#I’m literally just some jackass | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artists-ally · 1 month

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Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?”

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho.

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma.

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing.

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top.

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second.

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head.

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again.

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein.

“Yn,” a voice spoke.

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it.

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor.

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss. “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again.

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap.

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?”

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front.

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep.

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise.

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in.

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me.

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over.

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice.

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again.

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside.

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there.

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip.

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this.

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face.

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go.

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans.

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes.

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own.

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground.

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh.

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might.

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life.

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body.

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip.

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle.

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me.

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still.

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned.

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow.

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

#harvey x reader #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x you #harvey specter suits #harvey specter fanfiction #harvey specter #smut #writing #my writing

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 4 months

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Scared

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: ANGST, big feels, hurt comfort, possession?, hurling insults at each other, Astarion being a little scary, fluff ending

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“How could you!” Astarion shouted.

“How could I? It’s a book Astarion, it's not that deep.” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “Knowledge is for all, not just you.” you snapped at him.

“I’m not upset you read it, I’m upset you took it from me without asking.” he corrected you in a harsh tone.

“I didn’t think it was a problem, you told me I could borrow books…” you looked at him with confusion.

“Not that one! The Necromancy of Thay is not just some book.” he looked at you with disbelief. How could you be so naive and reckless?

“I’m a fucking cleric Astarion! Magic is kinda my whole purpose!” your dedication to Kelemvor was unquestionable and he was debating you about this? This book that could grant you a gift that Kelemvor had not? Speaking to the dead would be a godsend as clergy for the god of the dead, traveling across Faerun to gods know where.

“Do you understand the danger of that book? No, you don’t, because you're a petulant child who steals others toys when they can’t have them. All you do is take!” he yelled.

You froze. That was a real insult. This wasn’t a little spat anymore, this was a fight. Your first fight in the whole 10 months together. Your heart cracked a bit, but you filled with fire at his harshness.

“I take? I borrowed a book for a few hours. You literally take my fucking blood out of me daily. Do you know what that feels like over time? It hurts.” your voice wavered slightly but you held strong.

“But you were oh so willing as long as I was fucking you while I did it!” that was dirty and untrue and he knew it. He said the most hateful thing he could think of and he knew it would cut you deeply.

Your eyes widened, your mouth hung open. “You think this is about sex?.... You conceited jackass! This is about me being in pain for weeks on end and you being too oblivious to see it. Maybe I am nothing more to you than dinner.” you laughed to yourself, the absolute arrogance of this man had you baffled.

Astarion marched towards you, his face was unfamiliar. All scrunched up in a way you had never seen directed at you. His crimson eyes were practically glowing with rage. He pushed you back so you were trapped between the desk and his arms. He put his face near yours, he sounded like an animal. The growl in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Maybe I should drain you dry…” he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, fangs barely grazing your neck.

You whimpered and tears flowed down your face. You were legitimately scared. Astarion always asked before he bit you. Yet here he was, threatening to drain you with his fangs at your throat. Your body shook and you let out a sob, trying desperately not to move as you knew his fangs could tear you apart.

The sob was what cleared his mind. As soon as he heard it all the anger in him disappeared and he just felt sad. He had never seen you cry and the fact that you were now, because of him, it devoured him from inside. He backed up two paces, you flinched when he moved so quickly and it was like a shard of ice into his heart to know he scared you.

“Darling I… I’m sorry… I wasn’t going to… I didn’t mean to scare you” he said, holding his arms out in front of him, surrendering to you.

You pushed yourself against the desk, desperate to be away from him. Your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself. “Please… don’t hurt me…” you mumbled. He saw the fear in your eyes.

“I would never…” he said, his eyes were big and round and yet you were terrified. “Please my love, I don’t know what came over me…” he looked at his new ring, it was glowing a soft red.

You looked to where his eyes were, you immediately recognized the ring. The Circle of Malum. It brought out the wearers worst emotions, and turned them cold. Hostile; in exchange for great strength and cunning wisdom. “Take that off…” you pointed at his ring, still too afraid to touch him.

“What?” he questioned, sounding defensive.

“The ring is changing you Astarion… You’re not yourself…please love…” you spoke out in a hushed tone, still nervous.

Love. You still loved him? How strange he thought. He looked between you and the ring before flinging it off his finger. It felt as if it was burning him once he knew the truth of its devious exchange. “Little love… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean anything I said… I was so angry I - I… I felt out of control.”

You looked deep into his eyes. No malice, not a single hint of irritation. You saw fear and love, both of which were directed at you. You cautiously moved towards him, hands gently reaching for his face. You tilted his chin up, looking into his eyes. All you could see was the guilt on his face and the sorrow that was radiating off of him. “It's ok, you're ok.” you whispered.

He nodded before he pulled you into a hug. A few stray tears of his landed on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a while.

“I love you…” he whispered with a small smile.

You wiped the last of the tears from under his eyes before kissing his cheeks. You glanced down at his lips, his eyes watching you flit back and forth. He leaned in but you closed the space. Gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you. “I love you.” you leaned your forehead against his, breathing him in.

“Were you able to finish the book?” he asked after a few moments.

You smiled at him, such a curious little thing he was. “Yes.”

“And?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“And… Now I can speak to the dead.” you said, pride building in you.

“Think you can help me read it?” he asked, taking your hand.

You kissed him quickly, “I think I can manage that.”

He smiled, for what felt like the first time in days.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello all! I hope this is a good one for ya! Idk I was in my angsty sad girl hours and this was the product. Hope you are all doing well <3 As always, thank your for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Talk soon XOXOXOXOXXOXOOXOXOOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO!!!

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powderblueblood · 5 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER SEVEN — WELCOME to the REAL WORLD, JACKASS

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summary: christmastime in hawkins brings a bunch of cherry bombs in the boy's bathroom, a trip down memory lane via seven minutes in heaven avenue, and the least likely trio this town has ever seen. content warnings: MINORS DNI i'm going to fuck you up and santa isn't real so we've got, smut including references to and descriptions of male and female masturbation, smoking, swearing, a pregnancy scare, era-typical misogyny and ANGST in the form of a flashback!!! word count: 12.5k. merry christmas babies

Dear reader, it takes you less than five weeks to become incapable of imagining your life without Eddie Munson.

Which, given his propensity for being an absolute neanderthal, is concerning.

Eddie Munson talks with his mouth full and plays his music too loud. He never closes a cabinet all the way. He walks through anywhere, literally anywhere, be it a store or the library or Ronnie’s trailer–leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He talks during movies and puts his feet up on the seats at the Hawk. He makes fun of the books you read, but always grabs them away from you to stare at the blurb on the back. He never finishes a cigarette all the way before lighting another one, which is just wasteful. He pretends to be good at holding his liquor, but he’s not.

He stands too close to you in places where he’s got plenty of room to move. He makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to. He holds the door for you in school, at the bookstore, getting out of the van, even though you’re more than capable of doing that yourself. He takes advantage of you when you’re in a good mood, like making you scratch his head as if he were a cat.

Sometimes he calls you ‘baby’, as if you don’t have a nickname already. As if you two are…

You lean toward the only mirror in the girls’ room with decent light, reapplying the red lip stain you’d taken to wearing– it was coming on Christmas, for god’s sake, and despite everything, you’re feeling festive. Quick. Lighter on your feet than you have been in a long time.

“Hey girl, could I borrow that?” an out-of-tune simper rings right next to your ear and you almost jump out of your skin, lipstick clattering into the sink.

“Jesus!” you say, and Eddie Munson cackles. You knock him back with a one-handed shove, face setting into that funny little grimace you’ve taken to wearing when he acts up– and he’s always acting up. You’re gonna get wrinkles if he doesn’t cut it out. “What the hell are you doing in here? Hair in your eyes make you miss the sign that says girl’s room?”

You know that’s not true, because you were the one that just about tied him to a chair in Ronnie Ecker’s trailer so you could trim his bangs last week.

This is a fuckin’ violation of my human rights, Lacy!

Every time I’m seen with you, people think I’m out walking a goddamn Briard. Hold still!

“So, hot off the press, newspaper girl,” Eddie says, leaning against the yellow porcelain, “One, I am literate, much to everyone’s shock and awe. And two, someone threw a bunch of cherry bombs down the john in the boy’s bathroom and the place is fucking Hiroshima, but wet and kinda shitty smelling. So we all got told to use this…” He gestures around at the clean-ish tile. “...salon of iniquity.”

“Was it you?” you ask, plucking a cigarette from the soft pack he’s offering you.

“Huh?” He scrunches his brows, leaning with a lighter ready. He’s taken to doing that; cigarette at the ready, lighter at the ready, low-grade explosives at the ready, probably.

“The cherry bombs, was it you?” you say through a reel of blue smoke.

“For once, no,” Eddie sighs, head slumping forward like a Peanuts character, “Some other gorgeous, anarchistic genius got the jump on me.”

“Oh, god,” a frown sets in; you pick up your dropped lipstick and in its wake, ash into the sink, “There’s no other bathrooms on campus you animals could use?”

“Nuh-uh. Unisexuality, baby, it’s the way of the future,” Eddie tells you, fanning out his hands like P.T. Barnum.

A beat. You think. This bathroom, the unofficially allocated senior bathroom, the one you and the rest of the Hawkins in-crowd had been using since sophomore year, got crowded at the best of times. The fumes of Aquanet were a definite health risk, but that’s an occupational hazard when it comes to being a girl. You add boys into the mix, nay, couples into the mix–

Damn.

“We’re about to witness the conception of so many toilet babies.”

Realization dawns on Eddie, his brown eyes flaring. “Oh shiiiit. I never thought of that.”

“The band geeks alone, Eddie,” you whisper, head tilting toward him all scandalized-like, “We’re gonna show up at our fifteen year reunion and every single one of these suckers is gonna have their own little freshman clones.”

“Spare a thought for Heather Holloway.” Eddie’s face, a mask of mock concern, makes you roll your eyes.

“Why?” you scoff, not a fan, “She doesn’t inspire many.”

“Objection. Her implants do.”

You turn to face him fully. “J’excuse?”

“Swear to god,” and his palms are up, “Just saw her in Chemistry.”

“Good? Bad?”

“Conical. Jayne Mansfield.” Aaand his hands are gesturing, animatedly. Crassly. Pervily. “Take your goddamn eye out.”

“Wow. Christmas came early.”

“Christmas ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be coming early…”

“Ew.”

Eddie smirks and flicks his cigarette into the sink, hitting the faucet to wash it away– there were at least three good drags left in that, you think.

“Heather H, first one to get knocked up in the Great Bathroom Insemination Project of 1984. Mark my words.”

“And you think you’re in with a shot?” Your tone is dripping in sneer.

Eddie regards you for a moment, so you know something deeply annoying is about to happen. His voice goes all serious, barely above a whisper, as he closes space between you like he’s trying to beat a draft.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Lacy baby.” His hands brace either side of the sink you’re standing at, trapping you against him. See? No respect for boundaries. But– Hm. Not… that annoying. “Oversexed teenagers sharing the same bathroom– at Christmas, with all that mistletoe around and shit.” His eyes, searching you with a glint that’s s’posed to be provocative. You, elbow propped up by your folded arm, puff a plume of smoke into his face. He doesn’t even blink. Smirk pursing his lips up. The two of you have established a rhythm. “Anything could happen.”

“Ew, what the hell are you doing in here? This is the girl’s room.” Enter some upstart underclassman, and Eddie’s peeling away from you.

“You didn’t see the biblical flood on the second floor, Pippi Longstocking?” His voice is big and booming and bouncing off the tile, making the underclassman cringe. “Forcible takeover. This is my house now.”

“God, shut up, freak.” She shuffles by the two of you to a vacant stall with a look you recognize– she’s so telling her friends about those two trailer park abnormos just about copulating in the bathroom later.

“Great choice!” Eddie exclaims, door of the stall slamming, “I warmed the seat for ya!”

—

“Watch where you’re going, you almost milled down that stroller!”

“I wouldn’t need to go so fast if you two, freakin’ Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Priss Ass, didn’t insist on getting to this place before it closed!”

“We wouldn’t need to rush if you hadn’t spent all freakin’ afternoon at goddamn Lipton landing getting all– all–”

“All?”

“--toked up and shit!”

“Market research, Ecker! And, I’m gonna remember you said that! Later! When you want to get all toked up and shit– woah!”

Listening to Ronnie Ecker and Eddie Munson bicker in the front seat while you balance on a drum stool in the back of his van, clutching onto Ronnie’s passenger seat for dear life– no better way to get into the spirit of the season. You’d be joining in the milieu if you weren’t currently suffering from major motion sickness.

Eddie takes a harsh pull into a parking spot outside of Family Video and–“Go, go, go!”--you three load out like soldiers, locked on the target. He takes the lead, swinging the door open for the two of you ladies, but a voice calls out from the counter before Ronnie can even get a toe over the threshold.

“Oh, no– no way, no way!” Steve Harrington’s yelling from the helm of the ship, waving his hands. “We are– fifteen goddamn minutes away from close, I can’t do this tonight!”

“Highly unwise of you to turn away paying customers, Harrington!” Eddie gasps, Ronnie ducking under his arm.

“You guys come in here and spend honest-to-god hours talking shit in the aisles and– and you never even rent anything!”

“Well, your luck’s about to change!” Ronnie says, and Steve regards her with a mask of total confusion because, well, it’s likely he’s never heard her speak directly to anyone other than Eddie before.

That’s when you roll in the door under Eddie’s arm-arch, color rising in your cheeks that’s not from the cold.

“I am deeply reconsidering my association with you guys.”

“Tough shit.” “Find another trailer park.” “You love it. You love us. You’re obsessed.”

You pinch both of your hands towards them, the universal action to encourage zipping it, and cast a glance towards Steve. His shoulders relax. His vest is green and garish and a terrible color on him and… he’s wearing elf ears. And he’s Steve Harrington. And your stomach clenches, though it’s more muscle memory than anything else.

“Hey, Steve,” you smile, soft and small and not really all that there.

“Lacy. Hi.” He does smile at you, after a beat. “You responsible for these assholes?”

You hadn’t seen him since the night of his party, that grand inferno that had landed you here, standing between Eddie and Ronnie and feeling not entirely awful about it. Well, you hadn’t exactly seen him then either, except for a flash when Eddie was dragging you out of his house.

So, y’know, the blush is entirely justified.

“She’s bankrolling us,” Eddie says, closing the door to keep the heat in and speaking just to break the tension. True, too– you’d scored a part time gig at The Bookstore after a confrontation with the eagle-eyed Ivana regarding certain missing copies of Little Women, The Woman Destroyed and Fear and Trembling. You assumed you were working off the thievery, which you never directly admitted to and she never directly accused you of– but then, she paid you.

Ivana, it turns out, is incredibly pro-workers rights and even more incredibly anti-Hawkins gossip mill. Which works out a treat for you. The bookstore’s become more of a haven than it had been before.

“Can you scatter already?” you direct two thirds of your threesome towards the stacks. “Let’s make this breezy, I feel a wave of mortification rising.”

“No. I was promised in-store bickering,” Eddie says, rooting himself to the spot. You catch a weird flash of– something in his eyes. Ronnie, with her unlikely band geek strength, groans and yanks him toward the horror section. “It’s my favorite part! It’s like the pre-show!”

You take to the counter, gingerly, shyly. Why are you shy? Why, all of a sudden, after showing your ass in such a spectacular bruise-garnering fashion, are you shy to speak to Steve Harrington? Is it because Nancy’s dropped a tidbit here and there that he’s not exactly great boyfriend material? Is it because you sometimes secretly think, good, I hope you two are having a terrible time, even if you and Wheeler are making baby steps towards a friendship?

Is it because you never forget the first person that called you Lacy?

Fuck knows. Some of that.

“So you’re… what, hanging out now?” Steve asks, gesturing to the twin dipshits. There’s a bite in his voice from a former incarnation of Steve Harrington, one with (somehow) bigger hair and an unchecked ego. It doesn’t all shed at once, you figure. He’s sloughing it off and there’s still some left over, judging by the way he’s staring at Ronnie and Eddie.

You look over your shoulder to them. It would be so easy to deride it, right– only due to my unfortunate proximity to them, yes or girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for a ride these days or it’s community service, I swear.

But you don’t. You turn back to him with a pinchy little smile. “I’m this close to getting them to let me play tambourine in their band. Can you even deal?”

Steve, after a beat and a brow furrow, sort of half nods. “Think I kind of… get that.”

You’re about to answer when another body comes barrelling in through the back.

“Just wanted to let you know, dingus, that I just got off the phone with Keith–you remember Keith, right, our manager who is currently in a war of words with our boss trying to keep this place open–and your little stock-take fuckup has cost us, like, weeks of manhours in work and–” Robin Buckley, complete with a light-up Santa hat, stops dead. Counts every person in the room. Shakes her head like she’s in a dream. “What is…”

“H–hi Robin!” Ronnie calls, her voice all squeaky– due to the scuffling headlock that Eddie has somehow managed to put her in without you and Steve even noticing. “Don’t worry, we– we’ll be out of your hair in a second!”

And Robin– wait, is Robin kind of… blushing? She backs down immediately, putting her Family Video branded binder flat on the counter. “Yeah, no… that’s totally okay, take your time!”

You look at Steve. Steve looks at you. You quirk an eyebrow like– is that, is she… And Steve shrugs like, don’t ask me, sister. Pleading the fifth. Saving Robin’s dignity.

But you’re still you and you’ve been bugging Ronnie about her situation for weeks so you hold up a finger.

“What are you two idiots arguing about?”

“Black Christmas–” “Silent Night, Bloody– ow, Ronnie, don’t pull hair, you girl!”

A swivel back to Robin, who is totally pink-cheeked. “We need a professional to settle this.”

Her mind seems to stutter like a badly wound tape. Oh, she’s suckered. “Uh– uh, Black Christmas, for sure. Not exactly the coziest thing to watch, but–”

“We’re not cozy people!” Eddie yells, Ronnie coming at him with arms like weed whackers.

“--but Margot Kidder, right?” you poke, goddamn Jimmy Page and John Bonham for the Midwest set slamming into the counter on either side of you.

“Olivia Hussey,” Ronnie says breathlessly. Eddie seems to have winded her somehow. “That’s– she’s cool–I heard she was in this–”

“Exactly!” Robin lights up, excited, “She– she played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet–”

“Wait, don’t you see her boobs in that movie?” Eddie jerks in.

“Yes,” Robin and Steve chime in unison. And glance at each other. Telling.

Ol’ Munson there snaps his fingers. “Sold.”

“But not in Black Christmas,” you say, almost gently, so as not to… let him down?

Eddie rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward your shoulder. “I’m a man with an imagination, ain’t I?” he rasps. You pretend-shudder.

“Okay, let’s do Black Christmas and– you got a copy of The Thin Man?”

Blink-blink goes Robin, like a cartoon. It’s nearly audible. “... like, the William Powell, Myrna Loy Thin Man?”

Your turn to roll your eyes. God, you guys love to roll your eyes, huh? “Is there any other?”

“Like the black and white movie. You’re sure? I just didn’t think it’d be your–”

But Eddie cuts right through that assumption that’s making an ass out of you and Robin, because he knows. He knows because you’ve made him sit through Double Indemnity at the Hawk, scolding him for putting his feet up (god forbid, right!) and you’ve even threatened to drag him to some Buster Keaton retrospective that’s playing there after the holidays. He keeps thinking, man, if Wayne Munson ever comes across this girl, he’s a goner, and then he remembers why that won’t be happening any time soon.

“She’s a freak.”

You regard him with a tight smile. Kind of a thanks, kind of a fuck you. Kind of your thing.

“I’ll watch it when these bozos pass out.”

—

Something’s gotten into Eddie.

You three are absolutely basking in the glory of your one night of freedom– see, Granny Ecker’s away on a weekend hotel stay in Indianapolis with one of her special friends from the Hawkins Senior Center. Which, on the one hand, gross, Eddie never ever wants to think about Granny Ecker getting lucky no matter how happy for her he is. But on the other, in the words of her beloved granddaughter–

“God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes!”

Eddie has stolen Granny’s usual spot, the kick-out recliner that seems to sag more with every movement. You and Ronnie are bunched onto the little two-seater together, with Ronnie shyly suggesting that you paint her nails (black, how totally hardcore)– now, Eddie knows this move. This is so she can distract herself from the bonafide creepiness of Black Christmas because while she tries to put on a brave face, Ronnie’s eyes for horror movies are way bigger than her stomach. She’s all nerves. It’s why she’s such a good drummer.

As you’d predicted, by the time the movie ends and you all clear the six pack that Eddie had procured, Ronnie’s nodding off– but Eddie is determined to stay wide awake. You make a move off the couch and she grumbles, having narrowly avoided propping her head on your shoulder. You move to arrange her in such a way that she’s sleeping Nosferatu style, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I spent an awful lot of time on that polish and I won’t see it ruined, not on your account,” you chide, real quiet. Ronnie’s not listening, she’s pretend honk-shooing. Eddie, on the other hand, is.

He likes you like this. You’re sweet to Ronnie, in your prickly little way– making her flustered with your misdirected flirting, bonding with her about things so far out of the realm of his male understanding. Being a girl with her. It’s occurred to him that Ronnie, in her testosterone-soaked world of current comrades, might actually need that. Like, she’s friendly enough with Jeannie and that Vickie girl from band, but they’re not people she’d go out of her way to make a case for so’s that Granny Ecker will let them stay for dinner.

Which she’s done for you. Once or twice now. Which you’ve nervously accepted and even ruined your manicure for, by insisting on washing up the dishes. Eddie dried, because of course he did, because the Ecker trailer is the only place close to home that the two of you can hang out.

You’re, like– friends.

Which is horrible.

Eddie tosses you a cold can of soda from the fridge. You catch it, hands basketing above your head.

“Power forward.”

“Cheerleader.”

You lean over to the TV to swap the tapes out, insistent on watching your dumb little black and white movie. As you do it, your skirt lifts a little bit and–

Eddie’s gotta break eye contact. Stare at the floor for a second. Cock jumping like the fucking mole from whack-a-mole.

He almost hits it.

You bitch, are you wearing thigh highs?

“You need to pull trig, Munson?” he hears you from the kitchenette, clicking the video player’s play button. “You only had two beers.”

God, maybe. Was the room spinning? “Smoked a lotta weed today.”

“Right. Lipton landing,” you smirk. Ronnie’s derisive little nickname for Reefer Rick’s place. “Are you gonna get over here and snore through my movie or not?”

I do not snore, or some muttering of a similar fashion comes out but he’s doing exactly what you tell him to do. He can’t help it. Brain function gone all freaky from that flash of flesh squeezed out the top of your– yeah.

Eddie lands on the floor next to you with a little groan. Your eyes flick between him and the now-empty recliner.

“What are you doing down here?”

Oh. Busted. “I’m a gentleman, Lacy. Take the damn seat.”

Your face screws up in that silly way it does whenever he talks sense to you but you don’t wanna hear it. Brat. “No. I like to sit right up near when it’s something I really want to watch.”

A shrug of your little shoulder as you wrap your arms around your knees like a kid. Face illuminated by the greyscale on the television. Skirt rucking back against the carpet. Fuck.

Eddie lets out an unsteady breath, crawling forward to lie on his tummy. Closer to you. “You’re gonna get square eyes if you keep doin’ that, dorko.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist…” but you say it in this half-hearted, distracted way, eyes on the screen.

“Y’know, if you–” Eddie starts, eyes on the lace top of your–yes indeedy–stockings.

“Shut up,” and you tap him on the shoulder. “I love this part.”

Your hand stays there as some fancily dressed chick totally eats shit in the bar of some hotel or something. Christmas presents flying everywhere as she falls.

Women and children first, boys.

Say, what is the score anyway?

Oh, so it’s you he was after.

Hello, sugar.

Your hand stays there as you’re totally mouthing every single word, you true-blue nerd. Eddie, completely at a loss of how to react to this other than gaze, gaze, gaze at you, snaps his teeth at your hand.

You, so completely embroiled in Nick and Nora’s white hot banter, gasp at the near-bite and swipe at his head. Eddie dodges the blow by rolling onto his back, hair fanning out on the Eckers’ rug. He grins up at you, and all of a sudden the rise and fall of his chest in that worn-out Alice Cooper shirt is very distracting.

Pretty girl.

Yeah, she’s a very nice type.

You got types?

Only you, darling–

“--lanky brunettes with wicked jaws,” you say, beat-for-beat with William Powell.

“Talkin’ about me?” Eddie says, lips peeling back, eyebrows quirking.

“Not in your wettest, wildest dreams, Eddie Munson.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know what happens in those dreams. It’s filthy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s twisted. It’s disgusting.”

“I bet.”

His hand is absent-mindedly stroking his chest, shifting the hem of that t-shirt up a little bit. Brushstrokes. You remember that? Eddie Munson has a happy trail like–

“You’re so nice to me. It’s so fffffucking hot.”

“How wildly out-of-character,” you scoff, and he laughs, and you shift in your spot the teensiest bit. Eyes back on the screen, back to safety.

From here, where he’s lying, Eddie has a fully illustrated view of the flash of skin up your skirt. Now that you’re not looking at him, he’s looking at it. Swallowing back saliva. Ignoring Nick and Nora.

It’d be simple as pie to walk his fingertips along the rug and brush up against you there–oops–by accident or design. Feel how soft that skin is. Feel that heat radiating from your–

“It’s alright,” he hums, eyes flicking to the ceiling. Otherwise, all the blood’s gonna drain away from his head and he’s going to fucking die. “I know I’m not your type anyway.”

Your head lolls to your other shoulder, exposing a flash of your neck. It’s sorely missing a tongue running along it, he thinks, breath shuddering a touch.

“You wouldn’t know my type if it hit you with an eighteen wheeler.”

“Can Steve Harrington drive an eighteen wheeler?”

Lolling your head back in the most exaggerated form of exasperation, you groan. “God. The way you talk about Harrington, I’m willing to put money on the fact that you have a crush on him.”

Eddie shrugs, hand resting on his sternum. You had your hand there once, you recall.

“I got prescribed one on the first day of freshman year, just like everybody else. But it wore off.”

“Sure about that?” Your eyes narrow.

“Sure as I am that I saw you makin’ googly eyes at him at the Family Video tonight.” Eddie crosses his own peepers for effect. Your attention darts back to the screen.

“I was not–”

“You can just say it, Lace.” His face is a twisty little smirk, if you’d care to look. “Regardless of how utterly pedestrian it might be.” That was a dig at you, by the way. That was an almost eerie impression of you.

“The things I felt in seventh grade don’t really have a lot of gravitational pull on me anymore,” you shrug, not giving. Because, when you think about it, you don’t have to give. It was a baseless kind of thrill, seeing Harrington tonight. One hit wonder. “He’s a cute boy. Reminded me I have a pulse. Nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie’s quiet for a few seconds, flicks his eyes up to watch the TV from upside down. Nick places an ice pack on a drunken Nora’s head.

Hmm… what hit me?

The last martini.

He smiles as you smile, and he wonders if you’re thinking of the same thing he’s thinking of.

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Funny you mention seventh grade…” Eddie trails off, tugging at the rug underneath him.

“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?” Your voice is distant again.

“Little bit of both.”

“Why?”

Well, he thought you might be fucking with him, but– “... God, you really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” He sees your brow pinch, he’s getting to ya.

“Not a fucking clue.” No give, no glory, eyes on the peeling ceiling.

“Remember what?” You’ve snapped your neck and are looking down at him now, thirsty for him to fucking spill it already.

“Total–” he blows a raspberry, “--blackout before freshman year, right?”

“Eddie.”

His name makes him sit up. Pavlovian, sure, and he’s trying to deny the fact that he’ll do just about anything you say when you call him Eddie in that slightly-tinged sour way and not Munson like you’re writing him off. He’s trying to deny that. He swears.

“Nancy Wheeler’s thirteenth birthday party.”

You two are shoulder to shoulder, him facing the couch, you facing the screen, his breath warming the bare skin of your off-the-shoulder top which is an insane thing to be wearing in the dead of fucking winter, but praise Jesus hallelujah you’re wearing it. Your expression is unimpressed.

“... yeah?”

“We played Seven Minutes in Heaven.” He lays that out a little too plain for your liking. Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven at a thirteen year old’s birthday party is like the non-denominational Hora for pseudo-white bread Christian teenagers, at least in Hawkins. Everybody does that shit. But hold on.

“... you were there?”

“Fucking obviously, dimwit, that’s the setup to the whole story.” He sighs in a puff, and he’s very close to you. Chin almost on your shoulder like that night at the Quarry. “Tommy Hagan ripped into me for like, fifteen full minutes because my spin of the bottle landed on you.”

Confusion is a disease and you’re terminal. “That was… not you.”

Insistence is a disease and Eddie’s fatal. “Yes. It so was.”

“That was John Hudson-Wasserman.”

“That was not–,” Eddie full on splutters, like slapstick splutters, reeling his head away from you, “you’re gonna get me confused with John Hudson-Wasserman? The guy who was like, pathologically obsessed with the Kennedy assassination? The guy who moved to Des Moines like, two weeks after that party?”

Then you’re spluttering back all of a sudden. Everything you two are doing is contagious. “His parents named him after John F., can you blame him? –actually, I can totally blame him, that was bizarre.”

“Lacy.” Well, the way he says that straightens your spine. “Use that pretty little brain to think for a second, huh? There’s one unmistakeable detail I bet I can get to jog your memory.”

But you’re already there. Activated. Like a sleeper cell.

“Your hair was all buzzed off. You had that bandage on your head.”

“I did. And you asked me what was under it, and I said–”

A hole. They cut out a part of my brain so I’d be– The Wheeler’s linen closet was tiny and you were breathing in lavender detergent from all angles.

The boy in front of you, scrawny and angry, had an aura around him like a firework. You knew it was dangerous, but you wanted to look closer.

–less of a freak? you finished. Such was the accusation du jour for this kid.

Less of a danger to society, he said, chest puffed. They let me keep it in a jar. Just in case shit gets really real and I need to shove it back in.

You don’t quite know what to do with that. Like. He is so weird, and his hair is unevenly shaved and he’s got little cuts and scratches and scabs all over him. Like he’s been running through brambles. He looks like a kid someone found in the wild.

Did you name it? you ask, finger drawing circles on a nearby towel. Your jar brain.

Eddie Junior, he told you, crossing his arms.

Aren’t you already Junior? Shouldn’t it be Junior Junior?

His jaw hardened. No. I’m Eddie.

You nudged forward on your toes to get a better look at the bandage– he was taller than you. It lumped out of his head, unmissable. Nothing to be done about it.

He seemed to cringe away from you.

Don’t try anything, skank.

You bounce back onto your heels.

I wasn’t, asshole. We don’t have to do anything– just… like… did it hurt?

He paused for a full ten seconds (you counted) and swallowed real hard. Eyes wide as hubcaps, and dark, and frightened. He craned his neck toward you a little.

Then the door swung open, Tina Burton standing there hand-in-hand with an irritated-looking Steve Harrington. Time’s up, losers!

Al hadn’t asked if it hurt, when he beat the crap out of him for doing something so stupid. Wayne hadn’t even asked if it hurt, when Eddie came back from the hospital like a dog with its tail between its legs.

You were the first, and you were the last, and it was before everything. Before you were even Lacy.

“What happened, anyway?” you ask. Soft. Like that last time.

Now, in retrospect, Eddie sees the error of his ways.

“I lit all my hair on fire with a butane torch.”

“You what?!”

“It’s not– entirely my fault! I think I saw someone with hair on fire in an X-Men comic and I thought, y’know, that’s an achievable look.” That’s a severe understatement. It was Johnny Storm from The Fantastic Four and Eddie believed that he could be like Johnny Storm only more badass and maybe with like a sick motorbike. What, you’re telling me you didn’t go through a pre-teen-to-mid-teen phase where you were secretly convinced you had superpowers? Smarten up.

“And how high–”

“Yeah, okay, I was also hitting a Reddi-Wip can like crazy.” The nitrous oxide did not help these delusions.

“Why the big bandage?”

“Eh, I got some, like, bitsy little burn. Total overreaction.”

“Do you have a scar?” Before he can answer, you’re parting his hair, right near the place you remember that bandage being. Eddie freezes, your frigid fingertips searching his scalp. You are… very close.

“Uh– no, I don’t.” He gulps, avoiding looking at you directly in your bright, curious little face. “Can I tell you something truly fucking dumb?”

“Wouldn’t be out-of-character for you, that’s for sure.”

Deep, deep breath. Fucking shit fucking goddammit fuck. Balls. “I regret it.”

“The hair thing? Yeah, you’d think–”

“No. Not kissing you.”

“Oh.” Your hands drop from his skull but don’t exactly leave his hair. Just kind of wound in there, hovering, the way you feel like you’re hovering now.

“You asked me if it hurt, and then I was gonna– but then, fucking Tina–” Eddie says, eyes dashing to you in these minute little glances. Away, back, away, back.

“Fuckin’ Tina,” you breathe.

“--and Harrington.”

“Ah.” You shut your eyes. He didn’t notice you were wearing green eyeshadow until right now. “The square root of the problem.”

“Huh?” Barely heard it. Too busy looking at the glitter on your eyelids. The way your eyeballs shift around underneath.

“You’re totally lemon sour bitter with Harrington because you think he made you blow your shot with me.” You open your eyes with a squint.

“That is so not–” Break a spell, why dontcha! But then, Eddie takes a bite. “Actually, if you pop-psychology that, there might be somethin’ there, but… I regret it because I didn’t just–”

You cut in. “Go for it.”

“Shoot.” He confirms.

“Power. Forward.” You emphasize, lips curling.

“Cheer. Leader.” Eddie says, gravel in his voice.

Do you know that your hand is still in his hair? Like, are you physically aware of it? (Answer: no.)

Nick. Nicky?

What.

You asleep?

Yes.

Good. I wanna talk to you.

Your head swivels back from the screen. He watched you look away, dart your tongue out onto your lip, look back at him.

“Eddie.” There’s fizz in your voice.

“Yes, Lacy.” He wonders what flavor.

“I think…” and you finally extract your hand to lay it in your lap. Withdrawing, willing to be shot down, but you’re you and you know that you won’t be. “We could make a case for making up for lost time.”

Eddie’s mouth has become very dry. ��... meaning that…”

“Eddie, I think that you should kiss me like a seventh grader– eighth grader? So weird, why did Wheeler have eight graders at her bir–”

“Lacy. Back on track, please,” which is another horrendously pin point perfect impression of you. And he needs to be sure that you just said what you just said and that isn’t the ghosts of Lipton landing talking.

“We should try it out. An honest-to-god, never-been-done-before Seven Minutes in Heaven kiss. I happen to think it’d fix something in you.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs.

“No, I’m serious!” And it is kind of fizzing out of you, and you might not be entirely just talking about him for this next part, “I think you’re holding onto a lot of pent up energy that may have just gotten even more pent since we became, y’know–”

“Zoo animals with parallel enclosures?” Eddie says with an arching eyebrow.

“Wow,” you swallow a breath. “That really sounded like me.”

“I’m afflicted with a Lacyism from time to time.”

“Is that like astigmatism? Because you should get that looked at.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist?”

“Eddie.” Your voice, coming from your face, which is all dappled in the unserene technicolor glow of the Eckers’ Christmas lights, highlighted by the blaze of the black and white on TV. You make it look like stained glass. He would walk into oncoming traffic– “You trust me, right?” He would go and play on the freeway if you asked him to.

Eddie, Christ, he’s got to gather himself. Like the sweat gathering on his palms, he thinks, great work ethic, I need some of that. He gets a bright idea, brighter than those twinkling lights. “I think I need full authenticity in order to make this experience worth it.”

“What?”

“We need to find a closet.”

It’s pretty much a hard no on whether or not the Eckers have a linen closet (you’re a long way from Maple Lane now, babe), so it’s agreed that you’ll give Granny Ecker’s wardrobe a shot. You follow Eddie in there with tentative steps, like you can almost feel her watching all the way from the Best Western in Indianapolis she’s no doubt staying in. Trespassing is bad, yadda yadda, but it’s also exciting.

It’s exciting, being in here with him.

He glances back at you, eyes a glimmer in the darkened bedroom. “After you,” and he flourishes a hand toward the open closet.

You two are so not seventh graders anymore– heads bang against hangers, you’re kind of melting into a lot of denim and fleece and you… you don’t have much breathing room. No lavender detergent, just the beer-and-old-weed-sweet smell of Eddie Munson pushed close to flush against your chest. The scent of that shampoo you both use caught somewhere in the middle.

Your breathing is so shallow, you feel like you might be having an asthma attack. You don’t have asthma.

“Tight,” he says, and knits his brows, “I mean–”

“Cozy,” you correct, unsure of where to put your hands.

“We’re not cozy people.”

“So let’s do this,” you attempt to smooth your face into something resembling nonchalance, “Kiss me like a seventh-or-eighth grader, Eddie Munson.”

He clears his throat, shaking his head. A smile keeps flicking and dying on his lips. Heart about to burst out of his chest because of how weird this is, because of how weird you are, because of how– how–

Eddie knits his fingers behind his back in an imitation of you, your girlish pose, and leans forward. About ninety percent, just in case you decide this was a stupid idea, or you don’t like the look of his face up close, or– or–

You close that perfect ten. Your lips feel like flower petals. Light. Baby-soft. Crushable.

It’s so chaste and it’s so innocent. It’s so the diametric opposite of the two of you, brash and harsh in your diverging, abstracting ways– waving only to meet in the middle. It’s pretty, like you are, and Thumper-from-Bambi-thumping-his-foot nervous like he gets around you.

You pull away a fraction, and Eddie swallows a sound. To save face, he is about to say something– I give it a six or that’s what I’ve been missing out on this whole time or you flap that mouth an awful lot for someone who doesn’t know how to use it, something equally goading. Something that would make this… normal.

Until you take his bottom lip between yours. And it’s wet there. And it’s warm. And your lips are so, so crushable–

Eddie’s fingers unweave and find your arms, find your waist. Slow, slow, he takes it slow because he could scare you and he doesn’t want to scare you. You’re curving into him, lips slicking against his, and then his tongue licking it’s way into your mouth which you just fucking open for him and it’s so good–

–and he tastes like salt and smoke and he holds you like he’s anchoring himself against you. Your hands wind on up, up, up his chest, catching on his t-shirt where his chest is (duh duh duh you fucking idiot), where his heart is thrumming under that smatter of a tattoo you got caught staring at that night in his trailer. It’s all you’ve got in you not to tug it up and off him, but Christ, no, because you need to keep kissing him. It’s so nice, it feels so nice, kissing him, when was the last time something felt as nice, that’s all you can think with sensation seeping through your body like a sugar rush. Hands move to either side of his neck and he makes a noise.

Your fingers, fishing hooks in his hair, pulling him closer and closer to you.

The heat. Of his body. Matched only by the heat gathering in the cherry pit that lives in your stomach.

And he needs, god, Eddie needs it fucking bad. It is a lot of things. It includes your tongue so far inside his mouth that you can taste the Tab on his uvula this time. It includes more of your tits pressed against him, so he can feel if your nipples have hardened under his touch. It includes this moment, just this moment, just kissing you as your body winds around him–

But then you pull back. Before he can whisper the little, “No…” that’s coming like a reflex, you cover his mouth with your hand. The mouth that’s all slick from kissing– you.

Jesus Christ. You had really done that. The stupid, idiot both of you.

“Guys?”

Eddie, dizzy and down-the-rabbit-hole tipsy Eddie, gets the impulse to lick your hand, to take your fingers in his mouth and just start sucking, but he doesn’t do it. Because he has now snapped to the fact that that’s Ronnie Ecker calling out for you.

The two of you, twisted around each other like snakes in her grandmother’s closet.

“Go,” you hiss– no, you breathe. He was just expecting you to hiss. But you’re breathy and unsure about the command you’re giving. Still, you jerk your head.

Well, Eddie’s pretty hard up about telling you this, but, “Can’t. Need a sec–” Like, can’t you feel that?

Eddie’s standing more than half to attention, pressing in between the both of you.

You let out a jagged breath that sounds like oh, fuck, and it’s not the kind of oh, fuck he was hoping to hear and his heartbeat stutters.

And then you’re gone.

Eddie stands there, hands held aloft around the ghost of you that was there, that was right there and kissing him. Like you meant it, like it wasn’t an experiment or a joke or a dare or anything other than what you wanted. You wanted him. You wanted him. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he breathes into his hands, dragging them down his face, his lips, the smell of you still lingering around him. “Oh… I am so fucked.”

Kentucky fried fucked.

You make your way back to the living room on trembly legs, reaching for every steadying surface, attempting to destroy the evidence of a swollen mouth and Munson-finger ruffled hair. You find Ronnie sitting upright on the couch. Nick and Nora have nearly solved the case. You don’t give yourself enough time to make a mask of your face that could easily lie to her.

“Munson had to pull trig,” you say, and it’s not steady enough for Ronnie to not call bullshit.

But she doesn’t. Not outright anyway.

“He okay?” she asks, nearly wary.

“I don’t know. Could be comin’ out of both ends, I don’t know,” you start scrambling around for your bag and your shoes and your coat and not your right mind because you left that back in the closet, somewhere between Eddie’s teeth and tongue. “Look, I hate to ditch on you, but my mom–”

“She’ll be on your ass,” Ronnie says, measured like a cup. “Sure. Go on. I’ll think about calling 911 if he chokes.”

Breathing out some piss-poor rendition of a thanks, you dip out of Ronnie’s and past his van and all the way back the lot towards home.

It’s freezing. You’re not. For once.

When Eddie finally reappears from the closet, Ronnie is sitting in the exact same position. Except this time she looks somewhat judgier– maybe because it’s easier to be judgier toward Eddie than it is toward you. Some kind of girl politico he doesn’t understand.

“You feel better?”

“Huh?” Eddie says. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Do you feel better. Lacy told me you had to barf.”

“I… I guess.” Eddie has already cashed in his once-in-a-lifetime lie convincingly to Ronnie Ecker voucher.

“She also told me you maybe shit yourself?”

Alright, well, that was unnecessary. “Alright, well, that was unnecessary.”

“I guess I was just hoping that…” she sighs, crossing her arms, “... that you weren’t puking and shitting yourself…” she sits back against the couch, “... when you were making out with her. In my… bathroom?”

He really does consider leaving out this detail. “Granny’s closet.”

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

“She’ll know. She’ll kill me.”

“Oh, she’ll kill ya,” Ronnie mutters, “And then I’ll go to work on ya.”

—

You two have got to stop fucking each other over like this.

Fucking each other over, conceptually, actually, is interesting. Because Eddie’s done a whole lot of fucking you over in his mind since that closet. Sliding your panties aside and fucking you with his tongue, polyester lace of your stockings creating static against his hair, sparks snapping off your inner thighs as you rub against his nose.

Following you back to your trailer and fucking you with his fingers against the cold, metal exterior, your nails digging into his neck and your voice stabbing his name into his eardrums.

Pulling you into his lap in the driver’s seat and tearing through the cotton of your underwear with sheer animalistic fervor, making you lean back against the steering wheel as he sucks your tightened nipples, cock safe and warm in the slick, deep wet of you.

Somethin’ like that. He didn’t sleep much this weekend.

Mind stuck on the one track, your lips smacking against his. Now in fabulous 3D!

In every single one of these fantasies, too, his idiot sap ass is whining your name fifty billion times more than you’re whining his– so much so that it breaks the fantasy barrier and he’s crying, “Fuck, Lacy-yy–,” into his limp pancake of a pillow, cum careening down a fist that should have nerve damage by now.

He is exhausted. And to make it worse, he hasn’t seen you.

He hasn’t even been avoiding you this time. So that’s all on you, you bitch.

“You bitch…” he mumbles, head resting against the cold brick of the newly-unisex senior bathroom, which has become a hellhole in no time. First period on a Monday is usually an okay time to get a bit of peace and fucking quiet, though, because everyone else is at least making an attempt at starting the week off on the right foot.

But not Eddie. Not worn out, prick-tired Eddie.

And not whoever is doing a horrible job of hyperventilating in the stall next to him.

“Excuse me?” a breathless voice says. He thinks he kinda recognizes it but–

Then, ew! Some gagging, some violent coughing, a little ugh, Jesus, please not again–

Eddie slides out of his stall and knocks on the next door– and it swings open with ease.

She’s crouched over the cistern–gross, fucking gross–and tears are streaming down her peachy cheeks, catching on her pointed chin.

“Christ, Wheeler. S’matter, you pregnant?”

Nancy Wheeler’s eyes flash in a flare of rage, a choked scoff spitting out of her. She’s about to fucking cuss Eddie out, it looks like, which he kind of wants to see, but then whatever straw that’s holding that together snaps and she lets out this wild sob of total incredulity.

Ohhh, as much as he would love to bolt out the door like it’s not his problem, Eddie realizes that this has now, somehow, somewhat become kind of his problem.

—

“I gotta talk to you.”

Ronnie Ecker appears like a lightning flash, knocking you clean out of your reverie of slowly crawling fingers and lips and teeth and guilt that had been plaguing you all weekend.

You had spent most of the last forty eight hours staring into the middle distance, ready to glue upright nails into your shoes and walk on them for penance. You fucking stupid slut. Kiss me like a seventh-eighth grader, Eddie Munson. You unbelievable fucking cowshit. See, because, okay, do you know what you’ve done?

You’ve taken the first real friendship you’ve possibly ever had in your life (save for Phoebe, God rest her soul that moved to Saskatoon) and completely entirely fucked it sideways, and sure, you’ve also spent a lot of the weekend thinking about other things getting fucked sideways, like you since you’re now cursed with the knowledge of the vague suggestion of the outline of Eddie Munson’s dick but moreso, foremostly and mainly you want to fucking take a swandive off the edge of Sattler’s Quarry.

Addendum– there’s too many quarries in this fucking county.

A ping-ponging of guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-slinking your way to first period the long way that’s only now broken by Ronnie Ecker coming down on you like an Acme anvil.

Meep meep.

She knows. Of course she knows.

“Ronnie,” you whisper, eyes following her as she lands herself into the aforementioned Munson’s seat behind you, “I can explain…”

“Don’t!” There is this vigor, this knife’s edge in Ronnie’s voice that is terrifying and kind of thrilling but mostly scary and having been in the presence of Granny Ecker even those few times, you knew she always had it in her.

You recoil. A little.

“If Eddie wants to be a fucking moron about you, please can we just let him, and not–” Ronnie’s mouth clamps closed like a Muppet’s might. Like she’s physically trying to calm herself down. “Look. I really like being your friend.”

Oh, Christ, your heart. “I r– I–”

“You’re dogshit with the emotional stuff, I get that, but I’ve been friends with that asshole so long that wearing my heart on my sleeve is like, second fucking nature so I’m not and I’m pissed off, frankly, that there’s a chance of him coming between, like… us.”

You and Ronnie. You, and your friend Ronnie. “Oh, it’s–”

“Because technically, by absolute technicality, I was your friend first, okay? We were lab partners first and I thought we had a vibe goin’ in Biology and I was the first person you wanted to talk to at the Hellfire table even if it was a thinly veiled ploy but you’re so good at ploys and you’re such a piece of work and you’re so funny and I wouldn’t know what Ponds cold cream actually does if it wasn’t for you. Fuck.”

“Granny’s a soap and water girl.” There’s a fluttering in your chest and a thickening in your throat. You swallow big, and you think you might actually start– “This doesn’t mean I’m gonna try fencing, Ron.”

“But it’s fucking cool, even if we do it with sticks.”

You take her in, baseball cap shoved over her coiled hair, darned-all-to-hell sweater sagging out under her overalls and you really feel like something is about to bust out of your chest. Your honest-to-god friend, Ronnie Ecker.

“Miss Ecker, last time I checked, that’s not your assigned seat.” God, Kaminsky’s such a relentless dickwad.

“I’m having a conversation,” Ronnie says, with the kind of as-yet-unheard volume from her that makes the rest of the class go ooooh!

Jesus fucking Christ, have you turned Ronnie Ecker into a bad girl?

“I don’t give a shit!” rumpled Kaminsky says, slapping that dusty chalkboard duster full of dust, “Have it in detention.”

“Hey! That’s–”

But if you can do one thing for Ronnie. “No can doozy, Mr K, Miss Ecker has a prior commitment.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, not you again,” he mumbles not-quite-under his breath. “And what is that? Lacy?”

Before you can even say the words peer tutoring, none other than Eddie Munson is barrelling through the door. He stops comically short at the top of the classroom, gesturing to Ronnie in his seat like what the fuck?

“Lacy!” he eventually says, and he’s breathless and flustered and just like you imagined him in–

“Munson, what in the name of the goddamn Father Almighty–”

“Weekly Streak–” and guy is just snapping his fingers, blinking wildly at you, “–thing!”

You stare on in a state of confusion until you spy Nancy Wheeler right in your eyeline, right through the open classroom door. Her little face streaked with tears, and god, she looks like shit, and she’s beckoning to you with a flutter and a fury.

“No, of course!” a little murmuring, uh, shit, and you hurry to the top of the classroom, slamming the homework that Kaminsky’s obviously going to ask for on his desk with a rattle.

“Kaminsk, my man, the future of print media is forever in your debt!” Eddie calls, ushering you out the door and into the echoey hallway.

“What is going on?”

Both Eddie and Nancy shuffle you down the hallway, avoiding the monitors (rat finks!), dipping under the east stairwell. A great stairwell. So much illicit shit has happened in this stairwell and you have an itemized list of it all, somewhere in your brain. The kind of person people tell things to.

Nancy’s just full tilt gulping like a fish out of water, and Eddie’s all, “Wait, shit, are you gonna barf again?” and you’re all, “Answers, please, tout suite!”

“I’m late.” Nancy’s voice doesn’t even tremble. She’s that scared.

“Fuck.”

“Very?”

“Extremely.”

“You’re sure?” you press, and suddenly you’re the kind of person that grabs Nancy Wheeler’s shoulders.

Her lip trembles. “I mean, I haven’t–”

“Well, we gotta. Right now.” And it occurs to you that Eddie is just standing there, a polite enough distance away that he’s involved but kind of not involved, but respecting the space that you two need. How does he know how to do that? How does he always know the right… “Eddie.”

He snaps to attention, mouth all serious and eyes all eager. You want to kiss him again, but this shit is not about you.

“We need a ride to the drugstore.”

The three of you pile into Eddie’s van, him insisting on doing the honors of opening the passenger door for you again, and Nancy quietly requesting that you share the passenger seat with her. You two are squished together, her spindly thighs overlapping yours. Denim versus dark suede. There is a very tense silence in place the entire van ride there, Nancy digging her nails into her palm and Eddie nervously thrumming against the steering wheel. The tape deck plays resumes mid-play– Metallica’s Ride the Lightning.

For your part, you experience a harsh zoom-out moment– Nancy, who you’ve learned is almost as strong-headed as you, just on a better moral track (lawful good versus chaotic neutral, you think Eddie once framed it), is stranded. She’s the eldest sibling to that little shitstain Michael and Holly, who’s a baby so to you has no discernible personality, and her mother is kind of an airhead and her father… you don’t know shit about, but it’s Hawkins, so dads. The responsibility of everything seems to fall on her all the time, and you can only be so resourceful as a teenage girl in a town like this. Especially when the other teenage girls seem to, at best, keep you at arm’s length, or at worst, ostracize you.

And Nancy had lost Barbara Holland. Who, when she mentions her, is talked about with such a glow that’s followed by such a wave of sadness that it nearly takes you under too.

She misses her so much. She misses her best friend so much.

Barb should be the one dealing with this. Not you. Which sounds like you’re shirking responsibility. But really, it’s because you don’t know if you fully deserve the privilege of helping Nancy.

Truth is, Nancy would probably be okay, handling this on her own. Sure, it’d be another inch of depth added to the chasm of loneliness building in that poor girl’s psyche, but she’d do it, because she’s Nancy and she handles things.

Just like you’re Lacy and you handle things.

But however Eddie Munson ended up as part of this situation… he brought her to you. Because he knew you’d know what to do. So she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Because Eddie doesn’t want people to do things alone.

You only really have that impulse if you know how terrible it feels.

And if you don’t see kindness as a weakness.

Which Nancy doesn’t. And Eddie doesn’t. And you… don’t want to, anymore.

You reach and peel Nancy’s fingernails from the grooves they’re digging into her flesh. You don’t even look at the half-moon marks they’ve made. You just glue her palm to your palm and web your fingers. And over the frizz of Nancy’s perm–the nice kind, salon kind, the kind that doesn’t stink of egg–you look at Eddie, just as he glances at you.

He smiles, small and unsure and wavering. You bite your lips between your teeth and try the same.

“Shit, I don’t think I can go in here.”

The van has skidded into an inconspicuous (but not entirely, because have you seen that fucking vehicle) place near the drugstore.

“Why?”

“People– the pharmacist knows my mom and everything,” Nancy shudders, “There’s no way that people won’t have something to– fucking say.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and you give him a look like, welcome to the Nancy Wheeler Actually Swears Club. Care for a canape?

And y’know, you could argue so what. So what if people have something to say. You’re young, mistakes happen, the world keeps turning. But one skip in a perfect twelve-inch record of reputation like Nancy’s can make her life a living hell. You know that.

Shit, she knows that– you weren’t not aware of that stroke of creative genius vandalism that went up on the Hawk marquee that one time.

And it would shatter Nancy’s mom’s heart. And while you don’t have the same time of day for her, Nancy really loves her mom.

Once you’ve ruined your reputation, you can live quite freely.

That moveable feast motherfucker was onto something.

Click, and Eddie’s glovebox pops open in a clatter of tapes and a one-hitter and other ephemera. You reach in, retrieving sunglasses you’d left in here a little bit ago.

“So let’s give ‘em something to talk about,” you say, sliding on the shades.

Nancy clutches your arm, eyes wide and searching. “Lacy.”

You shrug, like it’s nothing. Except nerves have started nibbling at you. “Spot me a ten. What am I, a goddamn Rockefeller?”

“Not anymore,” Eddie Munson grins at you. Sun breaking through the bleak midwinter. The nerves cease their nibbling.

—

The tension doesn’t exactly ease when you make a beeline for the drugstore (particularly because you’ve just accepted a goddamn miniature hero’s quest and he’s a little… well, he’s not not watching your ass as you walk away, let’s put it that way).

Eddie and Nancy Wheeler are still absolutely enormous universes apart. Not even the same species. He doesn’t mind keeping it that way. This right here is just, like… the right thing to do.

He moves to turn the radio down, figuring that the thrum of Fade to Black might be a little much for her right now. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for–”

“No, it’s okay.” Wheeler smiles that flat, priss smile reserved for the barest of polite gestures.

Eddie nods, propping his elbow against the window, cupping his face in his hand. He keeps kind of sneaking sidelong glances toward Wheeler, because– well, had you told her anything? About… Seven Minutes in Heaven? Does she even remember that, from her birthday party all that time ago? He knew that you two weren’t exactly tight, but were well on your way to getting tight, but not as tight as you are with Ronnie and certainly not as tight as you are–or were–with him and Jesus Christ almighty, he’s got to find a synonym for the word tight.

“You… play Dungeons and Dragons, right?” Wheeler asks all of a sudden.

Eddie glances down– he is in fact wearing his Hellfire shirt. She’s a sharp one, that Nancy.

“I dabble,” he says, a derisive little chuckle that’s not all-the-way mean spirited.

Wheeler bobs her head. “My brother, Mike,” she says, and he sees now that it’s an effort to keep her nerves steady, “he loves it. Like, he’s totally obsessed. Him, and his friends, they’ve got their own little party going. Majorly long campaigns, very involved.”

“Campaigns, parties. Using terminology like that, I’d say you’re something of a dabbler, Wheeler.”

Nancy chuckles. “I– may have dressed up as an elf for one. Or two. When I was way, way younger, though.”

“Well, your brother– Mike?” Eddie checks and Nancy nods, “Once he gets to high school, why dontcha tell him to look up Hellfire. Could be the best-worst decision he’ll make for the next four years of his life.”

“Right, because you’ll be passing the torch,” she says, grinning.

“And possibly to a Wheeler. Oh my stars and garters,” Eddie gasps, clutching his chest in mock-shock.

Wheeler laughs and, okay, maybe she’s not so bad.

“Shoot, we have movement.” And out you come, holding the Advance pregnancy test over your head, gleaming and victorious– but Eddie and Nancy flap their hands, willing you to put that fucking thing away! We’re being subtle!

Climbing back in the van, you announce, “Alright, so the good news– no doctoral interference, obviously. The wonders of modern medicine, everybody give thanks to Johnson and Johnson, et cetera. The bad news– who knows of somewhere we can steal–” you glance back at the box, “--thirty glorious uninterrupted minutes of time?”

“Lacy, I can just–” Nancy starts, but you stop her short with a tap to the head.

“And have you sitting in class all day with your guts churning because you don’t know what’s up or down that spout? I think the fuck not. We’re doing this now.” This is out of the goodness of your heart, you swear it is.

But there might be a fraction, just a generous sliver, that still loves the drama.

Like Steve Harrington, it’s not an immediate shed of the ego. It’s a slough.

“Well, my place is a no-go,” Nancy tells you, shrugging into herself. “My mom will definitely be home.”

“Ditto,” and your mother is the only person you know that loves gossip more than you do. Besides Eddie, of course.

After a beat or two of wondering silence, Eddie raises a hand. “I may… have someplace… we can go.”

—

How many cherry bombs does it take to make a boy’s bathroom look like the bombing of Dresden?

“So fuuun fact, turned out that some nerd swiped a hunk of sodium from the Chemistry lab and just blew this mother to shit,” Eddie brightly informs you and Nancy as the two of you pour over the instructions for the pregnancy test kit.

“While everyone was distracted by Heather Holloway’s implants, you mean?” you murmur, scanning over the small-sheet size booklet.

“Streets are saying she was an accomplice.”

Holy fuck, these instructions were involved. Nancy stands clutching the little rectangular tray that her pee is supposed to go in, nailing Eddie with a look beyond normal categorical nerves. “You’re sure no one’s gonna come in here?”

He shakes his head. There might as well be police tape all over the door of this bathroom, that’s how off limits it is. “It’s cold, it’s broken, it smells gross. Maybe some people are using this place to huff paint, but I can guarantee, Wheeler–” and he bends a little to meet her earnest eyes, “--I will bark like a fucking rabid dog to clear ‘em away if I need to.”

Nancy nods shortly. Jerk, jerk. She disappears into the least dilapidated stall with her pee rectangle.

“God, she is so scared,” Eddie murmurs to you, crossing his arms.

You’re still studying the instructions. This shit has droppers and test tubes and color changing strips, oh my. “Pissing shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

Wrong.

“Guys.”

“Yes?” “Yeah, Wheeler?”

“I’m a little, ahem–” Bladder shy. Perfect. Awesome. Not that you guys aren’t going to be shacked up here for thirty minutes anyway, but that’s only after Nancy Wheeler goes number one and you, like, mix up the pregnancy oracle potion.

Shit. “We’ve gotta do something to like, make her chill out–” Eddie half-mouths at you.

“Yeah, but she’s so high strung, that’s like–” a spark hits you. “Wait, have you got anything on you?”

“Fresh out. Waiting on a shipment from Lipton landing.”

You smack him, not even thinking, and he winces. “And all that shit you were smoking the other day, that was–” “That was market research, babe, and I told you that–”

Nancy clears her throat from inside the stall. “Please, don’t quit bickering on my account. I’m only trying to figure out whether or not I need to start rehearsing lullabies.”

Damn Nancy, Eddie mouths and you almost laugh. Wait.

“Nance, what’s your favorite song?”

“Huh?”

You shake your hands. “Like, the song you absolutely cannot go without hearing? The one that makes you feel, just–”

“Ticklish?” Eddie suggests, the paragon of knowledge, the pinnacle of your annoyance. You thump him again. “I need a safe word.”

“Um– uh…”

“C’mon, Wheeler, the song that makes you feel just… awesome and chill and on top of the fucking world, c’mon!” Eddie encourages, kicking detritus around the bathroom floor.

Nancy eventually, eventually mumbles something.

You pivoting around on your heel by the sink. “Louder, Wheeler, I wasn’t born with sonar.”

“It’s– it’s ‘Just What I Needed’.”

What? Eddie mouths to you, arms binding across his chest.

“What, like– The Cars, ‘Just What I Needed’?”

A pause from Nancy’s end. “... yeah.”

You know this song. You know that song, right, it’s like duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW… Shaking yourself out, you brace up like a boxer heading into the ring.

“Gimme a lead in, Nancy.” Holy fucking shit, you’re really doing this. Nancy hesitates, probably because she can’t believe any of you are really doing this.

A mumble… “I don’t mind you comin’ here…”

“--and wastin’ all my time!” you jump in, “”cause when you’re standin’ oh so near, I kinda lose my mind…”

Visions of a plush lilac bedroom, yours, and a mountain of clothes and makeup and drained wine cooler bottles on the floor. You, standing on your bed in your socks and shorts, vamping– Tina and Carol singing hairbrush backup, Nicole on air guitar and Cass smoking out the window. There were flashes of this, you know, when it wasn’t all boiling vitriol and subtle shivving and one-up-manship. When you and those girls that you wished you weren’t near but knew you needed actually felt like friends.

A memory like that makes you feel empty.

“It’s not the perfume that you wear,” oh my god, “It’s not the ribbons–in–your–hair,” is he really, “And I don’t mind you comin’ here– and wastin’ all my time!”

Why the fuck does Eddie Munson know this song?! Your jaw drops open, your eyes go wide and your feet stamp against the tile like a goddamn kid. Yes! Yes! Amazing! You’re both so fucking out of tune, like there is absolutely a reason he does not sing a single note in Corroded Coffin but by god alive, you’re giving it everything you got in that fucked up boy’s bathroom.

Eddie’s so much better at it than you are, pouring every bit of obnoxious showmanship into it that he possibly can– complete with pulling you in for a fully nonsensical dance number. You spin into him, crashing into his chest with a clumsiness you never thought possible, laughing so hysterically that you can barely get the words out. He’s holding the reins, and holding that falsetto so badly you think the mirrors will shatter.

Your skin is buzzing, your heart is hammering and Eddie is pressed against your back and you are both scream-singing to the door of Nancy’s cubicle– “I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed! I needed someone to feed– I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed I needed someone to–”

“Pee! Pee, you guys, I’m peeing!” Nancy’s voice, bright and high from actually laughing, rings from the busted toilet.

You and Eddie erupt into a triumphant yell, him shaking you like a rag doll against him. The laughter peels away and then it’s just kind of him, looking at you from over your shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around your waist. His lips, a little cracked. Breath a little labored. Lashes still so long. You nearly–

The door flings open and he jumps away from you first. Nancy heads toward the sink and you resume the position, helping her figure out the Chemistry play set that holds the answer to how the rest of her life pans out. Thirty whole minutes, they’ve got to wait.

Nancy notes the time on her watch.

She even suggests that you guys can go at one point, but Eddie reminds her that a) he’s keeping an eye out for paint huffers and b) “... y’know, maybe it’s not so great to…” “Do this on your own,” you finish for him. Nancy nods, silent and grateful and so fucking nervous.

At about the seventeen minute mark, when you and Eddie have smoked four cigarettes each and Nancy has tried a puff of one (“Nope,” she hacks, “still totally vile…”), Eddie tosses this stink bomb between you two. Nancy has excused herself to stand with her head against the cubicle door. Something about calming her nerves. Coming up with a plan. Something to tell Steve, no doubt.

So it’s just you and Eddie, you sitting on the edge of the sink and Eddie rhythmically kicking the wall.

“You ever wanna be a mom?”

“Jesus, what a time to land that one on me.” You almost make a joke like you haven’t even stuck it in me yet, but that’s in bad taste. And implies a yet.

Eddie smiles over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes. Stupid. Stupid eyelashes. “Grounds of relevance.”

You pinch your lips between your teeth. “... fine. But, I fully reserve the right to change my answer given the fact that we are eight-shitting-teen years old.”

He points to the cubicle and mutters, “Well, she’s seventeen.”

You, wide-eyed at his dumbassery, mouth I know!

“Okay. Sorry. Go.”

“Fuuuuuck no. No babies pour moi, merci, c’est bon, au revoir!”

Eddie turns to lean against the wall, propping one leg up. God, but he does lean great.

“Why?”

“Genetic fate.”

“Huh?”

A sigh flutters out of you, shoulders slumping forward. “A certain… how do you say, thread of assholery runs through my family, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

Eddie nods sagely and you kind of want to punch him for it. “Daddy issues. Right.”

“Uh!” A hand flies up in your defense. “Let who among us here without them cast the first stone.”

From the cubicle, Nancy calls, “Not me.”

Surrendering, Eddie grumbles, “Yeah, not me either.”

“Glad we agree.”

There’s another tick and tock of silence, and you get the distinct feeling of something being pried open in the atmosphere.

“... whatever happened with your dad, anyway?”

Ah. The million dollar question. Whatever happened with your dad, so-called upstanding member of the Hawkins community, poor little poor boy done rich, scaling his way up the ladder of property management in this delightful little Midwestern enclave?

“Not a big fan of the news, are we, Munson?”

He seems to grimace at you tugging on his surname. “Print’s too small.”

“Taking offense to that,” Nancy chimes.

“It was the big ‘E’,” you say, kind of not into bantering about it.

“‘E’... ‘E’... ‘E’...” Eddie kicks the wall on each utterance. Possibly forgetting that he could also be the big ‘E’, if he wanted. You wonder if, just in terms of size…

“Embezzlement, Eddie,” you cut that thought off cold.

His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting under his shaggy bangs. “Shooooot.”

“Score.”

“What all did he, like… embezzle?”

The raising of the hackles is not entirely intentional. “Y’know who’d be able to answer that question, Eddie?”

But he sees it. He calms it. In unison, you both shrug, “Al Munson.”

Boom! Cubicle door flies open again. You’re starting to think that Nancy might just love making an entrance. Lot of flourishing happening here. Not entirely unlike Eddie in that way.

“It’s time.”

Each and every one of you beeline to where the test is set up on one of the sinks. Nancy gingerly plucks the offending strip from the test tube and Eddie, a man with money on his mind, asks another million dollar question. “So how do you know…”

You grab the instruction leaflet that you’d been tearing corners off of, making it look nearly moth-bitten. “Wait, it’s white, right?”

“It’s white,” Nancy whispers.

“It’s not, like… off blue, or…”

“No, that is white,” she’s trembling. “Is white– is that good, or– I can’t remember.”

“Nancy Wheeler…” you breathe, peeking over the paper, “Congratulations. You are nobody’s mother!”

She emits a shriek like nothing you’ve ever heard and barrels straight into you, near knocking you off your feet with a strength you didn’t know this little waif was capable of possessing. Her arms wrap boa constrictor tight around you, her words bubbling over like a shook up can of pop. “Jesus Christ, I’m so relieved, I just– I–!”

“You’re relieved?!” Eddie yells, ringed hands tearing down his face, “I’m way too young to be an uncle! Fuck! Thank god!”

Nancy chokes out a laugh through her tears, tears of relief, thank god and– and you don’t know if it’s selfish and you don’t know if it’s possible but you hope… you hope that’s helped close the chasm. Just a little bit. That she didn’t have to do this all alone in a shithouse bathroom that smells like sulfur and piss.

Breaking away from you (damn, you wish you knew how to hug), Nancy straightens herself up. Not that she needs to. She’s a pretty crier, that bitch.

“Just one more thing, you guys.”

“Anything,” you say before you even know you’ve said it.

“This is… between us, okay?” her eyes dart from you to Eddie, and you both take a step closer to her. Ceremoniously, Nancy holds out her two pinkie fingers. You link. Eddie links. His finger looks comically large compared to hers– and yours, when he reaches and hooks it around your unsuspecting baby finger.

“No one can know. No one needs to know.” There’s that headstrong Wheeler reserve you’d been missing.

“Cross my heart,” you proclaim.

“Hope to d– well, I don’t hope to die, that’s a little dramatic–”

“Eddie!” you both bark, varying degrees of amusement. Yours is on the lower end. “Swear on something real,” you push.

He hesitates a moment, then gives Nancy a look. “Alright. Swear on Hellfire.”

“Swear on Hellfire,” Nancy grins all tight, and kisses her right hand, hooked into Eddie’s finger. “Lacy?”

“Swear on Hellfire…” You mumble, rolling your eyes and kissing your Nancy’d hand. You need to swallow, first, before you tug your hand that’s hooked into Eddie’s toward your mouth.

And he does the worst thing. He leans down to meet your gaze, suckering you right in as his lips pout. They’re hungry. You’ve met those lips. “Swea-aar,” he sing-songs.

“--on Hellfire, okay,” you scoff, half-laughing into the little kiss.

“Ha!” Eddie barks, so fucking loud that it jumps off the walls. “Trick! You just made a deal with the devil, ladies, so I hope you enjoy eternal damnation at the hands of yours truly!”

Dumb as he is, Eddie might be right. If the way you’re looking at him is anything to go by.

author's notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS MOTHERFUCKERS. WE GOT IT WE DID IT WE MADE THEM KISS WE MADE THEM REALIZE SOMETHINGS NOT ALL THE THINGS SURELY BUT IT'S. IT'S SOMETHING. IT'S A START! on to the fun bits, like the jokes in the christmas crackers - absolutely obsessed with the mental image of eddie munson's bangs grown too long and he looking like this - cherry bombs down the john is a reference to the classic prank but mostly to american graffiti my beloved. later in the chapter, eddie says that some kid just threw some sodium down there which is something i read about on this reddit thread when researching cherry bombs. domestic terrorism at hawkins high! - p.t. barnum is that mfer that the greatest showman is based on. horrible man! not a fan! - heather holloway's jayne mansfield titties got me thinking about the jayne mansfield-sophia loren photo which has its own wikipedia page??? anyway, lacy coded! - black christmas is a stunning christmas horror film from 1974, which is loosely in part based on a bunch of murders that happened in the westmount neighborhood in montreal, quebec. fun fact, i just moved back from mtl after living there for a year. anyway black christmas kicks ASS - lipton landing is 100% a juno reference. big up my king elliot page - the thin man is one in a series of fantastic lil films from the 1930s all about nick and nora charles, a married couple that get drunk and SOLVE CRIMES. i'm not doing it justice by describing it that way but myrna loy and william powell are the royals of married banter and i model everything i write after their rhythm, more or less. - you're trying to tell me eddie munson didn't do whippets as a kid fucking wise up - one of my personal precious favourite recurring jokes in this series is 'who died and made you my x' and baby. i love a recurring joke - ronnie saying "oh she'll kill ya. then i'll go to work on ya," is a special reference because a) it's from my favourite film of all time, ocean's eleven and b) ayo edebiri, who i've fancast as ronnie ecker, has an ocean's eleven tattoo. we are sisters and also wives! - meep meep! - all i could think about when writing about how guilty lacy was - another metallica needle drop!!!! - pregnancy tests in the 80s really were that insane and involved! there's a great scene in glow (rest in fucking PEACE! gone but never forgotten) of alison brie's character using one, and here's more of the history - maybe the best needle drop of this whole series imo - finally peeped into those daddy issues. look forward to more of that and with that my hellcats, i wish you the merriest of holiday seasons wherever you find yourself and whatever you're doing. i will be back after the christmas break because i have to fully wreck my bank account and see every single person i have ever known and drink every espresso martini on dry land. sorry if there's typos in this, i have been labouring over it for... ever. reblogs, comments, likes and asks are always appreciated and i love you so much it's bordering on criminal! thank you!!!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #published by powder

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berzahoes · 5 months

Text

i love you | johnny knoxville

summary: just some moments with johnny and the reader

an: yes i’m watching jackass 🫶🏼

PARTY BOY

johnny was busy taking a shower while you did your skin care routine. the jackass crew had made it to the uk and everyone was tired. you were more annoyed than tired, it seemed like every little thing annoyed you from waiting too long for the elevator to johnny’s snoring on the plane.

“did you call your mom? she wanted you to call when we land,” johnny said as he washed his body. he got no response so he slightly moved the curtain so he could look at you. “did you hear me?”

you hummed and continued washing your face. “yeah, call my mom although i’m pretty sure she won’t pick up since, you know, time zones.”

“are you going to be mad at me during the whole trip? i said sorry.”

you rolled your eyes and continued washing your face. while checking in, the receptionist of the hotel had said some flirty comments to johnny right in front of you and what did johnny do? he laughed it off then later when you were unpacking a little, he explained that he laughed because he was he didn’t know how to respond.

“come on, i know i was an asshole-” he saw the side eye you gave him. “i am an asshole, but this asshole loves you and you’re not getting rid you me that easily. you’re stuck with me, baby.”

“you’re still an asshole.” you mumble, grabbing a towel to dry your face.

then someone had knocked on the door, you still didn’t move from your spot, which johnny noticed. “you’re not getting the door, are you?”

“you’re so smart, philip.” you replied. through the mirror, you saw him sigh and carefully got out of the shower. you were being nice so you handed him a small towel.

“who is it?” johnny asked as he opened the door then saw that it was chris and tried to close the door.

“it’s party boy!” chris forced his way into the bathroom where he saw you in your sweat pants and bralette. “let’s party!” he danced around you then got into the shower with johnny, who couldn’t stop laughing.

“why did i open the door?” johnny laughed.

you joined their laughter as you saw the camera crew enter as well. “i’m not even tired anymore.” you watched as chris danced in the shower. after a while, you forgot you were even mad.

SILVER FOXVILLE

the filming of ‘jackass forever’ had to stop due to a virus so everyone had to stay home. you liked it since you could finally spend more time with johnny. you two did many things to get rid of your boredom like puzzles, bake, watch movies, sleep, swim in your pool and even more sleep.

during quarantine, johnny had decided to stop dyeing his hair. you didn’t think much of it since at some point everyone starts going gray, but once you saw johnny with his silver hair, you couldn’t keep your hands off of it.

when filming for the movie resumed, johnny was now sporting a full gray hair look and you loved it. in the mornings, you would run your hands through his hair, compliment him, play with it. he just looked even better.

when you and johnny arrived to the jackass forever set, all eyes were on him. jeff immediately let out the loudest laugh when he saw johnny.

“who are you and what have you done with knoxville?” jeff chuckled then he turned to you. “you’re dating an old man.“

“jeff, i can literally see your grays from here.”

GQ COUPLES QUIZ

“hi everyone! we are here to take the couple’s quiz.” you smiled. you and johnny were sat across from each other with flash cards in your hands with questions written on them. after many years of knowing, dating and marriage, you seemed pretty confident.

“okay, we actually did a game of rock, paper, scissors and johnny won so he goes first.” you explained.

“sorry sweetheart, you suck at that game, but i love you. okay, what is my middle name? we’re starting off easy.” johnny said.

without thinking, you immediately answer. “john. if i say your full name, do i get bonus points?”

“we can make up our own rules. i’ll give ‘em to you. but only because i love you.”

“love you too, philip john clapp.”

“next question, you watch snl right? have i ever hosted saturday night live?” johnny asked.

“no?” you weren’t sure if johnny was even allowed to be on snl, you were convinced all the jackass guys were banned.

“you’re breaking my heart, babe. you were there! system of a down performed and you watched them perform.” johnny scoffed.

“no, i remember system of a down but i don’t remember you hosting if i’m being honest. congratulations, i guess.” you laughed as johnny rolled his eyes.

“i really hope you get the next questions right. what was my number in the royal rumble match? again, you were there.”

“easy, number nine,” you confidently said. “nine is my lucky number.”

“really? mines sixty nine.”

#jackass #jackass x reader #jackass imagine #johnny knoxville fluff #johnny knoxville x reader #johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville #jackass fanfic #jackass fan fiction

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eddywoww · 6 months

Text

Okay but tempted to write a Christmas fic

Steve gets his first big job during college and unfortunately it’s a temporary gig. Robin gets him the rec and Steve deeply regrets it from the get go.

Because yeah, he has to wear stupid striped tights and a green tunic and a humiliating hat. He has to be one of Santa’s elves.

He doesn’t love it but it pays alright, even if it’s just seasonal. The kids are mostly okay (bar the ones who are not okay at all) and Santa himself is an alright guy. The only problem with being home and being in the Most Populated place on earth (ie the mall) is that Steve keeps seeing people he knows. And then he sees his ex.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. Except it totally isn’t and he’s just gotten off his shift, so as soon as she calls his name, he ducks right out of the way and goes flying past her. Nope, absolutely not. He’s not shooting the shit with a girl who stomped methodically on his entire heart like it was fun.

So what does he do? He runs into the nearest open store and hides. Like a coward. He darts right into the changing room and shuts the door and he doesn’t care if he causes a scene because what the fuck? Could she not see the literal panic in his eyes?

Steve tries to wait it out and starts to get anxious thinking someone will come knocking eventually. And they do.

“Uh, you can come out now,” A voice says just behind the door. A male voice. “I think the girl following you is gone. Which, hey. That’s the first time I’ve seen THAT happen. You good? You on the run? You need an alibi-“

Steve can’t take anymore yapping, his face burning already, so he throws the door open and nearly hits the dude on the other side. Who is like- he’s weird, that’s what. He’s lanky and kind of goth. Long hair, tattoos, black clothes. Maybe some eyeliner, Steve isn’t sure.

He’s hard to not look at.

And then he does the most ridiculous thing.

His surprised expression quickly morphs into something flirty. He lifts one hand and touches the doorframe like a jackass, eyes trailing over Steve. A move Steve has literally used on girls before. And then there’s Steve. Who is still in the dumb outfit, of course. It’s never felt more cumbersome than in this moment.

“I guess Santa brought my gift early.”

Steve blanks out so hard that the guy immediately starts apologizing. Which isn’t entirely necessary, just-

“I’m straight.”

And then the guy just looks at Steve. Gives him another once over and shrugs.

“You wanna get lunch with me tomorrow? In the food court?”

He has no reason to say yes. So explain why he actually does say yes. Explain why he does it and he has a good time with a hot topic employee (also a college student) named Eddie.

Cue Elf Steve’s Big Gay Adventure

#should I write this for Xmas #hmmmmmmmmm #we’ll see #blurbs

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fhrlclln · 2 years

Note

Omg so like what if reader is at a party and it's late at night but there are some guys there that are scaring her. Her dad isn't home to call to come pick her up and she can't drive since she's been drinking so she calls eddie instead. He does have a reputation in town and he looks mean so when he shows up everyone kinda moves out of his way and he goes to look for her. Once he gets her home and cleaned up for bed he starts scolding her for being so thoughtless (responsible eddie showing his age lol) but she starts to cry because he's never talked to her like that and he ends up feeling really bad and it's just them having like a little fluffy moment. Also I'm thinking this is like further down in their relationship where her parents know about them and stuff.

older!mechanic! eddie x fem! reader

I LOVE THIS IDEAAAA, thank you anons 🙌

and yes, eddie being his old matured ass, he is very protective of reader. i am kneeling rn. 🧎‍♀️

also, so sorry i took so long to respond !!

also here’s the imagine connected to this !! older!mechanic! eddie

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“pick up, pick up, pick up. pleaseeee.” you muttered to yourself nervously, the landline phone on your ear close, glancing back and forth from where you are in the kitchen, glancing to see the group of guys staring at you from the far corner of the living room. the sea of people dancing only the barrier as you quickly looked away. you cringed, glad you still had some sense even though you felt drunk as hell. a party had been going on the up street neighborhood, it was like all house parties, everyone is invited and everyone is free to join. college frat parties like so.

it was fun at first, but you are just itching to go home now after one dude had been too intent on asking you out a while ago. you already told him you had a boyfriend— which was entirely true, but the said creep didn’t back down after countless no’s and fuck off’s. but you managed to stray away, and now his group are watching you like hawks, ready to strike at your most vulnerable. which is why your drinking stop, you already felt tingly and dizzy and it was time to go home. the music was getting boring anyway.

you opted to call your dad but he wasn’t home, probably having a drink with his friends too. you couldn’t call your mom, knowing she’s asleep and could literally yell at you for being at a party and would make things worse for your headache. you decided it would be eddie, who’d you call. your parents trust him enough knowing the established relationship between you two. and to mention, your dad is so very fond of him. a win-win perhaps.

“hello, who is this?” your breath stilled as the ringing finally stopped as you heard his voice. not enough time to respond back, still a little dizzy as he cuts you off. “if this is that one jackass prankster who keeps barking, i’m fuck—“

“eddie. it’s m-me.” you meekly replied, feeling groggy as you hiccupped.

“sweetheart? what’s going on? where are you?” he immediately asked as you hummed sleepily. wanting for him to be here.

“can you come pick me up?” you hiccupped, “‘m at a party right now. i need you.” you glanced back to the group of guys staring at you. you let out a shaky sigh ass you could hear eddie shuffling in the other line. “there’s a bunch of creeps staring at me. please hurry up.”

“creeps? baby, are you alone?” eddie asked worriedly, hearing the music blare in the background of your voice.

“y-yeah. ‘m friends—“ you hiccuped, lying a bit knowing he’ll be mad that you’re alone. “my friends are somewhere h-here…i’m in the kitchen.” you gulped, feeling the nausea slowly start to sink in. you whined as you rest your head on the wall, holding the landline phone dearly on your ear.

“give me the address now. i’ll be there soon.” you muttered the address coherently, saying it two times wanting him to come to you quickly. the sound of a squeaky door opened loudly on the other line as eddie’s footsteps were heard. “you just stay there where you are, sweets. do not fucking go anywhere alone.”

“i will, eddie.” you whispered hearing him hang up as you lazily put the phone back on the receiver. you leaned on the counter, sobering up a bit as you tried your best not to fall down on your ass.

to say,

eddie was fuming, in utter complete rage. he swerved his van to a vacant spot in front the roaring house. getting out hurriedly as he slammed his van door shut. the party was still lively with a lot of people in it from outside to inside. music blasting from the inside, horny young adults kissing, drinking— he could remember the times he had been in parties back then making bucks from dealing, but that didn’t mattered now. he can smell the alcohol as he neared the door. he opened it, earning the attention of the people near the entrance.

“shit, that’s mr. munson—“ one of the boys muttered, staring at the leathered jacket man with a hint of fear in his face. eddie felt the whole room stare at him now, all partially intrigued and intimated seeing the tall mean-looking man step forward to the sea of people. a shiver ran down eddie’s spine, concealing his discomfort of the stares, it felt he was in highschool again— which sucked.

“move.” he grumbled to the dancing people blocking him towards the kitchen. they immediately part a way for him, seeing him already unpleased with the scent of sweat and alcohol in the air. god, he hated parties so much. all stood silent as he finally sets his eyes on you and to an incoming man inching towards your sunken form, as you desperately tried to hold yourself up the counter. he felt his heart surge knowing you mentioned some guys giving you the creeps, in which he immediately stomped to stop the said man eyeing you.

the creep furrowed his brows as eddie came into view before he could grab you. “hey, man. what the fuck—“

“fuck off.” eddie’s voice dropped as the creep backed down. a vein bulge on forehead as the creep scurried away, knowing hell who eddie is. oh, eddie knew he had a reputation in this town for looking intimidating. he still dressed the same like in highschool, just that the evident matureness on his face and more ink on his body caused him to be gossiped around how scary he looked.

which was not true. at least to you, as you felt arms wrap around your waist. you were about to protest until the familiar scent of oak cologne and cigarettes passed your nostrils. your heart thumped as you immediately looked up to see the man you’ve been waiting for as you drunkily smiled at him. your boyfriend. that looks pissed.

“eddie!” you hiccupped, jumping up to encircle your arms around his neck. his shag hair brushing against your cheek as you nuzzled closer to him. chest brushing against his.

“baby, let me get you home.” he mumbled, patting your back gently. you nodded, kissing his cheek as he kissed your forehead. not caring if anyone saw the you two. on the way out, people eventually parted a way for him and you, not questioning anything, it felt sort-of a win, knowing his intimidating presence made anyone flee. hurtful it felt sometimes, but at least the drunk you in his arms said otherwise. you were clingy, clingy for his touch and his affection. he gave it you before you’d sober up and the massive scolding he’ll have to do afterwards.

eventually he helped you up the stairs now in your house, up to your bedroom. your mother was asleep and you told him to be quiet, afraid you both would be getting a yelling from her. you got to plop down to on your bed, before you could feel yourself blacking out. every ounce of strength you had left diminished after such a exhausting night. you tried not to sleep, hearing eddie shuffle inside your room. you could hear him open your closet, shuffling through your clothes then back to somewhere else. you groggily let out a sigh, brain a little mushy but a little sobered up.

“sweetheart, sit up for me.” he tapped your thigh as you lazily complied. sitting up with a groan, back slumping forward as eddie held your face up. your eyes fluttered to see him holding a towel, he gently wiped the sweat on your face. his calloused hands gripping the side of your head as gently as ever, you rubbed your face against the palm of his hand, feeling a little fluttery how good he smelled up close. the comforting silence passed by as you started to feel the drowsiness again until he finally spoke.

“i thought you said you had friends over at that fucking frat party.”

“hm? i-i did, they’re—“

“don’t fucking lie to me, sweets.” he sighed, letting go of your face as he threw the towel on the bed. crossing his arms as he stands in front you with a clipped look on his face.

“i swear, eds, i was just having fun.” you mumbled embarrassingly, feeling his anger.

“fun? that was fun? getting almost cornered by those creepy shitheads was fun? do you have any idea how fucking worried i was, y/n?” you stilled, not used to hearing your name come from his mouth, let alone how angry his tone is. you stared at him in silence, his nostrils flared as the vein on his forehead bulged. you averted his gaze, feeling shameful. his eyes burned holes through you as he waited your answer.

“i’m sorry.” you quietly mumbled, feeling your eyes water. “i-i just wanted to drink ‘s all—”

“i fucking swear, in the middle of the fucking night. you’re hurting my head...” he grumbled, stepping away as he rounded to your closet, opening it as your lip trembled. he never talked to you like this, it was the first time you ever heard him so pissed off at you and you felt bad. your fingers fiddled with each other, disappointment filling your chest. you merely look down at your hands, tears dropping as you tried to hold-in a sob, feeling a little pathetic now that you were fucking crying just because of this.

eddie sighed to himself, picking out clothes in your closet so you can change in. he wasn’t necessarily mad-mad, just that it pained him to think about if a scenario like this could happen again. he wouldn’t restrict you from parties, hell, he was an active out-goer back then in his young 20’s. right now, he didn’t think of it as fun anymore sometimes. he works, he has a job, numerous responsibilities, he doesn’t remember half the thrill he had back then unlike you now. he guessed this came with his oldass.

he turns around, freezing on the spot when he sees your head titled down, little sobs coming from your mouth along with sniffles. you were trying so hard not to make it obvious but seeing as he saw you, the tears started flowing again. guilt filled his chest as he cursed to himself seeing that he had made you cry. shit.

“hey, hey, baby. why you crying, sweetheart?” he kneeled down to your level, grasping your hands to his. you looked up to his brown orbs, the tears blurring your vision. you sniffled, feeling like you made a fool out of yourself infront of your own boyfriend.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m used to to you…” you paused, gulping. “not seeing you angry at me. i-i’m sorry, eddie.” you sniffled, wiping away the wet tears as eddie softens his gaze. “just wanted to have fun this night. you were working and i didn’t have anyone else. i’m sorry.”

“i know, sweetheart.” he says heartedly, this week has been busy on him. he spent days in his shop, working for every customer. “but you know you gotta take care of yourself.”

he wipes the tears on your cheeks as you look at him, nose sniffling as you nodded, still feeling a little sleepy. eddie hummed seeing as you eyes sparkled as he gives you a small smile, indicating everything was alright. he leaned in, capturing your pouty lips to his, soft and slow as you eagerly reciprocated, missing his closeness. sitting up straight, letting out a small moan between as his tongue joined in, making the sweet kiss a little sloppy. all pent-up feelings being brought out. the stubble of his beard sent shivers down your spine when it tickled your chin. you pulled him closer, wanting everything for him to be on top of you right now. but he had the opposite idea as he pulled away making you whine lowly.

“not tonight.” he whispered hoarsely, cigarette scented lips too intoxicating for you to not stare at them as he chuckled. “you’re wasted and tired. i’ll give it to you in the morning, don’t worry.” he kissed your cheek with a promise as you nodded, pecking his lips, thankful he was here for you making your heart flutter. how did you bagged a man like him? you always wondered how lucky you are right now.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, sweets.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!?! anyways i’m back. 🙄

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #older!eddie #mechanic!eddie #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things imagine #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s quick ideas 💡 ｡･:*˚:✧｡#eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

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olivia091108 · 5 months

Text

how to be a jackass Introduction

Word count:1.k

Tonight I’m going out with my sister and her boyfriend because apparently ‘I need to get a a life’ which I think is kinda rude but the only reason she’s saying that is because her and her boyfriend are thinking of moving out together but I don’t know anyone around town and she doesn’t think I’m responsible. She’s right

“Are you kidding me we need to leave in a half hour and your still in your pyjama’s chop chop”she claps her hands in my face.

She can get quite stressed when it comes to me I wasn’t the easiest to grow up with I was a bit of a hothead we both have a few stories from tell of our fights which she still has a scar form that she never shuts up about

“Alright calm down I have loads of time” I push myself off the sofa and just as I walk past her I barge her against the wall and quickly scurry to the bathroom and lock the door before she gets crazy.

I walk into my room with a towel wrapped round my body and one in my hair and flick the tv on just to have some noise in the background it was an alright show jackass that I would watch when I get back late and nothing else is on except teleshoping. I don’t have anything against it but they need to step it up cos I know give me 10 or 20 bucks I’ll do anything they do.

I find an old shirt from when I was like 15 or something and picked up some jeans that were laying on the floor before slipping on some shoes.

“See I’m ready in what 5 minutes you need to take some Xanax I swear”

“Your hair is literally dripping” I flip my head back and forth no doubt getting it on her. And walk down to her boyfriend Oliver who was gonna drive us.

Once we get their it’s already kicking off and walk towards the bar but some grown men are standing there ignoring me while I ask them to move so I manage to budge my way through them and get a rum and coke.

I start to sweat being surrounded by 15 people who clearly know nothing about personal space. I see my sister and Oliver talking to some dude and my sister starts pointing me out and calling me over.

Y/n come here so you know that show you love jackas-

Love? No I don’t love it I don’t even like it that much but what does that have to do with anything?

“Y/n”she says my name like my mum used to when I would break something she jerked her head to the man just standing there and at first I’m confused but then I realise who he is Oh shit

you don’t like the show sweetheart?the leader of the show asks

“I mean It’s alright but you could do better.” He laughs a bit at my words “oh yeah what then?”

“Nah I didn’t mean to be rud- no I’m serious what do you think”

“Do more nasty shit or more extreme stuff and more painful stunts all in saying is anything you lot do I could do if I knew I was getting paid or just for a laugh”

Ill buy you a drunk if you make out with that man at the bar he points to a fat man who is drenached with sweat and is missing a tooth at the bottom

“Easy.”

I walk over to him and straight up grab his face and kiss him slipping my tongue and feel him grab a handful of my ass and a few seconds later pull away and walk back over to Johnny using the bottom of my shirt to try and wipe my tongue

“Ok your’e turn Pants that biker playing pool” Johnny looks at him and he looks like he will smash his face in. He walks over there and waits till he has his back to him and as hard as he can yanks his jeans down with his boxers coming as well exposing his bare crack Johnny turns round and ores tends to be in a conversation with some random lady.

The man pulls Johnny to face him and holds him by the colour getting redder and redder. His friends start crowding him and they look like they’re gonna jump him so I walk over and tell him.

“Sir they ran into the bathroom he didn’t do it.”

He lets go of Johnny and storms towards the bathroom with his friends following hot on his heals. I burst out laughing making my eyes water.

“I was about to get my ass kicked”Johnny said joining in on your’e laugh.

The night progressed like this having a couple drinks doing some dares. I didn’t even know that Olivier and my sister left. Some of his fiends joined in.

Running along the bar naked then getting pushed off -Chris

I poured salt in my eye

Ehren getting pool balls thrown at him.

And obviously Steve o lit himself on fire spreading it onto my hair

And so on by the end we were all drunk as fuck and had been kicked out.

I wake up with a throbbing head ache and open my eyes but getting blinded by the lights once they adjust I’m in the bath but I don’t recognise it. I get out and try and find out where I am I hear voices so I walk towards it and then it clicks.

We got kicked out and went back to Steve os apartment carrying on the night everything else’s is a bit hazy right now.

I see all of them in the living room chatting and I also see Steve o wearing my shirt that is 4 sizes too small and some boxers.

Hey Steve o can I have my shirt back I groggily ask making them look towards me probably forgetting I was here.

Yeah dude. He takes it off and throws it at me and I take off the one in wearing and give it to him.I turn around and change

“Dude that bruise is gnarly” I look down at my hip bone and see it decorated with a purple bruise from when I tried to break the door down.

“Y/n you weren’t bullshitting last night we’re you? Johnny asks

“What about?”

“Well we were thinking you were right we gotta be more exciting and you seemed pretty into it would you wanna join.”

“No offence babe but Johnny she was drunk as shit she won’t do any of it sobre”

“Try me.”

Time skip

“Im y/n y/l/n and this is electric mouse trap.”

I stick out my tongue and let Chris clip it on to my tongue and immediately feel the electricity. I Jump around in pain trying to keep it in as long as I can to prove to them I can do it. I Shake my head and rip It off my tongue and It feels numb. I try to speak but all that’s coming out is jibberish and everyone including myslef laugh.

“Welcome to jackass y/n”

Guys I’m baaaack

This will be a slower burn series of bam x reader and jackass girl don’t know how often I will post but I’ve planned at least 3 chapters and I’m so excited message me any headcannons you wnat in this

Ik bam wasn’t in this but just you wait

My requests are still open

-liv

#liv’s writing #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader #steve o x reader #steve o #bam margera #johnny knoxville #jackass imagine #jackass #chris pontius #dave england #danger ehren #ryan dunn #wee man #preston lacy

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harrywavycurly · 2 months

Note

Hey Sarah I’m in a mood and I was wondering if you could break my heart (pls put it back together tho) with any of the Eddies or Joes

Hiii lovey!! I will gladly break your heart and I’m gonna be totally honest I had a whole moment where I went “what if…I don’t put it back together?” but don’t worry I will…eventually(I really will fix it I promise) 🙈 but I did this in a conversation formate because that’s how it flowed the best in my mind so I hope you enjoy💖

-I had to create a whole new Eddie for this because I simply couldn’t bring myself to break any of my precious babies hearts😂

A/N: This has a cliff hanger and I’m sorry I feel like it’s necessary and you’ll see why, don’t hate me✨

“You know staring at it won’t make it magically disappear right?…you’re gonna have to open it eventually.” “Gee thanks Steve…what would I do without your words of wisdom?” “Listen jackass sitting here on your front porch staring at a cardboard box isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my Friday night okay?” “Then why’d you come over?” “Because…you called and sounded all…upset…and you’re like one of my bestfriends so…here I am.” “Thanks…” “So…what’d you do?” “I fucked up.” “I mean yeah…that’s a little obvious…I mean what did you actually do to make her send all your stuff back in a box marked…the asshole’s stuff?” “We got into an argument and she walked out and I didn’t go after her.” “Wait..what?..what do you mean you didn’t go after her?” “I mean exactly what I said Steve…I said some shit…she said some shit and then she left and I just…let her….” “What was this argument about?” “She got a wedding invitation from some girl we went to high school with and it made her all…happy and hopeful for our future and..she started talking about us getting married and I just…I’m not ready for all that shit man I’m only twenty three I can’t be someone’s husband.” “Okay so you just tell her you’re not ready yet…you don’t just throw in the fucking towel Eddie.” “You didn’t see her face when she was talking about our lives together Steve…she’s ready for that like right now and I don’t…I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” “What exactly did you say to her?” “I just told her…if she’s looking for someone to marry she’s looking in the wrong place…and…and she just..called me a selfish asshole and left.” “Well she wasn’t wrong…and that’s when you just let her drive away?” “I didn’t even move from the couch…I sat there the rest of the night because I just assumed she’d come back after she calmed down a bit.” “You’re such an idiot man…but just tell me…is it the idea of being with her forever that you don’t think you’re ready for? Or is just being her husband you can’t wrap your head around?” “I love her…more than anyone and I know she’s it for me but I’m not husband material Steve and that’s not…fare to her.” “Oh fuck off with that…she clearly thinks your husband material or she wouldn’t bring it up so don’t go trying to say you did this as a favor to her okay? You did this because you’re scared.” “I’m not scared.” “Yes you fucking are Eddie…you’re terrified that someone else loves you so much that they literally want to be legally bound to you…that’s some heavy shit man so I get it but that’s why you made her run away…it has nothing to do with this lame ass excuse of you not being husband material.” “I just..I don’t want to fuck it up..I’ve seen enough horrible marriages I don’t need to be apart of one too.” “Sorry to break it to you man but…you kinda already did.” “Yeah…I did didn’t I? She couldn’t even write my name on the box…” “Oh asshole isn’t your first name? I’m shocked.” “Fuck off…” “Sorry…but you wanna go through it now or…wait?” “I don’t need to go through it…I know what’s in it.” “Oh really? What?” “A few mix cds I made her… a teddy bear from a claw machine at the arcade…some letters…a photo of us at the lake one summer and hopefully a few Metallica shirts.” “Letters?” “Yeah? We used to write each other all the time…it was like our way of expressing how we felt sometimes when we couldn’t really…get the words out…why are you looking at me like that?” “Do you want her back?” “What?” “Answer the question man.” “Yes…yes I want her back…” “Just checking…because…I may have an idea…” “Okay…I’m listening…”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby #my little fluffy haired baby

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Note

headcanons about the monster trio being jealous? 😏

Monster Trio Being Jealous (SFW/NSFW)

Ft. Sanji, Zoro, Luffy

CW: Ace Spoilers in Luffy, Oral Sex, Semi-public sex, Fingering, Riding, Luffy is OOC again mb, Edging, Overtsimulation

Sanji

SFW

Very fucking annoying

He gets pouty, very clingy, and unnecessarily protective

He doesn’t like seeing men approach you. It’s already an issue when Zoro—-his damn crew mate—who is around you 24/7 but now when you guys go to an island he has to “protect” you from other men as well.

Let’s say you and him were out shopping and he went to look at some food at a vendor beside a boutique you were in. Okay, now let’s say you drop something and a man came to pick it up for you. Sanji sees this because this jackass has a 6th sense of knowing a man is near you and comes in to kick him

“Are you fucking kidding me Sanji..”

“HE WAS TOUCHING YOU!”

“HE WAS PICKING UP A SHIRT I DROPPED! PLUS LOOK AT HIM HE’S LIKE 17?!”

“SO?!”

“I’M IN MY 20s!”

Most of y’all arguments are based on his jealously which is usually the first and only time Sanji is very stubborn with you denying that he is jealous. So what you can do to fix the situation is just shun him for an hour he cracks and apologizes Everytime.

NSFW

You both are heading back to the Sunny from nearly being arrested after Sanji ends up fighting the guy that also happened to be a Marine. When Sanji grabbed your hand suddenly and hit the corner landing you both in a small alleyway.

“San—MMM!”

He began kissing and sucking all over your lips like a true man in need.

The thing about Sanji is he feeds off of knowing he is the only person that can make you feel good, but when he feel challenged

Or moreso jealous

His touches are more desperate , he whines so much in your mouth for reassurance, “Please please tell me im the only man for you.”

It’s almost like his questions are rhetoric because he keeps moving his tongue in your mouth.

“San—!”

Unless you stop him he will prove on his knees to you, by throwing your thigh over his shoulder and suckle on your clit

He nearly cries inside your pussy, licking and telling you how much you mean to him, pleading you don’t leave him, and that he wants to be the only man to make you happy.

“I can only eat this pussy, right? Nobody else..”

You better tell him the truth fast before he fucks you against that alleyway wall.

Luffy

(AU where Ace Lives)

Is not a very jealous person like Sanji or Zoro, but The first time you every experienced it with Luffy was a treat.

You finally met Luffy’s brother Ace and you both hit it off so well. When you seen him again back in Wano it was like you both couldn’t separate from each other.

You had a small past fling with Luffy’s brother and though you both agreed it didn’t mean anything it didn’t stop wither of you from gravitating to the other.

And Luffy noticed this, and it made him unintentionally grumpy. He was more distracted, quiet, and focused on your actions.

Your dumbass don’t notice this, he knew about his brother and your past, but he never really cared until now. Why were you laughing with him so much? Why are you hugging him for so long?

Luffy didnt understand but he had a sudden urge to literally be on your back like a Koala. You and Ace didn’t mind it, yall assumed it was Luffy being Luffy until you grabbed Ace’s hand and your boyfriend slapped it down.

“What’s wrong with you, lil bro?”

“Nothing. I wanna see Y/N real quick.”

Nsfw

“I-i—!?”

“Hm? Why are you suddenly so…touchy with my brother?”

Words wasn’t even able to be spoken correctly out your mouth. You’ve just came and Luffy’s fingers haven’t let up. His thighs spread yours apart in front of your own mirror, his eyes barely visible, but you knew they were dark

“Hey.” Luffy spats out against your ear giving your clit a firm slap, you hiss out of embarrassment seeing your arousal splash against the tip of his fingers. “Look at me, please.”

He kept repeating the question and with each “i dont know” answer was a faster rub against your clit, or an additional finger to scissor you.

It was so odd to see Luffy not as loud as he usually is during sex. He was more focused on making you cum again and again and again mumbling how much better he is at this then anybody else to make you feel good.

“….’fuckin’ mine.”

Was the most you’d hear mumbled and groaned into your sweaty hot neck as he fucked himself into you.

Luffy didn’t even care to acknowledge his jealous behavior after he was done with you. He left to bring back some food to eat beside you as you laid on the bed a cum filled mess after being overstimulated by his fingers, tongue, and dick.

You ask if him he acted the way he did he just smiles at you and shrugs, “I just wanted to show you some love!”

Zoro

SFW

His form of jealously is being a little pissy bitch.

Like Sanji, but he’s passive aggressive towards you.

He will be very in denial about being jealous so don’t even bring it up.

He doesn’t stop acting that way until he gets over it.

Whenever that may be.

He has some issues verbally expressing himself towards you and you knew it before yall started dating so you began to know how to read his body language as a way of communicating with him.

Today must have been an off day though.

All day, absolutely all day you spent your time in the kitchen with sanji, talking with sanji, complimenting sanji. Everything that ero cook was doing you made sure to acknowledge it.

And zoro noticed.

When you finally have some alone time with Zoro he doesn’t even talk to you, just hums and grumbles. You noticed something was wrong but didnt care to ask until he walks over towards you as you’re bent over in the Crows Nest

NSFW

“Does that—fuck—stupid cook fuck you like this too?!”

“N-no!”

It was almost embarrassing how you was pressed against the cold wall, his pace not letting up. It started off so sweet. Him being so needy , kissing you, mumbling incoherent words on your skin and clingy up until he bites your neck.

Zoro manhandles you a bit more, not too much to where you’ll be in actual pain, but he isn’t afraid to move your body around in any position he desires.

“P-please ! Wait! Keep going!”

He lets out an airy chuckle looking down at your lewd damped body on his workout bench, lazily flicking his index finger on your sensitive clit. He has been so mean pulling out to stroke his cock in front of you right before you cum.

He even came on you instead.

You beg and plead at his teasing and edging up until you finally put two and two together when he says,

“Keep going? Like how you kept going back to that stupid ass cook to hang out with all day? Want me to go get him. Show him how much you need some cock?”

You didnt even realize from the beginning he was doing all this out of jealousy. Once you begin to apologize, he starts to feel a liittlllee bad and lets you finally cum on his dick.

Rest assured though, once you wake up out of your boyfriend’s arm you’re ganna give him an earful on him being a jealous baby instead of coming to speak to you about how he actually felt.

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astronicht · 8 months

Text

whumptober day 1: “how many fingers am i holding up?”

(I wanna do some of these for as long as i’m feeling it as a kind of fic amnesty! get back into the swing of writing without pressure u know! it might be exactly two it might be literally just this one who knows!)

F1 rpf | max/daniel | figure skating AU | 1.5k, rated T

(mild cw for an injured kid)

The coach is a fucking joke. He’s across the lobby from Max, who is tying his sleek black skates and waiting for Christian to show up in about thirty minutes, clutching a coffee even though he’s woken up at 4AM for the last forty years.

The coach nervously leans close to a little girl sitting on the benches in her skates, her boots and blades wet with slush. She has a sleek high ponytail and still has her bum pad strapped on over her leggings to break falls and a closed-off look on her little face. The coach says, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Jackass. He’s obviously a competitive skater working as a coach part-time because he looks all of nineteen, but that doesn’t fucking matter. He’s the coach. He should know better. Max’s hands feel clumsy on his laces. He’s probably going to have to— Or the mum—

As Max is scanning the little crowd of parents at the tables, the door to the rink swings open with a blast of cool wet air and Daniel strides in. He’s got new boots on, Max realizes numbly. Daniel and the little girl are also wearing the same brand of leggings, hers in miniature. She is probably seven years old.

“Hey, you took a spill, huh?” Daniel says, because if he was on the ice he’d have seen it. He’s walking a little gingerly, slush sluicing off his blades onto the rubber floor; his feet are probably rubbed bloody inside the stupid new Jackson Ultimas.

Max gets up, walks over. Daniel sees him and seems surprised, or maybe Max is imagining it. Max does not say anything. He squats on his toepicks in front of the little girl, ignores the stupid fucking coach. Daniel says, “Oh, uh— Max is just gonna do a little concussion check, yeah?” Daniel doesn’t ignore the coach at all, smiles at him, says something, but he does somehow dismiss him a little. It’s easy to see, to Max, that Daniel was coached by Christian for a long time.

Max looks at the girl. She stares back, jaw tight. He tells her, “No counting, only follow my finger with your eyes. And now you talk to me, okay? Explain exactly what happened.”

The girl hesitantly starts to describe the double loop that led to the back of her skull smacking into the ice. Max moves his finger to her left, to her right. Her words are in the right order, not slurred, but her eyes judder a little following his hand.

“Daniel, give me your phone.” Max says, squinting at the girl and sticking his hand up. Daniel’s warm hip is right next to him, shifting as Daniel fidgets, his phone probably in his fleece because he never leaves it on the boards unless he’s on the ice. Daniel hesitates, maybe, but then his cold phone is being fumbled into Max’s waiting hand. His lock screen is some fucking beach, screen protector clouding up under Max’s warm fingertips. Daniel does not even like the beach that much. Max taps to make the flashlight come on from the lockscreen and tries to ignore Daniel relaxing beside him, like he didn’t want Max to be nosy about his stupid life.

Daniel does get three incoming texts while Max is watching the girl’s pupils react to the light, flinching down to a point the way they are supposed to. But maybe a little slow. Max frowns. It is all normal for skating, injuries and concussions alike, but it makes him feel a little sick, sometimes, when it’s the little ones. He doesn’t practice around kids that often anymore, but then again, if she’s here this seven-year-old is probably thinking about breaking into juniors, probably very serious.

The girl’s mum comes in through the other set of doors, the ones leading to the rest of the rink, the other sheets of ice that Max normally rents privately for a few hundred dollars an hour — a little cheaper in euros. Someone must have texted her; one of the other mums at the tables by the window to the rink, probably, not the coach who is almost hiding behind Daniel while Max takes care of his fucking student. Max should charge him.

Max straightens up and says to the mum, but looking out at the rink through the windows, “She has hit her head. I am of course not her coach so I cannot tell you what to do. She is not confused now but some of her reactions are a little slow.” He swallows. “So yes you could of course get her checked out at a clinic.”

The woman turns to the useless coach and starts asking questions. Max looks at the kid. “Okay, good job,” he says. “Take a break, try not to fall on your head like this.” Then he walks back to his seat. He looks down at his skates again. He can’t find his gloves.

A rustle and a shadow in the fluorescent lights: Daniel is coming to sit beside him on the cold plastic bench. Daniel sighs. It is early but he looks more tired than an early morning. He only got one Grand Prix invitation this year. The girl and her mum are gone, the doors swinging shut. Max swallows. It is normal, but also he hopes the mum takes the girl to the doctor today, just to see.

“Alright?” says Daniel, almost warily. “Doctor Maxy.”

Max rolls his eyes at him, says, “It is so annoying. Of course a head hit rattles you, so it is hard to tell when it is real.”

“Well, this time she’s definitely fucking concussed,” Daniel says, rubbing his face.

“Oh. Did you tell her mum?” Max asks, surprised. He watches his own hands clench on his knees. His gloves are in the side pocket of his skate bag like always, he realizes. He doesn’t reach for them yet.

Daniel blinks at him, eyes wide, shadows under them a delicate purple. “I… yeah, I told her what the kid said: that she'd blacked out when she hit her head for a second? Any time you black out, it’s a concussion, right? I don’t know if the mum like, knows that.” He squints at the doors. “Cunt of a useless coach though.”

“No it’s not always a concussion,” Max corrects. The girl did say that, he remembers, when he was making her talk so he could test how she spoke. “Blacking out for a second when you hit? Then I would've had dozens as a kid.” Daniel shifts beside him, laughs a nervous little laugh. His head is in his hands. “I have had enough already, my brain would be mush, Daniel. Anyway it is not even the real test, the finger and the eyes thing and the talking. It is just a DUI test. Geri did it to you once, I remember, at Cup of China 2017? I asked what it was because I of course had not seen it and she said she used to party pretty hard, run into problems with friends sometimes, and she thought it had to be about the same.”

Daniel rubs his face again. “Was I concussed?” he asks. “In 2017?”

“Yes, I think so. But it is hard to tell.”

“No, I remember, I skated in that competition.”

Max shrugs. “You won the gold, then I beat you at Skate America two weeks later.”

“Shit, yeah. I remember now. Yeah.” Daniel tips his head back. On the tvs above the rink doors, the receptionist is playing YouTube videos of last year’s Grand Prix series instead of the rink sponsorship reel. It looks like Italy, the senior pairs event. Max watches Sui Wenjing get thrown through the air in a near-perfect twist, land on one edge of one blade like a sharp and flying thing. He has always wondered what it feels like, to land something from six feet in the air. No matter how high he can get his quads, his triples, he of course skates singles.

Max can smell Daniel’s cologne, which he is wearing at 5:03 AM, his sweat, the stiff leather of his awful new boots. “Well, gotta get back out there,” Daniel says. “These babies won’t break themselves in.”

They both look at Daniel’s new boots, which are probably full of Daniel’s blood for no reason, because Max doesn’t think his old ones were really broken or that bad or whatever. His coach probably told him to switch. Max switches boots when he needs to, always knows when to judge it, always gives himself the full summer before the competition season to break them in and let them tear him up a bit.

“Okay,” Max rasps. “Say hi to Lando for me. Try to land your Salchow.”

Daniel stands with his hand on Max’s hair, ruffles it and shoves Max, making him laugh. The clenching thing in his chest releases a little.

“Don’t bump your noggin,” Daniel says quietly, rapping his hand on Max’s head, gentle.

“Too late,” Max jokes.

Max stays sitting there for a minute after Daniel gets back on the ice, trying to wait out the rush of adrenaline, his heart still slamming like it was him who fucked up a loop, like it was his pale mother at the swinging doors.

—

concept brought to u by me in @/garagegremlin’s texts like OKAY they’re like all singles skaters but max has the heart of a pairs girl

#f1 rpf #my fic #whumptober ‘23 #max/daniel #maxiel #suddenly remembering i don’t know tagging conventions round these parts #alas #maxiel figure au

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obetrolncocktails · 9 months

Text

Ignition | Danny Wagner X f!Reader X Jake Kiszka | Part 5

Have you read Part 4?

Warnings: Minors ABSOLUTELY DNI! (18+), SOAKED PANTIES/ UNDERWEAR ALERT, intense sexual tension, unprotected sex, oral f. receiving, teasing, foreplay, fingering, fluff, brief mentions of feelings of inadequacy, graphic descriptions of sex. (YOU AND DANNY FINALLY FAWK).

Word Count: 9,741K

A/N: This might be some of my favorite writing I've done in a while, ESPECIALLY the smut. I tried my best to make this smut seem as realistic as possible to how I think Danny would behave...take that as you will. 😈

Here’s a link to the song mentioned in the fic: Mr. Forgettable—David Kushner

Here’s a link to the Spotify Ignition Playlist: Ignition

“Kenn, I think we might…you know–” you told one of your close friends through facetime.

“Oh?” She asked, taking a sip of her iced latte through the camera. “This is Danny, right? Not Jake?”

“Definitely not Jake,” you insisted. “We haven’t really been talking lately.”

“Oh. What happened?” She asked disappointedly, having been left out of the loop since the last phone call.

“Well, I finally told him how I felt, and things didn’t really go well. He completely ghosted me for like two weeks until I confronted him at rehearsal, and even now things are really weird. I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to blow off the hurt that you most definitely still felt. “We haven’t talked,” you shrugged.

“Wait, so you told him you liked him, and he just disappeared?” She asked, slurping loudly through her straw.

“Yeah,” you said simply, plopping your head down into your covers before lifting it again.

“Maybe it freaked him out,” Kenn replied. “I don’t know. But that’s weird that he acted like that. Did he tell you if he had feelings or not?”

“He said he didn’t love me like that. He said he’d always be there for me and then literally disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“Damn,” she sighed. “I’m really sorry, Y/n,” She apologized gently. “I really wish I could be there with you. We’d have a sleepover and we’d do the whole ‘eat Ben & Jerry’s and cry’ thing.”

You shrugged, chuckling softly. “Honestly, I think I’m past all that. Danny and I are kind of a thing, now,” you explained. “I don’t know where it’s gonna go, and things are still new, but he’s such a good guy, and he makes me feel–I don’t know,” you blushed.

“Sexy? Like you’re floating?” She asked, grinning widely.

“All of the above. And more,” You answered. “Jake will come around eventually, and if he doesn’t, I’ll be sad, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Kenn asked. “You guys are so close, Y/n. I can’t imagine you and Jake just not being a package deal, you know?”

Her bringing up the obvious made you uncomfortable. She’d asked the questions you’d avoided for weeks. “I miss him, and I’m fucking angry. I never thought he’d act like this, even if he didn’t like me–and now, I just don’t get it.”

“He hasn’t tried to talk to you? Not at all?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I yelled at him at rehearsal last week though,” you explained. Kenn snorted.

“Oh my God. Hell hath no fury like Y/n when she’s pissed off,” She continued. “What did you say?”

“He kept giving me all of these excuses as to why he couldn’t or wouldn’t reach out to me first…that I should have been the first one to reach back out to him knowing I had already put myself out there and got rejected by him. Who does that to their best friend?”

Kenn shook her head. “A jackass. But like–remember when we were talking, and all the signs were adding up? I swore that he had feelings,” she explained with a confused expression. “Jake wasn’t hard for me to read at all. Every single thing that you told me sounded like he had feelings.” She took another sip of her beverage before shaking the empty cup of ice. “I had no doubt.”

“Ugh, why are boys so fucking difficult to figure out?!” You groaned, covering your face with your pillow. “Like why did God make me straight? This is sick!”

Kenn chuckled. “All men, I swear, have rocks in their heads.”

“You’re telling me!” You agreed, your attention moving elsewhere when you felt your phone vibrate as you began receiving a call. It was Danny.

“Speaking of men, I’ve got a good one calling.”

“I love you, bestie. Keep me updated on Danny. Let me know if I need to kick his ass, too, and I’ll make the trip ASAP.”

“I will, I promise.”

You hung up with her promptly before switching over the call.

“Hi,” you said with a smile.

“Hi gorgeous,” he said through the phone with a delightful tone. “What are you up to?” He asked.

“Nothing really, just got off the phone with Kenn.”

“That’s nice, did you guys have a good call?” You nodded, though he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, we only get to talk like once or twice a month, so it was nice to catch up.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Are you in bed yet?” He asked, hope laced into the question.

“Not even close,” you told him. “Why?”

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone,” he said flirtatiously.

“I’m sworn to secrecy. Signed by a notary,” you answered playfully.

“Wow, that’s really official. Truth be told, I have a craving.”

“A craving?” You asked, grinning.

“Yup. I figured I’d ask you if you had a craving too, and then, if you would like to possibly fix that craving, maybe perhaps we could carpool to a convenience store…” he said, obviously beating around the bush.

“Let me see,” you replied. “Oh yeah, you know, I could totally go for a Reese’s right now. I’m fresh out.”

“Oh man, that sucks! But, guess what? I just so happen to have a car!”

“Danny, you know I have a car, too, right?” You chuckled.

“I had no idea women could drive!” He joked.

“You deserve to be punched for that,” you told him, raising an eyebrow.

“Be careful, I like women who are hands on.”

“You’re a loser,” You answered, getting up from the bed, smoothing out your clothes.

“Your loser, I hope,” he suggested.

“My loser,” you agreed.

“I’ll be over in ten then, loser,” he replied quickly, hanging up before you could protest. Soon, you heard his car pull up, his engine purring loudly outside of your window.

“You were just looking for an excuse to see me, weren’t you?” You asked him as you stepped down your front stairs, being careful to not trip over them in the dark.

“No, of course not! I was just craving some sweet chili Doritos, but was scared to go to the store alone,” he answered, feigning innocence. “Figured I’d call up a buddy.”

“Is that what I am to you, Daniel Wagner?” You asked, ducking down to peer at him through his passenger window. You crossed your arms across your chest. “I’m your buddy?” You lifted your eyebrows skeptically with the question.

“I have a secret,” he said quietly, pulling his finger upward in a ‘come here’ gesture.

“What?” You asked.

“Get in and I'll tell you,” he said with a grin. You eyed him with suspicion, but opened the car door, sinking down into the seat beside him. As soon as you were settled inside, he lifted his hand to tilt your face, leaning his body over the center console to deliver a breathtaking kiss, his fingertips caressing your jaw and the curve of your neck just like before. This kiss was different though, because now, his touch was comfortable and confident. His fingertips knitted into your hair, and yours lifted upward to rest on his shoulder and chest, bunching his shirt in your hands as you deepened the kiss. Adjusting in your seat, you turned your body to him, moving as best you could in such a small space. “Why’d you have to kiss me like that in this tiny fucking car?” You asked breathlessly.

“Because I like the challenge,” Danny said, licking his lips as he sat back in his seat, his chest heaving. “Plus I’m a glutton for punishment. Oh and I lied about what I was craving,” he added, looking over at you, a glimmer in his eye.

“Oh?” You answered simply.

“Yeah. You just fixed it.” At that, your cheeks flamed embarrassingly pink, your skin heating up to the point of almost being feverish.

“Where did you learn to be so fucking smooth?” You chuckled. He grinned like he had just won something.

“I’ve got quick wit, Y/n,” he said cleverly. “Also I had to put a lot of practice into impressing you,” he said, flashing his white teeth in a broad smile.

“You’re such a dork ,” you grinned widely, still feeling the pressure of his lips against yours. Really, you wanted him to go even further, testing your boundaries.

“Stay over tonight,” you said, laying your head back against the headrest, turning to look at him. “Stay with me,” you told him again, relaxing your expression into one of seriousness. “Please,” you added, placing your opened palm on the center console, waiting for his answer.

“How’d you feel coming over to my place?” He asked you. “Since we’re still parked in your driveway,” he grinned, looking outside and then back at you. “No pressure, of course.”

“I think I’d like that,” You agreed. “Still up for snacks?” You asked him.

“Nah, not really. It was all a ploy to get you here with me,” he grinned.

“You know you could have just asked to hang out like a normal person.” You told him with an enthused expression.

“What would be the fun in that, though? I like to keep you on your toes.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the door handle. “Give me five minutes to grab some things,” you told him. The smile that you got in return from him filled you with eagerness and excitement. You practically skipped up the stairs inside your house to pack an overnight bag, a smile embedded in your expression the entire time.

***

It’s interesting how ceiling fans always become one of the most cliché details in sad, miserable stories, Jake thought, repetitively tossing one of Danny’s GVF golf balls in the air. He had spent most of the evening lying in place, still dressed in the clothes he wore earlier that day. As he lay, his mind wandered to the image of you and Danny kissing at your house. Once he let himself reimagine it, he’d inserted himself into your arms, imagining if it was him kissing you, him laughing with you, and him sharing his feelings with you. He’d fucked it all up so severely that it was too late to go back now. If he wanted you, he’d have to make a mess, and though Jake hadn’t been one to start drama, losing you wasn’t something he was willing to do.

“Are you gonna get up and actually do something?” Josh asked, stepping into the room, turning on the light.

“Ugh!” Jake groaned, rolling over in bed. “Why the fuck are you in my house?” He asked.

“Because you won’t answer my texts and calls, and quite frankly, it hurt my feelings,” Josh said mostly out of sarcasm. “What’s the problem?”

Jake looked over at his brother, considering if he had the energy to pour out his heart to Josh. Instead, he sighed and looked back up at the spinning fan and continued to toss the ball into the air.

“Come on,” Josh said. “I can only handle so much brooding before I begin to get jealous from you stealing the limelight.” Jake scoffed with a small grin.

“You’re an asshat,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Tell me what’s going on. I know who it’s about, at least,” Josh admitted.

“What do you mean?” Jake said, catching the ball one last time, turning to face his brother.

“Oh give me a break,” Josh said, coming to sit in the deep papasan chair in Jake’s room, leaning back in it and folding his legs underneath his body. “It’s Y/n. Everyone knows, Jake.”

“What exactly do they know?” Jake said, reaching his hand back with the ball, spurring Josh to open his hands in preparation to catch the ball. Carefully they tossed it back and forth as they spoke.

“That you’re an idiot,” Josh began. “Why did you tell her you didn’t have feelings for her? Like, what kind of bullshit was that?” He continued. “You and I both know you’ve been crazy about her since you met her.”

Jake caught the ball and sighed deeply before tossing it back. “I don’t know. I panicked in the moment,” he said. “Nothing ever ends well for me. She’s my best friend. Everyone says don’t fall in love with your best friend, and when she told me she had feelings for me, I just wanted to run away, I–” He shook his head, fumbling for the ball and missing it, watching as it hit the wall with a loud thwack.

“Shit,” He said, inspecting the wall for damage.

“Come in the kitchen for shots,” Josh suggested. “I’ll steal your casamigos,” he grinned. “Let’s talk.”

“I don’t feel like talking,” Jake argued.

“Well, that’s what you’ve been doing, Jackass. Now get off your ass and talk to me, or I’ll become your worst nightmare.”

“You’ve been that way since we were born,” Jake grinned slightly, rolling off of his bed.

“And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, either,” Josh finished. “Come on.”

***

“Got everything you need?” Danny asked as you placed your bag on the floor board. He reached his hand over to squeeze your thigh. You nodded with a gentle smile.

“I think so,” You said, buckling your seatbelt, and offering Danny a gentle smile.

“Still feel like coming over?” He asked you. “No pressure.”

“Danny, I promise. I want to,” you assured him, reaching over and kissing him on the lips. “I want to stay with you.”

“Okay,” he said in a low murmur, grinning softly. “Okay.”

The drive to his house was quiet, but content, his right hand clasped with yours as you rested it on your thigh. You looked out at the night lights as Danny’s music played softly through the car. Danny lived on the other side of town, but much closer to downtown than you’d remembered. Since the boys moved to Nashville, you hadn’t really spent time at his house. Usually, band meetings, rehearsals and get-togethers would take place at Jake’s or Josh’s depending on who was feeling like hosting at the time. Coming here to Danny’s felt like an exciting new adventure.

“You’re quiet over there,” he said after a while, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, I was just thinking,” You told him, squeezing his hand and offering him a small smile.

“Everything alright?” He asked, stealing quick glances at you.

“Yeah, It’s just–I can’t remember when I was at your house last. I don’t know if I’ve even been inside,” you said honestly.

“Well, I can guarantee you, it looks just like a house on the inside,” He winked at you. “I’ve got a couch, a fridge–ooh and even a bed, if that surprises you,” he winked, turning into his neighborhood.

“You better watch it,” You told him. “I’ll start holding it against you,” you grinned. “And you don’t want me to do that.”

“I don’t?” He grinned, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly would my punishment entail?” Danny asked.

“I’ll spank you,” you warned him, narrowing your eyes with determination.

“You’re gonna spank me?” He asked through a chuckle, pulling into his driveway.

“Don’t tempt me, Wagner. Your height, stature and masculinity means nothing to me.”

“Be careful what you say in tight spaces, sweetheart.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“Because you just might get more than you bargained for.”

“Is that a challenge?” You asked, reaching for the door handle.

“It’s a promise,” he said, stepping out of his car and coming around to you, swiftly reaching up underneath you, pulling you upward.

“Danny!” You practically squealed.

“Up you go!” He said playfully, letting you dangle over his shoulder. Figuring you needed to even the score, you reached back and slapped his ass as hard as you could as he marched up his driveway.

“Ow!” he yelped, stepping up to his porch.

“And eye for an eye!” You told him with a chuckle.

After the playful moment, he carefully swung you back down on your feet and reached for his keys in his pocket, unlocking the door, and opening it for you. “Come on in,” he said, letting you walk past him into the dimly lit foyer of the house. It was decorated with modern taste, with beautiful wood floors installed throughout the entire house. It was an open concept, breathing life into the space, with thoughtful decorations that were most definitely hand picked by Danny throughout the time of being in Nashville.

In the corner, you saw his golf bag, the clubs sticking out of it at different angles, like he had recently played.

“I should take you some time,” he grinned, following your gaze. “I’d love to see your form,” He said. “Think you could keep up?”

“No, I’d be absolutely awful at it,” you admitted, looking up at him. “But, you know what I would be really good at?”

“Mm, what’s that?” He asked.

“I’d be wonderful at sitting on the golf cart, giving you a big ol’ clap when you make a good shot, and then handing you a fresh beer every now and then.”

“That’s because you’re dependable, sweetheart,” He said, bending to kiss you on the top of your head. The flirtatious conversation had left you fighting a swarm of butterflies, the pet names making your heart practically swell in your chest.

“Are we gonna spend the entire evening doing this?” You asked, the corner of your mouth quirking up with playfulness.

“Doing what?” He asked, stepping into the kitchen and reaching into his refrigerator for a cold bottle of wine. You watched his arms muscles flex as he reached up into the cabinets to retrieve two wine glasses.

“Flirting with me constantly with no end in sight?” You asked, stepping toward him.

“Is it a crime to flirt with a beautiful woman?” He asked, pouring a glass of wine.

“It is when it drives me fucking crazy,” you said matter of factly, watching as he casually shook the curls from his head.

“Well in that case,” he said, setting down the full glass, pushing it back on the counter. “Let me make it worse,” he said as he took the last step forward, his hands finding their way to your hips. His face hovering just above yours, and his eyes floated over the curve of your lips, his nose resting perfectly alongside yours. “How about now?” He asked again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I think you should kiss me, Danny Wagner,” you told him. “Now.”

“I like it when you get annoyed with me. This is new,” he grinned. Leaning in slowly, he placed his lips on yours and delivered a delicate kiss, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more of him. You pressed yourself firmly against him, feeling him reciprocate with stronger urgency, his lips folding in time with yours as you inhaled his scent, knotting your fingers into his curls and tugging. He groaned softly into the kiss, his hands moving downward to grab at your ass as he turned around with you, walking you back against the counter. You felt his hot breath expel against your skin, his slick lips beginning to wander from your mouth, down to the hollow of your neck. He took your earlobe in between his teeth and pressed down, pulling away just enough to elicit a soft hiss from you. He chuckled sexily, his curls tickling your face as he leaned into the crook of your neck, touching his lips to what he thought was the perfect spot. You felt his teeth, then felt the vacuum from him sucking on your skin, leaving a hickey for the next day. “So everyone knows that you belong to someone. To me.” It was bliss to be wrapped up with Danny, and he ensured that you’d feel like the only woman he could see. You felt the small welt pulse

“Danny, take me to bed,” you whispered as he kissed you.

“Are you sure?” He asked, pulling away from you to look into your eyes.

“Let’s just lay together,” you decided to say, knowing you most definitely wanted more, but not sure if it was the right moment or not.

“Okay,” he said gently with a smile, reaching for your hand. You walked through the house as he led you to his bedroom, having completely forgotten about the wine. He would need no liquid courage tonight. He was already becoming drunk off of you.

***

“Show me your favorites,” Danny asked in bed with you cuddling him, your head resting on his chest. He’d been swiping through several of his Spotify playlists, playing snippets of several different songs, but never fully committing to playing the whole song through—you’d assume he’d tried to avoid the opportunity for awkwardness. It was amusing to you how he could be so effortlessly effervescent one moment, and then so reserved and bashful the next.

“Play me a full song that you love,” you redirected. “One that you know I won’t know,” you said, turning your head to look up at him. “I just wanna listen. Can be anything.” His fingertips paused.

“Alright,” he agreed softly, scrolling through his music before stopping at one song called ‘Mr. Forgettable,’ by David Kushner. You watched his thumb hover over the song, hesitating before swiping away.

“No wait,” you stopped him by touching his arm. “Play me that one.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said, his tone rising lightly with hesitation. You watched as he pressed play, sitting the phone on his belly and laying back. In the low light of his bedroom, you closed your eyes and listened.

I know that you're waiting for me like a dog But have some patience for the part of me that's lost There's been a hundred times When I don't recognize Any of you that love me I try to memorize and identify But it's all getting foggy My head is in the clouds right now Just pray I come around, around Hello, hello, are you lonely? I'm sorry, it's just the chemicals Hello, hello, do you know me? I'm called Mr. Forgettable Mr. Forgettable

You listened quietly as you rested on his chest, finding it just so that his heart thumped to the beat of the song. Every now and then, you’d feel a vibration against your ear as he hummed his favorite parts. It was a sad song with a cheerful beat, which you found quite ironic considering its content. Once it was over, you let the silence linger for a few moments before tilting your head to look up at him.

“Do you feel like that?” You asked him softly, your throat aching. His eyes drifted from the phone screen to your eyes, then your lips and then back up again. He swallowed once.

“Sometimes,” he answered honestly.

“You feel like you’re forgettable?” You pushed further, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“It’s okay, really,” he said with a gentle smile, though he wouldn’t look you in the eye. “I’ve felt like that most of my life,” he sighed.

“Danny…” you started, watching as his cheeks pinkened with embarrassment. “You’ll never be forgettable to me.” You placed your hand on his chest and his eyes softened as he looked down at you, his lips pulling into a flat line as his expression grew more serious. “Let me prove to you that you’re becoming everything to me,” You said, lifting your hand to his cheek, watching as his eyes lowered to your mouth. You moved closer to him, your bodies fitting together perfectly as he rolled into you, kissing you tentatively at first, as if testing your boundaries. “It’s okay,” you whispered into the space between you.

Danny moved to press himself against you, his weight adding a welcome sense of comfort as his hands moved around your body, his fingertips pressing into your skin. “More,” you huffed against his lips. “I trust you.”

“You do?” He asked, pausing for just a moment.

“I want more of you, Danny. Please.” His hands move reflexively for the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms over your head as he pulled it off of you, tossing it to the side. His hand snaked up your bare skin, his fingertips dipping under the cup of your bra as he kissed you. You felt his touch as he moved his hand around your body, his teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip as his tongue danced expertly with yours. Slowly, he released his nervous and patient apprehension, gladly appeasing your request. You reached your hand down where he had paused, pulling his hand upward to hold your breast, guiding him with your hand on top of his. His grip tightened around your breast, his thumb grazing your swelling nipple, a soft, breathy chuckle escaping from his nose as he moved over the bud again, igniting a layer of goosebumps all over your body. Softly, you moaned into his mouth, reaching your hands down to cup his clothed cock, finally realizing how well-endowed he was. You walked your fingertips upward and unzipped his pants, nimbly unfastening the button closure with two fingers, reaching just inside and immediately felt the heat emanating from him.

Slowly, you walked your fingers down his lower belly and smoothed them over his bulge. His length hardened beneath your touch, and you could feel him tense and then release. You felt his grip tighten around your breast in response as he moved to flip you so that you were on top of him. Rising from him, you moved your hair out of the way to one side and lowered yourself back down, kissing him deeply. Closing your eyes, you intentionally ground your hips against his firm cock, feeling your own muscles begin to contract and release as they silently begged for his attention.

“You’re such a tease,” he breathed through a sexy smirk, reaching up to unclasp your bra.

“I’ve said it before, Danny. I’m full of surprises,” you murmured under your breath, your tone heavy with desire. “I’m not always the innocent girl you think I am,” you told him.

“Then drag me to hell.” He let your bra slip off of your skin, falling onto his belly. He tossed it to the end of the bed before bringing his eyes up to your chest.

“Jesus,” he groaned again, and you smirked down at him, watching as his eyes widened for a moment before slipping into a lustful expression, his hands moving to squeeze them firmly in his hands, his thumbs moving instantly to rub over your nipples, biting at his bottom lip when they swelled to their full, aroused state.

“Like what you see?” You asked him, resting your hands on his sides.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/n. How could you not know how incredibly gorgeous you are?” He asked, moving his fingertips to smooth over your bare sides and belly.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you admitted. “I’ve wanted you for a while, Danny.”

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he added. “I have to admit,” he started, but paused.

“What?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

“I’ve imagined what it would be like to be with you,” he explained. You watched as his cheeks flushed.

“You have?” You asked him, beginning to grind your hips against him slowly as he spoke. You watched his expression shift slightly as you felt his cock press against your ass through his unzipped pants.

“So many times,” he admitted quietly, reaching his hands to your hips. He pulled you down further against himself, lifting his hips to grind against your ass.

“You’ve definitely been on my mind too,” you told him.

“Oh?” He asked.

“Mmhmm. Usually late at night when I can’t sleep,” you continued. “My thoughts wander…”

“And what do they come up with?” He asked, whispering his fingertips over your belly, making you shiver from his ghosting touch.

“Usually they’re thoughts of you,” you explained. “Naked.”

“And what exactly am I doing in these thoughts?” He asked, the corner of his mouth tilting with interest.

“You’re with me,” you answered, echoing his touch, walking your fingertips up his belly, taking note of the dark wisps of hair that adorned his chest. Not too much, not too little, just right. He was masculine, but sensitive and understanding, and that duality had the power to drive you absolutely insane.

“Why’s it so hard for you to say, Y/n?” Danny asked, bringing his hand down to meet yours, interlacing your fingers together. “What were we doing?” His confidence, though so understated and reserved before now settled into a presence that was simultaneously charming and incredibly sexy.

“We were—you know,” you responded sheepishly, looking up into his eyes.

“Fucking?” He asked quietly, his brown dilating with interest. You nodded yes, but the images in your mind were racing: you bouncing on his cock, your hair falling loose and wild over your breasts, your mouth dropped open in ecstasy as he railed into you. “You’re imagining it right now, aren’t you?” He asked, his lips drawing upward in a crooked line.

You didn’t answer him. The heat in your face and averted gaze told him everything you needed to know. He chuckled softly, “look at me,” he commanded, and you did, turning your gaze downward. “I would be lying if I said I haven’t imagined the same thing,” he admitted.

The space between you and him was thick with need and anticipation. “Danny…” you said after a moment. “Are we moving too fast?” You asked him.

“Do you think we are?” He turned the question around. “Listen,” he said gently. “ I’ve waited for you for over two years. I can wait as long as you need.” You smiled down at him, biting your bottom lip as you took notice of how sexy it felt to have a man so considerate and understanding as your own. Slowly, you moved off of his lap, laying down and cuddling against him, lying in the crook of his arm.

“I really, really like you Danny.

“And I really, really, really like you, Y/n,” he responded with a smirk, looking down at you as you tilted to look up at him.

You echoed his expression. “Kiss me,” you told him. With his free hand, he tilted your head upward by your chin and leaned slightly to place his supple lips on your own. He was so gentle and tender, taking his time as he kissed you. “Let’s slow things down a bit,” he said, smiling against your lips. “Hm?”

“Mmhmm,” you breathed against his kiss, lifting your hand to rest on his cheek, your fingertips dancing upon the curls that dance upon the curve of his ear. His tongue looped around yours, hot puffs of breath exchanging between your mouths. You kicked at the sheets and covers bunched around your legs, and wrapped one around Danny as you lay with him. In his arms, you felt infinitely beautiful, and more importantly, you felt important and valuable.

***

“Thank you,” you said after a long while.

“For what?” He chuckled softly.

“Just for being you. For being just…incredible,” you told him, feeling your pulse thumping through your chest. “For being my person.”

“You’re my person,” he said, taking your hand in his, kissing it. “And I have a question for you,” he continued.

“What is it?”

You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down for a moment before he finally spoke. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked, squeezing your hand softly.

You paused for a moment, a bright smirk growing on your face. “Do you think you can handle me full-time?” You asked him expectantly.

“Honey, I crave it,” he told you. “All of you. Every day. The silly things, the important things…the happiest things and the saddest ones too. So yes, I think I can handle you. Should I ask you the same question?”

“Danny, you’re probably the lowest-maintenance man I’ve ever dated,” you explained with a soft grin. “You’re just so– easy.” you landed on the word, and it felt right because it was true. “I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about what you’re thinking or feeling. So yes, Danny. I think I can definitely handle you. I want you–full time,” you smirked.

***

You’d both let the evening settle, resting on Danny’s chest until, when it became too hot, you’d turned in the other direction, fluffing Danny’s pillows and settling yourself back to sleep. You’d been restless, tossing and turning in bed. It wasn’t Danny’s fault; ever since you were young, you were plagued with being a hot sleeper, ending up kicking off the tangle of sheets and covers toward the end of the bed. Once you’d fallen asleep, images of Danny filled your mind, just like they had before, of him touching you and making love to you after you’d given your body to him completely. In your drowsiness, you’d grown increasingly annoyed with the layer of sweat that had begun to stick to your body, pasting the bottom sheet to your underside. As you rolled around, you uttered sleepy ‘sorries’ to Danny, who moved sleepily to touch you and kiss you before turning over again. You drifted between dreams for the next few hours until you’d roused yourself fully awake again, unable to coax yourself back to sleep. Rubbing at your burning eyes, you rolled out of bed as quietly as possible, trying your best to not bother Danny asleep beside you. He lay fast asleep as you watched him for a moment, tiptoeing around the bed as you moved toward the door.

The house was dark, save for a small lamp in the living room and the recessed LEDs underneath the cabinets in the kitchen. Opening the cabinets, you searched for the glasses, finding one and stepping toward the fridge, using the water dispenser to fill up the cup. You moved to ice next, hoping that it wouldn’t create much noise, but you were so wrong. Several pieces of ice tumbled out, hitting the sides of your glass and knocking out of the freezer tumbling to the floor.

“Shit,” you said to yourself, bending to pick up the ice cubes, kicking the few strays that you couldn’t reach under the freezer, smiling to yourself while imagining Danny’s grin if you had confessed that you were one of those people.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You jolted, almost dropping your glass of water when you heard his voice. Turning around, you saw Danny stepping into the kitchen, his eyes heavy-lidded, dressed in nothing but thin, black boxers. God-fucking-damn, you thought to yourself, feeling your core activate with need. You squeezed your thighs closer together, clearing your throat.

“Oh,” you began. “Yeah, sorry. I got really hot and couldn’t sleep.” Danny stepped closer to you, his bare chest and shoulders illuminated in the low light as he stopped to lean against the counter beside you, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “Truth be told, I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“You’re such a liar,” you said with a grin. “You were gone when I got up. Didn’t even move.”

“That’s because I was pretending,” he grinned.

“What do you mean?” you asked, looking at him skeptically.

“I was thinking about you,” he admitted.

You could have cursed him for having such a sultry gaze in the moment, coming up with something smart or clever to say in response, but this time he had entranced you, moving you to silence. He watched you for a long moment as you swallowed and set down your glass of water.

“You okay?” He asked you.

“I’m fine,” you answered him, deciding in the moment that you wanted him in every meaning of the word. You stepped closer to him. “Danny.”

“Y/n.” He answered, his hands uncrossing to fall at your sides, caressing your hips as you stepped into his space. “I think,” you began, mustering the courage and honesty to finally say “I want you to take me to bed–and I don’t mean to sleep.”

He paused for a moment, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” you answered, reaching down for his hands. “Please. I want to know every part of you,” you alluded. “Take me to bed, Danny.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said quietly, leaning forward to place one delicate, but tender kiss on your lips. Squatting slightly, his hands moved behind you, reaching behind your knees to hike you up easily, carrying you silently through the house and into his bedroom. With your arms around him, you felt safe and secure. The moment filled you with excitement and nervousness too, and you no longer felt the insecurities from earlier in the evening. As he moved with you through the threshold of the bedroom, Danny skillfully swung the door shut with his foot and stepped toward the end of the bed where the covers lay unkempt and tangled. Holding you securely with one hand, he pulled the sheets and comforter off of the bed, letting it fall to the floor. Gently, he leaned forward and laid you on your back, staying close for a moment. “If at any time,” he murmured gently, “you feel uncomfortable or you want to stop, you tell me, okay?” You watched as his gaze swept between your eyes, waiting for you to respond. “It’s just us, together. I want it to be perfect,” he explained, bringing his thumb upward to caress your cheek.

“Me too,” you nodded. “Danny please,” you continued. You appreciated how sweet he was, but the heat and stimulation in between your thighs was starting to become unbearable.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a flirtatious wink before lowering off of you, reaching underneath your oversized sleep shirt to pull at the waistband of your panties, rolling them down off of you. You watched as his head lowered, and his dark curls swept over your lower belly, tickling your skin. Gently, he placed a soft, velvety kiss on the lines from the waistband that had dug impressions into your skin. Glancing up at you through dark lashes with an eager grin, he rolled your underwear down further, exposing your last vestige of privacy–and yet, beneath his heavy gaze, you felt inexplicably radiant. He looked at you like exquisite, cherished art–like something to behold and to protect–or like how a well-learned sculptor gazes at a monolithe of marble, his mind chipping away the extra pieces to reveal the masterpiece beneath it all.

“I’ll never get tired of that,” you smiled down at him.

“Of what?” He asked.

“The way you look at me.”

He smiled gently, the apples of his cheeks rising. His arms moved to hook around your legs as he repositioned you, spreading them slightly so he could place more soft kisses on your tender, warm skin.

“Danny,” you half-whined, feeling restless as he continued to litter your skin with tender kisses.

“I will,” he answered, predicting your thoughts. “It may be three A.M., but I’m perfectly fine with taking my time with you.” With that, he shut you up and you laid back tossing your hair around you as you watched him take charge below.

“Just relax,” he told you, adjusting himself between your legs one last time before unhooking one of his hands from around you to part your folds. You should have been embarrassed by the mess you’d already made. You should have fought to keep your legs closed so that he didn’t see how wet you were, but you didn’t. You lifted your head slightly to watch him, his eyes brightening with lust as he saw your open pussy for the first time. “Oh my God,” he murmured almost inaudibly, sliding his thumb into your slick, applying soft pressure to your skin as he touched you for the first time. You felt yourself humming softly, perhaps to break the slight awkwardness you felt, but you stopped as soon as he moved to your clit, pressing the meat of his thumb over the rise, puffing a soft chuckle through his nose in response to your body’s reaction. His fingers had to have been dripping from how turned on he’d made you, yet he made no mention of it. He was silent and focused as his fingers rubbed into you.

“Still good?” He asked you quietly, and you nodded down at him.

“More,” you huffed through a whisper, and you watched with great anticipation as he answered your request by ducking his head down, introducing the wet warmth of his tongue as he tasted you for the first time. You felt the gentle puffs of his breath against your thighs, adding to the heat against your skin. And there he was, all over you at once, his tongue lapping at your folds with learner’s curiosity as he traveled the expanse of your pussy, the flat of his tongue dragging along your most sensitive areas just once before moving elsewhere. “Fuck,” you murmured softly, bringing your hands to your breasts, squeezing them through the thin cotton of your tshirt. In response, Danny pressed his face firmly against you, the curvature of his nose pressing into your skin, igniting even more pleasure. Moments later, he began to shake his head back and forth, creating a feeling of undulation against your swollen clit. “Fuck me–oh my god, Danny,” you groaned, reaching down to take a fistful of his hair, pulling him against you and then away when you became overstimulated. Coming up for air with a heavy gasp, you caught a glimpse of his face in the low light of the room, pinkened with exertion and friction. “Come here,” you commanded breathlessly.

He rose from in between your legs and laid down on top of you, dropping one of his hands back down to your pussy as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips and tongue laced with your own taste. The kiss was fiery and passionate, his lips pressing and pulling at your own as you moaned in response to the movement of his fingers. His face was slick, both with your slick and his perspiration. You could feel his hardness against your belly, your core thumping with anticipation for what was to come.

“Let’s get this thing off of you,” he grinned, pulling away to tug at the hem of your shirt, lifting his body long enough to slip it off over your head and toss it in the room. He returned to your naked body, his hands smoothing over your breasts and erect nipples. As if he couldn’t resist, he lowered his head, lolling his tongue in loose, wet circles around each swollen bud, suckling and pulling on them. You lifted your hands to his bare shoulders, running your fingertips over the expanse of his back. His skin was so soft, yet his muscles so incredibly strong.

“Please,” you groaned louder, lifting his face with your hands. “Danny please,” you looked into his deep, chocolate eyes.

“Please what?” He had the nerve to tease, his breath wisping against your face. “Please what, Y/n?” He asked, his tone looping sugar-sweet into your ears.

“Please–fuck me,” you finally begged, telling him the words he wanted to hear. “I need you inside of me, now. I need you–” he placed his pointer finger against your lips.

“You won’t ever have to beg me to fuck you,” he murmured, pulling stray pieces of hair from your face and setting them to the side. In the darkness of the room, his features were cast in a natural blue hue, the sharp lines of his face exaggerated in the contrasting, dark shadows of the evening. He began to move, placing more kisses on each breast, down your sternum and belly before moving off of you. “Do you want to take these off?” Danny asked quietly, standing from the bed. As you sat up, you saw how obvious his erection had become through the crotch of his boxers.

“Do I turn you on, Danny?” You asked him, looking up from below. He didn’t respond, only gazed down at you with an intensity that needed no further explanation. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, you rolled them down slowly, taking notice of his prominent happy trail, which led lower and lower as you revealed more of him. Exhilaration rippled over your body as his skin grew paler, another sign of private vanity that you were becoming introduced to. Slowly, you pulled his boxers down, revealing inch by inch his length, springing free. You let his underwear drop to the ground and let him step out of them, kicking them to the side. Taking his cock in your hand, you felt his incredible warmth as you began to stroke it slowly. He heaved a relieved sigh, blood rushing downward as he swelled to full erectness.

“I’ve imagined this for so long,” he murmured. “But this is so much better,” he chuckled softly. You grinned up at him and began to move faster, stroking up and down along the length of his cock, enjoying when he tilted his hips forward in response, silently asking for more. He didn’t indulge, though. “Let me take care of you,” he said quietly, taking his cock in his own hand, backing away from you. “Lay down, sweetheart.”

You moved toward the end of the bed, resuming a similar position as before, and waited for him to take over. You felt the mattress depress gently as he crawled onto the bed, his hands lifting to spread your legs once more. Reaching up over your head, he grabbed a pillow. “Lift up,” he said gently, and when you did, he slid a pillow under your head.

“You’re literally perfect,” you chuckled. He smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Far from it,” he admitted. “But I wanted this to be,” he finished. Somehow he always knew what to say that would send you further into arousal. He parted your legs again and walked on his knees as he positioned himself just in front of your heat. You looped one of your legs around him as he stroked himself firm once more before guiding his hips forward, pressing his pink tip against your pussy with his tumblr, sliding his length against your clit by rocking his hips slowly back and forth. His hardness felt incredible, stimulating your body to respond by lurching your hips upward in an effort to take more pleasure from him. He did this for a few more passes before pausing to collect your wetness on the tip of his cock. “Are you ready?” he asked in a quiet, sultry tone.

You nodded quickly, widening your legs. “Yes, Danny please.” Placing his right hand on the mattress at your side to ground himself, he used his dominant hand to guide himself into your entrance, pressing his hips forward to penetrate you for the first time. You gasped quietly, biting down on your bottom lip as your brows furrowed from the slight discomfort of adjusting to his girth. “Fuck,” he uttered, shaking the messy curls out of his face, pressing himself deeper inside of you. You squeezed your core muscles on him, beginning to enjoy the feeling of him filling you up and stretching you further.

“Come here,” you murmured, reaching for his arms to pull him down. His face had slackened, his features working through a variety of sensations. He moved lower, snaking his arms underneath you as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, rocking his hips back and forth as he slid deeper inside. His breath was heavy, expelling into your open mouth as you closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the pillow. Your hands reached for his shoulders, squeezing them before smoothing down his back. You pressed your fingertips into his skin, mimicking the rhythm he’d assumed before. Though the sensations felt wonderful, you needed him to go faster. “Faster,” you whispered. He looked down at you unblinking as he repositioned himself for a moment before quickening his pace, your breasts bouncing freely as your body popped off of his thighs. After a moment, he walked himself off of you and sat up, taking hold of your hips. With this angle, he’d have the leverage to give you exactly what you had asked for. Using your weight, he pulled your hips forward and popped himself forward, jutting his cock deep inside of you, causing a breathless moan to escape from your lips, your eyes rolling back involuntarily as your body ignited inside and out. “Oh my God,” you groaned deeply, taking hold of your breasts and squeezing them while he continued to buck himself into you, listening to the rhythmic clap of your thighs making contact over and over.

“Better than I could have ever,” he breathed, reaching up to wipe at his sweaty face, “ever imagined.” His smile was infectious, his gaze fully attentive and loving. You reached up to touch his face, your thumb caressing his cheek in the darkness. He tilted his head to kiss your palm, walking his hand down in between your thighs, fingering your clit. “Oh–shit!” you practically shouted, arching your back off of the bed, squeezing as tightly as you could on his cock. “Danny!”

His slammed himself into you in response to your moans, hot beads of sweat rolling down his face, nose and down his chest. “You’re perfect, Y/n,” he mewled, reaching forward to squeeze your breast. “Perfect tits, perfect ass, perfect fucking pussy,” he grunted, tweaking and pulling on your nipple as he slowed his thrust momentarily, backing himself almost all the way out of you before letting his weight send him back forward again, filling you up completely. “I feel you all around me, baby,” he said in a low, lustful tone. You responded by tensing around him once more, getting closer and closer to climax with each successive thrust.

“Danny, I’m getting close–” you told him, your voice rising higher and higher, heavy with exertion.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” he responded. “Come here,” he said, reaching for your hands. He pulled you upward and wrapped his arms around you so that you were now in his lap with your legs wrapped around him. “I want you to bounce,” he explained. “And I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he whispered into the curve of your ear. “Don’t be afraid to lose control. I’m here with you. We’re together, just like we should be.” His skin stuck to yours as you began to move. In any other circumstance you would have been miserable being this hot, but in this case, you welcomed it, wanting to be covered in Danny in any and every way imaginable. You wanted to be his in word and in action. As you worked on his cock, his hands moved to your ass, kneading and spreading it as he pulled you flush against his cock, his entire length buried deep inside of you. Disembodied moans and grunts escaped from your throat as your muscles trembled around him. You threw your hands around him, your fingertips combing through his dark ringlets, tugging at them, while your other hand moved along the expanse of his back, your fingers digging carelessly into his perfect skin.

He hissed in reaction, tilting his head downward to see if he could find the hickey he had left earlier in the evening. When he couldn’t find it in the darkness, he decided he didn’t care to leave only one. He sucked harshly into your skin, his teeth nipping and pulling as he fucked himself up into you, the room thickening with the entrancing odor of sex.

“Ah!” you yelped loudly, throwing your head upward. He took the narrow, well-timed moment to strike his cock into you as deep as he could. Before you could control yourself, a blast of white light fielded your vision, pulling you upright in a rigid stasis, your floor muscles tightening around him as firmly as you could. Your body quivered intensely as you seized for several silent, agonizing seconds. His arms pulled around you as he left himself anchored inside of you, his hips swinging slowly back and forth. His length pushed against the furthest boundary between ecstasy and agony, sending your hips whipping forward unconsciously. He was rock-hard inside of you, though you could hear him breathing erratically against you.

“Let go, Y/n. Let go completely,” he urged you, tilting your head to the side so he could kiss you. “I’m not afraid of messes,” he said casually. “We’ll handle it later in the shower,” he said, pressing his lips to yours. “So, let go.” You closed your eyes and relaxed, letting him slowly begin to fuck into you again. This time, he strokes were excruciatingly slow, unsheathing himself almost completely before sending himself forward. “Do it again. Cum with me,” he spoke after a few moments, his voice shifting into one of more urgency. “Let’s cum together.”

You nodded quickly. “Fuck me hard, Danny. Please.” Your whimpers filled the quiet room, and he obeyed immediately, lifting you up by your hips and slamming you back down on his cock as he used what little leverage he had to pop himself up into you.

“Squeeze,” he ordered, firmly slapping your ass. You moaned from the sharp pain, but sank further into ecstasy as you followed his command, tightening your core muscles around his length and resisted from letting go.

“Fuck!” he groaned. “That’s fucking perfect,” he grunted. “I’m so close,” he told you. You nodded and moved with him. But decided to change positions slightly, pushing on his chest.

“Lay back,” you told him, and he did, letting go of you. He laid back against the bed, and rested with his hands behind his head. Holding on to his sides, you moved to rest on your knees, undulating your hips against his, swiveling them and dragging yourself up and down against his length.

“Oh my fucking God,” he groaned, watching you as you worked on him, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation swelling in your core. You would have grinned down at him, but your body reserved all resources to focus on the frenzy that claimed your body.

“Danny,” you moaned his name, pressing down on his belly as you ground your hips against him.

“I know, baby,” he spoke. “Come here,” he said, reaching for your hands. You lay on top of him, prepared to continue your movement, but he gave one last direction. “Squat on my cock, and lay your head on my shoulder.”

“I’m not that flexible,” you told him in the moment.

“Just trust me,” he said, moving his hands to your sides, bending your legs. You moved to appease his request, situating yourself into a squat, and then laid your upper body back down, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew that your thighs would burn as a consequence, but he felt so good that it was all worth it. Before you could question further, Danny used the spring of the mattress and his strong hands on your hips to drive his cock into you as quickly as possible, gaining more depth with the open space between himself and your opening. “Take it,” he grunted. “Take all of it.” His voice was clipped, heavy with exhaustion, and you knew he was close. Your inner thighs quivered from the proximity of the incoming orgasm.

Your jaw fell slack, opening as you began to let yourself finally lose control again. Danny’s face was streaked with perspiration as he began to lapse in momentum. “I’m close–” he blurted after a few moments. “I’m gonna cum,” he said again, increasing his pace. You squeezed and squeezed harder, unsure if you were going to be able to reach orgasm again. In the last moment of insecurity, your body got you there, sending heat exploding through your body. “I’m gonna–” he repeated again and again like a vigil before finally, himself, letting go, moaning loudly and hissing through his teeth as the same agonizing pleasure ripped through his own body. You lowered yourself to him as your core exploded, and pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he pumped his hot seed into you, his hot breath looping around your ears and down your neck as you tensed around him for the last few times.

You lay there with him, your chests heaving simultaneously. He kissed you deeply, his tongue folding softly with yours as he held you, still mounted inside of you. After a moment, you lifted your head to look at him, and he did the same. You couldn’t help the grin that grew at the corners of your lips. A belly laugh escaped your mouth as you laid back down beside him.

“What?” He asked with a smirk, rolling on his side.

“That was fucking incredible,” you admitted. “I never realized that when people talked about witching hour, they meant this…” you grinned, plopping against the pillows.

“Witching hour doesn’t exist. Those moans everyone talks about? Those aren’t witches. They’re people fucking,” Danny grinned, his white teeth glowing in the darkness.

“Agh, shut up!” You laughed, reaching for a pillow and slamming it into him.

“I’m just telling the truth!” he teased, stealing the pillow.

Stepping off of the bed, he reached his hand downward silently toward you. You looked at it then back up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“Let me take care of you. Properly,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “You deserve to go to bed squeaky clean and comfy.”

You smiled, reaching to take his hand, except you pulled him back down to bed. “No,” you answered decisively. “I don’t want to wash you off,” you admitted, looking him in the eye. “I want to feel like this, to smell like you, to be full of you,” you told him. “So come to bed.”

You watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling before he finally answered. “Gladly.”

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