I made around that time too. So I'm gonna post that joke edit and I'm so sorry lmao/lh. I've been trying to write again, and one of my friends started Stardew posting. So might as well I guess.

SIDE SIDE NOTE: the next time you see Tentative Devotee, it's gonna be a Casey-centric post probably because i have so many Casey related sketches and ideas for her.

That's all. I'm eepy. Again, thanks for support!

[robustcornhusk]

20. What's in your freezer right now? (Bonus: any other with an interesting answer that no one's asked yet)

bonus question first, because i take any opportunity to talk about food at length

41 - What's the oldest thing you own?

huh. i was going to say "my grandfather's sword", because that's the cool answer, but i guess it's actually my house, which is both a boring and ship of theseus answer. large portions of this place have been ripped out and put back over its 105 years of existing.

but as for objects that i can carry around, probably the sword, from the 40s.

20 - oh boy! i just cleaned out the freezer two weeks, and it is still 100% full! it's very wide, tall, and shallow; it's got a deep drawer, a very shallow shelf, and one reasonable drawer.

deep drawer:

10 bagels (from the last two weeks)

8 tahini rolls (last night, recipe handed to me by @adiantum-sporophyte)

1 spare bagel, shichimi togarashi (last fucking december)

8 dinner rolls (in the last month; i like them with The Beans)

500g of sourdough bread (in the last month)

bags of corn, peas, raspberries, blueberries, and 6tbsp or so tomato paste

a few ounces of frozen french fries

1 bag of vegan nuggets that i haven't tried yet

1 bag of not-chicken strips

2 bags of breaded not-chicken filets, like for sandwiches

2 bags of not-burgers

the bagels come from partner's favorite bagelry (?). we eat bagels for breakfast 4-5 days a week, so we get 12 bageldays of bagels every 2-3 weeks.

i love fake meat so much. people are out there jerking off, "i feel we should celebrate vegetables for what they are, and not try to make them into what they aren't". poppycock! burger is good. nugget is good. vegetable qua vegetable is also good. they're both good! eat both! one needs micronutrients and big hunks of protein!

the tahini rolls are basically extra flavorful dinner rolls. the flavor is a little hard to pair with, though. i have some stews in mind to try them with.

the sourdough is the leftovers of a huuuuuuuge miche i bought at nearby bakery because i went right at close and it was all they had left. i fucked up and froze it in 3 chunks, instead of slicing before freezing; when i tried to slice up one of the chunks, it was a huge mess. i might turn the rest into ribollita, now that i think about it.

partner had the idea that we'd 3d print some dividers, so that the bagels wouldn't collapse into the frozen vegetables, and the faux meats wouldn't collapse, so we got a profiling tool... and we haven't made the dividers yet. eventually!

shallow shelf:

6 frozen mulberry scones on a quarter-sheet pan

1 basket of frozen mulberries

mashed mulberry to use in lemonade (as suggested by @tinyyellowflowers-blog), occupying one of my eighth-sheet pans

frozen blackberries, occupying another quarter-sheet pan

a deli container completely full of apricot pits

the mulberry scones smelled really weird when i cooked the first two... but they tasted fine. mild; not a fantastic use of mulberry imo. the frozen ones are like ice cream. i'm supposed to bake with the blackberries, and i have been -- made these peanut butter bars, and then merged it with some jam bars; the second one was like the best pb&j i've ever eaten.

the apricot pit bucket is for infusing into alcohol. slaw, a doctor, was over last night, and i casually asked how much cyanide is okay to eat. she made a frowny face at me. then i said it was apricot pits and she was like "that's fine".

i really really need to either reclaim those baking sheets or get more; i use them more for organization than for baking, though.

reasonable drawer:

1 box of "plant based breakfast patties"

1 box of folded fake eggs

1 box of fake poached eggs

3 boxes of tofu skins (help)

8 dinner rolls (in the last month)

1 miniloaf of baharat banana bread (march?)

4oz of pepita dukkah (december)

8oz of flaxseeds (ancient)

6 little containers of apple butter (from a year ago)

1/3 pint of ice cream (a month or two)

2 little containers of a very condensed tomato-shallot sauce (possibly 2 years old)

1 jar of yeast (18 months)

uhhhh, ice

the dinner rolls are parker house rolls, but i don't actually like the parker house shape (too much hassle); i just do them as miniboules. they freeze and reheat perfectly. if i get another 9x13 i could do double batches, and maybe i will.

every now and then we eat bagel sands for breakfast, with bagels (real), egg (fake), sausage (fake), cheese (fake), and i love it. they're so good.

no idea what to do with the tofu skins; i've never used yuba before, and i haven't had hot pot either.

the ice is impossible to get out of the ice bucket, due to how shallowly the freezer drawer extends. for fashion reasons, there's no in-door ice or water dispenser.

[theaufanartist]

“𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴-”

“𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘥𝘶𝘥𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘴?”𝘠𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.

“𝘖𝘩, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩. 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘴,”𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰.

YunGi💕

“Are we ever gonna consider the fact that those two chicks couldn’t match our vibe?”Min Gi ponders, laying on the grass, while Yun Ho sits with his back resting against the tree with a book in his hand, humming in agreement,

“I normally consider shaming women a crime, but they were so snobby.”

“Right? And so dumb- like, who the hell says that butterflies are bugs!?”Min Gi says, making Yun Ho look at him from the book.

“Because, they are bugs, Min Gi,”he looks at his friend in amusement. Min Gi stops staring at the sky and looks at his best friend in shock.

“I wasn’t prepared to hear that!”he cries out, making Yun Ho roll his eyes at him.

“Talk about being dumb,”Yun Ho smirks to himself & goes back to his reading. A while later, he looks up and sees two of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, sitting on the grass, eating peanut butter and jelly. He smiled at them, and looked at his best friend, who now lay on his stomach, looking at them.

“Did you know how stupid Evans was? He said that the butterfly is a bug!”

Min Gi gasped at what the girl in a checkered sage green and white puffy shoulder dress, brunette said, and he looked at Yun Ho, who rolled his eyes at him.

The other brunette haired girl wearing a lavender, full sleeved crop turtle neck rolled her eyes at her best friend.

“Because, hun, it’s one.”

Her best friend gasped loudly, making Yun Ho snicker at her best friend, who kept eating her pb and j, without batting an eye.

“HOW CAN A BUG BE SO PRETTY AND BE A BUG!?”

“There are so many pretty bugs,”you said, cleaning the jelly off your lavender top. Your best friend snickered, making you glare at her playfully.

“You can be so clumsy at times, hun,”she says, taking out a pen from her bag, and rubs it on your top, “that’s gonna go away, don’t worry.”

“Where the hell did you get that?”you exclaim, making her laugh, “Dude, I need that!”

She laughs at you, giving you the pen, “I got it for you. Keep it,”she says, making you squeal. Her smile stops midway, and she begins her nervous tucking of hair. You knew she does that whenever she makes eye contact with a cute guy. You follow her initial direction of sight, and you saw the prettiest men you’ve seen in a while, one smiling at you, the other gawking at your best friend.

You wondered what they were talking about, but the one with the scarf kept smiling at you, making your cheeks go red.

“Hey, you,”you hear your best friend calling out to the one with his mouth gaped, “watcha lookin’ at? Never seen two pretty best friends before?”

“WELL-”

“𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴-”

“𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘥𝘶𝘥𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘴?”𝘠𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.

“𝘖𝘩, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩. 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘴,”𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰.

She rolls here eyes at him, making you facepalm.

“Just, why can’t you control your tongue?”

“I wasn’t wrong, bitch,”she says, making you snort.

“Damn right you weren’t,”you say, hi-fiving her. You look at the one in scarf and see him wink at you, while the other keeps mouthing stuffs to your best friend and she keeps mouthing back stuffs at him, which made you laugh because it was pretty clear the other guy couldn’t understand that she was saying ‘fuck you too, pretty boy’ and ‘mhm, gladly’ to him.

Y’all have some fun while they keep looking and talking to each other, till the both of them get up from their place and walk towards the both of you and sit at a respectable distance.

“So,”the guy who kept staring at your best friend, started, “what are your names?”

“Are you the undercover?”your best friend shoots a question.

“No-”

“Cause, I have done some pretty crazy murders, hid heads of men and ooh, balls-”

“OH MY GOD-”

“Stop traumatising the poor boy,”you scold your best friend playfully, making the other boy look at her sceptically, “she’s kidding,”you say, smiling sweetly at the two boys.

“And you,”you point at your best friend, “stop saying those things!”

“Hey, they should know about our secrets before getting involved,”she says, “right?”

“Absolutely,”the guy with the scarf quips, “well, to make sure we’re on the same page, we both have made a collective donation of almost 30 murders to the the crime community,”

“Yunho what-”

“Yes Min, they should know about us, if we’re planning to ask them out-”

“Hold up,”you say, “what?”

“Yeah,”the guy named Yunho looks at you now, “we were planing to ask you both out on a date, so decided to come out clean.”

“This one looks like he’ll pass out even after killing a roach,”your best friend says, her thumb pointing at a scowling Mingi.

“Excuse me, but I happened to kill a flying roach with my slipper,”he says, chest filled with pride.

“Then?”she asks, making him look at Yunho.

“Then, I passed out,”he mumbles, making you both snort. Yunho looks at you, making you aware of his line of vision, heating your cheeks up.

“Don’t give me those eyes,”you say, trying hard not to make eye contact. Yunho tilts his head to one side, a lopsided smile filled with amusement, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“What eyes?”he asks, making your best friend sigh.

“Oh, for the love of god, get a fucking room you two,”she dramatically falls on the mat, making your cheeks redden up more.

“Oh, I’m definitely planning on doing that after at least four dates,”Yunho says, making you choke on your sandwich, making you cough violently.

“I’m sorry,”you say, drinking the apple juice your best friend hands you, “Four dates? How are you so sure we’re gonna last that long? Like, what if I cut your testicles in the midway?”

“Well, you look like you would let a bee sting you, rather than you kill it before hand,”he says, making your best friend snort.

“That’s exactly what happened three weeks ago,”she says, mumbling an ‘ouch-hey!’, when you kick her for outing you.

“See? And I know what I want, who I want when I want,”he whispers huskily, making you swallow hard, “so, date?”

“Mhmm,”you say, the cup of apple juice suddenly appearing interesting to you, to save your red face from the embarrassment.

“What about us?”Mingi asks your best friend, who gets up along with you, and starts packing the basket.

“Hmm, how about tomorrow? Murder in the Alleyway-”

“WHA-“

“We’ll be there,”you pinch her, making her scowl at you.

“Deal,”he says, locking his pinky with her, both trying hard to maintain eye contact, but failing miserably.

“So, double date tomorrow at 4?”

“Kay,”you reply to Yun Ho, who kisses your cheek, making you blush a 100 shades of red,

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“You are so getting railed tomorrow,”your best friend snickers, after they leave, making you kick her ankle in faint protest, knowing clearly she was right.