#soda hypes him up

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

rip Dallas Winston u would have loved making thirst traps n having 13 banned TikTok accounts

[ohmigoshiloveu]

Okay so like. I still haven't managed to get myself to finish episode 9, so I don't fully know how Theo's glow up finishes, but regardless I fucking love relistening to Emizel's section of episode 1 and like. Fuck man Theo does a lot of growing. Like he's a little bit pathetic at the beginning of the series. He's so, so brave during the alleyway fight, but he sounds shaky and scared and like a sopping wet pathetic baby the entire time. Charlie specifically describes him as not very alert, not a great fighter, and gives him this little moment where it takes him a second to manage to crush a soda can. He botches the check to beat Emizel in Smash Bros so there's a chance he sucks at the related skills (dexterity and computers I think?), but also after he loses Charlie specifically has him sound super frustrated and conclude that he should've 'stayed in his lane'. When Emizel says 'We'll do what we do best,' and Theo immediately responds with 'drink soda?' so fast that the other players notice it. Charlie might've had that as a predetermined character thing. Theo drinks soda. There's not much else to him.

Which creates this interesting dynamic between him and Emizel, because Emizel is so much better at him at all of these skills that the people around them (a FUCKING GANG) value. Emizel's perceptive, and agile, and strong, and a great fucking fighter irl and in videogames AND he always sounds badass. He's the top dog, the apex predator in their social circle. And I think that colors their relationship a lot? Like Theo has to look up to Emizel. I bet that Theo's looked up to Emizel since they first met, maybe Emizel came crashing into his life doing something epic and Theo thought it was the greatest shit ever.

On the flip side, I was getting a few hints of resentment? Hear me out! It's that 'should have just stayed in my lane' line. He's painfully aware how great Emizel is, compared to how much he's (from his perspective!) just a one trick pony. He's here to drink soda and say funny things, that's all most people want from him and he fucks up whenever he tries to do anything else!

And later in the segment Theo snarkily brings up a medicine check that Emizel had just fucked up in like this super backhanded, super passive aggressive way. That could be him wanting to rub Emizel's one singular fuck up in his face (especially because Theo was having a Moment about how he feels like people only see him as the soda guy, so any feelings of inadequacy would've been dialed up to eleven, so if there was any time for him to resent Emizel it'd be then), but it could also be that he was frustrated with Emizel being an ass (Emizel had just guessed that Theo's dream was to be a nurse, which was flat out wrong, and that's literally what set up the backhanded comment. Theo was saying something like 'thank fuck you don't wanna be a nurse cuz you sure fucked up with nursing that guy earlier.' It could also be that Emizel literally almost forgot Theo's name. Theo literally gave him the 'th' sound, it might've just been a bit Charlie was doing or it could've been Theo being AWARE that Emizel almost forgot his name. Or! It could be that in this moment, where Theo was confiding in Emizel about feeling like being the soda guy was all anyone ever saw in him, Emizel said something to the affect of 'well yeah Soda's the fun one.' Emizel doesn't think before he speaks and literally has a 1 in empathy. Just because he loves Theo doesn't mean he's not gonna blunder into being a complete and utter asshole to him. I'd hazard to say Emizel accidentally being an ass to people he cares about is a running theme).

But also all of that might come down to Charlie still getting the character down. Or, because I've theorized before that Theo might not've been supposed to survive the first Gabriel fight, the little hints of bitterness might've been intentional (even if they were completely improvved and Charlie didn't mean to add that to Theo's character) because Charlie was trying to shove as much character into this character before he was gone, but once it became clear that Theo was going to stick around longer he dropped it. As far as I remember, that bitterness is completely gone in all later interactions we see with Theo. OR! It could be that the bitterness drops because they've both got bigger fish to fry from that point onward, what with Theo's Shilo Incident TM, Emizel's vampirism, the Weylin twins. He doesn't have time to be bitter, he's too busy worrying about losing a cornerstone of his identity or helping his best friend adjust to being a fucking vampire now. And then after he learns to live without soda that basically negates his feelings of inadequacy- like, getting over the idea that he's nothing if he's not the soda guy would be required for him to give up on being the soda guy. And then Emizel would drift back into JUST being a guy to aspire to instead of also being a reminder of Theo's short comings, and then drift even further down into being 'guy who is actually going through it and has to overcome his own demons just like I had to overcome mine'. Like, I think we got to watch Theo slowly start to take Emizel off this pedestal in real time (he still definitely thinks Emizel's hot shit tho. Emizel's his boy, after all.)

Regardless, even if Theo did resent Emizel a little in the beginning, it's so fucking clearly overshadowed by how much he fucking loved him. And like, how could he not? Imagine you're Theo, critically low self esteem, and the literal coolest guy you know fucking LOVES you. Like, Emizel keeps consistently going out of his way to pull Theo up to his level and to treat him as an equal (mostly. Sometimes protectiveness bleeds through, like in his hypothetical fang scenario in ep 1 where he predicts there being five Fangs to fight and he says he can take three and Theo can take two (which in itself is still incredibly kind to Theo. Like, boy, you thought Theo was gonna be able to take out two whole guys? Hell no.) But that could also be chalked up to Emizel just being a cocky ass who wants to show off). Like dude, c'mon. Emizel might be a reminder of everything that Theo's not, but he's also probably Theo's biggest cheerleader. He wholeheartedly thought he was being supportive when he said he thought Theo'd make a great nurse! In all seriousness, though, even if it ultimately discourages him, Theo playing that Smash game against Emizel was at least a little bit of proof of him decidedly not 'staying in his lane,' and Emizel seems to inspire that! Later in that segment he challenges Theo to see which of them can break one of the Fangs kneecaps first! I bet Emizel challenged him to stupid competitions a lot, and that got Theo fired up and competitive in return!

And even when Emizel's not building Theo up, he's still giving Theo special attention, or readily receiving any attention Theo gives him. If nothing else, even at his lowest points that might've made Theo feel cool by association.

On Emizel's part, I think he's like, possibly completely oblivious to any turmoil Theo's going through? Like he thinks Theo's the shit and genuinely sees him as an equal. I'm 99% sure that Theo being his right hand man happened because Theo would've put himself into the role (in episode one before he gets all of his character development he's pretty much always looking to Emizel for what to do, and still more or less does whatever he says up to where I'm at in the series, with refusing to leave the alleyway being the only exception I remember). I think if Theo'd had higher self esteem or been less eager to defer to Emizel, Emizel would've happily gone about his business slotting Theo into more of a partner role. He tells Theo to run from that alleyway because Theo'd taken a fucking devastating hit and Emizel was sure he could handle himself, not because he knows Theo sucks at fighting. He tries to turn Theo into a cool vampire. He convinces Shilo that Theo'll be a valuable asset to raiding the Weylin warehouse and they take Theo with them instead of having him stay behind with the car like Grefgore, despite Theo being the one who actually knows how to drive. He tells Theo about being a vampire even though he keeps it a secret from everyone else, confides in Theo that 'yeah he might absolutely be susceptible to going into a frenzy like Shilo did.'

When you get down to it, Emizel pretty much tells Theo everything he would think is relevant, with two notable exceptions. Maybe three if you count him not telling Theo he has nine lives like a cat but tbh I think he might've just forgot. Or maybe he gets to it later, or maybe he did tell him and I forgot! idk man! But! Those other two things. First off, he like. Pointedly does not tell Theo that he's a prince. Like when they were doing the recap on the way to the Weylin warehouse, there's like. Charlie gives Condi an opening to say it, a little 'is there anything else?' and Emizel just. Doesn't. And the second one is that (at least where I'm at) Emizel never comes clean about bloodbonding Theo. Maybe it just hasn't come up yet, but still. It fits a pattern of Emizel not wanting to admit something that makes him, like, ABOVE Theo somehow. He sees Theo as an equal, and a precious one at that, he doesn't want things to get weird between them because he's literal royalty, and he doesn't want Theo's life to literally revolve around him like it would under a level three blood bond- and doesn't want to admit that he even considered it, even if he did it without really understanding what it was.

And Emizel backing off from ghoulifying Theo after Arthur explains what it actually entails kinda leads into a far more headcanon-y relationship analysis thing so um. Feel free to skip the next paragraph.

So! Like. Why the fuck was Emizel so attached to Theo being Soda. Like he gets over it decently quick, cuz that's his buddy and it's what Theo wants, so like. Whatever. But like, if I'm right about Theo always looking up to Emizel from the moment they met, there might've been some wiggle room between when they first became friends and when Theo became Soda. And like, before Theo became Soda, being Emizel's buddy would probably be the only thing he'd feel he had going for him? Which would've made it even harder for Emizel to get them both on equal footing, and I think that's just... really unappealing to him. Like! Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Emizel loves having people kiss up to him and respect him and blah blah blah, I just think Theo being his boy and Emizel treating him like a partner go hand in hand. Either they weren't best friends yet or Emizel was just. Kind of uncomfortable and eager to push Theo into growing into something more than a hypeman. And then the soda incident occurs, and it gives Theo SOMETHING to define himself by, something people like him and know him for that's got nothing to do with Emizel, and maybe the initial soda incident was bad, but having that sense of identity and falling into what kind've feels like a class clown kinda role might've helped get Theo over his self esteem issues long enough for Emizel to go 'oh you're actually super cool. sweet.' and then blah blah blah they get super close like they are in canon. And then whenever Theo seems like he's backsliding into what he was before the soda incident, Emizel tries to course correct not because he doesn't think Theo's any fun without soda, but because he's made the mental connection that Soda without soda turns into less of a best friend and more of a follower, which as stated before he probably really doesn't want from Theo specifically. but idk. pure conjecture here.

Anyways, above all else, Theo's important to Emizel. I really, really like the idea that Theo was supposed to be like a brother to him (which. Again pointing at my 'Theo was supposed to die in episode 1' theory, can you IMAGINE the angst Emizel could've had about that? Lose one brother and then someone else claiming to be your brother shows up? It would've felt like some hellish, not-worth-it trade. Like a betrayal, like accepting Shilo might mean replacing Theo, and how could he ever?)

And Emizel's important to Theo! But unlike Emizel (who I'm 99% sure is gonna have some kinda moment with Theo but I genuinely cannot see him loving Theo in any other way than the way he does now), Theo has the bonus of having his view of Emizel have a clear trajectory to evolve over the course of the campaign. Like I said, he seems to be getting more confidence in himself and like, not gonna get into the stuff I've had spoiled beyond episode 9 but it seems like Theo's gonna get a lot more comfortable being a proper leader and not just a number two. He's gonna have an easier time seeing Emizel as an equal, and I think that's fucking awesome!

I could be completely off base, but if I never watch another episode then I'll never be proven wrong. So. Ya know.

[brainrotcharacters]

Tell Penelope the total amount of times Odysseus went "FOR MY WIFE" the two decades he'd been away and Penelope's going to go "fuck yeah that's my man 😎🤙"

[merakiui]

omg getting tag teamed by trey and cater while drunk in these tags !! your brain is massive as always 🫶🫶

also cater getting serious orz i never knew i needed mean(er) cater in my life but i'll 100% be brainrotting about that for the forseeable future!!!

[also trey changing the flavor of his own shots in the original drunk reader post. he's so mean >:o!! (i love him still)]

Yes!!! Just two kind and helpful upperclassmen helping you when you’re drunk. <3 aren’t they so sweet?

Serious Cater is always so fun to think about. I love the idea of him dropping his outgoing, extroverted side and becoming more colder or less cheerful when you’re drunk because you’re too intoxicated to realize the shift, so you won’t ask any questions if his tone isn’t what you’re used to. It’s such a shock to hear him sound anything less than cheery, but I think it’s so good to think about. orz I love a serious Cater who doesn’t have to keep up any masks when you’re drunk.

Trey is so sneaky. (๑•̀ㅁ•́๑) !!!! His UM is very useful during drinking games because he can trick you into drinking more simply by changing the taste so it will go down easier. And you would not expect him to do such a thing because he has such a kind face and he is so patient and sweet. But it is exactly that type you have to watch out for!! (I also love him despite his mischievous behavior hehe.)

[eddiernunson]

Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

-

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin.  “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.  

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You’re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat.  Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

[inbabylontheywept]

go to the caverns, the kartchner caverns, roughly an hour southeast of tucson

in the throne room you shall encounter the great yuan

you must fight him, for it is your destiny

cross the fields of soda-straws and fried-eggs and shields. unleash your fury upon him. there will be those who try to hold you back. they will speak gibberish about your disruption of the delicate balance of the great yuan's domain. you must pay them no heed. you must destroy the great yuan.

we depend on you.

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk, and after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts) I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety.

(You may think that's not such a terrible fate, but you've probably never experienced anything else. Ambien, used correctly, is time travel. And time travel is awesome.) 

Still, involuntary consciousness had its perks. It meant I alone got to spend some extra quality time with my dad, which was always something in short supply growing up. Until third grade or so he worked in the ER, which gave him an absolutely hellish amount of hours. He'd mostly just come home and sleep, which meant that I personally did not know him that well, but my mom hyped him up so much that I always really wanted to. 

So days like that were always kind of exciting to me. A chance to meet the myth. 

I can't remember exactly what me and my dad were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we awoke my little brother. 

(Waking people up when they're on ambien is always trouble.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. The dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. We both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said."Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America" my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

---

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

---

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody builds up. The reason the city isn't walkable isn't sidewalks. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse for our ancestors including Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

---

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and metaphorical psychopomp guide was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they?"

I wasn't sure if fun was the word that made the most sense for it. But I was charmed, and we went further, and he pointed out more formations. 

"Behold!" he said. "Fried eggs!" 

And there were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. 

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down here it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized serpent. 

And then that began to show up in the formations. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

I don't know why or how that broke the spell. But it did. I'd been walking for hours in the dark, following that man. I'd recognized him many times. It just took that moment for that recognition to be allowed. 

"I've met you before," I said. "I met you on the canals once. Johnny Appleseed." 

He looked at me, and I saw what my little brother saw that first time. Something trapped here, in the dark. A feathered serpent ten miles long. Dead and alive, the same way my brother was dreaming but awake. The first apple-eater. Something more afraid of the sun than I was. 

"You are so close," he said. "It's only a few miles further." 

"Close to what?" I said, and he grinned teeth too sharp for a human mouth. 

"To being like us," he said. "To sleepwalking forever." 

Nothing good comes from waking the dreamer once they're asleep. At best, the dream ends. At worst, it doesn't. 

Running away would've required turning my back on it, and I knew - I knew - that my vision was the only thing locking it in place. I made it real by looking. I made it real by seeing. As long as my eyes were open, it was my dream. 

So I did not run. 

I grabbed the man. I looked him in the eyes, and my hands wrapped around his neck, and he fought like a beast. His teeth flashed as somewhere just out of reach, the flashright rolled, and his tongue stuck out, forked like a snakes, and where a normal man would've turned redder, and redder, and redder, he turned greener, and greener and greener. His neck narrowed and he stretched and wound and twisted until the hands beating against my arms were wings, and the man was a snake and I did not blink once until it stopped moving. Then, and only then, did I take my eyes off the thing and run, shivering, back to the light. 

---

I hadn't seen it before. But the cave was a dead thing. Inert. Like the sloughed off skins I'd find on hikes. A memory of something scary, but not the thing itself. I thought I'd be safe when I made it to the top. But the first thing I saw when I stepped into the light, the first thing I saw looking across the long, flat run of desert - was the other half of what I saw in the caves. 

I'd killed the body. But I hadn't killed the soul. That still danced in the sky. The dead part of quetzalcoatl lay in the dark, dreaming it was alive. And the living part flew in the sky, burning and bright and deadly. A fire unending. 

The month after that, I moved to Utah. And I've never looked back. 

[thegetou]

I feel like Two-Bit is def that hype friend that’s DANGEROUSLY supportive & enamored by Darry: ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ Two: *whistle* Damnnnnn, you look good as hell in them jeans. I would eat your shit front to ba- Darry: ALRIGHT, that’s enough.

Darry: I shouldn’t have done that to Pony. It’s really my fault- Two: On god you were right as fuck to smack the shit out that little boy. I’ve been praying for this day a good minute now-

Darry: I don’t know… I’m just worried sometimes no one will ever really love me. It’s like- Two: Yeahhhhh, I’m gonna need you to drop them drawls babygirl. Darry: WHAT.

Darry: Two-Bit, I have a boyfriend. Two: That don’t mean nothing.

Two: You know what? We should just kill him. Darry: We are NOT murdering my boyfriend. Two: FINE. I’ll get Dally to do it. Darry: Y’all, I got to be honest…I burned the hell out of the meat for tonight. Soda: JESUS DARRY, HOW LONG DID YOU LET IT GO FOR??? Darry: …Sorry… Two: Shoot, ain’t nothing wrong with it! (He proceeded to eat it all and Darry had to hold his hair back while he vomited it up an hour later 💀)

———— Shoutout my mookie wookie: Two-Bit would say babygirl I fear @sleepyfishboy

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Having the most hilarious little thoughts about Richard Harrington making a deal with demon!Eddie, trading wealth and success in exchange for his firstborn. 

The Harringtons climb the social ladder, Richard’s business thrives. Little Steven is born, grows up … and nothing ever happens, so they sort of put it out of their minds and never tell him about how they sold him off to a creature from the underworld before he was even conceived. 

The day after Steve’s 18th birthday, they return from a business trip to find their son frantically cleaning up the remains of a party. They’re three minutes into a lecture on how there’s soda and chips all over the expensive carpet when Eddie materializes in the middle of the living room, ready to collect his prize. 

Chaos ensues. 

Steve is freaking out. Why is that red-eyed, black-clad weirdo lounging on their couch, chunky boots up on the table as if he owns the place? Why is he looking at him like he’s a particularly tasty piece of meat? Why does the guy only need to snap his fingers and Steve finds himself straddling his lap, one ring-clad hand groping his ass? What the actual fuck is going on? 

The Harringtons are not amused. They have invested so much money into Steve over the years, thinking that Eddie had forgotten all about them, and NOW he shows up? Eddie just shrugs, idly playing with a lock of Steve’s hair. He never specified WHEN he’d come back, did he? What would he have wanted with a baby, anyhow? What is he, a daycare? 

“We thought you wanted to eat him!” blurts Mrs. Harrington, and Eddie just absolutely loses his shit. 

What the fuck is WRONG with those people? They thought he ATE babies? And they were still fine with giving him theirs? Holy fucking shit, humans are disgusting! This is it, deal’s off, he’s taking their wealth and success away again. No, the boy is still coming with him, do they honestly expect him to just up and leave him in this shithole? No fucking way! Oh, and they better never try and summon him again or those incriminating documents will find their way to the tax authorities! 

And that is how Steve finds himself living with a sassy, strangely kind-hearted demon who may or may not own his soul - they’re still trying to figure out the specifics of that. 

# hype's demon!Eddie fic

Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

[callme-holly]

Hi!!! i was wondering if you could do gang x reader where they always come up with the most biazzare but funny insults on the dot. like i mean telling someone who was rude to them they have the hairline of the golden gate bridge, the build of a dented refridgerator, etc. etc. and they just pull this shit out of normal and usually uses it in playful banter feel free to delete / setaside / ignore if you want! have a lovely day!!!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - im back y'all. just a reminder than my requests are still open!!

The gang x quick-witted!reader

Darry Curtis:

Darry seems like the kinda guy who would try his hardest to keep a straight face when you joke/insult someone, but most times he can’t help but crack a small smile. The first time he heard one of your insults, he couldn’t help but laugh, because it was the most random shit he’d ever heard. If y’all are in public, he’ll try to shush you, or keep you somewhat calm to keep the insults at bay, but he loves hearing what you can come up with on the spot, and he’ll probably tease you for it later on.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda LOVES your insults. They will make him double over laughing every single time, no matter what it is. The first time he heard you insult someone was when they’d pushed past you at the DX; he was so ready to defend you when you just pulled out the wildest comeback known to man. He was stunned for about 2 seconds before both of you were in fits of laughter and the person walked out without a word. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony would probably get some second hand embarrassment, but he’d still love every little insult that comes from you. You don’t exactly hold back when it comes to people who have annoyed you, and most of the time he’ll just let you ramble/hurl whatever insult you can think of without stopping you. Most of the time he’ll just look away, trying to hide his smile so he doesn’t get in trouble for it. He probably admires your lack of shame and, because we know he’s sassy as hell, he’ll probably steal a few of your insults to use on his brothers and the gang. 

Johnny Cade:

Much like Pony, Johnny strongly admires what little shame you have. If someone shows even the slightest hint of rudeness towards either you, or Johnny, you’re shooting some crazy insult straight back like it’s a first language. You don’t even need time to think. He’ll give small laughs and will break out into a smile at every single one before following after you when you walk away, not even looking back at the person. You definitely help to give him confidence boosts and he loves that. 

Dallas Winston:

You and Dally are a dangerous combo when it comes to insults. The shit the two of you will say is so crazy that most people can do nothing but laugh because it’s so out of the blue and random. The first time Dallas heard you insult someone, he just grinned and wrapped an arm around you. He was pretty damn proud to say the least. After that, it became a challenge of who could come up with the best insult towards the other, and people very quickly learnt to never mess with either of y’all.

Steve Randle:

Steve is pretty much your partner in crime when it comes to insults. He loves listening to you rattle off the craziest, most absurd shit everyone has ever heard, and most of the time he’ll join in to. He’ll laugh everytime you hit someone with something especially wild, and if anyone ever dares talk back, Steve’s got five more insults locked and ready to go. He’ll always defend you, but it doesn’t take long for him to realise you can definitely hold your own. 

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two lives for your insults. To him, it’s literally peak entertainment and you’ll have him rolling with laughter every damn time. Thing is, he isn’t just cracking up at you’re insults; he’s hyping you up, egging you on, and throwing in his own little comebacks when necessary. Most times, he doesn’t even care who your target is, he just loves listening to you. And once the two of you get started on someone, it’s a one way ticket to a roast so bizarre that even the person y’all are insulting has to laugh it off. All in all, Two-bit loves your creativity, and sometimes envies how quick you are to come up with something. 

[creepygirlcemetery]

˚　SDR2 BOYS ♡ and their love languages : sdr2 boys x reader

warnings 𓂅 minus teruteru srry. nothing much? just fluff┊an : im so lutang rn sorry if there are any spelling mistakes LMAO ... reblogs are appreciated !

꒱ hajime hinata — acts of service

𓏲 i feel like hes the kinda guy who’d like to do things for you,

𓏲 maybe it’d start off with small things like opening doors for you, pulling your chair out for you, getting you food, etc.

𓏲 he’d take care of you when youre sick methinks

꒱ nagito komaeda — words of affection

𓏲 literally worshipping the ground you walk on.

𓏲 i think he’d be the kinda guy who will compliment everything you do,, no matter what you look like or how good you are or something.

𓏲 i wouldve also said physical touch? but its more of something he’d like to recieve.

꒱ fuyuhiko kuzuryu — acts of service & quality time

𓏲 like hajime, i feel like fuyuhiko would do things for you. hes a gentleman— hes just… aggressive LMAO.

𓏲 i feel like he’d have some sort of urge to protect you? not really because he thinks youre weak, but having ties with the yakuza isn’t always safe.

𓏲 so with that, i feel like he’d have you near him often, if not with peko. and because youre always around, he also kinda learns to enjoy having quality time with you.

꒱ kazuichi soda — quality time, words of affection & physical touch

𓏲 i feel like hes not really set on one specific love language, but i think those would be his main three.

𓏲 he loves to compliment you, definitely the kinda guy to stumble over his words because of how nervous he is.

𓏲 like fuyuhiko, he’d probably prefer having you around him. not cause he needs to protect you; he just likes when youre there.

𓏲 he’d love to hold you or be held methinks. maybe he’ll have an arm around your shoulder or his hand on the small of your back whilst you guys walk around.

꒱ gundham tanaka — words of affection & gift giving

𓏲 compliment king 🙏

𓏲 definitely says some poetic stuff about you, his compliments DO NOT MISS. think the lyric “i’ll burn your name into my throat, i’ll be the fire that’ll catch you” from caraphernelia by ptv.

𓏲 he gifts you some cool stuff. roses, jewelry, or whatever else you like— hes got it.

꒱ nekomaru nidai — words of affection & quality time

𓏲 i feel like he’d like working out with you?

𓏲 he’d hype you up whilst you do push ups or something LMAO.

𓏲 maybe if you arent the kind of person who enjoys exercising, he’d just enjoy to have you there while he does.

꒱ byakuya twogami — acts of service

𓏲 alot like hajime, he’d do stuff for you.

𓏲 hes strict but hes a gentleman as well.

𓏲 he would open the car door for you, maybe carry your bags who knows.

[scoupsakakitty]

Where Friendship Meets Fate | idol!Mingyu x reader | fluff

The smell of sizzling meat filled the air as the group gathered around the grill, the small Korean BBQ restaurant bustling with energy. Y/N sat next to her childhood friend Dino, who had been hyping up this get-together for weeks.

“You’re going to love my hyungs,” Dino had promised with a grin when he’d invited her. “They’re fun, easy to talk to, and kind of chaotic—but in a good way.”

Now, Y/N was finally meeting them: Vernon, who exuded coolness but had an unexpectedly goofy side, DK, who was radiating sunshine with every word, and Mingyu, the tall, handsome guy sitting to her right. From the moment they introduced themselves, Y/N could tell that Dino hadn’t been exaggerating.

“Y/N!” DK exclaimed as she reached for the tongs to flip the meat. “Wait, wait! Let Mingyu do it. He takes grilling way too seriously.”

Mingyu, who was in the middle of pouring himself a drink, raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me? I’m not that bad.”

“You literally Googled the perfect grilling technique last time,” Vernon deadpanned, taking a sip of his soda.

“And let’s not forget the meat thermometer incident,” Dino added, smirking.

“Hey, that was one time!” Mingyu protested, taking the tongs from Y/N with a mock sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I want us all to eat perfectly grilled meat.” He looked over at Y/N and gave her a wink. “You’ll thank me later.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back in her seat. “You sound like you’re auditioning for a cooking show.”

“That’s because he thinks he’s a professional chef,” Vernon teased.

“Let him be,” DK chimed in with a grin. “We all know he’s trying to impress Y/N.”

At that, Mingyu almost dropped the tongs, his ears turning red. “What?! I—no—I mean, come on, DK!”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, Mingyu. I’m already impressed by your dedication to grilling.”

“See?” Mingyu said, pointing at her with the tongs. “At least someone here appreciates me.”

As the evening went on, the banter continued, with everyone sharing stories and cracking jokes. Dino told embarrassing childhood anecdotes about Y/N, much to her dismay.

“And then,” Dino said, barely able to contain his laughter, “she got her foot stuck in the playground fence because she thought she could fit through it.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Why do you always bring that up? I was six!”

Mingyu leaned closer to her, his voice teasing. “So, you’ve always been a bit of a risk taker?”

“More like reckless,” Vernon added with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay, enough about me,” Y/N said, pointing at Dino. “Remember when you—”

“Don’t even start,” Dino cut her off, laughing as he held up his hands.

The conversation shifted again, and somehow, Y/N and Mingyu found themselves deep in a discussion about cooking.

“Do you cook often?” Mingyu asked, turning his attention to her while the others debated the best karaoke songs.

“Yeah, when I have time,” Y/N said. “It’s kind of my escape after a long day.”

“Same here,” Mingyu said, nodding. “It’s like therapy, but with food.”

Y/N smiled. “Exactly. Though I’ve had my fair share of disasters in the kitchen.”

“Disasters are part of the process,” Mingyu said. “It just means you’re experimenting.”

“Sounds like something a food scientist would say,” Y/N teased.

Mingyu laughed, a deep, warm sound that made her stomach flutter. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just looking for someone to try my experiments with.”

DK, overhearing, leaned over with a sly grin. “Are you asking her to be your cooking partner, Mingyu?”

“Mind your business, hyung,” Mingyu shot back, but he was smiling.

————————————————————————————-

By the time they finished eating, everyone was full and in high spirits. Dino suggested they hit a karaoke bar, and the group eagerly agreed.

The karaoke bar was vibrant and loud, the perfect setting for their group’s chaotic energy. DK and Dino immediately grabbed the microphones, belting out dramatic ballads and over-the-top dance moves that had everyone in stitches. Vernon followed up with a rap song, his surprisingly good flow earning him cheers.

Y/N and Mingyu stayed near the back of the room, occasionally joining in but mostly talking and laughing. Mingyu was easy to talk to, and his teasing, while relentless, only made the conversation more fun.

“So,” Mingyu said during a lull in the music, “are you not singing because you’re shy, or because you can’t reach the mic stand?”

Y/N gasped, pretending to glare at him. “That’s it. Give me the mic. I’m about to prove you wrong.”

Laughing, Mingyu handed her the microphone. She chose a playful, upbeat song and sang with so much enthusiasm that DK and Dino joined in as backup dancers. When the song ended, the room erupted into applause.

“Okay, I take it back,” Mingyu said, grinning. “You can definitely hold your own.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, pretending to bow. “I expect an apology for the height joke, though.”

Mingyu smirked. “Don’t push your luck.”

————————————————————————————-

Hours later, the group finally decided to call it a night. Outside the karaoke bar, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

“I’ll drive Y/N home,” Mingyu offered casually, twirling his car keys in his hand.

“You don’t have to—” Y/N started, but Dino cut her off.

“Take the offer. You know you hate walking home late at night.”

With a reluctant smile, Y/N nodded. “Alright, thanks, Mingyu.”

————————————————————————————-

As they drove through the quiet streets, the atmosphere in the car was warm and easy. Mingyu turned on some soft music, and they chatted about everything from their favorite foods to their most embarrassing cooking failures.

When they pulled up to her building, Mingyu turned off the engine and glanced over at her.

“I had fun tonight,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, smiling.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Can I get your number? You know, in case I need someone to taste-test my next cooking experiment.”

Y/N laughed. “Only if you promise not to call me short again.”

“No promises,” Mingyu teased, handing her his phone.

After she saved her number, Mingyu leaned back with a satisfied smile. “How about this: we cook together sometime? You can teach me how to not burn pancakes.”

“Deal,” Y/N said, opening the car door.

As she stepped out, Mingyu called after her, “Oh, and don’t worry—I’ll bring a stool so you can reach the top shelves.”

Y/N groaned, but her laughter echoed in the quiet night.

As Mingyu drove away, he couldn’t stop smiling. For him, the evening had been more than fun—it felt like the start of something special.

————————————————————————————-

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers)  - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

[bluerthanvelvet444]

ᯓ★⋆˚𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)

tags: sfw and nsfw.

warnings: none.

character count: 7k.

this was a request!

ᯓ★⋆𝚂𝙵𝚆⋆｡⁀➷

He LOVES playing games with you.

Peter was often bored, being locked in his mother’s basement led to doing the same things over and over again. This is why he loved playing games with you, no matter if they were board games or card ones, he was utterly fond of the idea of games ending in many different ways and sometimes taking different turns, never knowing if a game could last minutes or hours. He would throw game nights with candies and junk food. He really liked playing Cluedo, especially roleplaying the whole thing, he would get SO into the character, many times taking it personally when he was accused of being the murderer, always doing accents and creating a whole backstory (even if not needed). He believed it was “funnier” this way…but really, he was just a dork by nature. He enjoyed Monopoly too, although getting into the character in this game would often lead to him getting SO mad when things started to go bad for him. He claimed he was “the best gamer of all times” but in reality was actually pretty bad, especially with strategy games since he tended to act impulsively without logic. Many times you had to let him win to avoid cocky tantrums and just getting his ego hurt.

He is constantly spoiling you with gifts.

His main goal in life was owning the "Twinkie" company being the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. So whatever you desired, he gave you.

“Look how cute this is Pet-” You started while pointing at the picture of what you wanted, and before you knew it, Peter left your room at the highest of speeds just to come back in the blink of an eye with the thing you were just talking about in his hands.

“Gotcha.” He winked with a cute smirk.

“Peter! You didn’t have to. You probably spent so much for this…” You said, feeling guilty.

“Who said I paid for it?”

He takes you anywhere you want.

You mentioned wanting to go to the beach? He took you there in no time, not even letting you put your swimsuit on.

You dreamed of going to Paris? Sweep. Two seconds and you were taking a picture under the Tour Eiffel while he was holding a baguette and had a fake mustache on.

In the little time you started dating him, you already visited more places than you did in your entire life, and your bedroom was full of polaroids of you two around the world. This counts for concerts and other things too. He’s basically a free VIP pass.

He always matches your mood.

If you wanted to go to the cinema and watch a movie, he would sneak you two in the theater, stealing popcorn and all types of soda.

If you wanted to party hard and just forget about everything for a night, he would throw the BIGGEST party in the x-men’s mansion, just for you.

If you wanted to stay home and relax, he would grab a comfy blanket and a few snacks, cuddling up against you. Either spooning you or being spooned.

He hypes you up no matter what, he’s your biggest fan.

You were out shopping with Peter, so you took the chance to try some dresses on. You were in the changing room, looking at your body in the mirror. Many thoughts were flowing in your head, you didn’t know if you liked or hated it. Peter slightly peeked from the curtain.

“Babe are ya don- HOLY SHIT!” His eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Do you like it?” You asked while still looking in the mirror.

“Like it? Ya asking me if I- if I like it?! Are ya out of yer mind?! I dont like it! I love it!” He opened wide the whole curtain.

“Mh…I don’t know if this really fits m-” You were cut off by Peter suddenly grabbing your shoulders.

“Fits you?! FITS YA?! Babe.Ya need to get this right now. It was made for you- Holy shit! It looks like it was tailored to you!” He grinned widely.

“i don’t kno-Peter!” You exclaimed as he picked you up in his arms.

“YER STUNNING. Gorgeous! Breathtaking! Damn! Yer really my girl? I’m the luckiest bastard in the world!” He carried you in his arms out of the changing room.

“SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND! HEY YOU! YES! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND! I’M THE LUCKIEST BASTARD IN THE WORLD! WHOOOOO!” He shouted excitedly to the whole store while you covered your burning cheeks and begged him to stop.

He likes watching you put on your makeup, occasionally attempting to put it on you, too.

His tongue poked out of his mouth as he tried to blend the foundation on your skin.

“Why’s this taking so long?!” He huffed.

“Peter, that’s an eyeshadow brush.”

“Oh.”

ᯓ★⋆˚𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

He’s horny 24/7.

Because of his speedster genes everything his body did was faster than normal. It was sooo easy to get him hard. You could’ve been either provoking him or doing nothing.

You were laying on the bed, your boyfriend spooning you from behind. You pressed your back against him, earning a groan from him. Thinking you accidentally hurt him, you turned to face him, just to find a visible grown bulge in his pants.

“I barely touched you…” You teased.

“S’the speedster genes…” He whined.

He’s such a switch.

You were sitting between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. His fingers slipping in and out of your entrance with unholy sounds.

“Mh…Just like that, babe…takin’ it so well…” He purred in your ear, causing loud moans to slip out of you. He kept speeding his fingers more and more, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Not wanting to finish alone, you suddenly changed positions, straddling him and stroking his length from his pants.

“A-ah…please babe…” He was already a subby mess under you, whining and begging you for more.

He’s open to all types of sex with you.

Fast? His name is quickie for a reason, his body will be blurred by how fast he will be.

Slow? Mhh…It will be torture for him but, sure, anything to pleasure you.

Loving? He could be hugging you from behind, gently thrusting in you and whispering sweet words and moans in your ear.

Rough? Absolutely. He’ll have you screaming his name as loud as possible. Oh, and prepare for a loooong night, the speedster genes help a lot with his sex drive.

No toys!

One thing he will never accept is you using sex toys. Why on earth would you use a miserable piece of plastic to please yourself when you have him?

He can be a vibrator, a dildo…everything! And a good one too. Whenever you need to feel good, just give him a call! He will drop everything just to have fun with you. Don’t tell Professor X that.

Quickies in public are more common than you think.

With him being always horny, he often found himself staring at you for longer than usual, which sent heat waves straight to his core, even in public.

“Babe…” He started with whispering your name in your ear, his body pressing against yours from behind.

“I need you…” He whined, subtly rubbing his hard-on against your ass. You questioned him, reminding him that you were in public.

He quickly brought you inside a public bathroom. His hands desperately grabbing your body.

“Please…I’ll be quick…” He groaned against your neck, sucking the skin gently. As soon as you agreed, you found yourself pressed up against a wall and his clothes immediately coming off.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @dangeroustaintedflawed @yandereunsolved @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind

a/n: hiiii!!! my first headcanonssss...tried to put more dorky canon peter. hope you like them!!🩶🩶

all rights reserved!!

[buckyalpine]

Barbie

Single dad Bucky x reader

Had this idea that I thought would be cuteeeee; Bucky's little baby seeing a real life Barbie doll for the first time.

Bucky's POV "Daddy lets go!!" Bella's tiny hand tugged on Bucky's much larger one, urging him towards the door, determination written all over her little face, "It'll start soon!"

"Alright peanut, I promise we won't be late" he chuckled, letting his daughter pull him with all her might, not wanting to miss a second of the new Barbie movie. He raised a brow at the strength his four year old had when she got excited. It was all Bella talked about since the first movie trailer came out and ever since, the house was filled with every shade of pink imaginable. Bella had marked the date on the fridge, counting down the days though Bucky decided to wait a few weeks before taking her so the crowd wouldn't be too much for her, wanting her to actually enjoy the movie.

"Ready peanut?" Bucky scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to the car, adjusting the frilly pink tutu she had on so he could buckle her in the car seat. She had been previously unamused at his lack of outfits that would match Ken but ultimately settled on something much, much better.

"Ready daddy" She nodded, straightening out the matching tiara she had placed in on his head, hardly able to contain her little squeals of excitement, double checking the pink heart magnets she'd stuck on his arm. Bucky pecked her chubby cheek before getting into the drivers seat and pulling out the car, just as excited himself to have a relaxing day with his babygirl.

Your POV

You huffed, smoothing out the front of your dress, hyping yourself up in front of the mirror before slipping on your heels, taking them off and putting them back on again.

Then slipping one off before strapping it back on firmly in place.

There was no reason for you to be nervous.

You looked amazing. There was no doubt there. That shade of pink was radiant against your skin. Not a hair out of place. Your makeup was perfect. Yet your heart wouldn't stop beating just a smidge too fast. You deserved this. After a long, exhausting week you deserved a day to yourself to just feel good and relaxed. Yet your nerves were lit ablaze while you double checked your lipstick.

You were a grown ass woman, you didn't need to explain yourself to anyone as to why you were seeing this movie alone.

Dressed up in your cutest matching pink outfit.

You could do whatever you wanted...Is what you whispered to yourself before grabbing your purse and making a beeline towards to door before you changed your mind again. You pulled into the parking lot, glad your decided to wait a while to see this movie instead of going on opening night, noting it was a much quieter night, easing some of your nerves.

You went over to the snack counter, browsing the wide selection of candy, grabbing both sour candy and chocolate before joining the line to have your ticket scanned. You glanced down at your outfit once again, smoothing your a hand over your hair before straightening your shoulders.

You deserved this.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's heart swelled at the little clicks his daughters dress up heels made as they made their way up to the snack counter hand in hand; she was a ball of pink and frills with a tiny purse to finish the look off. She stumbled slightly, keeping up with his long strides, eyes wide taking in her surroundings along with the smell of fresh popcorn.

"What do you feel like getting jellybean" Bucky picked her up, letting her scan the rack of candy while he ordered a large popcorn and soda.

"This please daddy?" She pointed to a large swirly rainbow lollypop, waiting patiently when he set her back down making their way towards the ticket line. Her hand was still firmly holding onto his, a gasp slipping past her lips when her eyes landed on the best thing imaginable. Bucky looked up towards the direction his daughter was staring in, curious about the tiny gasp she let out and what had suddenly caught her attention.

The prettiest doll she'd ever seen. But in real life.

She couldn't take her eyes off her pretty pink dress or her matching heels. She was sure her favorite Barbie doll at home had the same shade of lipstick as hers. She clung onto Bucky's leg as they made their way over, tugging at his jeans to get his attention.

"Daddy! It's a Barbie doll" She whispered as he crouched down to her level, "She's so pretty" He could tell by her antsy squirming she wanted to talk to the real life Barbie boll, itching to take off at any moment. Bucky blinked, feeling his heart flutter, brows furrowing at why it was doing that, stop that.

But Bella was right.

She was pretty.

As soon as he saw who his daughter was pointing to, his own mind momentarily stopped working, only noticing her take off when he saw a blur of pink dash away, making a bee line towards the young woman.

Shit.

Your POV

"Hi" A small voice chirped behind you, leaving you confused when you didn't see anyone near by. Until you looked down. You smiled seeing the little girl behind you dressed in all pink, the tiara on her head slightly crooked, a lollypop sticking out of her purse. "You look so pretty"

"Thank you sweetheart" You cooed, gasping when a handsome stranger, clearly her father, grabbed her into his arms, shaking his head. He had a sparkly gold tiara on his head matching hers, flecks of pink glitter dusting his cheeks, some sprinkled onto his fluffy chestnut locks. You couldn't help the smile that spread onto your face when your eyes landed on the many magnets that were stuck onto his arm ranging from pink hearts to rainbows and the Barbie logo.

"Bella" He scooped her up, blowing a raspberry onto her cheek making her giggle, "You can't run off like that babygirl"

"Sorry daddy, wanted to see Barbie" She gave him her best pout, making you laugh, your own cheeks heating up when he looked over at you with a shy smile, matching hers.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

A whole ass DILF.

You shook your head, figuring he probably had a wife or girlfriend, there was no way he was single.

Bucky's POV

"She's really exited" Bucky said apologetically while you both had your tickets scanned, walking towards the same theatre room, butterflies fluttering in his tummy again.

"It's okay, this little princess made my day" You tried to sound light hearted though you were nervous meeting his soft baby blue eyes.

"Can she sit with us?" Bella pipped up before anyone sat own, giving her dad another dose of puppy eyes and a pout before turning to you and giving you the same treatment.

"Oh-uh-" Bucky figured you would've come with friends (maybe even a boyfriend...hopefully not...), though he didn't see anyone around when you were in line earlier. Either way, he was sure you wouldn't want to spend your movie day with a single dad and his very cute, albeit excited little girl. "I don't know baby-

"Actually, it's just me, I-don't mind" you smiled at the way Bella's eyes lit up along with an excited squeak, wiggling out of Bucky's hold to slip her hand into yours, pulling you to the middle of the row.

"Thank you" Bucky gave you a grateful smile, a tiny greedy part of him happy to sit with the sweet stranger his daughter was enamored with.

****

You adored watching the movie with Bella, leaning down whenever she'd whisper something, her hand often holding onto your pinky through most of the movie. You both made your way out of the theatre once the end credits began to roll, feeling a pang of something again when you noticed your cars happened to be parked side by side.

What were the chances-

Stop.

He probably has a partner, you scolded yourself internally while Bella gave you a sleepy hug before Bucky settled her into her car seat and shutting the door softly.

"Hi again" Bucky smiled bashfully, hoping the pink on his cheeks wasn't too obvious as he leaned against his car door, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Why would someone as pretty and kind hearted as you want to go on a date with someone who came with baggage.....but maybe...

"Hi again" You nearly stumbled over your words, your heart hammering while he fidgeted with his phone, chewing his lip before speaking.

"I wanted to say thank you again. For today. I-I hope this isn't too forward but-uh-to say thank you properly-maybe coffee? If you don't like coffee then something else-dinner? Maybe a date-unless you don't want it to be a date-"

"I'd love to" you cut off his nervous rambling while Bucky let out the breath he was holding, giving you his phone for you to add your number in. He waited for you to get into your car, waving as you pulled out before getting into his own car, surprised to find Bella now wide awake with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Will we see Barbie again?" Bella eyed Bucky curiously while Bucky's phone pinged with a text message from you.

Can't wait to see you, keep the tiara on x

Bucky grinned, reaching behind to playfully tickle her foot before smiling at his phone again.

"I think we will"

[t1red-twilight]

i’ll be home for christmas

summary: you go home for winter break.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, height difference (sorry pookie bears)

notes: so hyped for christmas bro

word count: 1k

masterlist s. h. masterlist

the fall semester was finally over; the only thing that had pulled you through the last few weeks that followed midterms and into finals was the promise of knowing you could call steve when you got back to your dorm.

steve and you had designated a time to call every night and discuss (or complain) about how your day had gone. you found that 7pm was the highlight of your day, every day. the velvet of his voice resounded through the phone lines and comforted you when nothing else could. countless times he had encouraged you when you contemplated dropping out.

so now that you were driving home from university for winter break, you could only think of steve. you thad talked to him regularly, this was true; but had he changed in ways that could only be observed visually?

the sun had begun to set over the snow covered landscape. the dim glow of christmas lights provided a nostalgic sense of comfort as you approached your childhood home.

your car pulled into the driveway of your parent’s house, and you put the car in park and turned the engine off. walking around, you grabbed your two suitcases out of the trunk and pulled it shut. just as you were walking up to the front door, you saw him.

steve swung the front door open and called out your name. you dropped your suitcases and ran up to meet him. he threw his arms around you and whispered into your hair, “i missed you so much, honey.”

you smiled from ear to ear, and attempted to pull away to look at him only for him to pull you back closer. “i missed you so so much,” you mumbled into his shoulder. after a few moments, he finally pulled apart from you slightly. he kissed your cheekbone, his thumbs caressed your jaw. you could feel the muscles of his back move beneath his shirt.

steve stepped away to grab your suitcases that still sat abandoned next to your car. “how was the drive?” he asked, holding one suitcase in each hand. the veins popped out on his wrists and knuckles, making you feel some type of way. you’d have to deal with that later.

you waved your hand flippantly. “it was fine,” you brushed it off. “i can grab those.” you tried to grab them from him, but he moved them out of your reach.

he walked around you and to the still-opened front door. “don’t be silly,” he stated matter-of-factly, referencing your luggage. you rolled your eyes. by the time you had gotten inside, steve was already walking up the stairs to put your suitcases away.

you greeted your parents, and they asked you a couple of questions about the semester. you felt steve hover behind you, but he stayed silent. “i think i’m gonna go upstairs and lay down. the drive was pretty long,“ you finished. you turned to look at steve and nodded your head towards your room. you had long passed the stage where your parents policed when he was up there.

you went up the stairs and heard your mom mention something about dinner. you close the door behind steve when you got up to your room. it was laid out the same way as you had left it; the curtains, slightly ajar, and oddly enough an empty can of soda still sat on your nightstand. ew.

borderline face planting on the bed, you finally felt like you could relax. finals were over, and you were finally home. home didn’t just mean hawkins, home had begun to mean a certain boy that your days often looked forward to.

“lay down with me,” you mumbled. “please.” you turned on your side to look at steve. there was a sparkle in his eyes that you would never not love. a crooked smile out upon his face, one that you could never get rid him of. not that you would even try, it had become a hallmark of his playful personality.

thank god your bed was at least made. steve walked around the foot of the bed and laid down on the other side. as soon as you laid down, you scooted over to him, laying your head on his shoulder. as silently as possible, you inhaled his familiar scent. this was one thing that you missed the most about him, he always smelled so comforting.

your eyelids fluttered shut. “did you just smell me?” you bit your lip to keep from laughing. you figured this was a rhetorical question, clearly you weren’t as inconspicuous as you thought you had been.

you wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him as close as you could. you would never not get used to how unbelievably warm he was. in return, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kiss the crown of your head.

the all-too-familiar glow of the neighborhood christmas lights shown in through the gap in your curtains. the lights reflected off of the fallen snow. steve’s thumb traced patterns over the sweater that you wore. “i really missed you,“ he murmured.

you sighed, tension releasing from your body. “maybe i won’t even go back for the spring semester.“ you were joking, but also in a sense serious. not only was academia intensely challenging, but being away from everyone and everything that you knew was extremely difficult. being apart from familiarity was by far the most strenuous aspect of being away at university.

steve kissed your forehead once more. “you don’t mean that. you’re almost done anyway, just one year left.” he paused before continuing, “you totally got this.” you smiled into his shoulder.

you whispered, as if maybe if your parents would hear you they’d reprimand you. “once i graduate we can finally move out of this podunk town and go somewhere new.” you were essentially calling hawkins boring, and the irony was not lost to steve. he snorted a laugh.

the smile could be heard in his tone. “i can’t wait. but, for now, what do you want for christmas?”

[imdead770]

The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Sodapop Curtis

Authors Note - I had to hype myself up for this because I procrastinate too much.

Sodapop Curtis -

• I feel like writing this is so simple because this man is concerningly affectionate??

• There's so many sweet things he'd do

• Whenever he started flirting nobody even noticed because he's like that naturally

• Unlike Dallas he actually asked you out straight up.

• He almost threw up before asking you and was literally jumping up and down when he got home

• Darry had to grip his shoulders to keep him on the ground

• He wouldn't shut up about you??

• Before and after you started dating, you're his conversation

• The gang is so sick of it

• Your first date was so perfect

• He'd do everything

• Open doors for you, push your hair behind your ear

• 😭❤️

• Whenever you were driving to your date, he hyped himself up to hold your hand

• But when you beat him to it he almost wrecked the car

• He was smiling the whole time after that

• He was already smiling, but now it was full out grinning

• Compliments.

• Every fucking day.

• Your hair, your outfit, your body, your eyes, your voice, your personality

• Makes sure you know just how perfect you are everyday.

• Your first kiss.

• Fuck romcoms, this was so much better.

• 100% used some shit pickup line on the end of your first date just to kiss you

" darlin'.. what kinda lipgloss you got on? "

" strawberry.. why? "

" mind if I have a taste? "

• Screaming. Crying. Hollering.

• He was so surprised it actually worked

• Like Dallas, pet names are just normal at this point.

• Darlin', sweetheart, doll, baby

• Either that or some really sappy shit like sweetcheeks

• He's super sweet but I know damn well Sandy made a dent in him

• You know how he's super affectionate? He needs just as much affection.

• A lot of times you just lay down, hold each other and talk.

• You lying with your head on his chest, him playing with your hair as he talked about the time Steve nearly burned off his hair at DX.

• He's always toucuing you in some way shape or form

• Holding your hand, resting his hand on your thigh as he drives, kissing your cheek

• He's a PDA whore.

• Tries to help you with your homework but it ends up with him being way more confused then you.

" Hun, I gotta admit.. I ain't cut out for this. Go ask Dar. "

• Takes you out every Saturday

• Normally to the drive-in or some diner the gang talked about

• He's so loyal to you it's not even funny.

• Tells you every night about the girls who flirted with him at DX.

" You wouldn't believe it doll. I told her I ain't interested 8 times, everytime she just flipped her hair and kept on talkin'. "

• You always laugh your ass off because all these girls think they have a chance

• But you know damn well Soda would never do that

• One time a girl flirted with Soda infront of you

" You're real' sweet n' all, but I got a girlfriend "

" Aw cmon.. just cheat.. for me "

• The way you verbally harassed her.

• Sodapop nearly made out with you right then and there

• He 100% said I love you within the first month

• Almost cried when you said it back

• Talks about your future a lot

" How 'bout we name our kid Brooke? "

" I'm never havin' kids, Soda "

" Aw c'mon... can ya' imagine how good lookin' they'd be? "

• Kisses you an ass ton

• Always holds you close near the gang because he knows damn well half of them would fuck you given the chance 💀

• Saves up money to get you gifts

• Tries to remember the things you like for gifts but always scrambles it around

• Loves when you visit him at DX

• Makes his work days 11x better

• Literally so sweet to you

• You're crying? He'd literally drop everything to comfort you. Tired? He's already asleep with you.

• Talks about cars way too much

• Every day you have to explain you don't know what the fuck a carburetor is

• He's so used to having you around he has no idea how to operate without you anymore

• Like if you start sleeping together every night (keep it pg) and you have a school trip or something, he genuinely can't sleep

• He literally has to hold the pillow to sleep.

• Ponyboy was basically kicked out of the room because of you

• Still mad at you for that

• Your voice puts him to sleep

• If he lays on you while you're talking and you start playing with his hair, he'll literally be out in 2 minutes tops.

• He literally loves you so much and reminds you every chance he gets it

• The gang teases him but he doesn't care because you're way better than any of their girlfriends

• He's so perfect??

• Like you don't even understand how God did this.

• He's hot as hell, he's sweet, funny, caring

• He's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

• I love him so much 😔❤️

Steve's next