#motörhead x reader

[fasteddiesstrat]

motörhead oc: leia lavender

a/n: yes, u heard that right!! i have made the decision to put some motörhead fanfic on the internet after endless searching for it with no success. when the actual content will be out, i have no idea, but enjoy this intro for now!! (:

name(s): leia maria fletcher (at birth), leia lavender/leia lavender clarke

birthday: december 2nd, 1959

height: 5’6

eye color: blue

hair: naturally light brown, bleached blonde, wavy, waist length, side swept bangs

aesthetic/style: edgy, lace, her signature color is lavender/other shades of purple

love interest/significant other: fast eddie clarke from motörhead

other notes: triple sagittarius, born and raised in australia, ran away from home to the us at 17/18 to live with her older sister, laurie.

[dix0nvix3n]

working on a Daryl playlist on spotify of what music he’d like,, I grew up with a mix of music but i just know this man loves Motörhead, Black Sabbath, Dio, Judas Priest and etc. hope y’all like it when I’m done <3

[metalbrojack]

Hey! I think ur lost, here’s the guide to my blog!

About my blog

Request index

Who I don’t write 4

Angst =🖤

Fluff= 🤍

Smut= 🩷

Hcs=🤎

Fem reader

Male reader

Gender neutral reader

Brittany Furlan

Brittany Furlan Ns/fw alphabet 🤎🩷

Castor Hetfield

Castor w/a partner who is obsessed with Metallica 🤎🤍

Dave Mustaine

Dave mustaine w/a partner in a bm band 🤎🤍

Frank Bello

Frank bello “hot chocolate & cookies” 🤍

James Hetfield

Cuddly 80’s James 🤎🤍

80’s James taking care of u when ur sick🤎🤍

Cowboy James thoughts🤎🤍

1986 James taking u on a road trip:3🤍

Current James falling in love🤍🤎

Early 90s James falling in love 🖤🤎🤍

91 cowboy james🩷

James w/a taller bf🤍🤎

Current James brat tamer hcs 🩷🤍

Jason Newkid Newsted

Bottom Jason hcs🩷🤎

Kirk(the ripper) Hammett

Top black album! Kirk hcs🩷🤎

80s Kirk Hammett hcs🤍🤎

Lemmy Kilmister

Lemmy relationship hcs🩷🤎🤍

Lemmy kilmister & u having a nice time 🤍

Mick Mars

Mick one shot🤍

That’s all for now! Hope this helps you find your way home!!

Me fr^^

[nate06633]

Need someone to make a Lemmy Kilmister fanfic fr

[theflowerrooms]

{to request} {Eddie’s masterlist} {main masterlist}

Weak For It

perv!bestfriend!Eddie Munson x reader

This was a request from the lovely @tracymbcm that got flagged and taken down by tumblr </3 thank you to those who brought it to my attention <3

Warnings: smut, swearing, pet names, friends with benefits, explicit warnings under the cut

Summary; Eddie’s best friend, Eddie’s favourite girl, it doesn’t take much to get him needy for you, the pervert can’t keep his hands off of you and you live for it.

wordcount: 1.6k

explicit warnings: soft dom!eddie, fingering (f receiving, overstimulation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, light foot stuff, slight exhibition

Thank you so much for the request, I love writing them so much! And thank you for reading!!!

It was hot, the thick Indiana heat warming up all of Hawkins as the sun started to set, but you weren't bothered, neither was Eddie. The small air conditioner in the trailer buzzed quietly and a box fan on the floor blew nice cool air on you and Eddie, where you were both sprawled out on his couch. Your favourite thing about the couch was that it definitely wasn't big enough for two people, so you and Eddie were always squished together.

He sat on the couch, clad in nothing but loose, red, plaid pyjama pants, leaning back as he halfway paid attention to the movie on the TV, Friday The 13th. It was about the thousandth time you'd seen it together but Eddie loved it, and you'd watch anything for him. You were laying next to him on your stomach, just wearing one of his old Motörhead band tees and white lace panties, your white-socked feet laying on his lap, just above his crotch.

You were both kind of tired, not ready to sleep. It was comfortable, relaxing under the cool air in the warm weather, Eddie's left hand on your thigh and his right hand holding your ankle, you were comfortable, hanging out with your best friend, watching beloved movies.

You pressed your feet together and downward, moving them slightly, completely absentmindedly, just comfortable, you didn't even notice. But Eddie noticed. His fingers twitched against your ankle as you fully unintentionally rubbed against his cock that twitched beneath his pants.

He knew it wasn't on purpose, fully aware that you had no idea you were teasing his cock right now. 5 minutes ago, you just looked like his best friend, relaxing for a movie, and now when he looked up at you, his breath got caught in his throat. You were in his shirt, you smelled like him, showing off your pretty ass in those panties that he loved. He swallowed hard and squeezed your thigh, groping it just slightly.

You hardly payed any attention to it, Eddie's obsessed with you, his hands were always on you. You shifted your hips, spreading your thighs just slightly as you got comfortable and you heard Eddie exhale shakily.

You were hardly confused for a second before his grip on your ankles tightened and he pressed your feet downward, bucking his hips up slightly and you smirked, feeling his erection through his thin pyjamas.

His other hand moved up your thigh slowly, goosebumps following the path it took until he pushed his shirt up your back just a bit, his large hand, slightly cold falling to your ass, squeezing one cheek before he spread them slightly. You hummed quietly, feeling him roll his hips forward again. You were quickly growing wet under your panties and you were sure he knew.

You flinched and whimpered quietly as he pulled his hand back and slapped your ass, he exhaled loudly again as he continued to grope at your ass and thighs. "S'pretty", he mumbled under his breath and you heard, blushing slightly even though Eddie's complimented you and called you pretty a million times at least in the time you'd been friends.

He caught you off guard again when he brought his fingers to your warm core, pressing against your panties. You whimpered out his name quietly as you could feel the fabric growing damp from your arousal. "Shh." He soothed you quietly as he rubbed over your covered entrance, hand on your ankle squeezing tightly so he'd control his composure.

He continued rubbing you through your panties, getting you worked up, purposefully avoiding touching your clit. You tried raising your hips to guide his hand further down to your sensitive button but he put his hand on your back and forced you back down, continued teasing you until you were soaking through the cotton and lace of your panties.

You whimpered softly still, chewing down on your bottom lip in anticipation until Eddie got bored of teasing you and pulled your panties to the side, easily slipping his middle and index fingers inside of you, quickly hooking them downward so he'd press against your g-spot with each pull of his fingers.

You sighed in content, hips unintentionally pushing back against his hand. Your body was heating up but it was still comfortable due to the fan facing the two of you, for which you were grateful, nobody got you so hot like Eddie.

Eventually he pulled his fingers out and helped you shift over onto your back, hooking one leg over the back of the couch and one leg stretched out over his lap, his cock pressing into the bottom of your thigh.

He kissed your knee and rested his head against your calf up on the back of the couch and slid his middle and ring finger back in you, revelling in the soft whimper you let out. Finally, he pressed his thumb against your neglected clit and you whined with want, you whined again after you heard him groan under his breath just from watching you.

What they say about guitarists is true, Eddie was so talented with his hands. Your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed as you focused on the painfully pleasurable sensations that Eddie's fingers gave you. He bullied your g-spot and your clit simultaneously as you whimpered and twitched, back arching as your stomach began to feel warm and your heartbeat became louder.

"Eddie-" "I know baby, c'mon." He kept the same pace and you focused on the feeling, waiting until the energy built and built until the dam broke and you moaned so loud, walls spasming around Eddie's fingers. "Good girl, good girl baby" he kissed your knee a few times as you caught your breath.

Once you regained your ability to think, you saw him staring at your sensitive cunt, felt him rock hard against your thigh. You reached down and swiped your fingers through your slick before spreading your lips for him, "Please, Eddie?" It was seconds before he was pushing himself onto his knees and shoving down his pants, heavy cock slapping against his lower stomach.

Your cunt ached at the sight of him, he grabbed your thigh that was previously resting on him and he held your leg against his side, slowly sliding his hard cock deep into you until you felt it in your stomach, moaning softly.

He dropped his head down to your neck groaning in your ear as he slowly began to thrust into you, leaving wet kisses over the side of your neck. You hummed and thrusted your hips back to encourage him to go faster, and he did. His grip on your thigh tightened and you were sure there would be bruises from his fingertips over your flesh but you didn't mind at all, you loved when Eddie left marks.

You moaned loudly, his soft hair brushing against your face was comforting as he fucked you like an animal. Very quickly, you felt like you were gonna cum again, so sensitive, you prayed that you wouldn't squirt over his cock because how would you explain that to Wayne?

He felt you squeezing him over and over again and let go of your thigh to reach down and rub tight circles over your clit until you were twitching and crying, needing to cum so bad. He lifted his head and looked down at you, as soon as he saw your tears he moaned so loud, leaning down and sloppily kissing the tears off your face. "Be good 'n cum for me, c'mon." He whispered to you and finally you did, cunt contracting around his cock as you shook in his hold.

He fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own, he was so close, and your clenching around him repeatedly as you cried was throwing him toward his release. The sun was set now, the moon visible through the curtains, as was the headlights of Wayne's truck.

But Eddie was so close, so he threw his hand over your mouth and fucked you harder, getting off on your muffled whines and your tears against his hand, and finally, he came deep inside of you, fucking it even deeper.

In one swift motion, Eddie pulled his pants up over his hips, fixed your panties and pulled his shirt further down to cover you up, sitting you in his laps.

He wiped your eyes and face of your tears as you heard the keys in the door and you both smiled sleepily at Wayne when he walked inside.

"Y'okay dear?" He asked, voice gruff and tired from a long day of work, he tossed his keys on the table and looked at you and Eddie.

You nodded, heart pounding in anxiety and embarrassment at potentially getting caught. "Yes sir, jus' tired." You smiled and he nodded at you.

He walked toward the bathroom and looked back at you both. "Take her to bed Son, 'fore she keels over in the livin' room." He chuckled and Eddie nodded and helped you up off the couch, walking you to his room.

"Goonight Wayne." Eddie said as you passed Wayne and walked through the bedroom door, you flopped down on Eddie's bed and the scent- just Eddie was comforting.

"G'night boy- light a candle next time would ya? Smells like sex in here." Wayne huffed before he entered the bathroom, and you and Eddie couldn't do anything but stare at each other with wide eyes and red faces.

But if you asked Eddie, you made him weak, and all the embarrassment in the world would be worth it to have you.

Thank you so much for all of the support I received last time I published this </3

[razrbladekiss]

LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Venus

Good afternoon people of Hawkins I take hammer and I fix the canon so that Eddie and his love are there to save the day.

Alternatively: fuck people like Angela. Throw rocks at them.

Trigger Warnings: vomit mention, pregnancy

****

“What the hell are they doing to Mike’s girlfriend?!”

You sat up ramrod straight, looking directly at Mike Wheeler’s little flame as she’s accosted by a group of leering little bitches led by a trashy looking blonde named Angela. After being accosted one day in Bradley’s Big Buy, fate found you and your fiancé chaperoning Mike’s little trip to see his girlfriend and friend in California. Mrs. Wheeler had paid for the plane tickets and paid you and Eddie two hundred dollars, trusting you to take care of her baby boy and his little friends. Responsibility was something you took seriously. You felt protective, a far cry from your usual antisocial and avoidant demeanor.

The minute you landed in California was when you imprinted on the kiddos like a broody hen imprints on baby chicks. You took a particular liking to Mike’s little girlfriend: she was awkward and scared much like you were once upon a time. Jane Hopper was mousy and shy, and had been trying to be bubbly throughout the trip even though you kept insisting to Eddie something was wrong. You could recognize the signs of someone trying to hold it together. Eddie had insisted you were wrong. Despite his efforts to calm you down, nothing could make you feel safe.

You had been off the whole trip, and the way you were on high alert, the more it seemed like Eddie was right about the cause.

“Hey! Take it easy…” Eddie soothed, pulling at the hem of your Motörhead ringer tee, “Let’s not go berserker on them.”

“I don’t like the way they’re crowding her!” You hissed, pounding your clenched fist on the booth table.

Mike and Will Byers jumped, glancing from you to Eddie then to each other when you immediately stood up out of the booth seat. You were bouncing on the balls of your feet, crouched as though you were going to pounce on someone.

Everyone was already on edge because of you. Going to Rink-O-Mania had been an entire ordeal. Before you entered the parking lot, you were already bitching and moaning about the drive over. Then you started complaining that the rink smelled like feet, and then you complained that the grease from the hot dogs was too overpowering. Eddie had tried to be the peacekeeper. Settling your raging stomach with a thick strawberry milkshake when you started whining about wanting one, and then complaining that the chocolate and vanilla smelled rotten.

The shake helped settle your stomach, but once the nausea was gone you just got more broody and hypersensitive.

“Babe, take a second, okay?” He soothed, pulling you back down into the booth with him, “You’re gonna cause a scene.”

“I don’t like how they’re just grabbing her and lugging her around like a suitcase!” You said.

Will’s hands were shaking, and you could hear him whispering with Mike.

“What’s wrong with her…?”

“How the hell should I know?! She’s been insufferable ever since she got on the plane to California!”

Eddie glanced over at Mike, shaking his head and frowning.

“Mike, take it easy. She’s not feeling well.” He said.

“Eddie, this is stupid!” Mike said, “She complains about every little thing, whines that she doesn’t feel good, then snaps at you if you don’t answer her right away or do what she wants. I swear she’s on the rag! Now she won’t even let El hang with her friends.”

“Mike chill, you don’t understand-…”

You immediately snapped your head towards Will when you heard him make a strangled noise in his throat at the mention of Jane’s “friends”.

“What’s wrong?!” You demanded.

“Nothing!”

Will looked like he had a gun to his head. Hyperventilating. Pure panic on his face.

“Will…” you growled, moving in like a tiger.

“Sweetheart, please. Everything is fine. Don’t start up with the stress.” Eddie begged.

“Yeah, man! Stop freaking everyone out!”

Mike stared you down while Will looked left and right, as though hoping to be saved. A storm was brewing, both in your face and on the roller rink. And unfortunately he didn’t have the spoons or the know-how to quell both at once.

You glanced hatefully at both Eddie and Mike.

“Shut up.” You hissed, before turning back to Will.

He shrank in the booth, the faux leather squeaking.

“Those girls are not her friends… are they?” You whispered dangerously to Will.

He was avoiding your gaze. Fidgeting in his seat. You continued to stare him down until he finally, finally shook his head and muttered.

“No… they’re not her friends. Those are the ones that bully her at school…”

The air surrounding the booth seemed to shift; a cold front of anticipation hitting everyone. You began to quiver, while Mike and Eddie rounded on Will.

“Why didn’t you say something?!” Mike demanded.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell!” Will countered, while Eddie simultaneously tried to pacify Will and soothe Mike.

But you were done. You were so fucking done.

“Fuck this shit.”

You moved out of the booth and sat astride a nearby bench, kicking your shoes off and tying on your black skates. Your face was dark, stormy and murderous, and you looked like you were puffed up and ready to kill someone.

“No, no, no!” Eddie was scrambling out of the booth after you, trying to grab your arm, “Sweetheart, we need to stop and take a breath-…”

“Eddie’s right! What are you even doing?!” Mike demanded.

“I’m going to get my fucking kid.” You said.

“Since when is she your kid?!” Mike snapped.

“Since your mother told me to take care of all of you on this trip.” You snarled, nearly snapping the shoestrings on your skates as you tied them with a vengeance, “If anything happens to any of you, Eddie and I are the ones that are gonna catch hell.”

“You think I’m afraid of Karen Wheeler?!” Eddie interjected, trying to drag you back over to the table, “I get that we have a responsibility, but we need to take a deep breath and not go apeshit on a bunch of kids. You need to think of the situation we might be in...”

His voiced dropped to a whisper.

“I don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

“I’m just going to go get Jane.” You said.

“Dammit babe you can’t just go charging in-…”

Before Eddie could do anything, you had already secured your skates and began gliding out onto the rink. Vaguely over the sound of Bananarama, you could hear Eddie calling your name. You were skating a bit like shit. The motion was a little disorienting, and out in the middle of the rink you could smell everything mixed together with body sweat.

You whipped your head this way and that, before spotting Jane. Cornered by Angela, that bleach blonde jackass.

“Excuse me.” You called out, bumping the blonde with your hip.

The motion was so fluid it simply looked like you were just gliding on by, taking Jane by the upper arm and coasting with her for a turn around the rink. It was done swiftly, no muss no fuss, but you knew from years of experience that girls like Angela wouldn’t let you go so easily.

Jane looked a little frightened, and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a mirror. Your teased hair was waterlogged with sweat, and your sharp winged eyeliner was dribbling down your cheeks and getting into your sleep deprived red rimmed eyes. To Jane, you must have looked like a demon.

“Are you okay, sweetie?!” You called out to Jane over the intro to ‘Venus’.

She waited until the iconic screech passed before responding.

“I’m okay…” she nodded, clinging to your arm when she realized you had come to save her, not scream at her.

“What were they doing to you?” You called out, only to see the intended plan a second later as Jane’s bully and her cronies started tailing the two of you around the turn. You locked eyes with Eddie across the room, watching him stand up from putting on his inline skates and gliding towards you two.

“Don’t panic.” You told Jane, “Just skate towards Eddie, okay?”

She nodded and went forward obediently, nearly falling into his open arms when you gave her a little push. Jane’s bullies were closing in on either side of you, and just as you made for Eddie, you felt a tug at the back of your hair. It was soft at first, then someone yanked you backward.

You landed hard on your wrist and ass, and when you looked up, you were doused in chocolate shake.

The smell was more overpowering than the laughter of Jane’s bullies. Angela stood triumphantly over you, her friends circling all of you as they laughed and pointed.

“Look who it is!” She laughed, “The loser’s fat little mother hen!”

You didn’t say anything as you got to your feet. Watching the girls circle you was giving you motion sickness, and you slapped a hand over your mouth as the sickening smell of cheap cocoa ice cream and curdling milk invaded your nostrils.

“Aww look, she’s not saying anything.” Angela sneered, getting into your face, “Is Mommy feeling queasy?”

The hot dog grease, burnt popcorn, oil, Angela’s Love’s Baby Soft perfume, and the insoles of skates that had been sweated in since the sixties, were cumulatively gathering together into one rank whiff to make your stomach turn violently. The feeling of saliva flooding your mouth meant the end was nigh. You looked up at Angela, a sly grin on your face as one of her female friends went up behind you with a fist raised.

“Oh, Mama’s feeling queasy alright,” you hissed, spit dribbling out of your mouth.

“You stuck up little bitch.”

Angela only had one moment to react before her friend hit you hard in the middle of the back. The floodgates opened. The punch to the back knocked you forward, and you immediately threw up all over the front of Angela’s blue shirt.

You finally understood the meaning of a Kodak Moment. Her face changed in the span of a second from superior, to shock, to horror and then fear as she began gagging as the smell of vomit hit her nostrils. You coughed up the remains of the shake while her friends immediately vacated the rink, the music stopping mid riff and everyone clearing off the minute “ralph” was heard echoing through the roller rink. Angela began screaming as Eddie nearly bowled into you, laughing so hard he was crying.

“Holy hell!” He cried, his face red with laughter and his smile wide as he led you out of the rink by the arm, “Did you have to do that?!”

“She shouldn’t have doused me in shake.” Was your smug response.

“YOU DIRTY BITCH!”

Angela shrieked, alone in the center of the rink, covered and stinking, “You’re fucking gross! You’re disgusting!”

“Word of advice, sweetheart,” Eddie called over his shoulder, a smug smile on his face while leading you into the waiting arms of Will, Mike and Jane.

“Next time: don’t pick a fight with a pregnant woman!”

[serasvictoria]

Title: Roller Queen

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: A heatwave has hit Hawkins and bored out of his mind, Eddie tries to find something to do. He finds that something in the Palace Arcade…

Word Count: 6997

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Semi-public sex. Oral sex (male receiving). Vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is what you get when you spend quite some time on Pinterest during a heatwave and suddenly finding a picture that just inspires you. The picture is all the way at the end, it just worked for me.

There is also one mention of the name Arlo in this and that's what I called the unnamed Hellfire member aka Corroded Coffin’s bass player, also known as the titular “Freak”. There’s an entire backstory in regards to why I gave him that name, but I won’t bore anyone to tears with that particular HC.

Betaread by @adrille88 Thanks again ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

If he was really honest with himself, Eddie had to admit that he kind of liked heatwaves.

All the assholes would leave the town of Hawkins, abandoning the hot and humid place like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship, and they’d go spend a couple of days at their log cabins near some lake, leaving all the less fortunate residents behind.

Not that he thought that he was less fortunate, fuck no. He wouldn’t want golden boy Jason Carver’s shiny life. Sitting next to mommy, wearing his Sunday best and listening to daddy as he preached fire and brimstone to the congregation as they clutched their crucifixes. Lord knew where the bastard was now. Probably forced to suck up to some senator’s kid whilst he pretended that he wasn’t from some backwater shithole in Indiana.

So yeah, heatwaves weren’t all that bad. Besides, you could dress for the heat.

He was currently lazing about on the porch in an old pair of jeans that were cutoff right above the knee. His Motörhead shirt (which he had also modified after he tore it making it sleeveless as well as a little bit too short) was in a crumpled heap right next to him.

The only thing that was bugging him at the moment was trying to decide what to do.

It was the first summer after graduation, so he should have been spoiled for choice, but sadly that was not the case at all.

Steve and Robin were at work, like Jeff, and he didn’t feel like bothering them at their workplaces. Again. Dustin was at some kind of robotics camp. Wheeler had joined the Byers family for their last summer in California before they moved back to Hawkins. The Sinclairs were visiting relatives, as was Gareth. Arlo had been signed up for summer classes by his mother because he was failing a couple of classes.

So there was currently no one that he could shoot the shit with.

Usually Eddie wouldn’t have any problems on his own, he’d almost grown accustomed to it when he was a kid, but he was bored out of his mind at the moment. Didn’t help that he was coming off his previous high as well.

Absentmindedly scratching his neck, he brushed away some of the locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and that were sticking to his sweaty skin. He’d already taken a cold shower earlier and even that wasn’t enough to fight the heat.

The AC had also gone on the fritz at the worst possible time so staying in his bedroom wasn’t an option. Which meant that jacking off was off the cards, too. Because hey, when in doubt, jerk off. It was basically an unwritten rule.

Everyone that was still in town had either gone to the community pool or the woods, but those weren’t really places where we wanted or could go to. Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock were places that were worth considering, but you never knew if you’d disturb anyone whilst there and some people didn’t take too kindly to having an audience. And even if they were keen to have onlookers, that didn’t automatically mean that they’d want him there.

There wasn’t really much else to do apart from aimlessly driving through town until he found something that was worth his while.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he stretched out, grabbed his discarded shirt from the couch and put it on. His keys and cigarettes were on the small table next to him so he pocketed the packet of smokes and then locked the front door (even if no one was insane enough to attempt to steal anything from them, what with them having the good old Munson name and all).

As expected the van was hot as hell, so he rolled the windows all the way down on both sides before starting the engine and heading out of the trailer park in search of something to do.

Driving around town, he’s reminded of that Ghost Town song by The Specials (Robin was going through a bit of a ska phase at the moment) and before he knew it he was humming it which was in stark contrast to the Megadeth song, Wake Up Dead, that was currently blasting through the speakers.

Despite having previously decided that he wasn’t going to go to Family Video, he found himself driving in that direction anyway. Maybe Eddie could convince Steve to give him access to his backyard so he could have a dip in his pool in exchange for a couple of joints? Worth a shot.

This brought him right past the arcade, which was practically next door, a place that he hadn’t set foot in for quite some time. Together with Harrington, he seemed to have earned the dubious privilege of dropping the kids off there quite frequently, but he never joined them despite Henderson asking him to do so every single time.

He wasn’t about to have his ass kicked by some kid at-

Eddie swore that his eyes were seconds away from rolling out of their sockets.

All that he caught was a quick peek through the open doors of the arcade, but it had been enough to make him punch the brakes of his van and he came to a standstill right in front of the building.

Eddie had never parked his van so fast in his life.

When he got out of the van and walked across the asphalt to his destination, nerves set in, which was insane when he really thought about it. Why was he even nervous? Was it because he was seconds away from shooting his shot and potentially getting horrifically turned down?

The name of the place was lit up in purple neon on the awning over the doorway. Unbelievable that this was something that could make him set foot in the place after all this time, having seemingly graduated from it many years previous, constantly proclaiming that it wasn’t “his scene” since books and board games were more his thing.

That was a better excuse than saying that he had simply been unable to afford it. Money had always been tight in the Munson household and wasting a couple of quarters on something that he couldn’t even take home with him or put in his belly seemed pointless.

There’s an acne stricken teenager sitting on a folding chair next to the open door, a look of annoyance on his face that betrayed the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all.

“There’s a change machine inside. You know where to find me if it stops working,” he says with a bored tone when Eddie passes him by. The kid doesn’t say it, but his line sounds well practiced, leading him to believe that the aforementioned machine must have some issues.

It also sounds like the kid has no intention of going inside unless he absolutely must.

So that means that no one will see Eddie crash and burn if he does. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anyone to disturb him either, so it was a win-win situation no matter what.

It was cooler inside, but only slightly. The AC was old and far too small to cool such a large space, but it still tried to do its job to the best of its abilities.

There were plenty of noises around him, machines beeping in an attempt to make him look at them, to make him see what he could play if he would only give them a couple of coins. He barely even seems to notice them at all, not caring about what the games have to offer him.

Not now.

The row of games that were visible from the door are all vacant. No one’s there to pour over them, desperately trying to win, so he moves on to the row next to it as he tries to find what he’s looking for. He’s about to turn the corner into the third, already somewhat convinced that his mind had been playing tricks on him, that the heat had fried his brain, when he comes to a sudden standstill and simply stares at the image before him.

Eddie had not imagined it, hadn’t gotten a severe case of heatstroke, hadn’t witnessed a mirage or anything of the sort. Even if mirage was probably the best word to describe what he was looking at.

You were leaning over the controls of one of the machines, tapping away at the buttons and moving the joystick back and forth.

That in itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Dustin often spoke of you with awe in his voice, regaling everyone with how good you were at the games at the arcade. You and Max held a lot of the high scores and that was pure catnip to the younger boys who only cared about trivial things like that. The fact that you were older only seemed to make you more appealing to them.

A fellow nerd.

An older fellow nerd.

An attractive, older fellow nerd.

Eddie had never really gotten it until now, but that was more down to what you were wearing, which was a lot more revealing than what you had worn when you still walked through the hallways of Hawkins High. Hell, Principal Higgins would probably have a heart attack if someone wore that to school.

In an effort to fight the heat, you were wearing a pair of cut off blue sweatpants, which were so short that they might as well be hotpants, and a dark blue bikini top. And on your feet were the signature roller skates that were very much an extension of yourself as it were.

He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen you without them when you weren’t in school or working. There’s even a story about how you kicked Andy Collins in the balls with them once, but no one has ever been able to confirm that particular story since it was very much based on hearsay.

It is a fact however that Andy doesn’t seem to sniff around you quite as much as he does with every other (single) female in town. Had to be a reason for that.

The corner of your mouth twitches, so you definitely noticed that you had an audience of one by now. It would be rude not to go over to say hello, right? Right? So Eddie starts moving, unsteady on his feet all of a sudden, like he had forgotten how to walk simply because he was in the presence of such beauty.

“Hi,” he croaks out and he raises his hand in greeting. “Pretty hot outside, huh.” He mentally slaps himself for saying that, because why on Earth had he decided to state the obvious? Guess that meant that trying to act cool had gone straight out the window. His remark makes you snort though, which he supposes is a win of sorts. “Anyway. Hi.”

“Hi,” you say with a grin, doing your best not to laugh, as you look up for a few seconds before focusing all your attention back on the game. “Don’t see you round here a lot.”

“Not much of a gamer,” Eddie admits, which technically wasn’t true, but he didn’t think that he had to clarify that he was talking about video games. You would have seen him around the arcade a lot more if he was into those.

“So why’re you here then?”

“Thought I’d check the place out. Henderson’s always talking about it.”

“Ah, Henderson,” you sigh and there’s a hint of exhaustion there that almost makes him laugh. “And that’s enough to get you to show up?”

“Maybe not just that.” His eyes skate over the curve of your ass and when he looks back at your face again, he can see that your eyebrows are raised. Subtlety had never been his strong point. “Busted,” he chuckles.

“Hm,” is all that he gets out of you before you look back at the screen once more.

Eddie tries his best to feign an interest in the game that you’re playing, Bubble Bobble, by trying to keep his eyes peeled on the screen. Even thinks about commenting on the cuteness of the green dinosaur that’s blowing bubbles at his enemies, but he doesn’t out of fear of looking like a complete fool. He actually opens his mouth once with the intention of commenting on how well you’re playing, but what the hell is he supposed to say?

‘Good game, hot stuff, but do you wanna get out of here and play a real game in the back of my van instead?’

Bad idea. Really bad idea. He’d prefer it if his nuts didn’t meet the boot of your skates. That would be a horrible ending to what was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. He’d like to end it on a high if he could, preferably with your phone number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.

Damn, this was easier when he could hide behind his usual bravado, but he’d already fucked that one up from the moment that he started talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even hide behind his hair, because it was in a messy ponytail right now.

Still, you haven’t told him to fuck off just yet so it wasn’t a complete disaster. He leans back against the side of the machine next to yours and he really looks at you this time.

God damn, he had always thought that you were pretty, but fuck, you looked good enough to eat right now. He catches the glint of a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck, following it as it makes its way down your skin and ultimately disappears into the fabric of your bikini top.

Eddie can almost taste the salt on his tongue if he thinks about it hard enough.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your voice cuts through the first wisps of the daydream that was forming in the back of his mind, one that already had his cock twitching in his pants, seconds away from begging him to excuse himself so he could jerk off in his van.

“I would if I had a camera,” he bites back.

You shake your head and sigh and a couple of seconds later the game makes a noise, something that even a newbie like him knew wasn’t good. As if to emphasize this, the words “game over” appear on the black screen.

“Thought you were good.”

“My heart wasn’t in it,” you say while the screen starts flashing the ‘insert coin’ message on the screen in an attempt to lure in new players. “It’s this damn heat.”

“Maybe you don’t do well with an audience.”

“You’re shitting me, right? You know how many times I have those little shitheads breathing down my neck?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “A lot?”

“Yup. I barely get any alone time as it is.”

There’s a sudden flush of guilt and he can feel his cheeks burn as they begin to color a dark shade of pink. He’s bothering you. You never said it, but that's what he reads between the lines.

“You want me to leave?” He’s already turning away from you, instantly apologetic, so he’s surprised when he feels your fingers touch his wrist.

“Did I say that?” He’s watching your hand, noticing the gentle pull on his arm which doesn’t stop until he makes no move to leave anymore. “Did I?”

Since you repeat yourself, you’re obviously expecting an answer. The only problem is that the heat combined with your touch are kind of short circuiting his brain.

Eddie eventually manages to get out a small “No?” which he considers a victory. At least it shows that he’s still capable of speech, if only a little.

“No,” you repeat after him and he’s instantly relaxed when he finds that his presence does seem to be wanted after all. He can’t stop his expression from falling a little when your hand lets go of his arm. “But you say you’re not a gamer. Maybe you just haven’t found one that you like yet.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t been in here for years,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “The flashing lights are about to give me an epileptic fit.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Yeah?”

“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” you deadpan.

The flat tone of your voice makes him snort as well as make him wonder why he has never tried talking to you before.

He supposes that it was a form of thinly veiled jealousy over the kids liking you so much. But who cares about them? And why is he thinking about them so much anyway? Being in the presence of a hot girl combined with the stifling heat was really doing a number on his brain, that was for s-

You clap your hands together in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time since he was with you.

“Anyway!” you exclaim and clear your throat before continuing. “There’s a couple of old games in the back. Maybe you’d even recognise some of them, oldtimer. Want me to show you?”

“Which ones?”

“Pong, Death Race, Space Invaders, Asteroids… ring a bell?”

“Always was quite partial to Death Race actually.”

“Figures,” you grin. “Come on then,” you say as you push yourself away from the cabinet and start leading the way.

Eddie lets you take the lead, because it means that he can walk behind you and his eyes drop down immediately, unashamedly ogling your ass as you glide through the arcade.

On your way to the back, he hears the crinkling of plastic and watches you remove the orange wrapper from a lollipop before it disappears into your mouth. He swallows hard when your jaw moves, your cheek bulging as you keep moving the candy from side to side. He’s practically salivating as he tries very hard not to let his mind come up with images of how your cheeks would look if there was something else in your-

“There she is,” you break through his reverie again and he briefly wonders if it’s intentional, if you have some kind of inbuilt radar that alerts you whenever a guy is about to have some very impure thoughts in your vicinity. “Death Race.”

You point out the black cabinet at the end of the row of machines, the two steering wheels making it instantly recognisable. You come to a standstill right next to it and wave your hand over the front of it, like some bikini babe that they sometimes use to advertise cars.

“Goddamn,” he whistles in wonder. “Didn’t know they still had this one.”

“They do,” you reply as you stand to his left. “Don’t think they ever get rid of a game if it’s still working.” You dig around in your pocket and hold out a quarter to him. “Here. First game’s on me.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie takes the quarter from your fingers and puts it in the slot. “I’ll try to make it last.”

Unfortunately it doesn’t last that long. Sadly, he’s a little bit rusty. Not that he was any good when he still came here, but he finds himself wanting to impress you as much as he can.

Eddie’s on his fourth quarter when there’s an almost sickening crunch from your direction. Eddie looks up from the screen to see you chewing on the hard candy of your lollipop and he catches you tossing the stick in a garbage bin behind you. He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when your hand suddenly connects with his chest and he’s pushed back against the wall.

“Hey, wh-”

-at the hell.

The rest of the sentence comes out all muffled, because your lips crash into his hard. There’s barely time to close his mouth and you enthusiastically take advantage of that by licking into his mouth, your tongue connecting with his, and he can taste nothing but oranges. When he starts kissing you back, he can taste the same artificial nectarine flavor in your lip gloss.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you in closer and you sigh when his hands start rubbing up and down your back. You even giggle when one hand dips down lower and grabs your ass cheek.

There’s no opposition from him when you push him to the side, in between the opening between the black cabinet and the wall, one that the both of you fit into neatly, effectively shielding you and him from the view of others just enough.

Not that there was anyone else there apart from the bored employee that was still sitting outside and even he wouldn’t be able to see what the pair of you are doing from where he’s sitting.

“Aren’t-“ You pull away just far enough so Eddie can look in your eyes for a split second, see how blown out your pupils are, and then you dip your head down so you can drag your lips over his neck. “Aren’t you scared that anyone might see us?”

“No.” Your reply comes far too quickly and your teeth graze his Adam's apple slightly. “Why?”

“Wh- are you serious?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his skin. He gasps when you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “So sensitive.”

“Fuck.” At least Eddie can sort of peer into the space behind you now. He catches no movement whatsoever. And it’s not as if the arcade is rigged up with security cameras either. You stick your hands underneath his shirt, your fingers finding his nipples with ease and pinching them. “Damn, sweetheart.”

“What?” You look up at him, batting your eyelids almost too innocently, and when he doesn’t reply, you lick a stripe from the dip in his collarbone all the way up to his ear. “Cute,” you say directly into his ear before you gently tug on his lobe with your teeth. “You’re cute.”

Your intent couldn’t be more clear however. You wanted him and you were laying it on so thick that it was hard to ignore. It was all in the hungry way that you kissed him, filled with lust and longing, full of heat and desire.

Even though there shouldn’t be any mistaking your intentions, Eddie still wonders when it would be acceptable to invite you into his van. If he does it too early, you might smack him for being a perv, but if he does it too late, you might mistake it for disinterest, which would be a million miles off from what he wants. If only he had talked to you before, he would know what you were like a bit more, but all he has to go on are stories from Henderson and a handful of rumors.

There’s an unexpected brush of your fingers over the front of his jeans and it’s so light that he mistakes it for being accidental at first, but when it happens again and then again, it becomes a bit more difficult to ignore.

“Oh?” The triumphant tone in your voice is impossible to miss, because now you know that he was already half hard before and that was definitely because of you. “Thought that you had a couple of rolls of quarters in your pocket, but I think I was wrong.”

“You use that line a lot?”

The words came out too easily after all so naturally he’s curious, maybe even a little jealous, but he would never admit to that.

“Please,” you chuckle, “you think so little of me?”

“I don’t know. Don’t know you that well. Unfortunately.”

“You could get to know me. If you want to.”

“Hmmm. Tough question. Let me think about it.”

Eddie meant it as a joke, obviously, but he doesn’t miss how your brows furrow and how your hand stops moving, even if you can’t seem to stop your fingernails from scratching at the fabric.

His hips end up chasing your hand when you pull it away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie blinks, suddenly confused. “Is that a trick question?”

“Nope, just an honest one.”

“No.” It’s his turn to answer quickly now. And Christ, he feels like such a fucking dickhead for giving you the impression that he might not want this. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good,” you reply with a grin that’s bordering on feral, “because I really didn’t want to.”

“Then wh-?” He cuts off his sentence because your hand is back on his crotch again. You touch him with more intent now and he wonders if you can feel his dick twitching through the thick fabric. “Fuck.”

“Cause you looked a bit uncomfortable for a couple of seconds there. Figured that it was because of me.”

“It wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Just never had a pretty girl seconds away from making me come in my pants like a schoolboy in a public place before.”

“Hmmm. I can think of something a lot better than that.” His eyes widen when you drop down onto your knees and start undoing his belt. “All you need to do is stay quiet.” A strangled kind of noise comes out of his mouth and it makes you grin even wider. “Think you can do that?”

“I’ll fucking try,” he squeaks out when you pull his pants down roughly to expose his underwear and his pale thighs. “I’ll really fucking try.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.” Your hand rubs over the front of his boxers and he groans low in his throat. “No louder than that, okay?” You pull the last cloth barrier down, unveiling his cock and it proudly stands at attention. “Oh god,” you say, obviously impressed, “prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You lick at the glistening bead of precum on the tip and your eyes close briefly as you taste him. The noise you make is exaggerated, but fuck, who cares? “Like it that much?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer as the tip of your tongue starts following the trail of a prominent vein on the side of his shaft, chasing it all the way down to the base and then back up again. “I do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh when you finally wrap your lips around his cock and let him slip halfway into your mouth. You sit there, looking all pretty, your eyes on his, and he already knows that he won’t be able to get this image out of his head for as long as he lives.

You bob down a bit further, a mere inch at most, and then release him with a soft pop. You spit on your palm, circle your fingers around the shaft, and start working him with your hand.

Ducking your head, you sink your teeth into his pale thigh and then lick the already slightly reddening mark. You repeat this a few more times, much to Eddie’s amusement. The slight sting of your bites in combination with the movement of your hand are pushing him ever closer to the edge.

Having teased him enough, you take his dick into your mouth again and he briefly wonders if you would have still done this if the place had been a bit more crowded. Not that he thinks that the sound of screaming kids would have done anything to kill his boner. If anything, the sheer thought of there being a greater possibility of getting caught only turns him on more.

When you cup his balls and start massaging them, Eddie hisses through his teeth. Fuck, he really wasn’t gonna last long. He also had no idea how he was supposed to stay quiet. He didn’t consider himself particularly noisy (he was), but he liked talking and there was no way that he would be able to control the volume of his voice.

Not when you kept eagerly sucking him off and especially not when you were pairing it with a look that was practically spelling out how much you loved having his dick in your mouth.

You also look like you want him to crack, like you desperately want him to make noises that are way too loud, like you want to get caught giving him head in the back of the arcade.

“Shit,” he groans as softly as he can and he can feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Can’t help it,” he says, softer now. “Feels too fucking good.”

Humming around his length, you hollow out your cheeks and when your hands lightly grasp the back of his thighs so your fingertips can dance up and down his skin, he shudders.

Saliva was bubbling at the corners of your mouth and fuck, it has to be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen. His hand instantly moves of its own volition, moving to the back of your head, and he pushes you down for a split second, stopping when your fingernails dig into his skin. He loosens his grip, giving you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t and your eyes are almost flashing a challenge to him, practically daring him to do it again.

So he does.

This time he holds you down a little bit longer, forcing you to take him in a little bit deeper and instantly letting go when you make a gagging noise. You stay right where you are, his dick halfway in your mouth, eyes still a little defiant, so he does it again, harder, and forcing his cock in deeper still. The discomfort is plain to see and when your fingernails drag down the back of his thighs harshly, he can feel it, too, but your grip on his legs relaxes soon enough. He scratches your scalp affectionately.

Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, threatening to overflow, and his hand releases you so he can wipe at the corners of one of your eyes, in an attempt to brush your tears away.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart,” he admits. “You just look so fucking good like that.” You blink once which finally makes the tears spill out. “Good tears though, huh?” You make an affirmative noise even if he already knows the answer. “Good ‘cause I’m seconds away from coming all down that pretty throat of yours.”

He catches a glint in your eye, as if his words spurred you on, but Eddie’s entirely unprepared for what you do next.

Your hands grab his hips and you plunge your mouth all the way down his length until your lips make contact with the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You gag around him, but you inhale deeply through your nose and manage to stay down for a bit longer.

Your throat muscles contracting around his cock is what pushes him over the edge and he comes in thick spurts down your throat. He bangs the back of his head against the wall behind him, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from shouting as he climaxes. His hands are balled to fists at his sides and he slams them against the wall as a form of channeling the pent-up energy that has nowhere else to go.

It takes him a short while to come back to his senses and his hands shake when he relaxes his grip. When he hazards a glance down, you’re still on your knees, his now soft cock still in your hands as you’re lazily licking up and down his shaft.

Reaching for your face, he touches the corner of your mouth and mumbles the words, “Show me.” You stick your tongue out obediently, showing him that there’s not a single drop of his cum left. “Good girl.”

Exhaling shakily, he manages to say, “up,” a couple of times, his fingers hooking under your chin and pulling in an effort to make you move faster. As soon as you’re on your feet, his lips crash into yours, his tongue invading your mouth until he can taste himself on your tongue.

His hands are everywhere. On your ass, your hips, your tits. He simply doesn’t know what to grab first, and it’s not like you seem to care either with how content your sighs are.

Changing positions, he pushes you up against the wall and hurriedly pulls his boxers and shorts back up. Your hands take over to zip him back up this time, leaving his hands free to pull the cups of your bikini top to the sides and burying his face between your tits.

“Like that,” you breathe out when his lips finally find one of your nipples. “Just like that.”

“So sensitive,” he remarks with a grin, positively delighted that he can throw your earlier words right back at you this time. “I wonder…” He trails off and brushes a hand down your stomach, light as a feather, until his fingers come to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “May I?”

You’re nodding before he even manages to get the words out, betraying your eagerness and perhaps your impatience. So naturally that makes Eddie move slower than he would have, taking his time to undo the bow that keeps the drawstring of your shorts tied together, and even when that’s undone, he slides his digits underneath the fabric painstakingly slowly.

“Eddieeeee,” you whine, “stop teasing.”

“Who’s teasing?”

“You are,” you pout. “Not like we have all day.”

“We don’t?” You’re ready to say more, he can tell, but he knows you’re right. And he doesn’t know what you’ll do if he keeps teasing, so he slips his fingers into your panties and slides them between your folds. “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.”

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod.

“You got this wet just from having my dick in your mouth?” You moan affirmatively. “Poor thing. Seems only right that I help you out then, right?” One of his fingers probes your entrance, not quite pressing inside yet. Not until you answer him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper. “N-need to feel your fingers inside me.”

“Come on,” he husks against your cheek, “spread your legs a little wider.” You give him some more space to work with and he slides the digit in with ease. “Good girl.”

Your head drops forward onto his shoulder, your mouth almost level with his ear so he can hear every shaky breath and strangled moan. It makes him add another finger, plunging them deeper inside and curling them upward until he hits your sweet spot. Your walls spasm and contract around his fingers, trying to keep them there.

“Really want to get my mouth on you, sweetheart,” he husks against your temple.

“No time,” you answer. “R-raincheck?”

“You’d better,” he chuckles. He just knew that he’d be taking you up on that offer before the end of the day.

Fuck, if he had his way, he’d be on his knees in front of you right now. Your ass pushed up against the controls of the Pong machine, his head buried between your thighs, until you’re screaming so loud that it drowns out every other fucking sound in this place.

If only he’d asked you to come with him, he’d have had his wish.

His thumb finds your swollen and neglected clit with ease. His touch sends a shockwave through you which makes your whole body jolt. You grab at his shoulders, his name on your lips as your fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the sections of his skin which aren’t covered by his shirt.

Your breath hitches and you let out a choked sob, only to have Eddie cut off any other sounds that you might make by pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all your delicious noises, effectively silencing you. Your thighs convulse around his palm, trapping his hand between them.

Reaching upward, you grab at his tied back hair, wrapping the ponytail around your fingers and pulling until your hand, along with all the other muscles in your body, go slack.

“Mmmm.” You sigh against his lips and he pulls away just far enough to see your blissed out features as you float back down to Earth. “Always knew you’d be good with your fingers.”

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” Your face splits into a grin and he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by Eddie sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices from them. Cupping his cheeks, you lean forward and your lips brush together when a loud scream suddenly cuts through the relative silence. Startled, it makes your eyes snap open, but you visibly relax when it dawns on you that the noise isn’t anywhere near where the two of you are.

“I wanna play that one,” an underage voice shouts and it’s answered by a decidedly more bored adult voice. “Come on!” The child sounds impatient and is probably dragging the adult behind him in the direction of the game of his choice.

“Shame that,” you say as you adjust your top, covering your chest up once more. You move away from him and he hates the fact that there’s space between you now. “I totally would have let you fuck me as I played the pinball machines.”

“I have a van,” he replies, helpful and hopeful at the same time.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You stick a hand in your pocket and he thinks he can hear you jingle some coins. “Still got some quarters left so you’re shit out of luck.”

“You’re just going to play a couple more games after that?“

“Uh, yeah? I never leave until I’m all out of quarters. Sorry.” Eddie’s expression falls, but his smile returns when you press your lips against his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Can’t you wait a little bit longer like a good boy? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You give his lips a quick peck and wink. “If you think I’m going to end this day without having your dick inside me then you’re an idiot.”

Someone clears their throat loudly behind you and when you turn, you see what you can only assume is the owner of the bored adult voice earlier.

“There are kids in here, you know,” the man huffs.

“I don’t see any,” you say as you flip him off. “Or are you talking about yourself?” You grab Eddie’s hand and pull him along with you. “Come on, babe. Let’s leave these games for the kids, huh? We both got what we wanted. For now.”

The implication of what you’d done there hangs in the air as Eddie lets you lead him past the man and he barks out a laugh when he sees the furious, and dare he say frustrated, expression on his face.

Fully expecting to leave, he can’t hide his disappointment when you come to a standstill in front of a machine, Q*bert, and take a coin out of your pocket, obviously intending to still stick to your rule of not leaving until you had no coins left.

“You’re still going to- Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head as you put a quarter in the slot and start playing. “I’ll just get comfortable here then, shall I?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, “just stand there and look pretty. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to yours, very much mirroring the stance that he had taken earlier. “But seriously, just one game and then I’m dragging you out of here.”

“Fiiiiine. One game,” you say with a loud groan that didn’t sound anywhere near convincing enough. “But you’d better settle in, pretty boy, because I can make these games last a lifetime if I have to.”

“Did you just call me out over not being good at playing video games? Seriously?” Amusement was dripping off his voice, because he honestly didn’t care that he was no good at any of the games here. But he could have sworn that you had just issued him a challenge and he had every intention of winning that. “Honey, I can last real long when I’m doing other things.”

“Sure.” If you were trying to come across as unimpressed, it wasn’t that successful. You looked more curious than anything else. You shrugged, a bit noncommittally, and threw in a, “They all say that.” 

“I actually do though.” Eddie took a step closer and he could see your fingers tightening around the joystick, fully prepared to try your damndest not to let him distract you. One more step and he’s so close now that his lips are a couple of inches away from your ear. He clears his throat and chuckles when you jump ever so slightly. “Baby, I’m genuinely not boasting when I say that I could be down there for hours and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on that now, do I?”

You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, close your eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the telltale “game over” tune starts playing.

“Fuck.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, did you just lose? I was really looking forward to seeing you play as well, but… a deal’s a deal.” Before you could protest (which you wouldn’t dream of doing), Eddie grabs your hand and makes good on his promise of dragging you out of the arcade. “I just really want to show you what I can do now. Promise you won’t be disappointed…”

And here's the picture that partially inspired this one...

[punk-in-docs]

🕷️ Girlfriend is Better 🕷️

Eddie Munson x reader

10.9k words

Summary: Eddie x Pencils hit a bit of a hurdle in their early relationship. But she puts it to rights - and then hits the sweet metal head with an offer he can’t refuse- tw violence, past assault: in this chap folks - sorry its taken so long to get this done - enjoy

Eddie can feel their eyes on him.

He feels it’s undeserved and let’s be honest, a little odd. It’s not as if he’s not doing anything out of the ordinary here. He’s just being- normal.

His version at least. His wheelhouse batshit normal. Eddie-like.

They’re looking at him like he’s grown a new head.

Munson Motor mouth, rabbiting on its usual mile a minute as Motörhead shreds through the van speakers with Lemmy’s choppy and tasty riffs.

Early morning cigarette that he lit before he hopped in the van for the drive to school, curling smoke held between two fingers.

He’s batting the saggy steering wheel in time to the song. Ba-da-da with his other open palm to coincide with drum clashes that pound through like falling rocks and crashing thunder.

He still takes the corners way too fast like a coked up maniac. Some things will never change.

He looks the same. Smiles the same. But there’s a new breed of manic warping his usual calamity of a nature.

He’s not grumbling about this morning. Or a test or pop quiz he had coming up. No miserable sluggishness. Toothpaste breath. Not slumped and still yawning. With nothing but a weak instant coffee, two sugars, as his one and only source of breakfast. Gritty coffee that still catches the grounds between his back teeth.

Hair that mushed dry state that’s hard to tell if it’s met with a brush or not yet. Possibly this morning. It’s a maybe. It’s a not really.

Leather and battle vest showed up for duty on his lanky torso as per usual. Hellfire shirt of course. The ripped jeans. The wallet chain that swings and jingles and clatters to denim when he walks and makes him sound like a jangling six foot cat with a little tinkling bell on its collar. It’s all there. The jangly jacketed freak is all assembled.

But there’s this newness to the way he’s smiling.

So wide it dimples his cheeks. Creases the corner of those intimidating wells of eyes. It’s like someone’s fuel injected him with something to make him wilder. More swirly. Practically floating. Any higher he’d be in the big blue stratosphere. Sun grazed and heady. Icarus soaring too close to the sun. Not yet plunged to earth. Melting gold spattered on milk white swan feathers as he tumbled to earth.

Jeff makes a joke about him toking up before school. Eddie reached over and ruffled his hair. Making that demons smile. Rings flashing from his fingers in the meagre sun. “Man, I wish.”

“Got new pills from Rick or something?”

Eddie frowned. “Hell no. Besides. Wouldn’t be wasting those beauties right before first period English class.” He scoffs.

Dustin and Mike share a furtive glance that begs to know what’s up. Dustin mumbles What the shit, man?

He’s finally cracked. I’m calling it.

He didn’t have far to go.

He judders the van along the lot at school. Rumbling tyres over the loose gravel. Head bobbing to the metal as he lurches the wheel and swings into a space.

“Be seeing you. Little hellions. Be free. Give em hell.” He chuckles. Lumping the van into park. Watching them open doors and frown. Scurrying away to class. Gathered close and whispering. Hiking backpack straps up their shoulders and clutching chunky math books and still regarding him like more of an oddity than he actually is.

Of course there is a reason for the golden sunshine visibly sneaking out his pores, and bouncing the soles of his happy feet today. And it’s his wonderful secret.

Eddie shakes his head, and shoulders all his jagged chips and hatred for this place.

The amount of chips he’s got shelved there, worn on his shoulders, about this stunning educational penitentiary, frankly, he could very realistically wear like scales at this point.

He puts a cigarette to his lips and slips around the corner of the lot, jacket and wallet chain clinking as he goes, sneaking to the smokers spot.

A balding patch of grass skimmed to mud, and a graffitied brick wall, snugly hidden around the side of the squat building where some go to steal a quick smoke before class. He usually occupies the spot alone and has to haul ass like a frightened racoon if a teach clocks him.

No sooner had he come within an inch of the corner, cig almost to his lips, and he is yanked around it by a sturdy hand yanking him fully out of view - by his wallet chain. He feels the tug on the denim around his hip, pulling taut.

He wants to yowl and start squirming away from the grip, slinging fists into faces at this ambush. When really he wants to turn tail and leg it in the opposite direction. Flight not fight.

His back collided with graffiti breeze block and before he could turn out his pockets, show them holding lint and nothing else save for a quarter and a D20, screechily proclaim his dispensary is clean out man, back off-

Then some warm lips mould to his.

A gentle artists hand, faded blue polish on the nails, knuckles scraping bricks, is cupping the back of his wild mane and cupping him for a kiss he slowly melts too.

He honest-to-god goes fully boneless with the way you kiss him. The scrappy fight and shock slowly leeches out those gangly poky limbs. Sparks shoot to his fingertips.

He smiles. You can feel his dimples and a cold leathered arm comes folding around your back. The bracelet and the jangle of those zips up his wrists. Settling at the dip of your waist and his fingers slide into the back of belt loop of your jeans.

When you pull back for breath that you’re not sure you want more than him, he has the dopiest grin skated on his face.

“Morning.” You beam finally.

Because that kiss seemed way more important. You can’t help the feeling he instills. Feels like your belly is birthing a wild jungle crammed with winking wings of butterflies. Brilliant blue. Wicked electric yellow. Gossamer pink. They all shimmer.

“Hey hot stuff.” He smiles. Not restraining himself whatsoever.

Oh, they shimmer even more to the sight of that. Mad. Wild. Unhinged.

His cheeks kissed a little pink. He doesn’t even care that he dropped his cigarette in the mud. He’d rather chase the taste of your lips and let that sustain him all morning. Better than pills and nicotine. This static-fizzy-starburst feeling he gets big lungfuls of when around you.

“Didn’t mean to grab you like that. But I must admit that chain is certainly a handy hook.” You flick a fingertip to it. Sway that lolling chain into his thigh. Biting your lower lip in a smile.

He cups one side your face. If anyone got to chew that lip, it’s gonna be him. Leans in to gently smooch you again.

“Goddamn. I was reaching for my attack whistle there, pencils.” He rubs his hand over your hip. Rings chafe against your denim waistband.

“Maybe I was overzealous. But I do have a stunning defence.”

You lean up on tiptoes to smash a polite smooch back to his mouth. He mumbled a curious sound into your lips.

“Which is?” He seeks. Lips chasing yours for more. Even through speaking. Insanity catches.

“I missed you like crazy and it’s been barely 12 hours since I last saw you, and kissed you. And etcetera…” You flirt.

He can see these little delighted pips in your eyes. Like sowed little seeds of pride. The etcetera being all the dirty things you finally got to indulge in last night. Threaded in moonlight at skull rock.

No regrets. He doesn’t see any tint of regret in you.

Seeing that kicks his rocker heart right up to the moon, and sailing on over it. Like those old songs. Moonbeams and old soft tinkling pianos. Ladies with gardenias in their hair crooning about moondance, love and seeing stars.

He gets it now. He totally gets all of that sappy shit.

“I hereby decree that is far too long, and way too stupid of us, actually.” He finishes your thoughts for you. They were symmetrical to his own after all.

“So stupid. We’re just like, a complete pair of morons right now.” You concur. Linking your fingers into his. Standing toe to toe and just drinking in how it feels to be near again.

“So I’m thinking, we should cease all impending stupidity and uh y’know, catch a movie tonight or, grab a bite at Benny’s. Something like that. Anything.” He says. Smile all limned in excitement.

Shaking that big moppish mane of hair as a grin splits his mouth when he speaks, makes him look like an out and out excited little kid.

Fidgeting with your hands and immersing himself in the tactile deliciousness of your hands being held in his. Little touches that stayed with him all night.

Kept bugging him even in dreams he’s sure thoughts of you crept at the oil slick lining of his mind like wing tips of persistent gentle moths. The dusty old ones the colour of sour grey milk. Ones that they get flapping around the trailer porch light at night in balmy summer. The soft blink as they hit the glass shade.

“Burgers at Benny’s sounds so good.” You grin. “Loaded chilli fries?”

He scoffs. “Naturally. I’m not an animal.”

You run your hands through his wild hair. Listen to him talk. Heart entirely bloated with love of this boy. You swear it’s knocking all giddy up against your ribs like some deformed roaming creature seeking release.

“Shall we head out after class? I’ll drive.” He offers. His stomach zig-zags in vicious excitement.

“Catch you after class, handsome.” You grin.

“Ohh, whoa. I never said I was done with you yet.” His eyes flicker with something you think is cheekiness.

Swooping in to slow kiss you for a beat too long. An embrace that makes him hum softly. Makes you mewl. Right at he back of his throat. Lips roaming gentle and soft and your bodies rock together. Gets him cupping your back to keep you near.

“Fuckk gimme another one of those, pencils. I’m not below begging.” Cups your face again. He wants another kiss. Eyes wide as bourbon brown saucers

Chuckling in the muggy space between your smiles, cheeks fired all warm, sharing the same breath, you lean in and give it to him. Giving him the deep messy kiss you’d been craving.

When it’s time to pull back to guzzle air and maybe some reality again, Eddie chases your retreat with his mouth. His lips bruised a stunning cupid pink. Taking a breath that he’s not sure he needs more than he does you.

“Jesus H Christ. How the hell am I gonna even attempt to concentrate today-“ He asks. Voice all raspy and slow gravel.

“What usually stops you?” You sass him. He bites his lip all naughty and softly jabs you right in the stomach; a move designed to tickle.

“Blasphemy. Dear one. I mean, how dare you.” He grins. Chocolate drop eyes all crinkled at their corners. You cover his hand on your stomach, with your own. He likes the soft warm pouch of you there.

It’s tactile. It’s touch. It shoots right to the roof of Eddie’s brain and does something so funky to him he can’t even describe it in words. Actions maybe - Beer on an empty stomach. The first hit of some really silky smooth strain Rick gives him to try. The home made warm sugary scent of that peach cobbler Wayne makes him on his birthday.

They haven’t designed or discovered enough appropriate words to put to this feeling. None that even his whip smart nature can grasp at.

“I’ll soothe that wounded ego and buy you a chocolate shake later if it pleases.” You offer. Tilting your head. Offer placed on the table.

“An ego bruise is a problem I will gladly allow you to throw chocolate and ice cream at.” His fingers worm their way through yours. Knuckles locked. You could do this all day.

“Can be swayed with chocolate. Good to know.”

“And candy. Pizza rolls are good too.”

“Noted.” You beam. Snuggling to his front. Hands still joined. Fused as one.

The sound of the bell ringing for first period is a rude interjection into a morning that’s shaping up to be stellar.

Eddie didn’t seem best pleased by this. Judging by the way he takes advantage of that split second of your distraction hearing the bell, to snatch his hands at your shoulders and loop you round so your back is to the wall instead of his. Sneak attack.

His arm is a leather band over the back of your waist and he gently cups your chin and deepens a silky melting kiss that is, just, so many elements of perfect it should be outlawed that just kissing can be this good.

The plush of his deeply plump lips, with the scraping push of some stubble on his upper lip. It’s delicious. The way he kisses is better than any hit off any joint. You don’t care what he says. Better than purple haze. Better than fucking anything. Backed by sheer dopey sized crushes that take you both, head to toe. Crushes taking on a life of their own. Wearing your skins whole and making you desperate. Make you ache.

You kiss him back. Desperately. Drenched in want. But also knowing that you should be hot-footing it to your first class lest you get a tardy slip. To turn up late, with a very very kiss worn mouth like that would be about as obvious as the nose on your face.

“Eddiii-mmmmm.” You plead to his bewitching mouth. Smoky minty breath and the faintness of his morning coffee on your tastebuds. He’s cupping your face like your some sacred relic he has to handle gently. As if he had corrosive fingertips. Strychnine laced touch.

When he pulls back. Hands two big gangly paws holding your neck, there’s this sweet dazed look all over his expression. Drugged on you. The way you kissed him like his tongue is made out of cherry candy and you only want more- oh lord.

How’s that for irony. The Hawkins High school dealer and here he is getting a huge hit, from kissing you. Nothing that comes pre rolled in a baggie making his mind fuzz like hot molasses, or circled into a wild little chalky pill that makes his head all bright and fuzzy sharp like cotton candy.

Making out before class he can gladly get hooked on. He thinks he’s there already. DT-Ing for more. Make him shake and rattle on all fours like a rabid dog.

“One for the road…” He explains inbetween raspy pants for breath. A silly smile all yours for the keeping.

You pat his chest. He could honestly whimper at the tactile feel of your hand resting on the meat of his pectoral. So dangerously close to skin on skin.

“I better go.” You sigh. A drop kick to your mood to leave him. You take a step back.

He can’t allow that. He whines like a kicked puppy. Button eyes all round and shiny with whatever amount of sadness it would take to root you here, with him.

“Don’t. Pencils. Stay here. Stay uneducated and stupid with me and let’s just make out, all day.” He waggles some filthy intentioned brows at you. Pleading threaded onto his voice. Trying his best to yank you back.

“You could easily tempt me to play hooky any day, Munson. But I’ve been studying for this test all week.” You point out.

“Well. I can’t deny that dorky chicks turn me on.” He sighs nicely. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? I figured tiny pleated little cheerleader skirts and peppy bouncy pom-poms turned you on.” You tease. Voice all sultry.

He leans in and smacks a kiss to the end of your nose.

“Nuh-uh. I like em’ covered in paint and jeans and artsy, and working in record shops with old hippies. And hopelessly in all consuming love with me.” He grins.

“Kiss ass.” You smirk. Smacking a kiss to his cheek. Stepping back. His hand slithers to find yours again. Links fingers. His rings glitter. They’re all warm where he’s been holding hands with you. On you.

“Hey, my girlfriend is a damn fox. This is a hill I’ll die on.”

You bring your joined hands up and kiss the back of his for that.

“Class beckons.” You roll your eyes. Shouldering your bag. Unwilling to unlink hands until you absolutely had too.

“See you at lunch?” You ask. His brows creased. Makes him look like an upset puppy.

“Can’t. Got a drop to make in the woods.”

“Parking lot after school?” He counter offers.

“You bet.” You agree. And you cannot even handle the wait.

You walk away around the corner. Eddies eyes trail over you as you go.

“Enjoy the smoke.” You turn over your shoulder and call back.

He saluted you with a flicking motion, with that million dollar grin pleasured all over his face.

“Brutal babe. You know what I’d enjoy more…” his inflection at the end of his words lets you know what he’s referring too.

“Down boy.” You play as you head off. Smile all secret and wide for him. Grin so wide it makes his heart pulse.

He’s grasping a hand over his mad heart as you slip away. One knee bent up. Sneakered foot flat to the wall behind him.

He reaches for that cigarette and his lighter. Though he doubts this little stick will do any damn thing that kissing you didn’t. He lights up. Grinning. You left his heart thrashing about and kicking inside the shell of his denim and leather like a damn drum in a cramps song.

Way, way across the field, sat high up on the bleachers with some of the girls on the cheer squad. In full view of the back brick wall where you had just been. Supposedly around the corner and concealed from view-

Linda snapped her binder shut. Eyes packed in venom. Huffing as she picked up her books.

Lipsticked lips pursed together in a grim hot pink line. Annoyance fills her chest and rams up against her ribs. Sour in her stomach. Nastiness curdled up on her tongue. She’d seen enough.

You and the freak. Just like Jonny said.

No fucking way.

~

Eddie bapped along to some rock that had been trapped in the lining of his crazy head since this morning. Head bumping as he hummed along, sang under his breath to Rattlehead. That mane flicking every which way.

Metal lunchbox swings from his hand and clatters as he bounced along the familiar route. Feet trained for the way. Leaves cushion his rustling step. He drags his eyes over the foliage spread high above.

Dappled with gold sunshine of the afternoon that chips down. The odd scurry of a bird flapping around the treetops. Nature and the soothing crash of wind lacing through wide apple-green leaves. He darts his eyes around, seeking and searching for the shape of anyone to come crashing through the trees.

He arrived at his little decaying stoop in the woods. The table that’s so carved and scarred with crude drawings and initials it’s chipped and falling to bits. Cig butts littered everywhere and Eddie shamefully admits some of them are most likely his. His place of business is well reputed.

Swinging his leg over the bench seat and slinking himself up onto the table to take a pew. Sneakers resting on the seat. Cause when has he ever approached anything normally, or fallen into doing anything that comes into the category of usual.

He throws the lunchbox lid open with no gilding the lily, and braces his scattered mind into this deal. Shoves through the bags to find the semi-decent stuff. Wave of heady green hits him in the nose as he rummaged and carried on humming to himself.

Though really for the preppy guy who propositioned this drop, he’s tempted to charge way too much for a thin little roll of ditchweed.

Alas, his reputation is too important. One bad sale and he’d never touch profits on it again. He will unwillingly part with some decent sativa for the knucklehead.

He thumbs through his papers and rustling bags and makes a note of exactly what he’ll put his fistful of measly dollars from the sale towards; another date with you.

He’s heard of this great alt store a couple towns over. Super your style. Record store in back, cool clothing, apparantly a rock n roll kinda vibe that you would appreciate. Posters, merch, jewellery, you name it.

He can’t think of a better place to take you for a date. He’s keeping it under wraps even though, god knows, his blabber mouth which runs and rants away from itself, wanted to yell and shriek about it to you nonstop.

How he wanted to scrape together some dollars to buy you something. A handful of punk style patches, a tee, a poster for your bedroom door that needed some anarchy or some goth Siouxsie. Maybe a little Joan and some Blackhearts action.

He’s heard you crank them up on your headphones to blaring when you’re trying to concentrate on a sketch. Like the loudness lifts you out your mind and transcends into the paint.

How he wanted to make a mixtape for you, of all the metal songs - and to his embarrassment some of the less tacky love ballads - that bring you to the forefront of his mind when he hears them. Even some older crooning songs that Wayne likes.

The stuff he was drip-fed on in his early days, sweet and crooning, like slow gold honey melting into his ears. Listening to them and snatching pieces of melody that breezed through the trailer. Warm and sunny to listen to. Softly swaying Don Henley, Woodie Guthrie, and Jim Croce. Even some Ella or some Julie London and her smokiness.

He smiles to himself as he comes to Rattlehead’s chorus. Toes tapping the rotten old bench and creaking the wood, as he scrunches bags aside this way and that to find the pre-rolls. Fingers drum the beats off the side of the tin. Clacking out into the woods.

The brutal snap of a twig makes him peer around.

Eddie swims his eyes through the trees and eventually drags them to find a Jock with his hands shoved in his pockets.

It’s not someone he’s on a first name basis with. He’s lost amongst a sea of sensible jeans and varsity two tones. Sea green and blinding white with the lion gold yellow Hawkins H proudly blazoned on his front.

Crazy how differently they wear their allegiances.

He’s the anti-thesis of Eddies style. Shirt tucked in. Sensible white sneakers that aren’t beat up to shit. Preppy. Hair brushed. Some square jawed Ryan or Chad or whomever, pads towards him.

The look in his eyes twists Eddie’s gut like wet flannel. Scathing.

He’s seen hatred and distain before. Of course. It’s poured very freely his way.

Thats nothing new to him. Distaste. Eye rolls louder than claps of thunder and tutts coming stabbed under breath peppered with nasty words.

This is that crowd at its ugliest. The tribe this guy is happily a part of. Supposed fuckin’ Normalcy. They scar the word ‘Freak’ into him over and over again. Stomp it into his messy maned head over and over with their feet.

Finally he got tired of the brutal raining down kicks and just took it. Weened the power of it. Stole it from them and flipped it. Made it his shield. Propped it up with that DIO patch on his back. Let their hatred sink into that and roll away useless.

Let them know it doesn’t sink down to places where they want it to hurt.

Eddie swallows. Throat suddenly a sticky chasm. Tried to soften the blow and put away whatever the fuck this guy was trying to scowl and throw at him.

“Hey, man. You’re my 1 o’clock right?” He asks. Tapping his knee still and fiddling with his hands.

The guy swerved his jaw before he spoke. “Yeah.” Spine held poker rigid as he answered. Like it offended him to have to be here and talk.

He came into the clearing. Sneakers rustling leaves. Something feels sour about this whole thing.

“Okay. Well- um.” He awkwardly clears his throat. Reaches into the box that he gently sets beside himself. Grabs the joint and fidgets with it for a second.

“It’s uh, it’s twenty bucks for a pre-roll.” Eddie tells him.

“Great.” He watches the guy nod. Curt. His expression steely. Eyes glassy in a way that’s beyond unsettling.

“Ohhhkay.” Eddie nods. Eyes a fraction too pinched at the corners. Concerned frown dragging down his brows. Wondering what the stitch up is. His eyes dart around. Bordering on panic.

He stands to get off the bench, the guy doesn’t so much a muscle to reach across and take the joint off him. Hands still shoved deep in his pockets.

Eddie holds the joint. The guy doesn’t even move to take it.

“It won’t bite man. Smooth as silk and just, hits you like a cool wave when you smoke that puppy. Trust me.”

Something flickers like a sneer across the guys mouth. He looks at the innocuous rolled joint Eddie’s holding out to him. Looks at the brown paper all rolled in his palm.

Eddie shrugs. Wide open. Leather crinkles over the jutting movement of his shoulders.

“You want it or not?” A razor edge starting to creep into his tone.

If this is someone who hasn’t made their mind up, he’s got other places to be. Better times to be had. Than waiting on whether or not the preppy jerk is gonna take the goods off his hands. Or use more than two syllables.

“If you don’t want it. I’ll go right now. Forget it. No hard feelings.” He takes the edge off for him.

Despite the fact that actually a little simmering front of annoyance bubbles at his belly for the guy wasting his free period he could have used to kiss you senseless with wandering hands, right up against the side of his van.

He turns around and throws the joint back into the box. Shaking his head. Making his hair do that wild kicky thing it usually does.

“Maybe you should go. Freak.” Comes spat his way. Drawn in a snarl.

“Whatever, dude.” Eddie puts his back to him. Folds his product back into his box.

More snaps. More rustled leaves. Eddie drifts his eyes up and sees three more guys coming through the woods to the clearing. Walking slowly, picking over nature to come to the bench all menacingly slow. Like he was a deer they were in danger of spooking.

All wearing Hawkins letterman jackets. Sneers writ on all their faces. Intimidation carved into every step they take. They look way too happy to see him here alone.

Suddenly Eddie feels small. Feels like he’s right back in middle school. Being tossed around and bashed up by the bullies. Coming home with stinging scraped knees and a cheek that feels swollen hot, itchy like bloated meat. The crust of dried rust scabbing under his nose.

This feels exactly like that. Some things never change.

“The fuck?” He asks. He won’t lie. His voice wobbles to a croak. Set on shaking sands.

“Where you goin’ loser?” One of them huffs out. Eddie turns his head.

Strutting towards him like the bullshit cover of macho magazine. Or J-Crew, is Barbies boyfriend. The blonde ape.

One of them he doesn’t recognise proudly comes up and slaps the lunchbox out his hands.

Eddie flinches back. Shrinks away. Puts distance between every step they eat up eagerly to come towards him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want whatever’s coming barrelling his way. He hasn’t done anything except sell some reefer.

“Alright. Alright-“ Eddie stumbles back from the table. Hands high and empty. Voice jittery. His head and gut yell in sync - telling him to run the hell outta there.

“Clearly you guys have some sort of agenda I’m not aware of so why don’t we all just-“ His smile is all tremulous and shaky.

A fist drags his collar into a yank. A curled up punch swings into his face and knocks him clean to the ground before he can chew out his next words. His jaw snaps together. Hot pennies comes flooding his tongue where his teeth cut his cheek.

Stars and bursting black galaxies accompany his artless tumble to the ground.

And then some more fists come raining down. A sneakered foot planting square into his side to kick the wind clean out of him.

They leave him crumpled on the ground. Cushioned by rotting dry leaves. Smeared in mud, blood leaking from two places in his face. Spotting down to his dark shirt.

As a parting gift one of them empties his lunchbox over the floor and stomps its contents into the dirt.

He knows the feeling only all too well.

~

You clatter into the bathroom after your last class.

Let the bustle of crowds fall far behind you as everyone rushes to the lot to leave. Afternoon summer sun stripes its sneaking glory across the halls and slants the window ledges in gold.

You cross to the sinks and set your sketchbook crammed with new drawings on the side. Leafs of the paper and all the dried paint crinkling, as it’s wedged partially open by the sheer number of crammed pages all skated on dusty pencil or charcoal.

You’d need to buy another pretty soon. One with thick cloth like paper pages for you to fill up.

You go through new books like running water. Never stop sketching. You’d wanted to take Eddie to the funky art shop you grab your supplies from. You’ve a feeling he’d love seeing the paint sets and the sheer number of spray paints they got.

Creativity seemed to flourish from him. His imagination permanently running wild. Could never stop it. One of your favourite things about him in fact.

He would talk about your sketches. Ask you about them. Ask you what the best paint would be for decorating some new figurines he’s got.

He’d twirl the pen you’re using out your hand and tell you all about the way he’d sit in the library for hours drawing fantasy maps for his campaigns on graft paper. Drawing rolling green islands. Mountain caves with trolls. Boggy muggy swamps with draping trees and hidden dangers. Vast seas with coily sea serpents hiding in the waves.

He’d chat to you about your ideas. The ones you’re struggling with for art class. The things you need to study and learn about. The theory of colours. The use of them all dotted in a Poussin or swirled in a Van Gogh.

You could talk to Eddie about anything. For hours and hours. The mere fact of going to grab a huge greasy meaty junk fest of a dinner with him has you walking on clouds.

You want your evening with him already. It can’t come fast enough. You want salty loaded fries and a cold shake and relentless plush Eddie kisses. You wanna climb into the comfy ratty seat in that tired old van that you love. Listen to whatever blasting metal cassette he’s been humming along to all day.

Hell- even just seeing his whole face light up with a smile as you saunter up to his van. The way he’d look at you - the way he always looks at you - with those big shining brown eyes all haloed in golden sun. Brimming with mirth. Cheeks split wide and crow-eyes all bunched up at the corners in glee.

He burns so bright to see you, it’s like he’s swallowed the sun and stars combined. You feel so lucky to have that.

The way he links his fingers with yours. Lopes your fingers together as one and doesn’t even mind if your all paint spattered or your hands are too dry. Palms all hard from scrubbing off acrylic smudges.

He kisses your fingers and acts like you’re draped in diamonds.

Acts like you weren’t wearing a ribbed worn Henley. A large - borrowed - Berkeley blue varsity sweater knotted around your waist, or your straight worn baggy jeans, cuffed up hems and patched at the knees that you mended. And your truly awful red sneakers that are so beat up with age they’re almost a sad faded pink.

He still looks at you like you’re a holy revelation. Each time.

You heap your bag next to the sinks and scrub the last of the charcoal off your hands. Sticky pink soap making a lot of lather around your fingers as you washed the smudgy grey away from the creases in your knuckles. Watch the way it circles down the drain.

You pull up and dry them with the crinkly paper tissues sat on the side.

Take a second to look back to the mirror. Centred all around the ugly squiggles of old sharpie doodles etched on the walls. Contemplate your reflection.

You smooth the hair away from your forehead. Attempt to neaten some of the crazy fluffy bits that kink down around your ears. Fuss with it for a minute or two. Smudge the charcoal away off your cheek.

“Who you trying to look so nice for-“ Comes a cutting tone from behind you. Tone dredged through revulsion and back out again.

A twist over your shoulder reveals Linda. Stood there in her oversized acid wash denim jacket and too-short purple skirt. Hair all bunched up and piled on her head in a half up style wound with a magenta scrunchie. She stands with one hip cocked. And her eyes are frosty daggers.

Heat licks your spine in the shame that you’d been caught preening. “No one.” You say too quick.

Try and inflect some humour on your voice. “You know I don’t exactly have anyone to preen for.” You lie.

Looking down at your hands as you dry them. Scrubbing water away with damp paper. Crush it into a fist and ball it in the bin when you’re done.

You can feel her stare embedding itself into your skull. Like an engraving. Sharp. Scratch of a knife on hollow bone.

“I saw you with him. So don’t try and come at me with your bullshit.” She spits. Words tired and clipped.

You turn over your shoulder. She stands there seething. Looking as bitchy as she usually does. Pink lips pursed.

“Saw me…” you check.

“Yeah. You and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” She poses the words like they’re offensive. Mocking.

Anger furred the back of your tongue. Like feasting on too much sugar. Or a chalky jagged pill lodging itself in your throat.

“Look. I know you’re like, a lonely little virgin or whatever, and you wanna pop your cherry and all, but there’s way better guys out there to screw-”

Your venom stops her words dead.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You bite.

You see her face fall into shock at your tone. Snappy and sudden. She looked stunned. As if you’d wheeled around 360 and slapped her.

“Oh my god. Don’t tell me you actually like him? Are you serious?” She gapes like it’s illogical.

“He’s a loser with ratty hair who sells weed and lives in a shit hole trailer park.”

“I do like him. I more than like him. We’re dating.” You tell her with steel. “We’re going out tonight as it happens.”

“I knew you had a screw loose but this is just another level of low. Even for you.” Linda bitches.

“How do you never get tiredwith that constant tirade of shit that spills out your mouth Linda.” You snipe.

She rallies to respond. Scanning you with hard eyes backed with new levels of poison.

“I’m not the one dating the King of the freaks.” She hits at you, real low.

“No. You’re dating a two-bit jockstrap who doesn’t even like you, unless you blow him. At least Eddie wants me for more than my pussy.” You point out.

She swallowed. Eyes glimmer. You know that one bit deep.

“Don’t come crying to me when that trailer park asshole dumps you like a cup of cold poison.”

You shake your head and try to remember how to breathe. Snickering cracks of bones in your throat as you swallow. You want to fly into rage and slam your textbook into her stupid scathing face until it dents one of her precious cheekbones.

“You don’t even know him. None of you do. You don’t even know the first two things about him.” You defend loud.

“I know he’s weird as shit and sells skunk. What a catch.”

You bite your tongue. Plenty of insults about Jonny come crawling to mind.

“How long have you two been-“ She sniffs.

“Couple of weeks now. Since Kyle’s party.” You hurl at her furiously.

Her face fills with an expression you can’t read as everything comes to make sense. Falls into place. Puzzle pieces clicking.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

“Yeah. And you’re so self centred look how long it’s taken you to even notice or give a shit about what’s happening to me or my life.” You finally say all the things you should have voiced long ago.

“You’re only interested now because you care what other people are gonna say on Monday, and what they’ll gossip about.”

“He’s trouble, and he’s gonna get you hurt. Probably gonna give you a filthy rash or something too.” She sneers. “Lord knows what he’s riddled with.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” You grit your teeth. Emotion gets the better of your voice. Tears bubble at your lash line. Red hot.

“Not gonna be my problem to have you trailing round after me anymore. Cause by the way, we are no longer friends.” Linda spits. Eyes narrow to slits.

You nod. Resigned. Tears of anger prick the corners of your eyes. You’re too angry to let them loose.

“What a goddamn relief.” You hit back. Chew your lower lip.

“I’ve had to listen to you bitch at me, and whine and snipe, and moan, for years. I’ve had to endure your tantrums and your cutting comments, and every play-by-play of every unsatisfying Friday night screw around, with your shitty dirtbag of a boyfriend who treats you like garbage. And who you run back to each time he fucks you over. And I’m so sick of you.” Your voice comes out raw.

“So yeah. You’re right. We’re not friends anymore. I don’t think we’ve been that for a very long time.”

You put your back to her and grab your books.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Freak.” She sideswipes nastily as you shoulder your way past her.

Catching her on purpose. Shoving her with your shoulder to catch her teetering in those heels.

“Have fun with your trailer trash.” She snips.

“Word of advice. Make sure Jonny wraps it first. Word is he’s been screwing Tina on the cheer squad behind your back every Wednesday.“

You watch her saunter up past you to get to the mirror and touch up her lipstick. Ignore ignore ignore.

Her too sweet Revlon perfume making your stomach roil. She looks at her reflection. The thing she loved most. It’s amazing you ever got a look in. She scrunches up sections of her hair to make it bounce. An indifferent mask on her face.

Trying to ignore you already so the tears don’t come. So what else is new.

You pause at the door. Hand on the handle. Books piled on your arms.

“Sad thing is. I never expected you to act any different when you found out. Turns out you’re just that shallow vain bully I always suspected you to be.”

She pretends not to hear as you slip out the door. You’re sure to slam it as loudly as you can.

Coming out into the partially empty hall. Quickly skating a hand down your cheek. Taking a gulp of a deep breath. Starting down the hallway to come to the doors at the end.

Letting the distance to that girls restroom salvage some of your anger. Let it ebb away and let the savage venom words roll down your skin like blunt razors.

You wait to see if they feel like they’ve drawn any blood.

Maybe just a raking deep black bruise. Perhaps the confrontation has lifted a rock solid weight off your chest. Cut your ties to something corrosive.

You storm to the doors at the end, and push your way out. Into the midsummer air. Afternoon sun washing over you as it creeps it’s golden-fiery way by. Slanting ochre across the parking lot.

A gaggle of people clutched around one of the sticky lunch tables stops you dead in your tracks.

That weight comes crashing back with all the subtle tact and grace of a tank storming a building.

It’s Hellfire. The crowd. It’s Gareth, Mike, Jeff and Henderson. They’re all clutched around someone sat on the bench seat. Someone who is leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees. One hand held up to his head.

Your mood plunges even more. There’s a sour shift as some of them twist to look at you.

Big childlike eyes full of something that approaches wariness. Sadness dashed with insecurity. The kid-like uncertainty of how to deal with this very gruesome and very real situation.

A cold can of tab, now warm, for the crescent bruise taking shape around his eye socket.

One of them fishing around in the bottom of their bag for crumpled blue band aids. Anything to help.

A wad of crinkly and loveless paper towels snatched from the boy’s restroom and wadded into a wet lump for the blood pouring under his nose. The fresh red that’s staining his tee like big gruesome poppy petals.

His free hand is wrapped around his side for the bruise he can already feel like a dark cloud of cherry red and blue cobwebbing up his skin and over each slat of his ribs on his left side.

They shuffle away from the table and you finally get to see what they all look so grim about.

Eddie is hunched over with a black eye and a bloodied face and nose. He’s muddy and dirty and scratched up and when he meets your gaze, your world shudders on its axis, to a grinding halt.

The way he’s looking at you shatters your damn heart into huge glassy shards. Diamonds and sprinkles of it, sharp and chunky, cut into your chest. Daggering.

He’s hurt.

He swallows and keeps eye contact. Looks at you with such fear and sorrow emanating from those big round bourbon eyes. You see the apprehension in his body.

It doesn’t get any better when he winced and tries to stand. Body bowing as he slowly eased himself off the bench seat. Hand cupping his ribs as he inched his way to a full stand. You hear him groan.

You see as pain flickers across his face. The usual springy frolicking gait is muted. It’s etched with pain and writ with ache.

He wishes he could read your expression right now. As it is he’s struggling to sort it into one emotion.

You look hurt, tear stained, livid and clenched rigid with something that could only be bone deep anger. Venomous, mind numbing, anger. And it was just bubbling and clawing it’s way to a fever pitch.

“Pencils-“ He wets his lips. Looks meek as he watches you carefully. Tenderness in his voice.

You dump your books where you stand and turn on your heel. Sketchbook cast to the floor and heaped atop your bag. You slam back through the doors and into the school - mind set on one salient thing.

The doors slam not seconds after you. The creaking jolt as the metal crunches back into place. Footprints scatter after you on the lino. The squeak of muddy sneakers. The gusting air of a sigh bred with a wince.

Eddie chases after you with all his might. Hooks his hand to your elbow. Tries his best to stop you.

“Hey. Pencils. Babe. Please, let’s get outta here. Let’s just forget this. I don’t know who it was- I didn’t see them.”

He’s really a terrible liar.

“With all due respect Eddie. I know who did it.” You explain bitterly, as you wander along. His touch turns to a tug on your elbow. Pulling at your shirt.

“Because he’s not smart enough to juggle two thoughts at once, much less try and hide the fact he beat you up. And second his jagged pill of a girlfriend just tore me to strips in the girls restroom for finding out.” You say. Possibly louder than you intended.

His face falls.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly.

You turn back. Tears springing down your cheeks. His hands are all over you. Cupping your neck. Your shoulders. You can smell the blood coming off him. Sour pennies. Desperation laced his voice. Comes off him in waves.

Desperate for you not to to this.

“This isn’t stupid shit to me Eddie. This is not okay. Not something I’m gonna let get brushed under the rug-“ your lip wobbles. You shake your head. You rub your nose. Chase the tickling tears away.

He mimics you. Shaking his own head so his hair flicks out. Eyes wide and terror stroked words pour out his mouth.

“Don’t go getting into trouble for me. I don’t want that for you.” He begs. His eyes are wide with it.

“Good thing I want it then.” You resolve.

He looks apprehensive. Choked by it. Scared by your resolve. He doesn’t want to let you do this. This is a doomsday territory.

“Pencils-“

You continue down the hall. He follows. Still doing everything in his power to convince you, or try to stop you. Credit to him, his list of reasons are pretty excellent.

Babe. Please. It doesn’t have to be a thing.

You’re on track. You have your grades. You got Indie state in your future to think of. I don’t want you jeopardising that for me.

I don’t want you going and getting in trouble for this.

He doesn’t stop you from making your way to the gym. But he is right there at your back as you push open the doors, shove your way inside and you don’t care if your entrance is loud.

The idiot jocks practice in the gym after school. Basketball mostly. Some dotted in the bleechers. Long suffering girlfriends sat with bubblegum pink coloured files, shaping their nails to the side and chatting and trying not to look too bored whilst the guys play. Linda sits chattering to one of the cheerleaders.

You wrinkle your nose at the stench. Whole place smells like musty sweat, floor polish and old socks.

Jonny has his back to you as he dribbled the ball. The ricochet of it pangs across the court.

You race across the floor to him like a hell fury. Fists clenched at your side. Eddie still trying in vain to get between you and your stubborn brain. To try and talk you out of this before it’s way too late.

Your entrance with him hot on your heels and whispering pleas at you, draws laughter and sniggering sneers from some of his dirtbag friends. Shouts come aimed your way.

Hey, look who it is. It’s the freaks.

Closed practice, morons.

Jonny doesn’t turn back but you make your presence known.

“Hey. You dumb fuck stain.”

You march right up to his sweaty back and shove him hard with both hands. Wrinkle that goddamn white basketball jersey.

The guys around him make mocking noises. Chorus of awes and exclamations.

The room slowly dawns quieter. The squeak of shoes muffled. Everyone’s eyes centre court where you stand seething. Panting for breath and trying to look as livid as you felt.

He turns back to you all slow and condescending. Like he’s some golden haired Apollo flouncing down from Mount Olympus to grace you with his presence. He’s limned in sweat and dissects you both with conceited arrogance.

“What’s your damage?” He sarcs. Looking down at you like you’re an ant. Or a mangy mongrel.

He flicks his eyes across and landing on Eddie.

“Munson. How’s them ribs.” He sneers.

You’re about ready to topple over the edge and spit nails. Anger gently creeps to a boil.

“Just peachy, thanks for asking.” Eddie answers. Mouth is a grim line. And his eyes look stern coal black. He turns his attention back to you.

“Pencils please. Let’s just let it go. There’s no point…” He whispers. Standing with his hand gently cupping your forearm.

“What do you want? Teams full. We don’t accept weirdos anyway.” Jonny pushes at the both of you.

“I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me why you attacked my boyfriend.” You steel. Voice low and even.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you like lasers. Burning holes in the back of your head.

His mouth gapes a little. If it weren’t for the fact he’s terrified off his ass stood here, his heart would flutter like a fledgling baby birds wings, to hear those words admitted aloud.

“No reason. Just don’t like him.” He shrugs all honesty. Passing the ball over to his friend. Standing with his hands on his hips.

“Careful hefting those big thoughts around. You might hurt yourself.” You fire out.

Your fight with Linda left sharp scalpel words on your tongue and now you ache to use them to their fullest.

He doesn’t look happy. Dark gold hair beading sweat down into his cenote blue eyes. Rigid anger on his frown as he glares at you.

“Linda didn’t like the idea of him being around you. She told us we were teaching him a lesson. To stay away from you. We were protecting you, moron.” He says like it should be obvious.

“How fucking considerate. Your girlfriend couldn’t think her way out of a damn paper bag if she had a map, Jonny.”

You feel Linda’s scowl all the way across the room. The weight those slitted eyes and a bitchy scoff. You know those echoing words found their target. Slammed right into bullseye red making their mark. You hope it truly hurts. As much as she hurt you

“She didn’t reserve the right to presume any fucking thing about me. And not one thing gave you not the right to hurt Eddie. Not under the guise of some macho-stupid ‘protecting-you’ crap.” You snarl.

He bounces the ball. You slam forwards and bat it out scathingly out his hand. Send it rolling away.

More chorus of noises scattered around you both as you stepped toe to toe with the guy who almost towered over you.

“You acted out of pure hatred. So don’t try and dress it up at something else. You useless. shithead.” You insult.

“And what are you going to do about it, freak, huh?” He jabbed. Nostrils flaring. Lips pressed together unattractively thin. Looks like a provoked silverback in his enclosure. About the beat his chest.

He turns to guffaw laughter and sneer with his friends.

When you speak it’s so reed thin it even makes a shiver run up Eddie’s spine. Slices of jagged metal.

And he’s not even on the receiving end of this frightening ire of yours. The one that’s bursting out of you like raw lightning. Like it can’t fathomably contain you. Love and fierce packed rage tight in situ.

“This…” You remark with a clenched fist. Thumb wrapped over your knuckles.

Your nail polish glints blue in the light like steely-inky beetle wings. Your eyes barely smother down live-wires. Danger, danger.

You thought about how they would’ve laughed at him.

Kicked him into the dirt like wet leaves and muck that drifts off the trees in fall.

How they would have laid into him and left him there. On the floor. Blood soaked.

Shown the freak who’s in charge.

It flashes when you rear your arm back. Putting full force into your right shoulder, feet taking a firm stance. You channel everything you have into this fearsome right hook;

You swing your fist straight into Jonnys face.

It’s powerful enough to hear a loud crack, you feel the blow shudder into bone. Catching his nose, which spurts blood.

He recoils and staggers. Knocked off balance. Sound punctured out his mouth. Clutching his bleeding face as red streams drip on his pretty white shoes. Stains his pristine uniform. Good.

Try explaining that one to mommy and daddy dearest.

You don’t even let him swing back around. You grab the shoulder of his disgusting sopping jersey and ball it in your hand. Using that as leverage to drive your knee high - hard - into his balls.

Before you let him slump to the floor in a bleeding pile of sweat glazed limbs. You mutter words just for him to take caution of.

“Come near me or Eddie again, and believe me I will break your goddamn jaw, Lopez.”

You let him crumple this time. Flag to the floor in a heap of collapsing bones and sweaty jock uniform.

He looks up at you, trembling. Blood skirting down his arms and past his cupped palm. Tears streak down his cheeks. You step back and let him crumple.

He’s spitting and snarling crude insults in between wails of pain, and a sticky mouthful that smears his teeth red, and stains his tongue with metal.

“You broke my nose, you crazy fuckin’ bitch.” He spits. It sounds wet. Words sluiced in crimson.

“Finally. A nickname I can warm too.” You scathe.

When you look up, guys around him flinched back a good few paces in case they fell into the category of your rage. Wariness edging their expression. Eyes wide and mouths caught suspended open, like brain dead guppies at feeding time.

Eddie stepped forwards and gently laid his hand on your shaking arm. His fingers urge you closer. Get you following him to haul ass outta there.

You scan the room and find Linda gaping at you just as dumbly as everyone else. She’s risen to a stand. Face like she’s just swallowed a painful poison pill. Apparently in no rush whatsoever to get to her boyfriend.

“It’s ok. I’m done here.” You tell him. Gritting your teeth. Meeting Linda’s eyes.

You turn and walk away. Back to this whole affair Amazed how scarily easy it is. Leaving your supposed friendship in the dust. Bleeding crumpled on that floor.

You feel an enormous sense of relief walking out that gym.

Your hand killing you. No doubt about it. Shooting mad red hot fireworks up and down your forearm. Your knuckles feel like hell. Sparking furious with pain.

You reach for Eddie’s hand anyway. Screw the pain. You slip your fingers into his. Turn and catch his eyes.

He’s watching you with so much cautionary care and concern.

You breathe. Lungs shivering around new calm air. Words come easy but you feel shaky with them.

“C’mon. Let’s go get you something for that eye.”

He agrees with a nod. Then that hopping spark that’s truly skated in usual Munson mischief, comes springing back full force into his eyes. Lovely happy bourbon again.

“Wouldn’t dare refuse you, Pencils. Not after seeing what you’re capable of.” He grins. Nudging you with a shoulder to get a smile out of you.

“Damn right. Those idiots just cost us a date night. He deserved all that and more.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He smiles. Eyes still stuck on your face.

He lopes alongside you. Hand clutched in yours. Shoulder rolling to yours. It feels whole. It feels like trust.

~

You sit in Eddie’s van in the parking lot of the Fair Mart. Despite your protestations, he fully insisted he was fine to drive. He rolled into park out front just about as the sun began to set.

The night started to pull in. All lilac and periwinkle skies, soft as a vintage eiderdown that made you think of bluebirds feathers as you watched that solemn shade of blue overtake the sky.

Making the all too yellow lights within the dingy place stand out proud. Blinking a little. Humming along with the huge freezers inside. All the twee touches of home made signs telling you about the canned goods on offer. Written on card with flicky show-manly italics. Some easy friendly music sparkles out the speakers.

The plump clerk is smiling and jolly and bubbly bright, even when you unload for a whole armful of some medical supplies on the counter. Eyeing your now purpling knuckles with sparky perception. Ringing things up, you throw in a bag of jolly ranchers and a couple of ice cold cans - they suggest a rattling jar of aspirin.

“Take away the sting, honey.” He wafts a knowing hand. “That’ll be $11.90.”

You pay with a watery smile and walk out with a paper bag full. It crinkles in your arms as you go back to Eddie. Who’s sat with his legs dangling out the driver side of his van. Fidgeting with his rings all skittish. Legs swinging to an invisible tune. Still Rattlehead, actually.

You’re the only people in the place. Talk about lulled and sleepy Hawkins. This clearly isn’t a place for two teenagers on a Friday night. They’re all off sucking face at the quarry or skull rock. Or gathering at the arcade.

You come back and get to work cleaning him up.

Lump the bag down beside him, close to his hip, and you stand between his spread legs. Hand fiddling with your belt loop so carefully. He feels you gently brush sweeps of his bangs off his forehead to get at his skin and smudge away a bit of dirt. He lets you. Sat there and losing himself in his gazing.

He winced a little when you gently dabbed some antiseptic cream on the cut at his cheek.

“There’s Jolly ranchers in there you know.” You supply.

“Is that a bribe for me to sit still?” He checks. “Cause it will definitely work.” He dives his hand into the crinkly paper and searches for the candy. He finds one and holds it in his palm until you’re done.

“Who, um.” He swallows. Looking too intently at his ripped jean kneecap. “Who taught you how to—“

You draw back and let him find his words. Let him come to you with it.

“Who taught me how to throw a punch?” You smile.

Still dabbing his cheek. Fingers slipped under his chin and tilting his head up to you. When he could stay still enough.

“My sister. She bought me self defence lessons after-“ The words die and wither up all grey and ashen in your mouth.

You break eye contact for a second and rub at your brow.

It slowly creeps over his head like some dreadful tide. After what?-

Eddie knows he doesn’t like the look settling over your features. One bit. He doesn’t care for it at all.

“It was the summer before junior year. Around the time Linda and Jonny started dating. We went to this party. She didn’t want to go alone so I was roped in. Dressed me in one of her stupid mini skirts, planned to set me up with one of his buddies, Alex.” You pause and chew over the words.

“It was stupid as shit, looking back now, but we got so stupid drunk. Teen freedoms and lite beer. We thought we were so cool. So much so I didn’t notice that my drink was spiked with something. I don’t even know what. All I can remember is just, blackness, and then waking up with Alex sliding his hand up my skirt.”

Eddie blinks. Shuts his eyes for a second. His voice sounds so far away. “Shit. Pencils.” He rasps. Upset and angry on your behalf. He looks more hurt than all those bruises scattering his face.

“Nothing else happened. I screamed blue murder, and shoved him off me and just turned tail and got the hell out of dodge. Walked miles home in heels til I got blisters all over. Charlie was so so pissed. First time I’ve ever seen my Mom go full apocalyptic angry.” You explain.

“She wanted to bring charges but Alex’s family lived on Loch Nora, and his dad was a bigwig in local council so naturally he just chalked it up to underage kids having too much drink and touting it around town that a ‘misunderstanding’ occurred. Transferred their golden boy to a private school. And it just got, quietly swept away.” You accept.

All the pieces slowly floated and formed together to clarity in Eddie’s head.

“Linda stayed with Jonny even after all that shit you went through…” He asks. You nod.

“Stuck like glue.” You infer.

He can’t stand it any longer. wraps his arms around you fully and tugs you into a bold hug. Burying his face in your chest. Listening to the tick of your heart, and feeling you hold him back. Smiling and pressing a kiss to the wild nest of his hair. He smelled like sour-sweet green apple shampoo and earthy papery leaves.

“I’m so sorry.” He rumbled into your arm. His hug says so much more than that.

I’m here and I’m not leaving. Whatever you need - I’ll give it. Carve it out of my chest because you own every piece of me - in full.

“Not your fault, Eddie. I stopped being mad a while ago.” You tell him. Pressing another kiss to his head.

That’s why he’d been so unsuccessful in being able to stop you today. Because you’d let one bout of assault go, like hell were you about to let that happen all over again. And not to him. Drew some blood of your own to partially settle an old debt. To quiet some old violent ghosts.

He lets go of you and plonks the red wrapped jolly rancher in your right hand.

“I think you need and deserve this more than I do. And I’ll keep on being mad on your behalf - if that’s ok.” He says honestly. Fingers slithering through yours. He twists your hand over and sees the bruises wrapping around your knuckles.

You smile.

“I’ll take that.” You answer in reply to his offer. “The candy and that kind offer.”

Cause this is exactly what you need. Him. Him in all his unusual and funky glory.

Metal head with a heart so pure you’re actually certain it is made of solid gold. He whom proclaims to the world he’s nothing but a devil worshipping Satanist, made up of cynical death metal, and pot smoke.

Yet, he’s the guy who puts wrapped candy in your hand. Plies you with kisses and tried to hard to keep you out of tumbling headlong into trouble for his sake. Wanted to take you for a greasy burger and just share every silent soaked moment with you. No matter what you’re doing as long as you’re shoulder to shoulder.

He’s springing up before you can stop him. Sits you in the seat he occupied and told you firmly to ‘wait here, toots.’

Then, he’s scampering across the grocery store lot all jangly jacket and mad frizzy rocker hair bouncing as he goes. The soft pad of his feet on the doormat and the swish of the door he pushes open.

He drifts around the aisle for a few minutes before you see the top of his head bounce as he jaunts to the checkout and pay with a load of coins and a crumpled bill dug out his pocket.

He’s out the doors and whirling back to you in no time at all.

Hand on his ribs as he winced and realised that moving around all silly like he normally does would have its consequences. Ode to a bruise.

He comes over and crouched in front of you. Proudly showing you his purchases. He holds them up like he’s won an award.

bag of frozen peas and a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“For you, my most dangerous slash badass weirdo.” He grins. Even under that black eye, and the cut limned with purple across the bridge of that nose, his brightness and joy is infectious.

He takes your hand and you smile as he settles the peas on it. Settles his hand on top of it and stays crouched. Looking up at you with literal stars in his eyes.

You’re hit with such a fierce wave of love it shocks you from the inside out. Punching into your ribs and mangling and mashing your heart and lungs together with something that burns all mean like static. Words trip off your tongue like a smudge of sugar. You feel drunk on them; fever and maddening realisation in a shockwave.

You put your hand over his. Ice cold and shifting crunch on the bag.

“Eddie, you’re free tonight right?”

“Well the beauty pageant will have to take a hike with these shiners.” He plays. Tilts his head.

“What would you say if I asked you to spend the night?” You check.

His brain seems to crunch and churn through the cogs to answer.

“The night?” His eyebrows almost swoop up and disappear into his bangs.

“Not sure your mom would be too wild about that.” He says.

“She’s in San Francisco. Short haul. Not back til Monday.”

“Oh.” Eddie nods. And then it hits him.

“O h.”

You keep eye contact and smile. “I'm game. What’s say you, Munson?”

“Holy shit. Pencils.” He wets his lips. Grinning.

~

T A G S darlings

@ceriseheaven @indouloureux @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @greenishghostey @svenyves @sammararave @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831

@hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos

@edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @quinnsmunson @bkish @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-eddie @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx @s-u-t @alyssaaaaa-r @wayward-rose @usedtobecooler

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Mane Attraction (18+)

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Hairdresser!Reader

Set in the A Cut Above The Rest universe because I was missing my favourite long-haired lovable mechanic!

Eddie notices your love of his glorious mane of hair and decides to tease you about it.

Word Count:1,482

Warnings:Small bit of fluff at the beginnng, but the rest is just smut. Kissing/Making out, Oral Sex (F rec.), Fingering. Idk if there's anything else? but if I've missed something you want tagged just let me know.

Also not proofread, so if you saw any mistakes, no you didn't :)

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

Eddie slides his body out from underneath the car he was working on, wiping his black, grease-stained hands on the rag that hangs from the back pocket of his coveralls. He’d stripped the top half off, tying the sleeves around his waist, leaving him in his white vest as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Motörhead’s ‘Ace Of Spades’ rumbles out from the old radio sitting on the workbench, and the clanking of Randy working on another car outside in the yard all fall into the background as his attention is diverted by his sweet girl walking into the garage.

“Hey! You forgot your lunch this morning!” you beam brightly as you hand him over the brown paper bag.

“You’re an absolute peach, you know that?” he smiles, kissing your cheek.

“Also I popped a few of the cookies I made yesterday in there, because I know they’re your favourite.” 

“You made snickerdoodles?!” he beamed brightly, his eyes widening in surprise as he quickly opened up the bag to see the sweet treats sitting inside .

“Only the best for my hard-working handy-man.” 

“Thanks Sweetheart! I’ll see you back at home later, yeah?” 

you wave him goodbye with a cheery smile and a cheeky wink.

“Bye Teddy, I love you.” 

“Teddy, huh?” Randy nudges him in the arm with a scoff. “Who knew you had such a soft side?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be fixing that old Pontiac?” Eddie fixes him a hard stare.

“Only for you, Teddy.” Randy teases him with his best put-on sultry girly voice that his deep southern drawl can manage, before laughing on his way back out to the yard.

Eddie pushes through the door with a tired sigh.

“Honey I’m home!” he calls out in the way he always does when he comes home to you.

You rush over to him, immediately wrapping him in a tight hug, which he welcomes whole-heartedly, picking you up in his arms and twirling you around.

“How was work?” 

“Good, it was a nice surprise to have you come visit me” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to 

the crown of your head. “Those cookies were delicious by the way.”

“Oh I’m glad you liked them. I had a day off so I thought I could make them to surprise you!”

“Well consider me surprised, Sweetheart.” he smiles, pulling his long dark curls free from the knot tied at the nape of his neck, raking a large hand through his hair with a quick ruffle. Having his hair as long as it was meant that whenever he was working it had to be tied back, something about safety regulations or whatever, so when he came home he liked to take the opportunity to let his wild mane free.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and get changed, then we can order takeout? How does that sound?” he asks, as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“You read my mind.” you giggle, settling yourself into the comfort of the couch cushions.

Freshly showered and changed into a pair of red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a soft grey Henley, Eddie slumps his body down on the couch next to yours.

“I picked up a film from Family Video for us to watch this evening.” you smile, snuggling up to his body, the all too familiar and welcoming scent of his body wash filling your senses. You flicked the remote and the bright light of the television illuminated the cosy living room.

It didn’t take very long for the film to go utterly ignored in favour of slipping your tongue between Eddie’s lips and tangling your fingers into his messy curls, earning you a low groan as you gently tugged against the dark strands.

Pulling away from you with a knowing smirk playing at his pink, kiss-bitten lips, Eddie looks down at you before speaking. He wants to tease you a little, see what your reaction would be.

“I was thinking it was about time that I got a haircut, was going to ask if you’d do it for me, y’know, since you’re the professional and all.” 

Eddie tries to suppress his giggling amusement when he sees your reaction.

Your eyes wide in shock, and your mouth opening to say something, and yet nothing comes.

“Just chop off all this long hair. Would be easier at work too, wouldn’t have to keep tying it back.” he says, awaiting your reaction, watching as your eyebrows draw together in confusion..

You gather your thoughts just enough to form a sentence.

“I don’t think I can do that, Eddie. It goes against my beliefs as a well-respected hairdresser, and as your girlfriend.” you explain with a laugh. “You know I love your hair. Where else am I supposed to tangle my fingers when you go down on me, huh?” you murmur,  your lips close to his,  before leaning in once more to kiss him.

“Good thing I was only joking then.” he laughs in that adorably boyish way that makes it oh so hard for you to be mad at him.

“I can’t believe you would joke about something like that Eddie!!” you join in on the laughter, playfully hitting him with one of the cushions on the couch.

“How about, as a recompense for being the target of my joke, I get down on my knees for you and you can show me how much you love my hair, hm?” he offers, his voice dropping to a smokey gravel, as he presses as reassuring kiss to your lips.

You flush under his words, but still you nod, eager to feel his lips on your body.

“Yeah, is that what you want Sweetheart?” he murmurs softly as he sinks to his knees in front of you. “Want me to make you feel good?” 

A breathy whine of ‘please’ falls from your lips, and that’s all the go-ahead Eddie needs before he’s skating his hands up your thighs.

“Lift your hips up for me.” 

You comply with his wishes, raising up enough for him to hook his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts and panties and drag them down the length of your legs in one swift motion.

“There she is…my pretty girl…I've missed her…” he almost purrs out when he's greeted by the sight of your pussy. “You, and I have a lot of catching up to do.” he smiles, his lips curling into a salacious grin.

He kisses his lips to the soft pudge of your stomach before he trails down nosing into the thatch of curls between your legs.

He smiles against your wet slit, his tongue slipping past his lips to drag slowly across your folds. Flattening his tongue against you, licking up the essence of your arousal.

He's moaning deeply as he pushes into you as close as he can, wrapping arms around your plush thighs, and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

He quickly flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit with practised precision, before sucking it between his plump lips in a way that has your back arching up into his touch.

It isn’t long before he feels the familiar tangle of your fingers into his hair, tugging the dark strands as he continues to lap at your wetness. Tugging gently at the roots of his hair, directing him right where you need him most.

“Taste’s so fucking sweet, pretty baby..” he slurs out his praises, his tongue never stopping it’s relentless endeavour. “You want one of my fingers?”

“Please..Wanna feel you, Eddie, please..” you beg breathlessly.

He continues to lap at your wet cunt like a man starved, slipping one of his thick fingers into your tight wet heat, pressing against that spot that has your thighs shuddering close around his face.

“That’s it Sweetheart..so fuckin’ pretty like this I swear..” he teases, his voice a steady growly as he fucks his finger into you.

“..C-close..” was all you could stutter out, before Eddie was doubling down in his efforts to please you, sliding one more finger into you, and crooking them inside you so perfectly.

He’d happily been in this position many times before, knew all the tell-tale signs of your impending high, and with one more flick of tongue over your sensitive clit you were riding out your release against his face, clenching around his fingers with a wet gush.

He drinks you in, gently lapping over your clit as you come down from the euphoria of your shuddering orgasm. He pulls away from you, his mouth glossy with his spit and your slick juices lingering on his lips.

“So, I was thinking we could order pizza tonight?” he says as though he hadn’t just given you the best head of your life.

“Yeah,” you sigh with a soft breath. “W-we can get pizza if you want to.”

@penguinsandpotterheads @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesxangel @paybacksawitch @mrsjellymunson @heydreamchild @munsonsbtch @keeksandgigz @ali-r3n @seatnights

[prettyjunk]

COULD PLS WRITE ANY DATING HCS FOR CLIFF?? THERE IS NOTHING FOR HIM ON TUMBLR 🥲🥲☹️i’m begging for crumbs rn

cliff burton x reader

sfw headcanons!

note: i know!!!!:( he’s so underrated and for what. plus, it’s his birthday today! so there is not a better time to write some sweet head-canons about him.

requests are open!

.✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

one of cliff’s more important personality traits is his integrity. bro’s honest; sometimes his honesty would be so sharp it would hurt the people he’d be talking to.

but with you, it was a different case. he was cautious— thought about what he was going to say and how he was going to say it out loud, careful not to hurt your feelings. he was still bluntly honest, though.

but hey! this doesn’t mean he’s rude, or cranky. he’s actually a sweetheart with most people (if they don’t get on his way).

and obviously, he has a soft spot for you.

most boyfriends are embarrassed to be mellow with their girlfriends in public, keeping all the cheesy stuff behind closed doors.

not cliff!

he truly doesn’t give a fuck. just in general, really, he never has cared about what people might think or say about him, so as soon as you guys started dating— he’d show you off. he doesn’t have a reason not to! you’re his girl and he wants everyone to know.

and this is connected to his love language; touch. cliff is a very touchy person towards you, but he’s subtle about it. its not like he’s constantly kissing/hugging you, but he likes to keep you close; and feel that you are close to him. hand on your thigh, rubbing your back, caressing your hips, playing with your hair— the list could go on forever. he just feels more calm and comfortable keeping you close.

he asks your opinion on everything he does. if we’re being completely honest, he doesn’t really care about it— nothing you could say would change his point of view.. but he still loves to hear your perspective on anything he can get it from. it’s his way of getting to know you better, little bits of information that help him put together the puzzle that is your mind. and it truly works out!

cliff doesn’t look like the type of person that would put much attention to detail since he’s always in his own world, but he always manages to surprise you with random things he knows and noticed about you.

you often see this in the gifts he gives you. you eyed something on that antique shop you guys went to last month? he got it. you bopped your head to a song on the radio on the ride home? he found out what record that was— got it on vinyl, too.

talking about music! one of his favorites things to do with you, is listen to music. more specifically; to show you different types of records so you can both talk about it. cliff is known for having a wide music taste— from motörhead to kate bush, and loves to discuss the ridiculous minor details that each song has. you were often surprised by his random knowledge, but you were mostly fascinated. his ideal sunday afternoon was you, a brand new music album, and acid.

going back to his unmeasurable uprightness! even though he’s a very likable guy— often being remembered as the cool and nice long haired dude— he doesn’t really have much of a filter. if he thought something was wrong, or he straight up didn’t like something; he won’t hesitate to make sure everyone knows that. so you’d often find yourself having to apologize to people when cliff would randomly flip them off, or yell fuck you’s around the room.

adding his personality, he’s also very witty. cliff is a very wise dude, and he’s also kind of like a child. so the mix of both get you a very funny but also old-souled boyfriend. and he’s also a big talker, so it’s almost like you’re dating a encyclopedia. a bullshit encyclopedia, though. he keeps you constantly entertained by speaking whatever was going on in his mind— because he trusts you enough to tell you whatever he thinks of right when he does.

we all know cliff smokes a bunch of weed. even though than he sees it more like a creative tool than a drug— he also does it for fun. and when he smokes around you, he gets impossibly clingy; if he sees you laying down when he is high— he will get on top of you, and won’t stand up for hours. just laying there; tracing random shapes on your skin with his fingers and talking a bunch of nonsense— interrupting himself once in a while to tell you how much he loves you.

if you bring that up when he is sober, though, he denies it.

and a stupid little last one: he really likes to play poker with you. cliff taught you how to play in one of many dates, and it became your thing! it quickly turned into something that is inevitable each time you see each-other. he’d play it every minute of every freakin’ day— and he’s also such a bad loser. the kind of guy that would throw everything to the air when he lost, and walk away in anger. a few kisses and everything was right, though.

[likesofsue]

The Sam to your Frodo

Pairing: Eddie x gn!reader

Summary: Your last days were terrible. Emotions build until you can't hide them anymore and you start crying during Eddie's guitar practice. But he's there to comfort you.

Warnings: emotional heaviness (but without going into detail), reader cries -> this is still a fluffy comfort piece

Word count: 819

Notes: Another piece written for @ghosttownwherenoonegoes I'm so sorry you're going through such a rough time lately, you don't deserve it. I wish there was a better way for me to help you. But I can try to give you some comfort through words. We all love you so much🫂🫂🫂 Also, the last paragraph is a quote from Sam from The Lord of the Rings.

Ringed fingers move skillfully over the strings of his guitar as if they were dancing a dance of their own. He looks so pretty like that. Head tipped back, eyes closed. So full of passion. He can feel the music with every fiber of his being. Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Motörhead - it doesn't matter, he's learning them all, and he's incredibly talented. You love watching him practice and listening to his favorite songs. Your heart almost explodes with love, pride and admiration.

But today is different. Not your feelings for him, they will never change. But things have been building up so much over the past days that you can hardly hide it anymore. Your vision is blurred by unshed tears. You sit on his bed, huddled up. You watch him, but you don't see him. Dark circles under your eyes. You are tired to the bone. Everything is just too much, overwhelming and scary. There is nothing you want more than to hide from the world. Preferably in Eddie's arms, he always keeps you safe. But...

The last sounds of Ozzy's Crazy Train fade away. Eddie opens his eyes, a wide smile on his lips as he happily hums to himself. But his giddy mood promptly drops when he sees you. He gasps and curses under his breath. "No, no, no... Not again." Eddie immediately puts the guitar aside. Even though he loves his music, since you've been in his life, it's only second place. You're his one and only. You're like... You're like the Sam to his Frodo. Or is he the Sam to your Frodo? Anyway. He loves you and it hurts him to see you like this. Eddie takes a wide lunge toward you, nearly tripping over a pile of dirty laundry that has been piling up for the past week. With a breathless grunt, he drops onto the bed. He gives you a quick glance to see if his antics made you giggle, as they usually do. But when he neither hears a giggle nor sees a smile, his heart squeezes even more in his chest. "Come here, I got you." Eddie gently pulls you onto his lap so as not to startle you and cups your face to look at you. His fingertips, still warm from practicing, tenderly stroke your cheeks. They wipe away your tears, which you don't know finally slipped from your eyes.

You sniffle and blink hard to snap yourself back to reality. Your voice sounds brittle and weak. "I'm sorry, Eddie. It wasn't my intention to cry, I-"

But he interrupts you with a tender kiss on your forehead. His brows are furrowed with concern, but there's nothing but love in his big brown eyes. "Hush. No need to apologize. It's just me, 'kay? No hidin' from me. I'm here for you." Another kiss on your forehead, more kisses on your cheeks and finally a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose. Eddie would just do anything and everything to see that gorgeous smile of yours again. He reaches for one of your hands to pull you even closer against his chest and his warmth sends a little shiver down your spine. "I made a promise, sweet thing. Don't you leave them, Eddie Munson. And I don't mean to. I don't mean to."

You look up at him and let out a huff. Of course you understand this reference. And there it was, the most beautiful smile Eddie has ever seen. It was a tired and small smile, your eyes still red and puffy from crying. But it was a smile. One step at a time. You playfully nudge his shoulder before clinging to him and burying your face in his chest. He smells like smoke, a hint of cologne and something so distinctively Eddie. Home. Your words are muffled by his shirt as you murmur, "You're so silly. But thank you... You're just all I need right now."

Eddie nods. He understands. He understands you. There are times to talk and times to just lie in each other's arms in silence. So he gently moves you both until you're sprawled out on his bed, your head resting on his chest as he rubs your back soothingly. He can hear your deep sighs and broken whimpers as you allow yourself to close your eyes. And he starts humming softly again. He's here. Your Eddie isn't going anywhere. No matter what. When you are ready to talk, he would be there to listen. He always is. But until then, he will hold you and make sure you are safe and get some rest. He wouldn't want it any other way. He wouldn't want anyone else but you.

But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer.

[metalbrojack]

Could you write 70s!Lemmy x gn!reader like having a nice drink together while watching a movie and just having a nice moment yk

Yes of course I can! I don’t really see any Lemmy stuff on here tbh💔

Lemmy Kilmister x Gn!reader

Genre-Fluff! (My fav!)

You were sitting on the couch while Lemmy was cleaning up in the kitchen. You haven’t really talked to him in a while since he’s been quite busy. Lemmy walks into the living room with two drinks in his hands, giving you one before sitting down next to you, “how was your day?” He says, his voice low and rough.

“It was okay, I missed you.” You said before taking a sip of your drink. Lemmy plants a small kiss to your temple, silently telling you that he missed you too. He’s never been great with words, he’s…quiet. “How about we watch a movie?” You ask, he nods and goes to the tv and puts on a movie before coming back to the couch.

As the movie plays you can feel Lemmy pulling you closer to him and resting his chin on top of your head. Before the movie ends you both finish your drinks and fall asleep together.

//////////////////

Sorry this took me longer than usual! I had a hard time making it sound better:)

He’s so majestic fr

[death-to-posers]

As promised, here’s that list of people I will/won’t write for, and also my boundaries etc.

Will do:

Smut✅

Angst✅

Fluff✅

Some averagely kinky stuff✅

x reader fics✅

platonic ships & fics✅

sodomy✅

Queer fics (f character x f reader, m character x m reader etc, I will write for non binary readers too. Please specify the gender you want the reader to be when you request or I will default to non binary)✅

Won’t do:

R*pe/Non con❌

Adult x minor ❌ (no weird pedo shit)

Anything that glorifies or sexualises severe domestic abuse❌

Pregnancy fics (I can’t I’m sorry.)❌

Shit kinks💀 (come on now..)❌

Vomit kinks (why.)❌

Foot fetish related stuff❌

Incest❌

furry/zoophile shit❌

vore❌

eating disorder/self harm stuff (I know a lot of people originally used this as a coping mechanism but it eventually evolved into the romanticism of anorexia and self harm and I do not stand for that.)❌

Might do, depends on the request:

Ships between two real people (unless they’re an actual couple I will probably be against this)

People/bands I will write for:

AC/DC (all members)

Alestorm (all members)

Abbath (all members)

Alice In Chains (all members)

Abbath Doom Occulta

Bathory (all members)

Behemoth (all members)

Billy Idol

Björk

Black Sabbath (all members)

Bon Jovi (all members)

Burzum (all members but it’s just Varg so this goes without saying)

Cannibal Corpse (all members)

Carpathian Forest (all members)

Courtney Love

Celtic Frost (all members)

Darkthrone (all members)

Disturbed (all members)

The Doors (all members)

Dream Theater (all members)

Evanescence (all members)

Foo Fighters (all members)

Ghost/Ghost B.C. (all members)

Gloryhammer (all members)

God Seed (all members)

Gojira (all members)

Gorgoroth (all members)

Green Day (all members)

Hanoi Rocks (all members)

Helloween (all members)

Hole (all members)

Immortal (all members)

Iron Maiden (all members)

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (all members)

Joost Klein

Judas Priest (all members)

King Ov Hell

KoRn (all members except David Silveria)

Lamb Of God (all members)

Lana Del Rey

Limp Bizkit (all members)

Marilyn Manson/Marilyn Manson & The Spooky Kids (all members)

Mayhem (all members)

Megadeth (all members)

Metallica (all members)

Misfits (all members)

Morbid (all members)

Motörhead (all members)

Murderdolls (all members)

My Chemical Romance (all members except Bob)

Necrobutcher

Nickelback (all members)

Nirvana (all members)

Old Funeral (all members)

Ov Hell (all members)

Ozzy Osbourne

Pantera (all members)

Powerwolf (all members)

Pearl Jam (all members)

Queen (all members)

Rammstein (all members)

Rob Zombie

Repugnant (specifically Mary Goore)

Ronnie James Dio

Rotting Christ (all members)

Sabaton (all members)

Serj Tankian

Sirenia (all members)

Slaughter To Prevail (all members)

Slayer (all members)

System Of A Down (all members)

Type O Negative (all members)

Twisted Sister (all members)

Tool (all members)

Varg Vikernes

If there are any members I’ve excluded it is most likely because I fucking hate them. If you submit a request for someone and I refuse to do it then it’s either because: it makes me uncomfortable to write for said person especially if it’s smut, I don’t know enough about them to write a fic or I hate them. It’ll probably be one of those three reasons so please understand and respect that. If there’s someone/a band not on this list or the “won’t do” list, it doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t do them. I might have simply forgotten to add them so please ask.

I will also write for certain non-musicians such as historical figures and/or fictional characters. Give me a shout in requests and I may or may not be willing to write for them. As an example, I will write for Manfred and Lothar von Richthofen. Not musicians but I adore them.

People/bands I will NOT write for:

Any kpop bands.

Any actors/actresses

Deftones (there’s no negotiation. I will not write for Deftones. End of discussion.)

Blink-182 (same as Deftones)

Falling In Reverse (Same reason as Deftones)

Yungblud (come on now. Be serious. Be so for real.)

Panic! At The Disco (fuck no.)

The Beatles (no.)

Mötley Crüe (no❤️)

Tokio Hotel (nothing against them but no thanks)

One Direction (come on.)

C*rey Taylor/most of Slipknot. (I will write for Joey and Jay though, my pookies)

Mindless Self Indulgence (foul ass band I despise all of the members)

And when I said I won’t write a romantic fic between two real people I meant it. Platonic is more than okay, we love some platonic bandmate fluff but beyond that is a fat no unless they’re actually married/dating. So it goes without saying that I will NOT write Davisdurst, don’t even start. Do not.

- 𐕣𝕶𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𐕣

[mayaluvzyou]

Birdsong

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: mild swearing, FLUFFY FLUFF ‼️, the slightest itty bitty implied sexual content ever if you squint

Summary: just a lil fic about a nice morning as Eddie's partner 🫶🫶 not proofread bc I'm lazy

It wasn't rare for you to wake up before Eddie did. He's a heavy sleeper, to be fair.

Yes, you'd admire him in his state of pure slumber almost every time, but this morning was different. Why? You had no idea. His hair was in its usual, messy form, spread out along the pillow underneath his head. His position looked as if he was falling out of a three story window, but that was an average sleeping position for him, so what made this different?

It clicked.

Eddie almost never slept with the blinds open. You had not a clue why. But, since it was vomit-inducingly hot out this week, he decided to keep them and the window open for the night, and when the warmth of morning came, golden sunlight was able to spill through the blinds. It illuminated and highlighted his features so well, it was almost angelic. He was absolutely gorgeous.

You sat there, admiring his everything. His tiny freckles that only showed in the summertime, his few birthmarks that were near invisible unless you got close, his surprisingly very small amount of scars that had turned a pale beige after healing. This was heaven, and you were sure of it.

After realizing how long you'd been staring at your sleeping boyfriend, he stirred a little bit, eventually regaining his consciousness in a groggily fashion.

"How could people hate such a pretty guy?" You asked yourself internally, watching the way Eddie noticed your soft gaze on himself.

He smiled.

You smiled.

A moment of hearing nothing but the birdsong outside the window and the quiet sound of trees rustling, Eddie practically ambushed you with a large hug, earning a squeal of nothing but happiness and endearment to emerge from your lips.

He pulled you down onto him, arms wrapped around your back tightly as you made a poor attempt at wriggling out of his grip. It was no use. At one point, you did calm down a little, chin resting on his Motörhead t-shirt clad chest as you gave another smile. A much softer one.

Eddie's smile hadn't left for a nanosecond, though it did shift into more of a smirk you knew all too well. He tugged you up his chest a bit, your face almost level with his as he peppered loving kisses all over your face, leaving absolutely no spot 'unsmooched' as Eddie put it.

"I fuckin'.. love.. waking up.. with.. you." He muttered, kissing bits of your face-- which now had a red hue seeping into it-- in between every few words.

After what seemed like a decade, Eddie put his lips to rest, pulling away from your blushing mess of a face. The two of you had been dating for almost two years now, and you swear you'll never not get flustered at his affection.

"What're you thinkin' about, sweetheart?" He asked, the rasp in his low morning voice causing a slight pool of heat to form in your lower stomach. Not to ruin the morning (not like Eddie would mind one bit), you brushed the feeling aside, noticing how you'd been staring at him once more.

"Nothing... Just your face n' how pretty it is." Your voice was silvery to his ears.

"Hey- I'm a very rugged and masculine manly man, and I expect to be referred to as such." He retored with the most obviously faux anger you'd ever heard. It was so bad to the point where Eddie ended up breaking character, snorting out a laugh.

"God, you're such a loser." You spoke with a playful slap to his chest with the back of your hand.

"Correction; your loser. And just maybe a loser you'd kiss right about now...?" His voice went up into more of a squeaky with that last part as he bit back another stupid smile.

"Hmm..." Placing a to pad of your finger to your chin, feigning contemplation, you hummed out a response. "Yes." You finished quickly, his hand immediately finding your jaw, pulling you into a kiss sweet enough to cause cavities.

Seconds passed, his lips still glued to yours. It was until you giggled at how long he'd been kissing you that he broke off.

Eddie seemed silent after it. Happy, but silent. His gaze shifted from the open window to you a few times before permanently resting his still sleepy gaze on your face as if to speak again.

"Prettier than the birdsong."

[vivaladicamillo]

Loved the Dico x GN! Reader HCs and was wondering if you could do some headcanons for Rake x Male! Reader? Love your work! 🖤

RAKE YOHN x MALE!READER

AHH TYSMMM!! it means a lot! i try to do this kinda stuff the best i can bc im literally illiterate and slow 😭 anywho glad to see another rake enjoyer here so enjoy!

warnings: none

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rake is such a cool guy

yea people make it thing that hes a metal head scary aggressive guy

when he’s literally a sweetheart ESPECIALLY to his guy

PLAY WITH HIS HAIR PLEASE

he loves it when u do little braids, pigtails or even just run ur hands through it

if ur interested in asking chemistry related questions to him hes down to answer

dico is gonna be one of ur best friends but also ur worst enemy

the jokes abt the two of u are CONSTANT

but hes funny and rakes best friend so he gets a pass

the rake impression he does is funny but u dont like how it makes ur bf so upset

omg imagine listening to music with him

MANS TASTE IS 10/10 LIKE MOTORHEAD?? YES PLEASE

if u introduce him to a new band or even a new song, its now his most favorite thing even

brags abt u to anyone that will listen

“yea thats cool but my boyfriend can do ______”

only will let u straighten his hair

loves to kiss you

on the top of the head, the cheek, the nose, neck, anywhere

never actually gets that angry infront of you

more level headed with you around

but oh god if theres mustard anywhere near him

goodluck dealing with that

say dico sprayed some on him, it could be on purpose or by accident HES FREAKING OUT

the drive back to his house is jusy him rambling on abt how much he hates dico for that and how he was gonna kill him and blah blah blah

let the man get in the shower and calm down a bit

just stroke his hair and put on a good movie and hes fine

you dont even know how much he appreciates you

you bring out the best in him!

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hopefully i did this right! hope u like it anon :))