#cool shit even cooler people made

[kookygranger]

Top five, most memorable kisses of all time

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Corroded Coffin move to Chicago and find their people. Eddie finds you behind the counter at Championship Records. He thinks you're cool. You think he's gorgeous. Life outside of Hawkins might just be worth fighting for.

Warnings: swearing, kissing (obvs), fluff, fem!reader, mostly Eddie's POV, our boy has no rizz, alcohol consumption, I don't think anything else, too many high fidelity references?

Word count: 4k

Author's note: This is a one-shot, that has been sitting in my drafts since last Halloween and thanks to a wip game has finally seen the light of day! Find the playlist that inspired the fic below.

Masterlist

One pill makes you larger,

And one pill makes you small

The bell above the door jingles as Eddie steps through the threshold, his shoulders relaxing as the warmth seeps back into him and he scans the racks of records before him. Perking up as he notices the music playing over the speakers, he was still getting used to how much cooler things were in Chicago than back home – and shit, how much cooler people were.

Eddie clocks you sitting on top of the counter with one leg crossed under you, the other swinging down the side as you sticker a stack of vinyl. You mouth along with the music, not even noticing him slip through the aisles as he stops in a random section with a perfect view of you across the small store.

He’d only come in here to kill some time between soundcheck and the gig tonight at a venue down the street. The rest of the band had gone to find some food, but Eddie wanted to check out the record store they passed on the drive in. And boy, was he glad he did.

He mindlessly flicks through the records in front of him, trying to come up with a good conversation starter. It wasn’t that often that he missed Steve Harrington, but he could sure use one of the boy’s famous pep talks right about now. Fuck, what was it about pretty girls that got him so tongue-tied? Probably the pretty part.

But you weren’t just pretty, you were obviously very cool, and he certainly wasn’t used to girls sharing the same interests as him – but he’d met a lot of them since he’d moved to Chicago a couple of months ago.

Just as he’s thinking about what albums he could pick out to impress you, the bell above the door jingles again. A guy around his age walks in, his short hair spiked, nose and ears pierced and tattoos peeking out from a crisp white t-shirt. He walks with confidence to where you sit and makes you jump slightly as he greets you boisterously.

“Shit, you scared me.”

He snickers and starts rummaging through a crate of cassettes by the counter.

“Yeah, you look like you were in the zone. Did you even notice you had a customer?”

You turn your head in Eddie’s direction just as he ducks his down, continuing to flick through the disco section. Wait, shit where’s the metal?

“Shit.” You whisper under your breath and turn your attention back to the other guy, not quite lowering your voice enough so Eddie couldn’t eavesdrop. “No, but in my defence this song is a banger.”

Severin, Severin, speak so slightly

Severin, down on your bended knee

“What the fuck are you listening to anyway?”

“I made a pre-Halloween mix. Music that led to goth before goth was a thing.” You frown as you try to unstick a bright red sticker from the price gun you’d been tapping on the pile of vinyl.

Eddie smiles to himself as he continues to pretend he’s browsing and not tuning into your conversation.

“Are you coming to The Allied tonight? There’s some new band from Indiana or something playing. Apparently, they do a sick cover of Master of Puppets.”

Eddie pauses in his faux perusing for a second as he awaits your reply.

“I wasn’t really planning on it, no.”

The guy huffs, “No? What was your plan, going home to sulk to The Velvet Underground?”

“I don’t sulk–“

“You do when you listen to The Velvet Underground.”

“What do you want me to do? Pogo to Heroin? Anyway, I was gonna work on an article actually.”

“Why don’t you write about this band tonight? Tim says they’re pretty good. He saw them a couple of weeks ago at the Metro.”

“Tim said that about that god-awful noise band that played at De Salle’s. It was the worst four hours of my life. I thought my ears were actually going to bleed.”

“Whatever, you say that like you’re not currently playing the most depressing German synth music that nobody in their right mind would listen to.” He points his hand in the air, drawing your attention to the new song playing from the speakers behind you.

“First of all, this is David Bowie’s Low. And if you knew as much about music as you claim to, you’d know that this was his seminal work in his Berlin era and an ambient soundscape masterpiece. Secondly–“

“I like it.”

Both of your heads shoot up at Eddie’s interruption. He blushes and clears his throat as you catch his eye and the corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry, I just–it’s a good mixtape. I like the theme.” He frowns and shakes his head at himself, he doesn’t know what came over him. Who is this guy that’s bothering you, anyway? You have amazing taste and he’s now sure you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. You gesture in his direction and look back at the guy that’s teasing you.

“The customer is always right, Simon.”

Eddie moves quickly to the B section and finds the album you were talking about before heading over to you.

“Did you find everything you need?” You smile at him sweetly as you hop off the counter and take the record from him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before. Customer service isn’t exactly my strongest skill.”

The guy, Simon, snorts. Eddie can’t take his eyes off the way your face lights up quietly when you realise what album he picked.

“What are your strongest skills?” That was such a weird question Munson, what the hell?

You look up at him a little taken aback, before a small smile creeps up on you.

“Talking about music…or” you shake your head in contemplation, “writing about it actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Maybe it’s not so much a skill, more like an obsession.”

“She’s actually kind of good.” Simon butts in with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“Such a high compliment cuz.”

You were cousins. He still had a shot.

“You write for magazines?”

“Zines mostly,” you point to a stack of xeroxed pamphlets on the counter, “but I’ve published a few reviews with Spin and The Face.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “That’s pretty cool.”

You breathe out a laugh and take the cash he hands you, collecting his change. “Thanks.”

“Wait, you're Eddie, right?” He turns to Simon, almost forgetting he was there. “Your band’s playing at The Allied tonight? I met your drummer Gareth at a show last week.”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. We’re called Corroded Coffin.”

“Cool name.” You smirk and hand him his record wrapped in paper. Eddie tucks it under his arm, his dimples showing as he smiles back at you.

“Thanks.”

“You’re from Indiana then?” You call back to Simon’s earlier statement, as Eddie doesn’t make a move to immediately leave.

He rubs the back of his neck as he nods, “Yeah. Just moved here a couple of months ago with my band.”

“Welcome to Chicago, Eddie.” You smile and introduce yourself, “Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you…vinyl wise I mean.”

“Thanks,” he scratches the stubble on his jaw before stepping away from the counter. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight at the show?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but there’s a hint of hope in there.

You bite your lip and shrug, “Yeah, maybe you will.”

Eddie nods and takes his queue to leave, the bell jingling again as he steps back out into the cold.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” Simon mocks you in a breathy imitation and you roll your eyes. “So now that you know the singer is cute are you coming?”

“Obviously! You better get me on the door list, or I swear to god I’m telling Aunt Carol about the stash in your underwear drawer.”

***

“Hey, Carlos.” You greet your friend at the door of The Allied, who waves you in without payment. “That Darondo record came in, I put it aside for you.” You call back on your way in, hearing a muffled thanks as the music from inside hits your eardrums.

There’s a decent crowd tonight, and you have to push past a few people to reach the sticky top bar.

“Oh, she showed up! Surprise, surprise.” Simon makes his way over to you, ignoring the calls of indignance as he passes other customers. He slings a rag over his shoulder, which makes you bite your lip, attempting to hold in a laugh, remembering how he’d practised that move in the mirror when he turned twenty-one and landed the second most coveted job of your teenage selves.

You shrug nonchalantly, despite your cousin knowing the exact reason you’re here. “I ended up doing inventory ‘till late. Thought I may as well drop by before catching the L.”

Simon flicks your nose, your retaliating slap missing him as he moves to pour your drink. You thank him with a forced smile when he slides it across the bar, picking it up and turning to find a spot in the crowd.

“No tip?”

You call over your shoulder, “Yeah, take it easy on the cologne.” You smirk, not even having to turn around to know he’s probably sniffing his shirt.

You take your usual spot leaning against the wall, up the back and away from most of the crowd. Your rule was front row or back. None of that squished in the middle, view blocked by the tallest guy you’d ever seen crap. Either it was front and centre, immersed in the moment, or your own space with a view of it all.  

You’d never be up front for a band you didn’t know, and tonight was no exception, no matter how large the butterflies in your stomach at the prospect of seeing him again.

You don’t know what it was about Eddie, apart from the obvious fact that he was gorgeous. Maybe it was something in his presence. But when he walked up to the counter earlier with a record you’d just been talking about and a shy smile on his face – you were a goner.

The murmurs of the crowd quieten when the house lights are switched off, a yellow glow on the stage and above the bar now the only sources of light.

There are a few enthusiastic cheers when the band appear from a door behind the stage and a smattering of applause as they take their place. You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the feeling in your chest when Eddie steps up to the mic and adjusts his red Warlock guitar. He smiles and you duck your head, trying not to look too much like the girl who’s just fallen for a lead singer when he addresses the crowd.

“Evening. Hope you brought your earplugs, this one’s new.” The quiet, reservedness of his introduction and the boy you’d met earlier is undone with the first crashing of cymbals and thrash of power chords.

Stage Eddie isn’t what you were expecting, but still somehow makes total sense. He’s more comfortable, more himself up there as he thrashes back and forth, hair whipping wildly. And they’re good. Really good.

Maybe you’d write about them after all.

The band are almost through their set when he spots you. Your back straightens as his eyes lock onto yours. Normally you hate making eye contact with someone on stage, but you can’t seem to look away when his chocolate-brown gaze twinkles over the heads of the rest of the crowd. In between songs, he gives you a wave, and you nod, returning his small smile.

When they finish, you move back to the bar. Waiting for the lingering fans to clear over a rum and coke. You’re only on your second sip when you feel a burning hot presence behind you.

“You made it.”

You turn around, and Eddie leans an arm on the bar beside you, moving in closer as the growing line pushes him forward.

“I did.” You nod, taking another sip of your drink.

He clears his throat, pushing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“So, uh, what did you think?”

You smile, “I think you’re going to fit in very well here.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it is. You’re one of us now. Welcome to the dark side, Eddie.”

His eyebrows raise, the ghost of a smirk kicking up when you’re interrupted by your cousin.

“Man, that was sick! What can I get ya?”

Eddie thanks Simon, then looks back at you, “What are you having?” He holds up two fingers when you answer, signalling for another round, then starts playing with a beermat while you wait. Your eyes are trained to the glint of silver on his fingers.

“How are you liking Chicago so far?”

Eddie looks back at you and puffs his cheeks up as he exhales. “Honestly?... I didn’t know life could be this good.”

You feel a sharp tingling in your nose as your eyes well up a little for the boy standing in front of you, his cheeks dusted with pink as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Trust me, things are only gonna get better from here.”

“Yeah?” He beams at you then and you inhale deeply as you fight the urge to reach out and wrap your arms around him.

“Yeah.”

***

Eddie had seen you a few times since the gig at The Allied. Dropping into the record store when he could. In small crowds at gigs in the city. You’d greet him with a hug or a squeeze to the arm that never failed to get his heart rate going.

Today, he’d gotten off early from his temporary new gig at the auto shop and he found himself parked outside the record store.

It was overcast, but there was no bite to the air. A balmy wind tousling his hair as he ran across the street to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, avoiding the fat drops of rain that had begun to fall sporadically.

He spots you through the window when he makes his back to the store, bobbing your head along to whatever’s playing as you fill the racks. The now familiar bell jingles and he smiles when he recognises Joy Division over the speakers. He’d seen you in their shirt on more than one occasion.

He meets you as you're walking back to the counter.

“Oh, hey Eddie.” You smile and do a double take, taking in his greasy coveralls, and suddenly he’s wishing he’d gone home and showered. Even if it was an hour out of his way.

“Hey.” He places a coffee on the counter along with a white paper bag. “Thought you might like a mid-afternoon pick me up. I’ve uh, I’ve seen you with one of those cinnamon things before.”

Your eyes light up as you inspect the inside of the bag. “Oh my god, you’re my hero! Thank you, that’s so sweet.”

He shrugs, taking a step back from the counter, his own black coffee still clutched in his hands.

“So, this is the day job then huh?” You gesture to his outfit.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah for now. Until the music starts paying off. If the music starts paying off.”

You nod, taking a bite of your cinnamon scroll and he can’t help but smirk at the way your eyes quickly roll to the back of your head. “It will.”

His free hand goes to his pocket, face hidden slightly by his hair as he tucks into himself at your confident statement.

“Thanks.” He turns around to start perusing the aisles.

“Oh, we will be getting the new Metallica album on the day of release by the way. I’ll put a tape aside for you.”

“Thank you.” He offers you a smile over his shoulder, and you tip your coffee to him.

He takes his time flicking through the rows, a few customers coming and going as he does, although he knows exactly what he’s looking for. Once the store is quiet again, he walks back over to you, selection in hand.

“Lee Hazelwood?” You take the record from him with a look of surprise.

He nods, “Yeah, I liked that song on that pre-goth mixtape you gave me. It’s like the kind of thing my uncle would listen to but…”

“Sinister.”

“Yeah.”

You smile, “It’s cool isn’t it? You know he actually wrote These Boots Are Made For Walkin’. Helped save Nancy Sinatra’s career after the teeny-bopper thing didn’t work out. They made a couple of albums together actually, and you know the first time he retired from the music industry was because the success of The Beatles’ made him depressed.”

He leans his arms on the counter as you talk. “Wow, you really are a wealth of knowledge for this stuff huh?”

You shrug, “What else is there?”

“Apart from books.”

You nod, “Good movies.”

He smiles, “Pizza.”

“Dumplings.”

“DnD”

You frown, “That nerdy board game?”

“No, uh d–dumplings like you said, and uh– dough–doughnuts?”

You scrunch up your face, “Okay,” and giggle at Eddie’s strained smile.

“So uh, what–would you–“ Not screwing this up at all Munson. “Would you maybe wanna do that together sometime? The pizza and dumplings, or probably one or the other I guess, and a movie, good music–“ he blows out a puff of air, scrunching up his face.

“Are you asking if I wanna go see a movie?”

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically, “that and dinner. If you want.”

“I do like both those things.” You smile. “How about Thursday? I finish closing up at six.”

“Yeah. Cool. Thursday sounds good.” The guys and their weekly standing appointment for band practice would not agree.

***

Thursday rolls around faster than Eddie’s prepared for. Predictably, his bandmates all made fun of him for cancelling practice for you. But he just ignored the high-pitched ooohs and went to make sure his lucky Sabbath shirt was washed before he needed it.

He’s wearing it now as he paces outside the movie theatre, twisting his rings, oblivious to you sneaking up behind him until it’s too late.

“Boo!”

“Jesus Christ.” He jumps and twists around, your hands that had reached out to scare him still on his hips, his arms float in the air for a second before landing on your shoulders.

“You’re on edge,” you tease before your face sets a little more seriously. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, just uh, you wanna head in? It starts in like five minutes.”

You nod, your hands leaving his waist as his fall back to his sides. “What are we seeing anyway?” You look up at the black lettering above you, smiling just as Eddie reveals your viewing choice for the night.

“Thought we could see Young Frankenstein. Saw they were doing an old-school horror weekend here in the paper.”

“That sounds great.”

He lets out a breath of relief when you bump his shoulder affectionately, and you begin walking into the theatre side by side.

“Now the real important question Eddie Munson. What are your go-to movie snacks?”

His hand twitches when it accidentally brushes the back of yours.

“Well, popcorn obviously.”

“Obviously.” You nod.

“Sour Patch Kids and you gotta add a packet of Reese’s Pieces in there too.”

“Wait, in there as in–?”

“In the popcorn bucket. All of it. Like a good version of a trail mix.”

You grin, “Very interesting.”

“Just wait till you try it, sweetheart, you’ll never do it any other way.”

You laugh, “Okay, lead the way.”

He bows, gesturing his hand towards the confection stand. “After you m’lady.”

Your giggle, Eddie quickly finds out is his new favourite sound. When it appears again in the movie theatre, he can’t seem to keep his eyes on Gene Wilder, only watching you light up with laughter.

He can’t quite believe how well it’s all going. That is until you’re sharing a large pepperoni, on the bench outside the place you insisted served the best “pies” in all of Chicago, and your confusion stops his heart for a second.

He groans when he takes the first bite of cheesy dough.

“Good right?”

He nods, chewing and swallowing quickly. “My uncle told me pizza wasn’t a first date kind of meal, but we don’t have anything like this back in Hawkins.”

You’re sitting so close that he notices you still right away.

“Wait, this is a date?”

“Oh,” he swears his heart drops to his stomach as he sees the surprise on your face. “Oh well, yeah I thought it was but I guess I–it doesn’t have to be, sorry.”

You reach out to grab his arm when he instinctively moves away, “No! I just didn’t realise you were asking me out, out. You kinda just kept listing food.” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “I want it to be a date.”

He bites his lip, looking back at you with eyebrows raised, “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, squeezing the arm still in your hold. “Of course. I would love to…be on a date with you right now.”

He beams, “Well, it’s your lucky night sweetheart.”

***

The date (once it’s established as one), goes so well Eddie finds himself back at your apartment, admiring your wall lined with records while you find the both of you a drink.

His eyebrows marry together when he notices Dusty Springfield next to the Sex Pistols.

“What’s the system here?” You hand him a beer when you reappear by his side. “Not by genre?”

“No. Autobiographical.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“How–?”

“Well,” you step forward, reaching out to pick a plastic sleeve as if from memory, “if I want to find the song Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, I have to remember that I bought it for someone in the fall of 1983 but didn’t give it to them…for personal reasons.” You show him the white cover of the album.

“That sounds…”

“Comforting.”

He nods slowly, “Yes.”

“It is.”

God, you’re weird. And cute. And cool. And, shit he was going for it, you said you wanted to be on a date with him. You invited him back to your place. No one’s ever done that before. He should go for it. He’s going for it–

Your lips feel even softer than he imagined, and he can’t help but give himself a mental high-five when you immediately move closer to him, face melting into the hand that cradles your cheek. You taste almost vanilla-y with the combo of rum and coke still sitting on your tongue when his meets yours. He places his beer down on the coffee table, and your lips follow him when he has to dip down slightly before his free hand comes to sit on your waist.

You part for a breath, “Didn’t realise vinyl categorisation would get you so hot.” You tease him, lips plump and eyes slightly glazed over, and he’s never wanted anything more in his life than to keep you looking at him like this.

“Yeah uh, really love that Dewey Decimal system.” He leans close to capture your lips again, but you pull back, leaving him to chase you.

“The Dewey Decimal system is for books.” You shake your head.

Eddie huffs, “I really don’t care.” He finally finds your lips again and he swears they taste even sweeter the second time, despite being tainted by his own.

You guide him back to slowly sit on the couch, bodies falling a little clumsily together before you situate yourself in his lap, legs straddling his. You both stay like that for what could be hours for all Eddie cares, lips clicking in the silence.

“Fuck, I could kiss you all night.” He leans his forehead against yours, heavy breathing synced with your own, as you finally come up for air.

You shake your head, eyes soft and reassuring.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie.”

God dammit, is he glad he left Hawkins.

Tagging: @storiesbyrhi (I hope you like the coffee shop across from the record store 😉), @bettyfrommars (I finished it!)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #she writes #Spotify

[dearharriet]

I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

+

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #argyle #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #king steve

[moviecritc]

easiest conversation ⋆ carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!oc (named Angelique)

tropes: strangers to lovers

summary: carlos and angelique sat next to each other in a tennis match in monaco, leading to an endless conversation.

a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes and poor storytelling. maybe a part 2 if you like it?

masterlist

Everybody was focused on Carlos' future in Formula 1, he tried so hard to not be worried about it, but every thing he does, the media somehow made it about his career as a driver. So, at the end, he couldn't do anything except being worried too. Many what ifs were in his mind anytime he thought about it.

The past weekend wete the Masters of Montecarlo, a tennis match, and taking advantage of the fact that he was in the city and most of he's teammates were also watching it, he attended as well.

Carlos didn't have the opportunity to talk to any of them, they were seated in different places in the public. Either way, seeing George, Charles and even Lando with their partners made him feel a little bit more miserable than he already felt. No seat and no girlfriend, that's not a very cool situation to be involved.

And there's even more, he doesn't even know a shit about tennis. He played paddel a few times with Lando, but tennis? He had no idea. So he just sat there, gasping when other people gasp and checking his phone once in a while.

"You seem lost," someone said.

Carlos lifts his head that exact moment, connecting looks with a light brunette that was looking at him above her sunglasses.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked, totally confused. Since when that woman was sitting by his side?.

"Yes. You look bored, maybe you just need someone to explain tennis in a cool way," she smiled. A beautiful smile.

Carlos also smiled a bit, in a weird way. Sometimes he forgots that there's people who can effortlesly talk to strangers in a cool and mysterious way. This woman was one of them.

"Yeah, sure. If you can,"

"If I can?" she seemed dramaticly offended. "You don't think a woman can explain tennis to you, man?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I didn't mean it in that way," he said quickly. "Please, go ahead."

She smiled and started explaining all about tennis in the most interesting and funny way possible.

"How do you know so much about tennis?" he asked.

"Well, I'm a tennis player," she explain. "I thought it was obvious."

Carlos noded a bit, noticing a few mobile phones and cameras pointing at them. He didn't realised it until now, and now he was wondering how many pictures and videos of him and that woman would be around the media.

"Uh, well... I mean, I have no idea about tennis," he said, nervously.

"Yeah, I could tell that," she laughed and she infected Carlos with the laughter. "I'm Angelique, by the way."

"Beautiful name. I'm Carlos," they shaked hands with smiles in their faces. He saw some redness on Angelique face after he complimented her. "So you are a tennis player?"

"Yeah." she simply answered.

"Are you good?" Carlos didn't want the conversation to die.

"I try to be," she said. "I'm fifth in the Women's Tennis Association, I don't know if that's enough for you."

Angelique pursed her lips, making a funny face that made Carlos smiled.

"That sounds really good," he said, truly impressed. They were both athletes, maybe that's why it feels so easy to talk to her.

"What about you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm a race driver,"

Angelique raised even more her eyebrows and wide-opened her eyes "Ok, that is so fucking cool!" she remarked. "Which team do you drive for?"

"Ferrari, but..."

"No way! That's even cooler!" she boasted. "I mean, I have no idea about Formula 1. But Ferrari? That is cool guy material, undoubtedly"

Carlos was too invested in Angelique's voice and eyebrow game that wasn't able to tell her that he isn't staying in Ferrari for too long. But they've just met, and being unemployed isn't something to say to someone right off the bat.

He realised that it was the first conversation in a while that he didn't have to mention anything about his future in Formula 1, another reason of him being this comfortable around Angelique.

"And, how did you became a tennis player?" Carlos asked, leaning a little bit to her.

Now, she was focusing on the ball and the movements of the players.

"My brother used to use me as a ball picker when he played tennis, then he broke his arm and I kept his racket," she explained without divert her eyes from the field.

"He stopped playing tennis after that?"

"Well, yes. When he could come back, he was too old and unexperience to achieve something," she said. "But he wasn't very good anyways."

They both laughed and Angelique take off her sunglasses so she could see Carlos better.

"Have you won something in tennis?" he curiously asked.

"Yeah, of course. Matchs and all those things,"

"Have you beaten Serena Williams?" he wondered, with a smirk.

"Not yet," she admited. "But I've won against people who beat Serena."

She smiled proudly. The match was about to end, and none of them were paying attention to it.

"Okey, that's pretty awesome," he said.

She crossed her legs and accomodated her long brown hair to one side, which left Carlos eyeing her in a romantic way.

"And you? How someone decides that he wants to drive really fast cars?"

"My father has been involved in motorsports for a long time,"

"It's always a family thing, don't you think?" she said. "It is hard to find someone who started in sports by themselves."

"It is!" Carlos agreed with her.

He was going to say something else, but they announce the end of the match, everybody standed up to give an applause. Both of them copied the rest of the people.

"Wait, who won?" Carlos asked, totally confused.

Angelique lean into him, whispering "I've no idea,"

They laughed and kept applausing. That was the end of the match and the end of their conversation. Angelique's agent rapidly came to her to take some pictures with the winner.

"Wait, wait," she insisted to her agent and then walked close to Carlos. "It was lovely talking to you, Carlos,"

"Same, Angelique. You seem an interesting person," he complimented. Carlos was willing to ask her for her number, or something.

"Are you coming to the finals tomorrow?" she asked, praying for a yes.

"I don't think so... I have a race soon in China,"

"Oh," she seemed disappointed. "Well, good luck for your race and..."

"Can I asked you for your number?" he said unexpectedly.

"Yes!" she realised that maybe she was too effusive, so she lower her tone. "I mean, yeah, sure. If you want."

Carlos laughed and Angelique did it too, in a more ashamed way. He gave her his phone so she could write her number.

"There you go," she said and her agent was already near her to leave the match. "Text me!"

Carlos laughed and waved at her, when he looked at his phone, he could do anything but laughed again. Angelique saved her as "That cute girl from the tennis match".

He wondered what was about that girl that made her so unique and easy to talk to her. Carlos didn't think about it very much, instead, he texted her right after she left the field.

#carlos sainz #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1 one shot #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 fic #cs55 fluff #f1 fluff #f1 x you #noraverse 🫧

[gay-dorito-dust]

Okay, since you’re rereading the books and your up for this request, can I request headcanons with the same hades reader you wrote earlier where she meets Nico di angolo when he arrives to camp and from the moment they met, they hit it of instantly and Nico clings to the reader his entire time there, and even hangs out with Luke cause Luke is the readers bf?

This was long as shit as I got carried away…oops. Not so much on Luke and Nico spending time together but more so reader and Luke talking about Nico.

The moment Nico was brought to camp, a wide eyed boy who was so full of awe and wonder and excitement, you just knew how special he was and you couldn’t help but feel a familial sense when it came to the boy.

Almost as if you knew him your entire life when in reality this was your first ever meeting the boy, but something deep down told you that you would do anything to keep this boy safe and happy for as long as possible before it would be taken away from him; after all life as a Demi-god wasn’t all glory and valour and you all had to learn that rather ruthless lesson one way or another…oftentimes prematurely.

Then again, you chalked this feeling down to you being protective towards the younger Demi-gods that entered camp but this feeling was a lot stronger then that, a hell of a lot in the sense that a older sibling would fret over their younger siblings…but Nico wasn’t your sibling…well not that you were aware of seeing as he was still unclaimed but you guessed being a child of the big three had made you envious of what children of other gods had; family. You were alone and have been alone for quite a while…

Luke, your beloved boyfriend, was able to fill that void for a while, but sooner or later the realisation of just how lonesome you have been would come to consume your every thought.

Mythomagic. You hadn’t heard of that game for quite some time but you had a deck of Mythomagic cards locked within a box, underneath one of the floorboards inside your windowless cabin. Why? They had become so severely damaged and worn with time that you were scared that if you were to pick one up, it would crumple to dust within your palm. Plus it was a sentimental gift from your mother before she…never mind.

The memory was still too painful for you to recollect.

So when you saw Nico fiddling with a Dionysus card -the weakest card in the card game- between his fingers out of nervous habit, you almost didn’t recognise yourself speaking until Nico’s dark eyes looked directly at you with excitement.

‘A Dionysus card, haven’t met anyone who played Mythomagic that genuinely liked that card, you like Mythomagic kid?’ You had asked.

‘Do you?!’ Nico exclaimed as his smile matched his dark obsidian eyes in how brightly they shined.

‘Does Hades have 4000 attack power, 5000 if the opponent attacks first?’ You quickly corrected your self as Nico moved to sit next to you under the tree. ‘Who’s your favourite?’ You added, wanting the lad to feel at ease with you despite what everyone else might’ve told him about you in terms of unapproachableness.

‘Dionysus obviously!’ Nico replied, showing you his card as if to emphasise his point. ‘People think he’s not all that good but I think his powers are pretty cool and to find out that he’s real?! Even cooler!’ He adds on as he looks down at the card as if he was debating whether or not he was going to ask Mr D to sign it. However if Nico was the type of player that you assumed him to be, he wouldn’t dare tempt the idea. ‘Who’s yours?’

‘Hades.’ You said point blankly before continuing, ‘and it’s not because he’s my father.’

‘Hades is your father?!’ - Nico near enough shouted to ear you both the eyes of a couple of campers but you shot them a deadpan glare and they were quick to go back to whatever it was that they were doing beforehand. You softened your face as you looked back at Nico and answered his question. ‘Yeah, he is. He’s not as bad as people make him out to be, he doesn’t get in other people’s business like some gods and goddesses, considering he’s got his own dealings that take presidency but he’s more accommodating then most seeing as I’ve visited him on multiple occasions.’ You finished, shrugging your shoulders, you didn’t want to add on the fact that he had even gifted you Dvir, a hellhound, just yet. In due time you would but, some people would consider that too much.

‘Wow, you’re so cool.’ Right then and there you decided that you would have Nico’s back no matter what, for he was the only one besides Luke that didn’t fear you for your father and by god was it the most reliving thing ever!

You became someone Nico felt comfortable being his true self with, and would even try to sneak into the Hades cabin whenever he needed you to give him comfort and reassure him that you wouldn’t leave him for the Hunters Of Artemis like Bianca did; despite it being against the rules and all but it’s not like you didn’t do the exact same thing with Luke whenever you needed his presence to sooth and put your mind at ease.

He even tried to sit next to you during dinner time at the pavilion, another camp rule he had broken in order to be by your side, but no one dared to speak up upon it and instead bite their tongues, seeing as you and Luke were equally challenging anyone to speak about this to Mr D or Chiron but, nobody dared to do so. Meanwhile Nico was completely obvious to it all and was showing you all of his Mythomagic figures, Mythomagic expansion packs and bestowing every last drop of his knowledge of the card game onto you, all the while you were storing it within your own head as though it was something you were going to have to use later on.

No matter where you went, Nico wasn’t far behind following you like a lost puppy. Needless to say that whenever anyone saw Nico on his own, they knew better then to try anything for you were often lurking within the shadows nearby, watching over the boy with such a fierce protectiveness whilst giving him his freedom to better aquatint himself with camp. When it came to Nico, it seemed as though you became a complete different person, you didn’t know why but all you knew was that you weren’t going to let anything harm Nico while you were able to do something about it.

‘Doesn’t it bother you? Having him cling onto you all the time?’ One brave camper asked once and in all honesty? You didn’t care that he clung to you do suffocatingly. If anything you were glad that he choice you to be the one he relies on for anything and everything, it made you feel an whole assortment of things, the main one being happy knowing that someone openly sought you out because they viewed you as someone who’s opinions are worth listening and taking head to.

Nico felt safer with you than he ever did elsewhere, which was saying something considering he was within a camp built to protect people like him but he felt his most safest with you; Someone whom he quickly began to form an attachment towards and would oftentimes find himself clinging to your side like a second shadow. So much so that Luke would playfully tease you about it whenever he saw you both.

When in actuality Luke loved the fact that Nico was so attached to you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that even with him by your side you still felt like you were alone, and could only hope that Nico would be the one to fill in that void within your heart completely. He was also happy for Nico for having you to fall back on because there was no one in camp that he would have to watch his back then yourself.

‘He’s asleep.’ You mused, looking at Nico, who fell asleep against Luke’s shoulder and was snoring softly.

‘He’s a good kid.’ Luke replied, ruffling Nico’s dark hair as a smile appeared on the younger boys face as he readjusted himself before falling still. Still like the dead Luke once playfully commented.

‘He really is.’ You said aloud, grasping Nico’s hand upon watching it reach out for you, squeezing it in hopes of showing him that you were with him. Luke pressed a kiss to your forehead as he saw the variety of emotions that flashed through your eyes as you kept watch over the sleeping boy. ‘You’re a good influence on him babe, don’t doubt yourself, the boy practically idolises you.’ He tried reassuring you but still the thoughts wouldn’t let up.

‘What if there’ll be a time where I can’t reach him, where I can’t save him from himself and he’ll resent me for it.’ You asked, needing Luke’s guidance more than ever in your time of uncertainty. Luke pondered this for a bit before finally responding. ‘There won’t be a time where Nico would ever resent you and even if that did ever happen, I just know that he would hate himself even more for pushing the one person who had his back and cared for him like their own flesh and blood.’ He then squeezed your thigh reassuringly. ‘That and you’d dive into the depths of the labyrinth to bring him back no matter what and he knows that better than anybody that you’d endanger yourself just to save him, even from himself.’

He was right. You knew he was right. You would wholeheartedly throw yourself into harms way if it meant Nico came out unscathed and that terrified you and Luke could see this. ‘So don’t doubt yourself because if you doubt yourself then Nico will doubt himself by extension. For if the person he admires doubts themself then he would feel like he should too.’ Luke then rests his forehead against yours, his eyes staring deeply into yours. ‘I know you can guide him down the right path, be the kind of person you needed when you were in his situation, be the person you know you’d feel safe with, be his protector because I know you can. He needs you.’ He finished.

You looked down at the peacefully sleeping Nico before looking back up at Luke with a look of determination. ‘I promise to protect him and help him in whatever he may need.’

Like smirks. ‘That’s my baby.’

#pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan fanfic

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids

“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”

Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.

Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”

Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”

Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”

Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”

“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.

Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”

“Maybe he should stay away from those.”

“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”

“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.

“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”

Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”

Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”

“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.

“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”

Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”

Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”

Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”

“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”

Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”

“Yes. I would.”

Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”

“Uh huh.”

He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.

“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.

Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.

#my writing #fuck it Friday #i swear I’m going to finish trapped buck and Chris and work on proposal fic before i work on this more #but it would be a bunch of glimpses of Buck’s various hospital trips from Eddie’s nurse perspective #and maybe shuffle some events around? like maybe eddie still gets shot but by a disgruntled former patient this time and #so he does a stint in the maternity ward and buck shows up there #and Eddie is like you’re having a kid? #and bucks like no my sister is what are you doing here #and when buck gets the story he’s like fuck. shit. im sorry i wasnt there #and eddies like picturing seeing buck in that moment of violence and says im glad you weren’t #also Eddie could still be the one who restarts his heart after the lightning strike #this bit is maybe the last scene actually sorry for posting the end first #have a good breakfast boys #buddie #evan Buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc

[readerwithsalt]

Sun and the Star Review: (With snippets from the book)

Since I just finished The Sun and the Star I’m just gonna say the first thing I have a problem with is the TELLING and NOT SHOWING.

• And I was wondering if anyone thought that they made Will super lame and ooc compared to previous cooler depictions of him. Like he’s supposed to be Super Chill under pressure and the Calm Dude but he’s so WHINY the entire book. He’s constantly complaining, judging, screaming, crying or sleeping. The cool, chill vibe Will had before is gone which was one of the things I liked about him before.

• someone else said ‘Tsats Will thinks there’s something wrong with Nico, something wrong with his personality. Will thinks Nico needs to be “fixed” and “healed” and so he can be “normal” and then Nico will be actually appealing to Will. Tsats Will may love some parts of Nico (or at least thinks he loves some parts of Nico). But there are more parts of Nico that Will finds unsavory or unnerving or scary or unsettling or unsatisfactory or unappealing’ I agree sadly

• Like he tells Nico in the beginning of the book that he’s just as capable of survival as Nico (which I snorted at cause no) and then is the hugest burden I’ve ever seen on a quest EVER in a riordan book. Like Nico tries to lift Will up every time he passes out from ‘lack of sun’ (which is so stupid btw) and Nico can’t lift him up cause he’s not strong enough so he’s constantly WAITING on Will. And it’s really boring to read about how every few seconds Nico has to turn around and let his boyfriend catch up.

I think Will’s character could have shined and been more likable in a completely different plot and quest.

Like, I thought since they weren’t giving Will any weapons that his strengths would lie in being the fast athletic character that didn’t need a magic item in order to show off…

• the whole ‘role reversal’ caretaker thing made Will look completely useless. Nico did 80 percent of the work and Will sadly fell flat. I thought he was coming along to keep Nico safe and to heal him when he got injured but Nico was pretty much doing almost every job. It was like he was riding Nico’s coattails to become a ‘hero’ and prove himself. But he didn’t really prove anything except that he complains a lot when things get rough.

They didn’t give Will a character weapon (even Piper has one and she doesn’t fight that much. Neither does Leo and he at least uses a hammer) they made him exhausted the whole book so he didn’t have his normal physical strength, his backstory was also pretty boring.

• and Will keeps randomly getting irritated at Nico bc Nicos irritated at him. Like?? Your shitting on his underworld home every chance you get. I’d be irritated too.

• in previous books he’s described as an archer. Even tho Leo calls him ‘the archer dude’ in TLH he suddenly doesn’t know how to use a bow AT ALL. He only said he wasn’t as good as his siblings not that he was complete shit at it. Previously he used a bow and had a dagger in BOO. Also will randomly says he never wanted to be a fighter and loved healing but in previous books he’s insecure about just that. Also the book forgets Will is a BATTLEFIELD MEDIC. Like he can fight and heal just like Apollo.

• Will whines constantly. And it’s grating and annoying to read. Either about the lack of sun (you knew what you were getting into dumbass) or the dead people walking around or about Nico’s horrible ‘darkness’ that he has to heal. It’s like he never thinks of Nicos feelings when he says stuff. And there little ‘fights’ end unsatisfactory.

• The vibe of Camp-Half-Blood is nonexistent. It does not feel like camp at all. It feels like we’re in a 12 year olds fanfic mind. ALL of the campers are gone even though it’s been established MANY are orphans and we see no beloved background characters and background chaos that makes us smile like in the past books. It made me surprisingly more depressed than I thought it would.

• it’s also missing the mystique of a quest. Like going up to the big house to have the quest recited around a table full of cabin counselor demigods all fighting to be the third member to prove themself a hero (mostly the ares cabin) no matter how important a quest in pjo was for Percy Chiron ALWAYS enforced certain rules. Even if they broke later on.

• Loose Ends. Reyna is. Not. Mentioned. Once. It never comes up how Nico feels about his big sister friend joining the hunters like his other one did even tho in BOO he tore apart a courtyard cause they took her. The girl whose shoulder he cried into, the girl who was with him during his last quest. The girl who thought of him as a little brother and tucked him in her cape and said he resembled his surname as he slept.

Hazel is mentioned… but it’s literally just a couple shallow mentions that don’t have anything to do with the fact that he may not ever see her again if he revisits Tartarus. He mentions his beloved little sister who was the actual first light in his life (don’t know why the book says Will is) in a long time only once and it’s because he can’t remember something and thinks Hazel would?? It’s weird that he iris messages Piper at the end instead of Hazel. I thought that’s what he was going to do and then it was just a big cringe fest of Piper shoved in at the end talking about the label of her sexuality?? Like we actually care??

And It’s never stated that Nico finds out where Jason is even though HE SHOULD KNOW. He literally talks to Beckendorf and Luke when they die in pjo to find out where they went but he can’t figure out where his best friend is??

Also at the end of the book it says Nico still hasn’t redecorated his cabin even though he told Jason he was going to a YEAR AGO bc the ‘decor was disgusting’ (I think that was the worst loose end not fixed 😂)

Every other relationship of Nicos is thrown away so he can admire Will Solace’s mediocrity. who’s kinda a loser in this tbh….

• The Percabeth scene was weird. What relevance does sally jackson have to Nico’s story? Why did he have to go all the way to Percy’s bedroom to iris message him?? And the fact he uses the ship name Percabeth to describe them (which he’d never done in previous books) proves a cringe fan is the one writing this.

The fact that they don’t OFFER TO HELP Nico is ooc of them. Bc even if Percy wants to chill at college he would never want Nico to clean up his mess without offering his help. Also the fact that Percy turns to Annabeth and says ‘oh man I forgot about him’ is like… WHAT?? And they just say oh yea if anyone can get through Tartarus it’s you two.

To Will who’s never been on a quest and doesn’t fight (at least in this book) that’s a weird thing to say. Percy and annabeth only survived bc they’ve fought together FOR YEARS. And bc of Percy’s big three power. It was just a forced add in cameo. Would’ve been better if they didn’t know till the end that Nico got Bob out and then they suddenly see Bob in an iris message and start crying or something…

• it broke my heart that Nico gave his SKULL RING to Will. The last gift from Bianca Nico ever got and he gives it to someone that doesn’t even appreciate his element.

And what does Nico get in return? A coin. I mean, an engraved coin but still. It’s kinda symbolic of the relationship. Nico giving Will something of such RELEVANCE to Nico’s character, something he’s always described with wearing and then Nico receiving a token in turn.

• Will asks Persephone how he’s SUPPOSED TO LOVE NICO. Like I almost blew up my house with me in it at that part. It never feels like Will is as attracted to Nico as Nico is to him. Nico instigates every kiss (which is ooc of him and his reservedness to touch). It seems Will likes to look at others a lot because one of Nicos insecurities were of him staring at fucking Paolo. While being right next to his boyfriend, Will checks out other people… Like Nico deserves so much better. He at least deserves respect.

I would’ve appreciated Nico and Ghost Jason way more than this shit. At least Jason described Nico better and they weren’t even dating. And I liked Solangelo before this. Will never describes physical attributes that he likes about Nico the same way Nico does about Will. Like Nicos inky dark eyes and baby bat winged hair, and his smile that is apparently like winter sun breaking through snow flurries, and his hair smelling pleasantly of rain against stone (I think Apollo is more attracted to Nico than Will is). But Nico has to call Will hot every five min.

• Also I simply don’t understand the idea that Will being away from the sun would drain him to the point where he can’t keep up with NICO’S WALKING PACE within a couple hours. Like the super athletic, physically strong character that can lift Nico over his shoulders and run with him (and Rachel in TON) walks into the underworld and has to be healed by a stupid portable night light within five minutes.

• Don’t even get me started on his JUDGINESS. I always pictured Will as the guy at camp that thought Nicos powers were cool and stuff, right? And now he just judges every ‘dark’ thing nico does like darkness is synonymous with evil. And only his light can heal him. I HATED that trope and honestly thought they would make him more original. But I have to say it: he was so boring. Like in a way that made my stomach hurt.

• Wills kind of a jerk in this. Like it’s weird to read.

• The PACING. It was off the whole book. The only part i enjoyed was the part where they didn’t know they were dreaming (that part got me) but that was it. But like gorgras scene keeps overlapping with the rest of the story and I kept forgetting my place. The fact that riordan or oshiro or whatever 12 year old fan wrote this put the words FLASHBACK & DREAM SEQUENCE over the chapters gave it SERIOUS fanfic vibes. The pacing is simply not suspenseful enough for a place like Tartarus.

• And do NOT get me started on Tartarus. Okay I’ll say it anyway: it wasn’t scary AT ALL. LIKE ANY OTHER QUEST. Actually it seemed easier than other previous quests which is a big nope. Hades might as well have sent him to Target.

• And about the fact that is was HADES who gave him that prophecy is SO OOC of him. He loves Nico. Nico is probably Hades most favorite child ever as of right now and he sends him horrible nightmares, and a prophecy respouted 12 times to get him to save Bob (whom Hades could care less about btw) and go back to a place that he knows haunts Nico every day MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

Also HOW did hades give Rachel that prophecy? He has no power over the Oracle of Delphi.

• Maria and Bianca MAKE NO SENSE! How in the hell is there any piece of thier souls left when Hades gave Maria ancient rites and was the one soul Nico was not allowed to see and Bianca reincarnated. WHICH WAS FORGOTTEN BTW. NOW SHES BACK IN ELYSIUM?? Like?? Like maybe I could see Hades letting Nico see a piece of Maria but Bianca is literally GONE forever.

Nico was ooc. Like not too badly but still bad. But the fact that Will didn’t let Nico shadow travel even once irks me. The fact Will didn’t let him summon Jules Albert irks me. The fact that Will kept brushing off nicos feeling about the underworld irks me. The fact that Will called Persephone the most beautiful PERSON he’d ever seen right in nicos face and then asked his (insecure) boyfriend if he was jealous irks me. The fact that Will is BORING AS FUCK irks me

• And the COMING OUT story. Horridly ooc. Nico shouting to the whole camp he’s gay and getting all the other kids to come out too is like??? and apparently he asked out Will before Will had even come out?? Nico would NEVER do that. Especially since not long before Cupid had done the same to him. And apparently Nico is like the first out character in a MODERN GREEK camp with DIONYSUS as a director. No.

In character Nico would’ve shadow traveled back to his cabin or the woods the moment he figured out what was happening.

• the nicknames are extremely cringe. Little ball of darkness is used to much and it made me itch. I think Will simply calling him babe or something would’ve been simpler and made them seem more like a real couple instead of a caricature of light and dark.

• ‘he’d always been the demigod who WOULDNT eat.’ ………..what the actual fuck is this. Nicos always been naturally skinny but being starved in jar is what messed up his hunger. Not that he WOULDNT eat. Why is everything always his fault in this book?

Like, he didn’t ‘LET’ himself get to the point of starvation over and over. I mean first of all he became homeless at ten years old, probably had to steal food items. And most recently he got KIDNAPPED by TWO GIANTS and starved forcibly. And then when he got out he was under so much stress of what just happened to him in Tartarus, the war with Gaea, his forced outing, and having to lug an enormous statue ACROSS THE WORLD. but nah, I guess he just LET all of that stuff happen to him

• the references are BAD. Out of touch bad. Unfunny and the joke never becomes a joke. It’s never explained how a kid from the 1930s knows how to use the internet and look up lil nas x in a camp that doesn’t use any technology. Doesn’t explain how Nico knows about Care Bear powers (I didn’t even know that) and the beginning scene with the Star Wars ‘joke’ set a weird tone for the book and wasn’t even funny.

• I hated the cocoa puff demons coming to live with Nico. Like I was fine they got created ig even tho it was weird and kinda dumb but the fact that Nico is so keen to have his worst memories and insecurities sleep in bed with him makes no sense once again. In character Nico would’ve burned them with hellfire.

• Also Nyx is a unfathomably weak villain. A PRIMORDIAL GODDESS that even ZEUS fears is taken down in two seconds. Also she’s just trying to get Nico ‘accept his darkness’. WHICH HE ALREADY HAS DONE. The moment he called himself The Ghost King in battle of the labyrinth at eleven years is when he truly accepted his powers and who he was. So… why is she even in the book in the first place??

• Also Will STILL insists it’s Nicos fault he wasn’t accepted. And that it was all in his head….

Also Micheal Yew was simply never mentioned again. Neither was lee fletcher. If they were I missed it.

There were a COUPLE of cute parts and lines but really this is simply too weird (and bad) to be canon to me. This book is just not canon. I see it as fanfiction from a random author that riordan probably let write the entire book or at least most of it. I think sadly riordan put his name on this for money and for fanservice because the writing is first draft material.

(And it kind of feels like they got this version of Nico and Will from cringy meme posts about them. Like, you know the ones where Nico’s all like ‘I am darkness, i am a vampire’ and Wills all like ‘come on, my uwu baby, no more shadowtravel for you, doctors orders~’ 🤣😭)

just because they thought that’s what the twelve year olds wanted and not realizing that a lot of those posts are simply made as a joke and not actually taken seriously in canon…. And that most people in the fandom thinks those are bad cringeposts

#tsats #nico di angelo #the sun and the star #tsats review #solangelo #rick riordan #book review #book rant #tsats rant #tsats preview #tsats spoilers #so bad #im cryin #nico rants #hazel levesque #jason grace #reyna ramirez arellano #bad writing #no plot whatsoever #publishedfanfiction #ooc #bad tropes #notreallyfuntoread #not cannon compliant #not canon #everybodyooc #pjo #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa

[glassknee]

Ok so Aisha is scene but Wildbow doesn’t know she’s scene but we all do so that’s okay and all. But like such a tragedy to me that *Imp* is not scene. Like I want to give her bedazzling kits and neon paints and bright green and purple mesh to decorate the Imp costume with. Don’t get me wrong, Imp has a cool costume! Very assassin like and would definitely make a 14/15 year old kid feel Cool As Fuck. Plus it’s good for stealth. But like why does it have to be good for stealth?? Stranger power. Plus I know she would feel 1 billion times cooler AND have more fun if that shit was like neon and glittery on top of the black. Plus cool imagery of no one there and then world’s loudest outfit in your face with a knife. Now, I don’t know how this would interact with the general themes surrounding Aisha and the fact that Imp generally eclipses Aisha in that she is forgotten and unnoticed even as Aisha (in the ways that matter) but like it makes sense for her to rail against this even as Imp and make her costume as hectic as possible.

And Imagine Taylor’s internal monologue at seeing the Intimidating and Practical costume she partially made for Aisha just. Obliterated by glitter fun.

(The way Taylor talks about Aisha - beautiful car with tacky stickers on it, mature for her age - simultaneously makes me viscerally uncomfortable while also driving home how divorced Taylor is from the idea that they are all teenagers. And how badly the bullying affected the way she views other people. How dare this *checks notes* 14 year old girl dress in a silly and tacky and attention grabbing way)

#worm parahumans #wormblr #alec vasil #alec worm #worm web serial #aisha worm #aisha laborn

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Can I request a Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader smut? A friends to lovers trope please. They work together in the restaurant and secretly love each other but don’t want to admit it. Eventually Carmy just bites the bullet and tries to confess and then they fuck in his office?

“Bad” at This

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader

Warnings: sweet then sexy, Carmen is hesitant at first, mild fingering, oral (m! Receiving), unprotected sex, language, mild hand kink

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 5k

I have been waiting for someone to request him! I had a lot of fun writing this. Enjoy!

When the restaurant was busy, most people despised being at work. They despised the frenetic activity. They despised the feeling of being overwhelmed by the din of screams. In contrast, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I've always worked well under pressure, and rush hour meant I wouldn't have to be alone with my thoughts.

I was chopping my ten thousandth onion of the night, mindlessly. I wasn't thinking. I was solely relying on muscle memory.

Chop.

Chop.

Chop.

Chop.

Chop.

Swipe it to the side.

Start over.

I had done this process a thousand, no, a million times before. It felt familiar. It felt comfortable. The din of patrons was pushed to the outskirts of my mind. My world was quiet, unbothered.

Shit.

I could feel him.

He was near.

When he walked into the room, he had an unmistakable, strong, and conspicuous presence.

My hands began to tremble.

I was thrown out of my element.

Everything felt strange, new, and foreign.

He didn't make me feel uneasy. No, we were perfectly at ease with each other. He was one of my closest friends.

I was just madly, completely, utterly in love with my boss.

Every time he was close, the desire to impress him clouded my judgment. The feeling was so overwhelming that I frequently slipped.

He was staring over my shoulder. Not in a creepy, tyrannical overload sense. No, just in a boss-like manner, casually checking in on his employees. Despite the lack of sexuality in his demeanor, the hot breath that grazed my throat gave me subtle goosebumps

My cuts became sloppy, and each section of onion became less uniform than the previous one.

“Your knife’s dull, Y/N. Get a fresh one.”

I knew he was behind me. I was aware that he was scrutinizing every move I made. Even so, when he broke the tension, it made my heart skip a beat. I nodded forcefully and reached for the magnetic strip that conveniently displayed the gleaming rack of knives.

“Hey, look at me.”

He positioned himself to my right and tilted his head to attract my attention. I came to a halt when I met his vibrant blue eyes.

“Are you alright? You seem a little flustered. Your face is really red.”

He always spoke to me softly. I'm not sure if it was naive to believe that the feelings of attraction were mutual based on this trivial fact. I brought my hands to my face, and my cool hands proved to be a stark contrast to my burning skin.

“I’m fine. It’s just really hot in here.”

It was a lie. The temperature in the room was no higher than usual.

“I agree.”

Did he concur? Or was he just saying that to try and make me feel better.

“I’ll work on that.”

“Carmy! I need help over here! Where the fuck are ya’?”

Carmen rolled his eyes as he walked away from my station to assist Richie. I couldn’t help but giggle under my breath. I knew he'd complain about him later tonight as we cleaned, as is our custom.

When he left and the familiar aura faded, the room became noticeably cooler.

-

“I mean, I can’t fuckin’ believe that guy! I swear half the shit he asks me to do is shit he coulda’ easily done himself!”

This grease was truly burned on. I scrubbed harder, the brown splotches gradually disappearing until the gleaming counter was spotless. I was listening, but there was no need for me to respond. Carmen was aware that I was paying attention to his mindless babbling. I was familiar with the procedure. This was his one opportunity to vent after accumulating rage throughout the day.

I couldn’t help but cast a glance to my right. Carmen was sweeping, his strong biceps gripping the broom handle. His large hands dwarfed the skinny plastic. Sweat drops dripped down his large nose, emphasizing his ethereal side profile. I couldn’t help but imagine how his fingers would feel between my legs.

I averted my gaze and concentrated on scrubbing, even though I had already made the counter sparkle.

“I swear he’s doin’ it on purpose. No way in fuckin’ hell he accidentally pushes all my buttons.”

I chuckled.

“You’ve been saying the same thing since I met you.”

Carmen scoffed.

“Well, it’s true.”

I enjoyed the time we spent together after the sun had set on the small restaurant. It was comforting. I didn't feel the need to impress him, and the stakes of the conversation were very low.

His eyes were on me.

I could feel them.

The subtle scuffing of his broom against the floor had vanished.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

Carmen remained silent. But I could see him, looking away, a slight flush on his cheeks. I often felt his eyes burning into the back of my skull. If I was lucky, I caught him staring. But he stared at everyone. It was his job to keep a close eye on everyone. It was difficult to tell whether that was a display of genuine attraction or a job requirement. Besides, I was used to zoning out. I often switch off without realizing that I'm staring at someone, and when I’m discovered, it's embarrassing. And since Carmen and I were kindred spirits, I figured it was a feeling that we could both sympathize with.

“You did good work today. Sorry for makin’ ya come in on your day off.”

“It’s no problem.”

I met his eyes. Sure enough, there was a hint of a flush on his high cheekbones.

“I like being here. It’s fun.”

I sigh deeply.

“Alright, the counters are done. Anything else you need from me?”

Carmen shook his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. At his feet was a small pile of food scraps and stray dust. A few stray curls clung to his sweaty brow.

“Nah, you can head out. Thanks for everything Y/N.”

Hm.

“Are you alright?”

Carmen came to a complete halt. As he gripped the broom for dear life, the veins on his forearms bulged.

“Yeah… Well, no.”

I approached him, smugly leaning against the counter.

“Alright, tell me, what’s up?”

He exhaled slowly. My attention was drawn to the uneasy rise and fall of his chest beneath his dirty white shirt.

Jesus, he was fine a second ago.

What the hell happened?

He fixed his gaze on me. His blue eyes were filled with something I didn't like, something I'd never seen before.

Nerves, unease, and desperation were all present.

“Can I ask you a crazy question?”

He laughed, but the laughter was hollow.

I shrugged casually, hoping to calm his nerves by appearing relaxed.

He had nothing to be concerned about.

Why was he worried?

“Of course! You can ask me anything.”

Carmen clenched his teeth, the muscles on the sides of his jaw bulging from the effort.

“Do you…”

He chuckled. The noise gave me chills. It was an empty, hollow sound.

“God, this is gonna sound so fuckin’ stupid.”

His head fell forward, and he shook it, a few more stray curls falling.

“I promise to give it a serious answer.”

“Promise?”

He inquired. I gave him a mock scout's honor by raising three fingers.

“I promise.”

I smiled, hoping to somewhat alleviate his nerves. Carmen's gaze was fixed on his tattooed hands, which mindlessly caressed the broom handle.

“Do you-”

He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing.

He shifted his weight.

“Do you-”

Jesus, was he trying to kill me?

This suspense was far too much for me.

My palms began to sweat, and my grip on the counter nearly slipped due to the newfound dampness.

“Do you think I’m…”

He shrugged casually, as if he wasn't creating palpable suspense.

I wanted to scream at him to spit it out already.

But, with the intent of being a good listener, I bit it back.

“I don’t know… attractive?”

The silence grew deafening.

What?

Of all the things that could have come from his gorgeous lips, this was not what I was expecting.

“You’re asking if I think you’re attractive?”

Carmen furrowed his brow and vigorously shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. That’s a stupid ass question.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know what came over me. God! I wish I never said that!”

I raised my hand to silence him.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. I promised I’d give you a serious answer, didn’t I?”

He gnawed on his bottom lip.

“Oh Y/N, you don’t have to do that.”

“No, no, no, I gave you my word.”

I clenched my jaw.

If I said no, this conversation would almost certainly never come up again. It would be pushed to the earth's depths, never to resurface. I could rest easy knowing that I hadn't confessed my undying love to my boss.

If I said yes.

God.

What would happen if I said yes?

Normally, I can predict Carmen's every move, but I'm at a loss.

Carmen clung to every beat of silence. His eyes were fixed on me, waiting for an answer, afraid I'd say no.

“I-”

Jesus, what do I say?

Do I take the risk?

“I think-”

Now I was the one creating meaningless suspense.

Come on! Just say yes or no!

“Yes.”

I blurted out.

That wasn't the only thing I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him that whenever he came close to me, I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. I wanted to tell him that he was the most attractive and intriguing man I'd ever met in my life. I wanted to pull him into me and run my hands along his bare torso as I pressed my lips to his. But I kept it simple with a mere "yes." I couldn't bring myself to say anything more.

Camen raised his brows, then quickly dropped them to maintain his stoicism.

“Um- cool.”

The slight flush on his cheeks intensified tenfold. His gaze shifted away from mine and landed on the slender broom handle. I pursed my lips into a straight line.

“Is that all you wanted to ask me?”

I inquired.

“Yes.”

I could tell he had another question for me. His tone was not convincing in the least. But I decided not to push. I simply nodded reassuringly.

“Alright. Have a good night. I’ll see ya’ tomorrow.”

“See ya’ tomorrow Y/N. Have a good night.”

I brushed up against him. Carmen's familiar scent stood out without being overpowered by the aromas of food. He smelled of cigarettes, sweat, and grease. I shouldn't be so taken with that scent. However, he was able to make the aura of a hardworking man extremely appealing.

I walked past him, my strides slowing, wanting to extend the moment as long as possible in case he had something to say. I began to lose hope with each step, as I increased the distance between us.

“Actually-”

There it was. I turned on my heels and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear confident and at ease. My ears were filled with the audible thrumming of my heartbeat. If this was going in the direction I thought it was going, I wanted to embrace it.

“Yes?”

The tension was palpable. It thickened the air to the point where we were swimming in molasses.

“Y/N, I’m gonna be totally honest with you.”

I gently wiped my hands on my jeans, trying to remove the thick layer of sweat from my palms.

“I’m not good at this...”

His whispering tone gradually faded away into the dense atmosphere.

“What do you mean “this?’”

“I mean- fuck.”

He muttered as he ran a hand through his greasy hair. He scratched his head, and I couldn't help but watch the tendons in his hands and forearms flex. Carmen allowed his strong arm to carelessly fall as he sighed deeply. He met my eyes, running his wet tongue along his bottom lip.

I swallowed.

“I’ve never been a social butterfly and I definitely have never been a romantic.”

So, everything was going as I had hoped.

“I don’t know the right things to say and I don’t know when to say them. I don’t know how to be anyone but myself. Which is both a blessing and a curse, I suppose.”

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

“So, I’m just gonna say this in my normal, stoic way… because that’s the only way I know how to say it.”

I didn't believe he would actually say it. I anticipated that he would abruptly change the subject. To be honest, I didn't believe this was possible.

“I am in love with you.”

My jaw instinctively dropped.

The confession lacked any genuine emotion. It only encompassed mere traces of the feelings he was hoping to convey.

It was stoic.

However, I discovered that I was completely and utterly shaken. He couldn't have said it more beautifully.

“Well,” I said with a laugh, “for someone who isn’t a social butterfly, that sure as hell wasn’t bad.”

Carmen chuckled.

“Would it kill the mood if I told you that it wasn’t spontaneous at all and I’ve been planning what to say for literal months?”

I shrugged.

“No.”

Carmen smiled. My heart warmed. Despite being his closest friend, seeing him smile was rare.

“Ok, good. Cause if I tried to be spontaneous, it’d be a total shit show.”

He sighed, relieved to have finished the challenging task.

“Can I ask you another stupid question?”

“Of course.”

His gaze trailed down to my lips, a soft blush on his cheekbones.

“Can I kiss you?”

My stomach flipped and blood rushed to my cheeks. My face grew hot. God, we were so juvenile. I smiled tightly.

“Yeah. I’d love that.”

He moved forward, closing the distance between us. His breath gently cascaded across my face. My chest tightened.

“I’m not very good at this either.”

He said with a rigid laugh. I pressed my open palms against his chest. Carmen's throat tightened. His pecs rippled under my foreign touch. Despite this, he kept a steady gaze, his blue eyes fixed on me.

“I do not give a shit.”

I said, imitating his laugh. I hurriedly closed the gap between us when I realized Carmen wouldn't be the instigator.

He was really, really tight. His arms hung at his sides, fists clenched in uncertainty. I pressed my chest flush against his, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. His muscles were stiff and unyielding.

“Relax Carmy… and lose the broom.”

I whispered reassuringly. Carmen relaxed somewhat.

“Right, sorry.”

He dropped the broom. The plastic hit the ground with a loud smack. I tangled my hands in his greasy hair, urging him to come closer. He obliged, craning his head forward to meet me halfway.

Carmen's lips were surprisingly soft. He was clearly hesitant at first, not wanting to move too quickly. Finally, he found solace in the feel of my kiss and allowed his mouth to mesh against mine in a relaxed manner. I grasped his wrist, bringing it to the swell of my hips. He let it sit, not wanting to alter anything I had done.

“You can touch me if you want. I’m not gonna break.”

Carmen wrapped his other hand around my hip and gently drew me forward, connecting our pelvises.

“Is this alright?”

He murmured under his breath.

“That’s perfect.”

His bulge began to grow against my thigh.

Shit. This was gonna be fun.

“You’re really hard right now, Carmy.”

I said with a chuckle. Carmen broke away, his face bright red. He looked down, confirming that he really was, in fact, hard.

“Ah-shit. I’m sor-“

I hastily cupped his face, reconnecting our searing kiss.

“Don’t you dare apologize.”

I reached between our bodies, cupping him through his jeans. Carmen groaned, my mouth swallowing his noises.

“Shit.”

He murmured, instinctively grinding his hand against my open palm.

“Jesus, you’re touch starved aren’t ya?”

Carmen shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut as struggled to maintain his composure.

“That feels really fucking good.”

His tone was completely erotic. It was low, breathy, and his thick accent added to the sensuality. Carmen’s pleasured expression sent a wave of heat to my core.

God, I wanted his cock in my mouth.

“Can we go into my office? It’s more private there, and, to be honest I think these counters are a little too tall for me to fuck you on.”

-

I had been in his office many times before. It was a place of comfort where I could briefly escape the hustle and bustle of restaurant life. At least, that’s what I told Carmen. Typically I’d need time to gawk at him and wonder what it would be like to have his face between my legs. I’d grow wet at the mere thought of his nose bumping my clit as his tongue delved between my folds.

I wonder if he ever fantasized about me. I wonder if he ever found his fingers involuntarily dipping below the waistband of his boxers. If so, I wonder what fantasies his complex mind was able to conjure.

I hope to learn them one day.

I shoved him backwards. His knees collided with the chair and he fell back with a loud huff. I dropped to my knees, lodging myself between his spread thighs. Carmen’s eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck me.”

If he was becoming aroused solely from the sensation of my hand against his clothed erection, I couldn’t wait to relish in his expressions when I took his cock into my mouth.

I brought my hands to his fly, slowly unbuttoning it and dragging the zipper down to expose a small section of my boxers. Carmen shifted his hips as I dragged his jeans down his thighs. I palmed him through the thin fabric, a small patch of precum appearing on his boxers.

Carmen hissed through his teeth, jerking his head back to fully expose his thick neck.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He dug his dull nails into the arm rests, veins bulging along his forearms from the effort. I hooked a finger in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his thighs just enough to expose his thick cock.

My mouth began to water. The feeling of his erection through his boxers was deceiving. He was really fucking big.

“Jesus Carmy, you’re big.”

I wrapped a hand around his veiny length, gently pumping. Carmen whined.

“Your hand feels really good.”

I dragged my hand to the base before bringing it upwards. I spread his precum around his pink tip, lubricating his cock to prepare it for my mouth.

I grasped his dominant hand, bringing it to my scalp.

“Move me however you want.”

Carmen’s head flopped forward, his cock twitching as he met my gaze. He tangled his hand in my hair, gently tugging on the roots.

Without further ado, I slipped his tip between my lips. Carmen exhaled shakily, his chest heaving with each labored breath.

“That feels really fucking good.”

He chuckled. I swirled my tongue around his tip, slowly taking more of him into my mouth. Carmen maintained eye contact, growing impossibly harder as he watched me take all of him into my mouth.

I groaned, trying my best not to gag as his cock grazed the back of my throat. Carmen furrowed his brow, gently thrusting his hips into my mouth.

My nose brushed against his happy trail. He spread his legs, utilizing the grip on my hair to push me further onto him. I groaned, the vibrations causing Carmen to shudder.

“You-you look really pretty.”

I admired the effort.

I hollow my cheeks, increasing the suction. Carmen groaned and threw his head back, unable to conceal his desires.

“Jesus darlin’.”

Darling?

I rubbed my thighs together, hoping to relieve some of the ache building between my legs.

God. The lamp's soft glow washed over his perfectly sculpted features. His erotic noises were amplified by the blanket of silence. This is exactly how I imagined it when I had my hand between my legs, hoping to recreate a feeling I had never even experienced.

I wanted him to fuck me.

I wanted to hear him moan and I wanted for him to make me cry with pleasure.

It was almost unbelievable that the man who made a living yelling and making sure everything was in order was now gazing at me with half-lidded eyes.

I shifted my hips, resisting the urge to touch myself. I wanted to save all feelings of pleasure for when his cock slipped into me. I wanted to ache for him just a little longer.

“I’m gonna cum real soon.”

Sure enough, his cock began to twitch against my tongue. I bobbed my head faster, expediting the process. Carmen dropped his jaw, releasing one final groan as he came into my mouth. My throat became coated with his hot cum. I bobbed my head a few more times, helping him come down from his high.

When I was satisfied with my work, I released his cock with a loud pop. Carmen looked spent. His body was numb, his eyes were closed.

I crawled onto his lap, gently cupping his face. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, exposing his vibrant irises.

“Are you alright?”

He grinned.

“I’m fuckin’ awesome.”

I pulled him in, pressing my wet lips to his plush mouth. I slipped my tongue past his teeth, deepening the kiss. Carmen groaned. I clung to him, his strong torso pressing against my soft breasts.

He wasn’t close enough.

I needed him to be closer.

I needed him inside of me.

“Can I fuck you now?”

He murmured against my mouth.

Damn, he read my mind.

“You can fuck me anytime you want baby.”

He brought his calloused hands to my thighs, tenderly caressing the supple skin. I glanced down, watching as his dark ink danced along my skin.

“You have pretty hands.”

Carmen chuckled.

“Thanks.”

He hooked his hands under my thighs. Effortlessly, he raised me up, shoving all the papers to the side as he set me down on his desk. Carmen immediately rekindled our passionate make out session, slipping his tongue past my teeth. His hands moved upwards, fingers slipping past the hem of my shirt to touch my bare sides.

I yanked him forward by the collar, positioning his body between my legs.

“Take my clothes off please.”

Carmen scoffed.

“Yes ma’am.”

He tugged on the hem of my t-shirt, lifting it over my head and discarding it haphazardly onto the floor. My shorts soon followed.

I was now only in my undergarments, making quick work of Carmen’s dirty shirt. I ran my soft hands along his bare torso, feeling his muscles ripple under my gentle touch.

Carmen’s hands slowly dragged along my hot skin, hastily undoing my bra strap and allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. His palms hovered over my breasts.

“Is that okay?”

I nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

He began to slowly knead the soft flesh, the heel of his palms brushing against my hardened nipples. I whimpered against his mouth, my nerves on fire from his hot touch. I ran my hands through his hair, indulging in the soft moans that came with the occasional tug of his roots.

Carmen’s hand brushed against my abdomen. He lightly grazed my clothed mound, gently cupping me through my underwear. I groaned, breaking the kiss to lean my head against his strong shoulder.

“Can I?”

I nodded.

“Please. Just-just don’t make me cum yet. I wanna cum on your cock.”

Carmen pushed my panties to the side, hesitantly delving a finger between my wet folds. I arched my back into his chest, raking my nails against his scalp, which elicited a low groan from the back of Carmen’s throat.

He began to tenderly thrust his calloused fingertips against my spongy walls, softly humming in delight whenever I instinctively clenched around his digits.

“Does that feel good?”

He dropped his voice to a whisper. His hot breath brushed against my ear and sent cold shivers down my spine. I glanced between our bodies, nearly cumming as I took in the sight of my walls swallowing two of Carmen’s fingers. The veins of his forearms flexed with every thrust.

God, if only he knew how much I fantasized about his rough fingers pleasuring me.

“Yeah… yeah Carmen that feels really fucking good.”

My body was now red hot with desire, every sense had increased tenfold. The feeling of his fingertips delving into my cunt made me antsy with want for his cock.

“Okay, that’s enough for now, please fuck me Carmen.”

I knew I’d get the chance to cum around his thick digits eventually. There was no way in hell tonight was the last night I’d see Carmen naked.

“Um- will you do it for me?”

I smiled.

“Sure.”

I grasped Carmen’s semi hard cock in my hand, giving it a few pumps. His eyes fluttered shut.

My heart grew. Whatever the circumstances, he was gorgeous. However, something about his vulnerability, his desire to be mine lit a fire deep within me.

I pressed his tip to my entrance, and we both sighed in unison.

“Move your-“

Carmen rolled his hips, pushing his cock past my entrance and deep within my walls. His large hands slammed onto the table, bracing himself so he wouldn’t collapse at the sudden onset of pleasurable sensations.

“Fuck.”

I mumbled, his thick cock stretching me to the brim.

“Feel good?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Fuck yes.”

I said, possibly a little too enthusiastically. Our noses bumped as I hastily reignited the spark between our lips. Carmen wasn’t holding back anymore. He hungrily moved his mouth against mine, shoving his tongue past my lips.

I threw my arms around his shoulder as he began a steady pace. His cock was so perfect it made me dizzy. I feared I would fall if I didn’t hold Carmen close.

“If I knew you felt this perfect I would’ve told ya’ I loved ya’ a long time ago.”

I chuckled.

“Not so shy anymore?”

Carmen slowly increased his pace. The veins along his length bulged. They pressed into my stretched walls and heightened the sensuality of his glorious thrusts.

“Next time I’ll be confident from the start. I’ll give ya’ whatever the fuck you want for being such a doll this time around.”

I jolted, a soft scream spilling from my lips as his tip grazed my g spot.

“Keep makin’ noises like that, I wanna hear ya.’”

I maintained eye contact, allowing any expression roll over my features in the hopes of fulfilling his erotic desires. He was now hitting my g spot with every thrust. I saw in his eyes that he was meticulously crafting his pace in order to best suit my needs.

The tips of our noses brushed against each other everytime Carmen snapped his pelvis forward. I ran one hand down his body, raking my nails through his happy trail before coming back up to fiddle with his greasy hair. I was overcome with the need to feel every part of him. My hands wouldn’t stay in one place. I was finally able to touch him without limits, and I wasn’t about to waste that opportunity.

When Carmen established a groove, his palms cupped the sides of my hips. He brought me forward to the edge of the desk to acquire a more suitable angle to ram himself into me.

The dim light was now illuminating one side of his face, leaving the other in darkness. I grasped his face, running the pads of my thumbs along his defined cheekbones.

The coil was mindlessly tightening within my lower abdomen. Carmen furrowed his brow in frustration.

God, I wish he always looked like this.

Sure, I’d seen him concentrate before. But concentrating on chopping onions and concentrating on finding the perfect angle to fuck were two vastly different forms of concentration.

I hooked my legs around his thin waist. All the combined efforts created the perfect angle. I threw my head back, a loud moan ripping through my as I came increasingly closer to cumming.

“Are you close?”

Yeah.”

I murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh fuck I can’t wait for you to cum all over me.”

“Are you close?”

I inquired.

“Darlin’, I’ve been close for the past thirty minutes.”

I was close, so incredibly close. The beginnings of an earth shattering orgasm were seeping into the corners of my brain, clouding my thoughts.

“Lean into me. I want you to be close.”

I tossed my head forward, nestling my face in the crook of his sweaty neck.

This was so much better than I could’ve imagined.

I could smell the cigarettes on his skin. I could feel him pumping inside of me as I caressed his hot skin. I could hear the sensual sounds of sex filling the small office, bouncing around the walls. I could see him, staring at me, relishing in my expressions as he fucked me senseless.

“Oh God Carmy, I’m so fucking close it’s unreal.”

Carmen found my clit, gently grazing his calloused finger against my tight bundle of nerves. I came loudly, my walls squeezing his cock as I reached my high.

Carmen twitched inside of my overstimulated walls, cumming shortly after me. His hot load painted my walls. I watched. I watched his expression gloriously contort in pleasure as he came inside of me, his beautiful face glimmering with perspiration in the soft glow.

He gave a few lazy thrusts, wanting to prolong the sensation for as long as possible.

“Jesus Carmen, for someone who “isn’t very good at this,” you sure act like you know what’s goin’ on.”

Carmen smirked, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“What can I say, I’m a fast learner.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“I promise I’ll make you really scream next time.”

His sultry tone made my heart flutter.

“Promise?”

I asked.

He held up three fingers.

“I fuckin’ promise.”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear fic #x female reader #imagines #fanfic #imagine #x yn #x you smut #x fem!reader #x y/n #smut imagine #x reader #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white x reader #Jeremy Allen white smut #i love this man

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 10: all the love in the world. FINALE.

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - the end is just the beginning.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - over 10k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - SMUT (18+ only, I warned y'all from the beginning), emotions, angst, fluff, more stepcesty stuff, brief pregnancy mention/discussion, reader's mom gets a first name sorry if that breaks the illusion for anyone

(thank you to everyone who read this series, it's been such an adventure and I'm glad I could take you with me <3)

Eddie cleared his throat as he stood in front of the crowd gathered in the backyard— small, but still a crowd.  "Well, um, hi," he waved at the seated guests, most of whom waved back.  "Bet you never thought you'd see me in a suit, right?" 

Scattered, polite laughs rippled through the group.

"Um, neither did I.  And I never thought I'd see the day that my uncle got married, either, but here we are.  Wayne's never had much luck with the ladies— I guess it's proof we're related, right?" he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck briefly.  "Anyways— I knew something was different when he came home from dinner with a 'friend' —" Eddie gestured with dramatic air quotes— "and couldn't stop smiling.  I've got some pretty great friends but, they don't make me smile like that."

He glanced at you, and you offered your best reassuring smile-and-thumbs-up combo.

"He told me a couple days later that he'd met this woman,” Eddie continued, glancing down at the cards again.  “Apparently he helped her find something at the hardware store.  I was so happy for him that I resisted the urge to make an insensitive joke about if he was going to 'nail' her."

You snorted out an embarrassed laugh, and you caught your mom’s expression: clearly a little shocked, but thankfully, amused.

"And, uh, I met her a couple weeks later, and she said she liked my hair,” Eddie recalled.  “So I knew she was cool.  But most of all, I knew she was right for my uncle.  He's a pretty stoic guy— and I don't think I've ever seen him laugh in my entire life the way he can laugh in one night with Donna.  They're so right for each other it's nuts.  It hasn't been an easy road to today for either of them.  I think some people think you can only love one person in your life, but they're wrong: you can have an amazing life, and an amazing family, and an amazing daughter with someone…"

Your heart was in your throat already.

"...and you can still find happiness with someone else down the line.  And I can’t think of anyone more deserving of that than you, Donna."

Shit.  You were worried about crying during your own speech.  You hadn’t even considered that you might cry over Eddie’s.

"Donna, you're too nice for your own good.  You took me in just because you love my uncle so much— and that says everything about the kind of person you are.  You've given me a roof over my head, you've given me way more credit than I deserve, and you've given me a really cool sister.  She's actually cooler than me, which is annoying."

You laughed a little, but bit your lip when a sob almost came out.

"Wayne— I won't say too much because I'm not about to cry in front of all these people.  I think everything I really need to say, you already know.  But in case you don't… you're more of a dad to me than my father’s even been.  I’d be in the clink or in a ditch somewhere if you hadn’t been there to straighten me out.  I know I didn’t always make it easy on you… actually, I almost never made it easy on you.  You taught me almost everything I know, except the guitar— and I’m gonna need you to teach me how to find such an amazing lady, and how to make it last.  Deal?”

Wayne nodded at him, and the guests clapped politely as Eddie left his place standing in front of them to give his uncle a hug and his new aunt-slash-mother-figure a kiss on the cheek.  On shaky legs, you stood up and hoped you could find some way to follow that.

Your heart raced as you found yourself facing all those guests; last time you’d been standing in front of them all, you’d been behind your mother at the altar, so they were all looking at her.  Now you were alone and had all their attention to yourself; Eddie took his seat and shot you a thumbs up before you started.

You glanced down at your notes, holding onto them for dear life.  Thank everyone for coming & joke about beer, the first line of the first index card read.

“Well,” you began, feeling your heart rate pick up, “I’d like to begin by thanking you all for coming.  It means so much to us that you’re here, and I know you all wouldn’t miss an opportunity for free beer.”

It was a safe joke, and it got a safe laugh, and you looked at the next line for guidance: When Mom first met Wayne…

“When Mom first met Wayne,” you repeated, “she… actually didn’t tell me.”

That seemed to surprise a few people.

“I guess she was afraid that I wouldn’t approve, either of him or of her dating again at all.  Sadly, her fears weren’t… totally misplaced,” you admitted, cringing slightly.  “But only because, when it comes to any man who wants to be in my mom’s life, I have incredibly high standards.  And anyone who knew my father knows why.”

You flipped to the next card.  DAD it said at the top, with more notes of the points you wanted to cover beneath.  You froze, wondering if you had the strength to go on with what you’d written.

“Um… after my dad passed away…” you started, voice getting a bit weaker— they were all staring at you, that was something you hadn’t properly appreciated when you were preparing this speech, that they’d all be staring like this.  “It was hard, obviously.  It’s not easy for anyone to lose a partner, or a parent.  I know it was harder on my mom than she let on— she was trying to be strong for me.  And I was just trying to pretend like everything was fine.  But it wasn’t, and we were both hurting a lot.  Our family was… broken, it was missing something.  And, of course, no one could fill the space my dad left behind— but I didn’t know someone could make my mom that happy again.”

Shakily, you put the card at the back of the stack and stared at the next heading: WAYNE.  Hard working, compassionate and passionate, nicer than he looks.

“Wayne, though, is truly a special man.  He’s hard-working, compassionate and passionate, and I’ve learned that he’s not as intimidating as he looks,” you smiled.  “I wouldn’t have blamed him at all for basically ignoring me completely— he knows I’m not a kid anymore, and he knows he doesn’t exactly need my approval to be with my mom.  But, he also knows how important we are to each other, and he’s been nothing but supportive of me.  Congrats, Mom, you might’ve gotten one of the last good ones.”

Again, polite laughter for an easy joke— if perhaps a bit more feminist than your average piece of wedding-speech-humor— but when you glanced up, you caught a smirk on Eddie’s face.

You looked down at your cards again, turning to the next one.  EDDIE it said at the top… but the rest was blank.  Fuck, you’d been putting off this part to the very last second— and the last second passed about ten minutes ago.  You let out a nervous “um” as you stalled, trying to imagine what the fuck you could possibly say about Eddie.  “A-and, well,” you choked, “what could I say about Eddie… that hasn't already been said over police radios all across the county."

They laughed, but you only cared if Eddie laughed at that one, so you'd know if you'd gone too far.  You heard his laugh first and loudest, and you smiled to yourself.

"But, in all seriousness: Eddie, you're…" you trailed off again.  You looked at him, which was a huge mistake; the way he was looking at you was just overwhelming.  You glanced down at your cards again quickly.  "You're definitely one of a kind," you decided, "and I'm… really, really lucky to have you in my life."

The crowd was filled with awwws, but you refused to look up from that blank index card.  It was your only protection now— you felt terribly vulnerable in front of everyone, admitting things you hadn't even admitted to yourself.  You took a deep, but shaky, breath in and out.

"They say you can't choose your family," you continued.  "And even in this case, when we're not actually related, it's true.  But— but I'd choose you anyways."

For a second, you almost thought Eddie was tearing up, but he was looking down and it was dark out already, so you couldn’t quite tell.  You flipped to your last index card.  Close out.  

“It’s so special to be with you all here tonight,” you nodded, “celebrating Mom and Wayne— the hottest couple in Hawkins.  Cheers!”

Glasses raised and clinked, and you gave your mom and your new stepfather a hug on your way back to your own seat.

As the night progressed, dinner turned to dancing and slightly heavier drinking— although it turns out older crowds don’t go quite as bananas for free alcohol as high school and college students do, shockingly.

“Can I get you a drink?” Eddie asked you after finding you keeping mostly to yourself in the corner.

“I’m, uh, not much of a drinker,” you informed him.

“Will you come dance with me?” he asked next.

“I’m not much of a dancer, either,” you laughed.

“Neither am I,” he assured with a laugh, extending a hand out to you.  “Just come with me.”

You gave him a look.  “What’s with the insistence?”

“I want you to have fun, is that so terrible?” he pressed.

“Since when is dancing with you ‘fun’?” you noticed.

He gave you a wide grin as one song faded out, and the next one began: Into The Groove by Madonna, the one Eddie had heard you singing along to loudly in your room however long ago.  “I know you dance to this one,” he smirked.

Groaning in defeat, but smiling a bit as the guilty pleasure song played, you took his hand and let him drag you to the middle of the yard.  Of course, for a song like this, dancing together is more just dancing near each other, but he was right— it was fun.

“I’m tired of dancing here all by myself, tonight I wanna dance with someone else!” the lyrics announced as you and Eddie bounced around uncoordinatedly; maybe you looked sort of stupid, but hey, you already had the uncomfortable fluff of a Pepto Bismol pink dress on so it wasn’t like you were ever at risk of looking elegant or anything…

Thankfully the weather was nice and the dark evening was getting even cooler, so working up some heat dancing this way actually served as a protection from the chilly breeze— Eddie had a flush on his face by the time the song was almost over, a rosy tint over his nose and cheeks and the slightest shine on his forehead from the exertion.

In a few minutes, the music changed, from fast and upbeat to something slow and gentle— you recognized it as soon as that familiar voice began to croon: “I can hear so much in your sighs, and I can see so much in your eyes…”

You smiled a little, remembering singing along to The Beach Boys when Eddie was practicing his guitar.  You thought instantly that this song would sound so much better if he were singing it instead, even if you loved the original.

Some people left the dance floor, some couples got up to dance, but everyone had stopped the energetic dancing and had begun to move much more slowly, holding each other… it was all very romantic, except that you were just standing there staring at Eddie as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“There are words we both could say…”

He cleared his throat, and when he opened his mouth, you were so afraid he was about to make an excuse to leave.  I’m gonna get a beer, you want one? or I should check in on the happy couple or something— and, hoping to stop him, you suddenly put your hands on his shoulders.

Looking at you again, he blinked those brown eyes quickly but stepped closer to you anyways.  Your hands were still on his shoulders, but you never actually found the strength to push him away, so he put his hands on your waist and suddenly you were slow dancing.  “But don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder…”

Your breathing was shaky and you hoped he wouldn’t notice; his thumb moved slightly where it held your waist through your dress, and you felt every touch amplified by your anxiety-awakened skin.

“Come close, close your eyes and be still,” the gentle singing played from the speakers, “take my hand and let me hear your heartbeat.”

Hesitating at first, you leaned your head forward and let it rest on his chest; he tilted his head down to look at you, but you didn’t look back at him, you just couldn’t take that right now.  You really could hear his heartbeat, even without pressing your ear right up to him, even through the white button-up dress shirt; it was strong and fast, and your eyes fell shut.

“Being here with you feels so right, we could live forever tonight,” the song continued, “let's not think about tomorrow and don't talk, put your head on my shoulder—”

Swaying together, you felt Eddie hold you a little tighter, but he could never hold you tight enough.  He could never hold you long enough.  

“Thank you,” he whispered, and you blinked your eyes quickly so you could lean back and look up at him.

“For what?” you wondered.

“Being nice to me,” he replied.  “Just for tonight— you can be mean again tomorrow.”

You laughed a little, looking down at where his shiny black shoes stepped in time with your pink kitten heels.  But then you felt his hand on your waist squeeze gently again and you sighed.  Silence returned, but it wasn’t awkward, just… quiet.  Except for, you know, the music, which went on as you danced together.

“Don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder…”

When the song ended all too soon, you stepped back slightly and looked up at Eddie, wondering if he could see everything in your eyes— it felt like he could, it looked like he could with the way he was looking back at you.

There was only a second of silence before the next song came on, and the melody played on plunky synths gave it away instantly as Take My Breath Away by Berlin.  You exhaled a quick laugh and Eddie took his hands off your back.  “I hate this song,” you announced.

“Me too,” he agreed, “so cheesy.”

You nodded and crossed one arm over your chest to hold the other nervously, starting to awkwardly glance around the reception.

“Wanna get out of here?” he offered, and you looked up at him.

“Eddie, we can’t leave,” you said when you realized what he was suggesting.  

“Yeah we can,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, “just for a few minutes— they won’t even notice.”

You hesitated before nodding; “Y-yeah, sure…”

He grabbed your wrist and guided you across the yard to the fence, specifically the darkest corner of the fence where he took a cursory glance to make sure no one was looking before lacing his fingers together and holding them down for you.  “Here,” he offered, tilting his head towards the fence.  

You started to lift your foot before you put it on the ground again.  “Wait.  You’re not gonna look up my skirt, are you?”

He sighed.  “Do you really think so little of me, sweetheart?”

Sufficiently guilted, you stepped on his hands and let him give you a lift up so you could grab the top of the fence, just barely getting the leverage you needed to pull one leg over.

“Ooh, cute lace,” he praised lasciviously.

“God damn it,” you hissed, flinging yourself over and managing to land upright on both feet on the other side— it was easier to get down this way because a hill was just starting and the ground was a bit higher.  Eddie hauled himself up a moment later, jumping down onto the other side and dusting himself off afterwards.

You walked up the hill together as he promised to take you to some place he knew about— you just hoped it wasn’t too far, because these silken flats weren’t exactly built for distance.

It wasn’t far at all, actually; it was just past the treeline, over the highest point of the hill, and when Eddie guided you out to where he’d stopped, you gasped at the view.  From here, you could see nearly all of Hawkins— twinkling lights in rows and columns, cars driving down streets, the old church, the town hall—

“Oh my god,” you breathed.  “From here, it almost doesn’t look like the shittiest little town ever.”

He laughed.  “I know, right?”

“When did you find this place?” you asked.

He sat down on the grass and patted beside him for you to sit, too.  “Well,” he began as you tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the dress, “it must’ve been about a week after I moved in.  I went on a walk and sorta just stumbled on it.”

You laughed and sighed simultaneously, shaking your head.  “I’ve lived here for years, and never knew I was one hill away from the best view of the town; you’re here a week and you find this.”

“I think your problem is you have all these amazing things right in front of you,” he decided, “but you don’t know how to look for them.”

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” you pressed.

He shrugged.  “It’s just something I noticed.”

A long lull fell in the conversation while the two of you looked out over the lights of Hawkins.  The music from the reception seemed to follow the wind, and with a gust of breeze, you heard guitars and melodic singing: Josie’s on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over…

You laughed, just to yourself, but then started to laugh harder until you were holding your stomach and falling back into the grass.

“What?” Eddie laughed with you.  “What’s so funny?”

You tried to tell him, but you were laughing too hard to make sense.

“Come on,” he whined, and you composed yourself enough to string a sentence together.

“I hated you,” you laughed, “god, I hated you in high school!  You were so… loud!  And you didn’t care what anyone thought of you— and back then, I thought that was a bad thing, I thought it was impossible.  And now— now that nothing can ever happen with us, of course that’s when I start falling for you.”

You didn’t even care that you’d said it, you didn’t even care that he was looking at you that way or that it felt like getting stabbed in the chest.  Your laughter stopped, and you bit your lip to keep it from turning into tears.

“And I just think that’s funny,” you concluded.

“Yeah,” he smiled, looking down at the ground, “yeah, it is funny.”

You were looking out at the horizon, the lights all over Hawkins going out as stores closed and families went to bed and your sleepy little town really slept, when Eddie scooted a little closer to you.

“One question,” he requested.  “Uh… remind me why nothing can ever happen with us?”

“‘Cause my mom, and your uncle,” you sighed.  Your eyes glanced down at your legs, seeing his stretched out beside them, one ringed hand resting on his bent knee as the other kept him propped up in the grass.  “They’re married, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “they really love each other, huh?”

You nodded.

“Wayne told me when he was gonna propose to your mom,” Eddie said suddenly.  “I asked him what he was gonna say, and he said, ‘I’m just gonna tell her the truth.’”

You smiled.  “That’s why they work.  The truth is exactly what she needs.”

“What do you need?”

You looked down at the grass.  “I… I don’t know.”

"Maybe," he whispered, "I could finally tell you the truth, too."

You gave him an expectant stare, and he coughed a bit, but continued.

“Okay, well, the truth is,” Eddie began, “I like who I am when I’m with you.  I know you don’t, really, but… I do.  And when I’m not with you, I’m usually thinking about you.  ‘Usually’ as in, ‘always’.”

As he looked at you, searching your expression for some reaction, he leaned in a little closer.

“And I had a bit of a thing for you in high school— I mean, as much as I could, without ever talking to you,” he added.  “Except that one time.”

You remembered it well, normally, but suddenly you forgot everything you ever knew as he moved even closer, his face right in front of yours, his eyes giving you a look that made you shiver.

“And I love you,” he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I love you,” he kissed the other, “I love you.”

He kissed just beside your nose, and you whimpered: “Eddie—”

He held your face in both his hands, pulling back to look at you closely.  “No, don’t break my heart just yet.  Let me tell you one more time.  I love you.”

You took a shaky breath.  “I thought you hated me,” you whispered.

He looked hurt, and as a tear fell from your eye, he wiped it away with his thumb.  “No, no baby— how could you think that?”

“Because…” you trailed off.  “Because the way I love you makes me hate myself.”

With him giving you that devastated look, you figured you had to continue before you made it too much worse.

“You’re everything I wish I could be,” you explained, “you’re crazy and you’re confident and you’re free.  You don’t care what people think.  And I’m—”

“Uptight, self-conscious, and perfectionistic?” he finished, and you frowned.

“Hey…” you mumbled defensively, looking down, but he lifted your face again.

“Those are all the things I love about you,” he explained.  “I love everything about you.  I knew how you felt about me back then— it didn’t stop me from having a massive crush on you.”

“First it’s a ‘bit of a thing’, now it’s a ‘massive crush’?” you noticed with a raised eyebrow, and he laughed as his cheeks tinted.

“Can’t get anything past you, huh?” he sighed.  “Yeah, I was really into you.  I told myself that you were really this creative, passionate, wild-and-crazy sort of girl beneath the goody-two-shoes shell— that you were just waiting for someone to break you out of that prison you built for yourself.  And I imagined that it was me, that one day you’d ask me for something and we would start talking and you would end up begging me to take you away from it all.  To steal you from that asshole Gary and sweep you off your feet— and we would get in the van and leave it all behind.  Fuck Hawkins, fuck high school, fuck everybody.”

You sniffled, clutching at his tuxedo jacket’s lapel.  “Eddie…” you whispered, not sure how to say anything more than that.

“We’d find shitty jobs and a shitty apartment somewhere in the middle of a town that actually matters,” he continued, “and we’d sleep on the floor the first night because there wasn’t time to pick out a bed.  I could play guitar on a street corner and buy you flowers with whatever coins people toss in the case, and you could take enough pictures to cover the walls so we don’t need wallpaper.  And we’d find a stray cat in the rain and bring it inside and name it something metal like Sabbath or Zeppelin.  And it would all be so stupid, so massively irresponsible, but it would be our stupid irresponsible little life together.  And it would be fucking beautiful.”

Biting your lip, you still couldn’t stop yourself from crying as tears fell down your heated cheeks.  “Eddie, that’s what I wanted,” you sighed.  “I didn’t know it then, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then let’s do it,” he whispered, and it was you that closed the gap— it was you that kissed him, finally, holding on tighter to his jacket as you inhaled sharply and pressed your lips onto his.

They really were soft, just like you thought they’d be; but he tasted different than you expected, maybe because he hadn’t smoked recently.  But he tasted like the way the air smells after it rains, and beer, and the leftover sweetness of wedding cake frosting.  You breathed against his skin and tasted it more as he deepened the kiss, letting yourself really melt into it, letting him hold you tighter and move his lips with yours however he wanted.

His hand gently reached up to hold the back of your head; the other stroked your cheek one more time before drifting down to your waist.

It was surreal— it was hyperreal— it was Eddie, you were kissing Eddie.  Eddie Munson, the freak, the loser, the delinquent; Eddie Munson, your technical-relative; Eddie Munson, that guy who wouldn’t sit still for the damn yearbook photo.

Somehow, thinking about it like that just made you smile a bit and kiss him harder.

What was originally gentle and comforting and sweet started to shift after a few moments, as he opened his mouth wider and gripped your waist harder and let you feel some of that hunger— god, you knew the feeling too well, and you scooted forward in the grass to press yourself to him a bit.  He hummed, low and soft, and you whimpered in return as your noises were nearly lost in the kiss.

You held on tighter to his lapel, then reached up to squeeze his shoulders, and he groaned— fuck, it was the sexiest thing you’d heard since… no, actually, it was just the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

Gasping against his lips, you pushed him down roughly by those shoulders, pinning him to the grass as you swung your leg and straddled his lap.  “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling you down to kiss him again.

It was shameless now, all lips and tongue and teeth— when he gently bit on your lower lip you thought you might really go actually crazy— as your hands gripped at his shirt to feel his chest while his touch ran down your back, up your legs, basically anywhere he could reach.

Just when you thought this was it, you were really going to get it over with right here and now after all these years, he broke away.  “Baby, wait,” he choked out, shrinking back, and you froze as you pulled away by sitting up slightly.

“What?” you asked, terrified you were about to get your heart kicked back into its cage when you freed it for the first time in years.

“Th-this is a rental,” he blurted out, motioning slightly at the tux he had on.

After a moment’s pause, you started to laugh.  And he laughed, too.  You relaxed slightly and sat back on his thighs; he sat up and pulled you into a hug, kissing the side of your head while it was nearby.  The laughter died down, and the moment passed, and you let each other out of the embrace.  

“We should probably get back now,” he decided, and you nodded in agreement.

He took your hand and you ran together through the grass, back towards the sound of the backyard reception, back to the real world.

The whole crowd of guests stood out front and waved as Wayne and your mom drove away — for all the effort you put into getting a nice vintage Cadillac for the send-off, it looked pretty tacky with the streamers and cans tied to it, clanking as it drove down the cul-de-sac.

When they were out of sight, you and Eddie took one more deep breath before turning to the guests behind you.  “Thank you all so much for coming!” you announced.  

And that was basically what you did for the next fifteen minutes: shake a bunch of hands, wave goodbye, thank everyone for their attendance and gifts.  When they left, the rest of your work was only beginning, and it was nearly midnight!  Eddie offered to wash dishes and take out the trash while you took down decorations and paid the guys coming to take back the rented stereo equipment.

Thankfully, with the two of you, it went pretty quickly.  There was more to do, but it could wait until the morning; it’s not like having tables and chairs set up in your backyard overnight is a crime or something.

When you were done with your tasks, you leaned up against the entryway to the kitchen, finding Eddie drying the last plate.  He looked over his shoulder at you for a second, smiling, before drying his hands and setting it all down to face you:  his jacket was long gone and his bowtie hung untied loosely around an unbuttoned collar that exposed a hint of clavicle and chest hair.  

“So, house to ourselves,” he noticed, glancing around.  “We throwin’ a rager or what?”

You smiled softly, glancing down.  

He approached you slowly and carefully, reaching up to hold your shoulders when he was close enough.  Even now you felt a little shaky, a little nervous to be this close to him even when you’d already kissed, but his gentle smile soothed you; so you did it, you stood up a bit taller and kissed him.

It wasn’t as sudden as the last one, so it wasn’t as rushed, and yet there was a creeping sense of urgency to it because you both realized it could go somewhere— maybe it didn’t have to, but with an empty house and no time limit or deadline coming up, anything could happen tonight.

As you clutched his shirt and pulled him closer with an inhale through your nose, feeling his hands take your waist and press you to him, you realized that you wanted it to go somewhere.  Not just anywhere— you knew exactly where you wanted this to go.

“Bed,” you blurted out, pulling back to look up at him.  “We— we should go to bed.”

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding a little breathless, “top or bottom?”

You laughed as he started guiding you with him already.  “Mine, for sure,” you decided.

“Aw,” he pouted as you walked through the bedroom door, “I’ve been thinking about getting you in my bed for ages— not gonna let me have my fantasy, huh?”

As you fell back onto your bottom bunk, pulling him down with you, he got the angle wrong and smacked his forehead on the wood between the mattresses; you laughed, covering your mouth when you felt guilty for it, and he scrunched up his nose as he held his head for a second.  “That was my fantasy,” you joked, and he laughed in return as he ducked a little too dramatically now to join you in the bed.

The lower bunk could feel a bit like a cave sometimes, in a cozy sort of way— but with Eddie on top of you, it was like it was all closing in on you as his weight dipped you both deeper into the mattress than ever.  That probably sounds horribly claustrophobic, but it was actually nice.  You felt safe and shockingly not-vulnerable considering the circumstances, even as he started to unzip the back of your dress while he kissed you again.

For your part, you were absolutely flying through his shirt’s buttons, sighing when it was opened and you could run your hands over his warm skin beneath.  His tattoos looked better than ever peeking out from under a tuxedo shirt, though you only got a brief glimpse of him before his lips on your neck all but forced your head to tilt back.

“Sensitive,” he noticed with a whisper, but just one word said like that made you mewl and work harder to get his shirt off.  But before you could get it all the way over his shoulders, he managed to get your dress down enough to expose your chest— and he hungrily sucked on your breasts as soon as he could.

“Oh god,” you whined, hips rocking up into nothing.  

“Here too,” he laughed as he kissed from one to the other, looking up at you for a second.  “Are you always this… responsive?”

You almost laughed imagining that Eddie really thought Gary had ever gotten this kind of reaction out of you.  You bit your lip and shook your head, and a little snarl curled his lips as he growled at you.  

“Just for me, then?” he assumed, and you nodded.  “That’s so sexy— you’re so sexy…”

“You too,” you admitted as he suckled at your chest again.  “I-I thought about this.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.  “I thought about this, too— a lot.”

You smiled proudly, before he broke away and sat up slightly to tug your dress off down your legs.  He purred again as he admired you laying there beneath him, naked spare for your panties, but he surprised you by coming back down to kiss your stomach— not exactly where you expected him to start, but okay— and beginning to move lower and lower…

Oh, fuck.  He looked up at you as he kept making his way down, fingers tucking into your panties so he could slide them down your thighs.  

Even obviously knowing what was coming, you gasped loudly when his lips latched onto your pussy.  “F-fuck!” you choked as his tongue lapped at you eagerly, suction tugging on your clit until your insides throbbed helplessly.

He held onto your legs and pushed his face harder against you, sliding his tongue deeper inside you, shutting his eyes tight while he seemed to feed on your need until you had to grab on to the support beams on either side of your head.  You felt him smile down there— cocky little shit— and go even harder.

The pleasure was heavy on your gut, like a weight keeping you pinned down, even though you longed so much to rock up into it for more.  “I— oh my god…”

He moaned against you, the most perfect sound muffled by your body, his fingers digging a little harder into your soft skin.  He was ruthless, and when you were nearly screaming, he just took it as a sign to go harder on you— he chased your pleasure fast enough that he had it captured in just a few minutes.

“I— I’m— oh god, Eddie,” you whined.  “I’m… I’m so close…”

He nodded and hummed against you but refused to slow down for even a second, just shutting his eyes tighter as he focused all his strength into keeping your hips still so he had total control over the way his mouth took you apart piece by piece.

One of your hands shot down and took a tight hold on his hair, but his groan of pain actually sounded rather pleased.  “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged, “oh my god—”

Your neck craned back and your spine arched so hard you lifted off the bed for a second, and he just opened his mouth wide and left his tongue stuck out so you could ride it shamelessly, the fireworks going off behind your eyelids as your orgasm shook your body.

You said his name a few more times, not really meaning to but needing to, and his heavy breaths fanned over your flushed skin.  

Only when you shakily sank back down into the bed, loosening your grip on his mane, did he break away and sit up to look down at you with a swallow and satisfied sigh.

“What’d you do that for?” you panted, unable to fight your own smile at the sight of his: wide and sparkling with slick that dripped down to his chin.

“‘Cause somebody oughta,” he explained, finally taking his shirt off all the way since you never actually got around to it.

“But I didn’t mean to come so fast…”

“It’s better this way— I already know I won’t be able to last long with you,” he admitted, leaning forward and capturing you in a messy kiss that tasted like— well, I bet you can guess what it tasted like.  Wedding cake, of course!

His breathing was heavy, too, as he tried to divide his mental energy between kissing you and unbuttoning his tuxedo pants; once that was done he pushed them down his thighs just enough that he could guide your hand to his aching cock, and you let out a long whimper of a breath as you wrapped your fingers around it.  God, it was literally hot, he must be burning up, and the drip of arousal running down made everything all smooth as you ran your fingers over the delicate skin.

“Put it in for me,” he instructed you under his breath, so as he lowered his hips down, you lifted your own a bit and guided him to your opening.  He gasped before he was even inside, just feeling your heat on the very tip of his cock; and as he delicately slid in, you groaned and dropped your head back.

A deep satisfaction filled you— literally— when his hips were flush with yours, full to the brim and gasping as he laid down on top of you.  

“So perfect,” he breathed as he brushed loose hair away from your face.  “I love you so much.”

You really didn’t wanna cry right now, it would be stupid, right?  It would be too weird.  You reached up and grabbed onto the back of his neck to make him kiss you again.  “I love you too,” you replied only when you were ready to say it without your voice breaking.

He started to move, careful and slow, and for some reason you just needed to say it again, mumbled into the kiss.

“I love you,” you repeated, reaching up to hold onto his back.  He nodded against you with a sigh of his own.

“I know,” he promised, “I know…”

And even if he knew, it just felt good to finally say it, and not even feel bad about it— not a drop of guilt or regret or self-consciousness.  That could wait for the morning.

Holding each other tightly, you found a steady pace— and then it was Eddie’s turn to hold onto one of the beams by your head as he buried his face in your neck.  “God,” he grunted, “so fuckin’ wet— you’re dripping for me, sweetheart…”

Whimpering, you let your nails dig into his back and your legs wrap around his hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, kissing your neck hungrily.  The stretch inside you was pleasurable enough, but then with his lips and tongue and teeth on your pulse, a tingling feeling danced up your back and you nearly sobbed from how good it felt.  And then he let go of the beam to toy with your hard nipple, and you thought you might lose your cool again right away.  “Fuck!” he said again, louder, as he picked up his pace.  “Y-you squeezed me so tight, baby, did you feel that?  Oh my god…”

You hadn’t felt it, until he made you do it again, and you noticed that time with a wavering cry of his name.

“Promise me something,” he panted as he lifted his head to look down at our face.  “Never stop saying my name like that.”

He kissed you before you could properly agree to it, slipping his hands under your back the next time it arched so he could hug you tightly as he thrusted much, much faster.

“Fuck, m’gonna come,” he whimpered, “I’m sorry— I really wanted to last longer, but god, you’re so— you— fuck!”

“S’okay,” you insisted, “just come— oh my god, Eddie, I want you to come—”

“Baby, baby,” he whined pleadingly as his head fell onto your shoulder, “don’t say that, I don’t want it to end so soon…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you promised, “just come, please, inside me—”

“Christ,” he blurted out, taking a tight hold of your hips and tossing his head back as his movements became a blur against your numbing, sticky walls.  “I— fuck, you’re sure I don’t have to pull out?”

You nodded as you gripped his arms.  “I’m sure, please please Eddie—!”

He gasped loudly and gave you an extra sudden, sharp thrust— and you started to feel it, his cock flexing in you, his heat flooding you, both of you panting as you started to still.

A long sigh accompanied his collapsing onto you, catching his breath between kisses all along your neck and face.

“I really, really tried not to come that fast,” he laughed breathlessly, and you just hugged onto his torso tighter.

“So did I,” you promised.  “I-it’s fine, really… I’m definitely satisfied, I mean, fuck— that was… fuck.”

“Yeah…” he agreed.

And you both fell asleep in seconds.  Because it was nearly two in the morning and you’d been working on the wedding shit all day and it was actually kind of a miracle you stayed awake long enough to do that in the first place!

You woke up hours later, the only light in the room just slivers of moonlight leaking through the window; he was behind you, holding you close, breathing on the back of your neck.  You held on tighter to the arm in front of your chest, leaning your head back into his chest, not expecting him to stir and sleepily plant a kiss on your head.

“Are you awake?” you whispered so softly there was any noise, but he nodded.

“Barely,” he admitted.  “You’re so warm…”

He hugged you tighter, then kissed you again— then lifted his head to kiss under your ear, by your jaw, just over your pulse…

You didn’t even mean to grind your ass into him, it was just that what he was doing made your back arch.  “Sweetheart,” he breathed, and that made you even hotter.  “I need you again.”

It was so easy to slide right in, your body still leaking his come from before, but even without that he could get you wet in seconds; you moaned lowly and tried to arch your back deeper to angle his cock just how you thought you wanted— but he grunted and pulled your back into his chest, wanting to feel as much of you as he could.  It made the angle of his thrusts a bit less natural and yet it forced him to rub right against your spot, and you shut your sleepy eyes tighter at the feeling.  “Fuck— like that, Eddie, just like that…”

He nodded in agreement and turned his gentle pecks on your shoulder into a full-on assault of tongue on anything he could reach, getting more desperate for you by the second.

That one lasted much longer— maybe hours, you were totally unable to keep track of time, but at some point he rolled you onto your stomach and rutted on top of you slowly.  He never had to pick up his pace to send you right into your first orgasm… or the second.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, “I’ll come again, oh fuck—”

“Good,” he praised roughly right into your ear, voice gravelly from sleep, “good— keep coming.  Don’t ever stop coming for me, baby, I love feeling it… I love hearing you, sound so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart.”

You whined and bit your lip, reaching up to grab a handful of your pillow— but his hand reached over yours and interlaced his thick fingers with your shaking ones, soothing kisses trailing the side of your face as you sobbed softly.  He kept praising you and you, following instructions, kept coming until it wasn’t really a matter of counting them anymore— it was just this never-ending feeling that swallowed you whole, which would be scary if you were alone.  But he was right there with you, promising he’d never let you again.

It ended as gradually and softly as it started, and he hugged you into him for you to fall asleep again much more easily than you’d think after a wake-up like that.  When you awoke for good, the sun was high in the sky.  You couldn’t see the clock, because you were too busy looking up at his sleeping face, but you guessed it was at least nine or ten.  It was the latest you’d slept in years.

You didn’t want to wake him up, but staring at him and playing with his hair didn’t satisfy you forever, so you started to plant tiny kisses on his chest, and that stirred him from sleep with a happy groan.

“Hey,” he greeted, and you weren’t ready to see his eyes again, in the light of the day, knowing how easily you’d given in to him after trying to resist for so many reasons for so long.  You weren’t ready to wonder if this was just getting out some pent-up energy before parting for as long as you needed to be regular step-siblings. 

You just shut your eyes and laid your head on his bicep as he sat up on his side to look at you.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, and you snorted.  

“I mean, I slept great,” you smiled, “when I was sleeping.”

“Me too,” he agreed as he kissed your cheek.  “Open your eyes, baby, I wanna see you.”

“Mmm…” you groaned in protest, burying your face in the pillow when he tried to hold it. 

“C’mon,” he whined, “I miss you.”

“I’m right here!” you promised, but you gave in and let him turn your face towards him as your eyes blinked open.  You were right— you weren’t ready.  The way he was looking at you was impossible to ever move on from, and you’d never be able to do it if he asked you to.

“So, are we—?” he started.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching up to lay a hand on his chest.  “Don’t ask me what we are, okay?  ‘Cause I don’t even know.”

“I… was just gonna ask if we were gonna go out for breakfast or cook ourselves,” he explained, and you felt a heat on your face in embarrassment.  “I kinda worked up an appetite there, believe it or not.”

“Oh,” you sighed, “um, I can cook something.”

You made a move to get up and he pulled you back down.  “N-no, wait,” he frowned.

“I thought you were hungry,” you noticed.

“Yeah… but I don’t want you to go,” he sighed, keeping you close.  There was a brief pause as you laughed softly, his arm wrapping around you.  “And also I wanna talk about that thing you don’t wanna talk about.”

“Ugh, Eddie,” you groaned, “can’t it wait a little longer?”

“Sure, but can I at least ask you to be my girlfriend first?” he requested.

“You know I can’t,” you sighed, “I’m already your stepsister.”

“See, here’s the thing— I was thinking about that earlier,” he explained, “and what I realized is that… I don’t actually… care, so—”

“What if I care?” you wondered.

“You can’t exactly make that argument when you’re naked in bed with me,” he noticed.

“Well, maybe it was—”

“Don’t tell me it was a mistake,” he interrupted firmly.  “You’re not much of a liar— I was there, sweetheart, we both know that was the farthest thing from a mistake.  All the time we spent not doing that was the mistake!”

You smiled, because you couldn’t deny that.  Misguided?  Sure.  Poorly timed?  Definitely.  But nothing truly wrong could feel that right.

“We don’t have to call it, you know, that,” he offered, “boyfriend and girlfriend— if you don’t want to.  As long as we’re together, it’ll be fine.”

“But people can’t know we’re together,” you insisted, “least of all Mom and Wayne.”

He nodded.  “Okay.”

“What are we gonna do when they get back?” you wondered.

“Guess I’m gonna have to go—” he reached up and knocked his fist on the slats above you— “back upstairs.”

“I’ll miss you,” you whined, cuddling harder into him.

“Okay, I’ll come down after they go to sleep,” he decided, hugging you tighter as well.

You spent the rest of your week alone together for the honeymoon very… similarly to a honeymoon, actually.  Damn near every room in the house was defiled and you were so exhausted you ended up calling in sick to work most days.  It was well worth it, obviously; Eddie had so much energy and lost time to make up for, meanwhile you were just happy to let him shower you in affection and bring you in an hour more pleasure than you’d had in the rest of your life combined.

“God, I can’t, I really really can’t,” he insisted as your lips latched onto his neck and your hips grinded in his lap. 

“You said that last time,” you remembered.

“I know, but now I mean it!” he sighed, dropping his head onto the back of the couch.  “What are you doin’ to me, woman?  Trying to kill me?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, licking his neck and purring as you felt the muscles in it shift under your tongue.  “Isn’t this how you always wanted to die?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but I can’t croak so soon— you’d miss me too much.”

For all his insistence that he couldn’t go again, that ten times in four days was too much, he was guiding your movements in his lap hardly ten minutes later, watching with heavy eyes as you sank down onto his cock over and over.

“Fuck, so pretty,” he breathed, biting his lip while he drank in the sight.  Thick hands ran up your thighs as you bounced on him, slipping around to grab palmfuls of your ass while you rode, and you moaned happily.

It’s easy to guess that you got a bit spoiled by that week.  Eddie had you addicted to him in moments and kept you around his finger (sometimes literally) so easily.  As such, it made you dread even more each day that you got closer and closer to the return of the newlyweds.  You couldn’t even imagine going back to normal after this— and what even was ‘normal’ before?  You never really had one.

Even if it was just a matter of keeping it a secret, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.  Maybe if it had been easier, the plan would’ve lasted a bit longer.

They returned from their trip on a Wednesday afternoon, and you all sat at the table together to talk about how much fun they had and all the fishing and hiking and relaxing they did.  It was good to see them again, but even just sitting across the table from Eddie felt odd.  Even just being apart that night while you and your mom went out for dinner alone felt odd.  Even just sleeping in separate bunks, after you chickened out on sharing from the fear that someone would burst in and see your cuddling, felt odd.

Eddie got up first, but he went to the bathroom to shower and shave before you got up so you couldn’t even try to sneak in a quick good morning kiss.  Instead, you started preparing breakfast in the kitchen, taking a break to brush your teeth when the bathroom was free and he was watching TV.  Other than offering to make him a piece of toast, you didn’t say much, mainly because you were still kind of waking up.

While you were finishing breakfast preparations you heard Eddie come into the kitchen and step up behind you, but you didn’t say anything, and neither did he for a second— not until he was standing just a bit too close.

“This is way too hard,” he whispered.

“Hm?” you wondered, shivering when his lips gently brushed against your neck in the next moment.  “E-Eddie, we can’t—”

“I know,” he agreed under his breath, “that’s what’s so hard.  Not being able to touch you, or kiss you, or…”

You were trying to resist, really, but his fingers were just barely tickling your sides through your shirt while his tongue teased your ear and it made your knees a little weak.  Okay, a lot weak; you just had to let him spin you around so he could kiss you on the mouth, hard and needy.  

You were so caught up by it that you didn’t hear the sound of movement on the other side of the wall.  You just reached up to wrap your arms together on top of his shoulders and let him deepen it, tilting your head a bit as you fought back a moan.  

He started to guide you back, and you barely questioned it, and the two of you all but fell into the dining room, nearly colliding the table; and it was a good thing you didn’t, since that would’ve put Wayne’s coffee at risk of falling off the table— he, by the way, was sitting at the table next to your mom, something neither of you had taken the time to notice, until the man gruffly cleared his throat to get your attention.

You pulled away from each other with a gasp; Eddie coughed lightly while you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, wide-eyed as you took in the way the two of them were staring at you from their seats at the table.

“Good morning,” Wayne finally offered, and Eddie nodded with a nervous laugh as you tried to decide where to start.

“S-sorry,” you decided to say first, “we were— it’s not— he was just—”

He was just what, helping me decide if I should get a new flavor of toothpaste?  He was just saying ‘good morning’ the European way?  He was just helping me butter my toast?  Oh god, that sounds even worse…

“Oh, you don’t need to act so shy about it,” your mom promised with a tilt of her head, which made you switch from shock to bewilderment.  “I actually always thought it was strange you never kissed in front of us before now!”

Eddie raised one of his eyebrows as he looked at her in confusion.  “Um… well, we never kissed at all before— before, you know, a couple days ago…”

“Wait, really?” she laughed.  “That’s a little odd— being involved all this time and waiting so long to kiss?”

You blinked, choking as you tried to reply to that.  “We— we weren’t involved!  Until now!”

Wayne tried to cover his smile with his hand, but it couldn’t hide his laugh.  Your mom looked at him and then back at you.  “What?!” she yelped.  “Wayne and I— we were so sure you two were—!”

“No!” you blurted out.  “We weren’t… why would you think that?”

“Because it was obvious,” Wayne explained flatly.  “We’re old, not stupid.”

“You were so clearly interested in each other!” she went on.  “We figured you’d started dating and just didn’t tell us because— well, you didn’t need to!  You really weren’t?”

“Of course not!” you insisted.  “Mom, we’re— you know… related!  Kind of.  That doesn’t bother you?”

“It didn’t seem to bother either of you,” she noticed.  “But, you’re both adults, you can do what you like.  You were classmates long before Wayne and I ever met.  People marry their high school sweethearts all the time.”

“O-okay, to be clear,” you stammered, “we went to high school together— but we were not sweethearts.”

Eddie gave you a look, crossing his arms as if he was amused by all this, and you shook your head.

“But— okay, well, thank you, I guess, for your… blessing,” you decided.  “And we’ll… try not to kiss in the kitchen too often.”

That night, after saying goodnight to Mom and Wayne, Eddie followed you into your bedroom and shut the door behind you.  He sat next to you on your bed, even though you kind of expected him to climb up to his own— but you didn’t have any complaints when he pulled you into a kiss that built quickly in intensity.

You brushed your fingers through his hair (as best you could with how tangled it was) and hummed as he gently held your waist, but when you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if it went on much longer, you had to cut it short.

“Wait,” you gasped, pushing him back gently until he stopped and looked at you with big, wide eyes.  “We can’t…”

“Why not?” he wondered.

“Because…” you trailed off, finishing your sentence by pointing in the other direction.

“Because…” he repeated, squinting his eyes as he looked where you were pointing.  “Because, the wall?  Aw, babe, I know I get a little carried away but I don’t think the walls are gonna collapse.”

“No, the other side of the wall,” you sighed.

“The bathroom?”

“The other side of that.”

“...the water heater?”

“Eddie!” you whined.  “The other side of that!” 

“The master bedroom, final answer,” he nodded.  “What— Mr. and Mrs. Munson?  What about ‘em?”

“Um, their… presence?” you clarified, not sure what he wasn’t getting.

“If they know we’re together then we don’t have to hide it,” he pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean I wanna fuck with them in the house,” you returned with a frown.

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” he smirked, “you know— if the bunk bed’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’ or something like that.”

“That’s… not a saying.”

“Okay, but, close enough,” he pouted.

“Still not having sex with you while our parents are home,” you insisted.  He didn’t seem too disappointed, though— actually, a mischievous smile grew on his face as he looked at you.

“I noticed something,” he informed you.  You raised your eyebrows and waited.  “Your mom said people marry their high school sweethearts all the time.  You said we weren’t sweethearts.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“But you didn’t tell her we weren’t getting married.”

Your eyes went wide and you bit your lip; he looked way too fucking proud of himself as he leaned in closer and poked you teasingly in the stomach with his fingers.  You tried to lean away or cover yourself with crossed arms but it wasn’t working, and neither were your attempts to stifle your laughter.

“You’re soooo into me,” he noticed in a playfully mocking voice.  “You wanna get maaarriiieeeddd—”

“N-no, I don’t,” you denied with an eye roll, “I— I just didn’t notice she said that.”

“You wanna have my baaaabbiiieeesss,” he continued anyways, and you nearly choked on your own throat.

“E-Ed, we’re too young for any of that right now,” you insisted.

“Okay,” he nodded, pausing for a second.  “How about now?”

You snorted, shaking your head at your own amusement with such a stupid joke.  “No, I mean, like, the future.”

“Future,” he affirmed, “as in, tomorrow?”

“No!” you groaned.  “Like, someday!”

“Sunday?”

You whined and dropped your head on Eddie’s shoulder in defeat, making him laugh and reach up to rub your back.  “You’re horrible,” you mumbled.

“Mhm,” he agreed as he softly kissed the top of your head.  “Just promise me something?”

You lifted your head to rest your chin on his shoulder so he could see your face; he reached up and held it gently, caressing the height of your cheek with his thumb.

“You tell me when it’s ‘someday’, okay?” he asked softly.  “I don’t care if it’s ten days from now or ten years.  You just say the word, and we’ll do all that boring grown up stuff we’re not old enough for yet.  Deal?”

You smiled and nodded.  “Okay.”

He hummed and kissed the tip of your nose before gently capturing your lips again, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger.  “Oh,” he said suddenly as he pulled back, “by the way— you can keep my ring you took.”

“I… thought you forgot about that,” you admitted sheepishly, and he grinned, shaking his head.

“Of course not,” he cooed, “but it’s better that you have it, since you wanna be the next Mrs. Munson so bad.”

“I don’t—!” you began to disagree, but he cut you off with another kiss.

Someday came January 19th, 1988.  It was a quiet day, but otherwise typical for life in your little rental place up in North Hawkins by the lake, which was usually filled with Eddie's raucous practicing on the Warlock alongside the hand-me-down furniture and framed (award-winning) photos on the wall.

Nothing specific made you realize it— he was just laying back on the couch and fiddling around on his acoustic (specifically his new acoustic you'd gotten him for his most recent birthday) while you arranged and rearranged the magazine spread due in a few days— but you just… knew that it was time.

“Wanna get married?” you blurted out, and he looked at you with a tinge of shock on his face before he smiled.

“You know I do,” he grinned.  “Hop in the van, we’ll go to the courthouse—”

You interrupted him with a laugh as he was sitting up and setting his guitar aside.  “I figured we would just start, like, planning it…”

He groaned disappointedly as he flopped back onto the couch.  “You make me wait this long and then you say we have to wait more?”

“You don’t want a wedding?!” you scoffed.

“I do, but I’d rather get married now and just do the wedding whenever we have the time,” he explained.  “Doesn’t it sound fun?”

You smirked.  “Well, I figured once we were married you’d want kids right away.  And I’m not interested in a maternity-bridal gown.”

“Y’sure?  I think you’d be real cute like that,” he cooed.

"I think you should keep dreamin', pretty boy," you winked in return.  

He hopped up off the couch and crossed the room to kiss you suddenly— holding your face in his hands, keeping you close, saying so much with no words at all.  You fell into it so quickly that you were the one leaning forward for more when he pulled back.  He smirked at you proudly; "So, courthouse?"

You sighed.  "How come you always get your way with me?  Why is that?"

"'Cause you're just so wildly, stupidly, counter-intuitively in love with me," he answered confidently.

"Oh, right," you smiled.  "I almost forgot."

Eddie cleared his throat as he stood before all your family and friends— Jonathan, the Hellfire club, your coworkers and colleagues, your mom and stepdad, and even Eddie's father who had been granted furlough so he could attend. A small gathering, but still a crowd.  You could tell he was nervous; you were, too, of course, and you looked down at your white dress and your hands holding his to try to remind yourself that this was real.

"Well, um, hi," he addressed them before he began the vows he'd written and rehearsed a thousand times for today.  "Bet you never thought you'd see me in a suit, right?" 

THE END

#eddie munson x reader #stepbrother!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

[punkeropercyjackson]

Related to my prev post:

I don't give two shits if Bruce is written like a bad dad if it means we get good writing for everybody else since i think minorities are more important than a white cishet male nepotism baby unlike his butch lesbian counterpart who's judaism is an actual fundamental part of her character and since he's been written as abusive so consistently over the years it's in-character anyway

Dick can be both bi/pan and demisexual and there's more evidence for the latter than the former so making him be sexually loose is aspec erasure and mspec stereotyping and he dosen't have a thing for redheads,he has a thing for black women and to me the only guy he seems to like romantically is Roy and that adds on to his demisexuality since they're childhood best friends

'Catholic guilt Jason' is a shit headcanon that misses the major and critical part of him being Red Hood that he didn't feel the slightest bit bad about killing people and the point of his redemption was learning remorse,afrolatino Jason isn't based on stereotyping but him filling out so many black and latino cultural aspects and if any hcs for him are stereotyping it's the one that he's a slut because he's a very handsome and hot and cute goth punk man

Tim is perfect the way he is and dosen't need power ups or to get 'punished' for the oh so horrible crime of being a realistic teenage boy,he's not JUST huge a loser or a super cool dude but both at once and it's bad writing and fetishistic to ignore his wide range of relathionships that consists of mostly of women to make him a 'guys guy'

Stephanie is heavily autistic and bpd-coded so she's far from a 'normie',much less an 'it girl' but people see blonde hair and blue eyes and throw away everything else about her because that's all she's worth to them or call her an abuser and a pick me just like they do irl bpdtistic women and she's also canonically pastel/indie punk and a Team Mom but gets her presentation switched to basic and made out to be a womanchild instead

Cass had a million times more moral conflict than Jason ever did,would never in her LIFE wanna be feminine even in the chinese way and would be butch in it instead,turning her scattered speech into sign language is ableist not unlike(but not on the same level as)changing Babs' type of wheelchair disability and she'd be a better Batman than any male character in existense

Duke is only a golden child in the sense he has a yellow motif and is as disruptive and authentically quirky as his siblings,We Are Robin is a better team than the canon Outlaws,his powers are cooler than any Al-Ghul ones you could come up with,he has more femme energy than Tim does and Carrie Kelley ain't shit and only gets brought back to replace him because DC is antiblack

Damian's introduction mentality was a result of not only child abuse but also psychological grooming to get him to dehumanize himself and all his bigoted comments are explained either by him being like 12 or his writers trying to demonize brown people and anybody who thinks he's a bad person is a super-sized pissbaby with no sympathy for kids of color,shipping him with Jon is making a bisexual man into a ped0phile and Jay is good even if aging Jon up wasn't and he should be friends with Maya,Suren,Nell,Colin,Kathy,Maps,Tai and Miles,Gwen,Peni,Pavitr,Hobie and Margo from Atsv and Nico and Hazel from Pjo instead of Billy Batson or Danny Fenton or ANY Mcu characters

Talia is super hot but should be drawn in accurate arab clothes instead 'sexy assasian gear'(not that these two can't co-exist but you get what i mean),her personality is extremely rich and her stories are mega interesting,she's a good mom to Damian and literally never 'took advantage of Jason' seeing as That Scene In Lost Days was decanonized by it's writer who said it was ooc for her on his part,she should've been a mom figure to Stephanie in her Robin Days too since they would get along and she deserved her own run where she takes over Lexcorp to transform it into a force for good and become Superfam-adjacent to free herself from having only male connections

#batfam #batfanon slander #anti bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #damian wayne #talia al-ghul #dickkory #dickbabs #dickbea #dickhelena #dickroy #afrolatino jason supremacy #autistic stephanie brown #bpd stephanie brown #butch cassandra cain #batman!cass #trans duke thomas #autistic duke thomas #jon kent #jay nakamura #pro jonay #taliacorp #misc superfam #blasian stephanie brown #summerposting

[tilebytiles]

Star Treatment (Alex Turner x Reader) - Part 2

summary: there's a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: none

part 1

You had fallen asleep a while ago. The stars, although breathtakingly beautiful this far out in space, had eventually gotten tiring to look at, and your brain itched for something else. You were still too tense to talk to anyone else on the spacecraft, and Alex was nowhere to be found, although you doubted you'd talk to him anyway. With no methods of entertainment beyond staring out the window, you fell asleep rather quickly, your imagination conjuring up strange dreams about the hotel you were heading to.

The only thing that woke you up was the sound of rustling clothes in front of you. Drowsily, you forced your eyes open and your body to come up onto your feet. You were a little wobbly from trying to do so much so quick, but you regained your balance rather quickly and began to follow the journalists down the narrow aisle between the rows of seats. If there was anything science fiction films had taught you, you should have been floating through that rocket instead of walking. Your feet, however, remained firmly planted on the carpet, a fact that was rather disappointing. Floating would have been cooler.

The interior of the seating area was done in soft, warm colours, offering an inviting atmosphere. The seats were a navy blue with an off-white stripe down the center, and the walls were a shade of pink, something close to salmon, you thought. The floor was done in the same colour, but down the aisle was a red carpet. There weren't many seats, so the rocket could only house a group about the size of this one at any time. You didn't mind; the less people you had to awkwardly avoid, the better.

You realised the giant window at the end of the aisle that you'd thought was for stargazing was actually a port. As soon as you stepped into the giant see-through tube, you heard the door slide shut behind you, sealing you off from the rocket. You couldn't help but marvel at the empty chasm of space that surrounded you, as well as the moon that rested beneath you. From here, you could make out the complex building you were realising was meant to be the hotel. It looked futuristic and retro at the same time, an effect that wasn't hard to achieve; the architecture looked like the kind that was popular in the 70s, providing a sort of nostalgic feel, but it was sitting on the surface of the moon. This definitely wouldn't have been possible in the 70s (you could hardly believe it was possible now).

One of the journalists spoke up, shattering the awestruck silence. "He's a bit mad for doin' all this."

The journalist beside him shrugged. "It's kinda cool, though, don't you think?"

"Well, sure, but imagine having these kinds of funds ... and you waste it on a lunar hotel?"

You hardly knew Alex, but it made you feel a little uneasy to hear someone speaking ill of him. You wanted to speak up, but a third journalist beat you to it. "If anything, he's proving we can even do this kind of shit on the moon. It's better than some of the stunts billionaires have been pulling."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Miles," the first journalist grumbled. "Stop kissing his ass."

The journalist named Miles rolled his eyes, then glanced over at you. You hadn't even realised he was walking beside you. He grinned at you and held out a hand for you to shake. "Miles Kane," he said.

You slowly shook his hand. "Y/N L/N."

"You don't exactly seem like the reporter type. What're you doin' up here with this pretentious lot?"

You liked him already.

"Alex invited me," you told him. "I haven't really figured out why yet."

He nodded, seeming to ponder over the information you'd just given him despite it only being two sentences. "I'm sure we'll get along perfectly," he finally said, smiling at you again. "If any of these pricks cause you trouble, just lemme know."

"Thank you." You smiled back at him.

When you made it to the other end of the tube, the door in front of you slid open, allowing your party of prose into the hotel. Your eyes widened once you stepped through the door. The room you were in, which you guessed to be the main lobby, was absolutely gigantic- or at least, it felt that big. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the whole space with sconces mounted on the walls to light up the spots the chandelier couldn't reach. The walls were a warm, perhaps almost burnt, shade of orange, and the floor was made of lush carpet, the pattern almost hypnotising. Squiggles of colour stretched from wall to wall above a black background. The wall to your right, close to the door, held floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing the moon and the stars in all their glory. To your left was the reception desk, the lift to its left and the stairs to its right. Chairs and tables were scattered amongst the space, providing plenty of spots to sit and rest. Mounted on the wall behind the reception desk was a flat-screen TV. You were impressed it could pick anything up out here.

Your group wandered over to the reception desk, and to your surprise, someone popped out of the door that had an 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' plaque, grinning at you all. "Pleasure to meet you!" he said. "Mr. Turner told me you'd be arriving."

Alex's last name was Turner?

"Hold on," the first journalist from before said, "you mean you've just ... been here?"

The receptionist nodded, still smiling. "We've had more than enough resources to last us, don't worry. And they're replenishable! But we can get into that later."

"There's more than one of you?"

"All the staff were busy prepping for your arrival. We hope you enjoy your stay. Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. My name's Mark, and I'll be your guide for the tour today."

You admired Mark's genuine enthusiasm. Then again, you didn't think it'd be very hard to be enthusiastic about a job like this.

He came out from behind the desk and motioned for your group to follow as he headed for the open doorway across from the door you'd just come through. It opened out into a long hall, branching off into different rooms. "This is where the café is," he said, pointing to one of the sets of doors you passed by. "That's where you'll be eating all your meals, although your options will differ depending on the time of day. That," he said, pointing to another set of doors, "is the gym. There's all kinds of equipment in there, and it's completely free for all guests, so don't be afraid to stop by."

He continued leading you down the hall, pointing at different doors and explaining them. Connected to the café was a greenhouse that provided different types of produce, and it was available to guests ("take a tour or let the little ones learn how to garden!" he had said). There was a library, a laundry room, and even something like a patio at the very end of the hall, allowing you to get as close to the moon itself as you safely could.

When you came back up the hall and squeezed into the lift, Mark explained how the actual hotel rooms would be the last part of the tour; that way, you could all rest as soon as you got to your rooms. Your first stop was the very top of the hotel, where you could see the large hexagonal neon sign spinning slowly on top of its pole. They had built a pool into the roof, complete with a ladder to make getting in and out easy, a diving board, various chairs set up, umbrellas that you weren't even sure were necessary and bathrooms and changing rooms, the latter of which were fully stocked with robes, bathing suits and pool toys.

Heading down a floor revealed the hotel's partial namesake: the casino. The lights were significantly dimmer here than they were in the rest of the hotel, but they weren't so dim that you couldn't see at all. Machines had been pushed up against every wall and were lined up perfectly around the room. It was almost overstimulating, and you were grateful you left when you did, although the aftereffects of all the lights remained in your vision as colourful blobs for some time.

Your whole group was staying on the same floor. You didn't know if you were glad about it or dreading it. At least Miles would be nearby, you thought. He'd been making the occasional quiet joke to you throughout the whole tour, and you did your best to stifle your laughter to avoid dirty looks from the others.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn't even realised you'd made it to your rooms. His was across the hall from yours. You nodded and flashed him one last smile before unlocking your door with the key Mark had given you and stepping inside.

The room was lavishly decorated. You almost felt guilty for staying there for free. A four-poster bed stood tall, the frame painted a creamy white and the mattress covered in a white sheet. A thin fabric, something like lace, hung from each corner like curtains. The blanket looked soft, inviting, and after many, many hours of being stuck in a rocket and sleeping in a (albeit comfortable) chair, slipping under the covers and taking a proper nap sounded heavenly. You forced yourself to hold off on that nap, though, and continued your exploration of the room.

The overhead light was built into the ceiling, and upon discovering a small remote on top of the chest of drawers across from the bed, you realised the brightness could be changed. There was a floor-to-ceiling window built into the wall across from the door, offering yet another stunning view. The closet that was built into the wall rested to the left of the bed, and to the right was a small nightstand. In the closet, you found all sorts of clothes. At least there was comfort in the fact that no matter what happened, you'd be well-dressed for the occasion. Not far from the nightstand was a door, and when you opened it, you discovered the bathroom.

Ah, yes. It was about time you took a shower.

The water was perfectly warm, and the shampoo smelled lovely. Although it had only been a few days, you still felt gross for having gone so long without a shower; you guessed it was only because you were used to showering every day. When you finished getting cleaned up, you slipped into the cosiest pair of pyjamas you'd ever gotten your hands on and made sure to turn the light off before slipping into the unnecessarily fancy bed.

You wondered what Alex was up to. You hoped you'd see him tomorrow, mostly so you could thank him for inviting you in the first place. Although the concept of a hotel in space still felt a bit mad to you, you were beginning to realise it really wasn't as bad as you'd expected it to be. Maybe you were even a bit proud of him.

•••••

The next morning- at least, you guessed it was morning- you made your first trip to the café Mark had shown you. You had to admit, you were starving. Although you'd been given snacks on the rocket, they were exactly that- snacks. They hadn't been near enough to keep you full, and now your stomach felt like it was going to gnaw its way through your entire body if you didn't get something to eat soon.

A few of the journalists were already in there, including Miles. You headed towards the counter, where the employee behind the till smiled at you. "What can I get for you today?"

"Uh ..." You stared at the imposing menu on the wall, assessing your options. "Can I have the egg croissant, please?"

"Would you like a drink with that?"

"Water's fine, thanks." The employee nodded, punching your order in, and when the small number popped up on the digital screen sticking up from the till, your eyes widened. It was cheaper than you'd been expecting. You quickly fished your wallet out of your pocket.

Once the transaction was complete, you headed for Miles' table and sat across from him. He was scribbling something in his notepad, but when he heard the creak of your chair, his head snapped up. When he realised it was you, he grinned. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," you replied. "What are you doing?"

"Writin' down some notes for that article I gotta write. We've been here for less than a day, and I already have enough info to crank out a goddamn essay."

That made you laugh, earning a sideways glance from one of the journalists. It was the one that had been questioning Alex's motives before. You heard Miles scoff, prompting you to look back at him with a raised brow. “Trouble in paradise?”

He snorted. “Hardly paradise with that prick around.”

“Who is he?”

“James Schwartz, also known as one of the biggest dickheads on the planet. Old money- his dad runs the paper he writes for, and his dad ran it before that, and so on. Heard he’s in line for the throne.” He shook his head. “He’s willin’ to do anything for a story. Can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a few months, either.”

“What do you mean, he’s willing to do anything?”

He eyed you for a few moments, as if he was debating whether or not he should unveil James’ moral crimes to you. Eventually, he sighed, leaning back in his chair; so much so that the two front legs rose from the floor. “The best of it, so to speak, is that he flooded some poor shop owner’s voicemail until they phoned him back.”

“And the worst?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze sauntered over to land on James, who’d put a pair of headphones on at some point and remained entirely oblivious to your conversation. Still, to be on the safe side, Miles’ voice lowered, forcing you to lean over to hear him. “He dated a girl, some model from Bristol. A couple of months later, she broke up with him, and then suddenly, her nudes were up on the Internet, free for all perverted fucks to see. He was one of the first to cover the story, and his article painted her in a suspicious light, spoutin’ some shite about how she shouldn’t have let anyone take such compromisin’ pictures of her. She quit modelling not long after. It was never proven to be him, but …” He shrugged and looked back to you.

Your stomach churned at the mere thought of what he’d gotten away with. “Surely someone questioned him?”

“If they did, he probably paid them to keep quiet. Either way-” He dropped his pencil onto his notepad. “-I would stay away from him, if I were you.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” you mumbled.

After your food had arrived and you’d satiated your hunger, Miles suggested heading up to the pool for a quick dip. You agreed, although considering you’d just eaten, you didn’t think you would actually do any swimming. This notion seemed a bit funny to him, and he even asked if you were chicken, but he didn’t press the matter any further.

Much to your delight, there were swimsuits in the dressing room, and you slipped into a black bikini on the off chance you hopped into the water. Wrapping yourself up in a plush white robe that had the hotel’s acronym embroidered into the left breast, you stepped out onto the pool deck. Miles was already in the pool, clad in a pair of black swim trunks and swimming from one end to the other, engaged in an intense race against himself. You plopped down onto one of the pool chairs and stretched your legs out, watching as Miles swam to the edge closest to you with a grin. “The water’s lovely.”

“I’d rather not get cramps,” you said, making him laugh. He playfully splashed water in your direction, spraying small droplets onto your calves and the chair beneath you. The water was cold against your skin.

You heard the entrance to the pool open, making you turn and look over your shoulder. Alex stood in the doorway, and when he saw you, he managed a small smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I was looking for Miles.” He glanced around you and spotted the man in question, who offered an enthusiastic wave that was akin to one from a child. “Mark said you’d be here.”

“You should come join me, Mr. Turner,” Miles replied, assuming an exaggerated air of pompousness. “Have you even tested your own pool?”

Alex seemed to genuinely consider that question for a few moments. His hands slid down into his pockets, and his lips pressed together before finally parting to form the words, “No, I haven’t.”

And with that, he found himself in swim trunks exactly like Miles’ less than a few minutes later. It was the first time you’d seen him in anything beyond his perfectly crisp suits, and it also offered you a chance to admire his physique. His abs were lightly defined, as were the muscles lining his arms; the veins in his forearms protruded, as if all they needed was a small push before bursting from his skin; his legs had about as much hair as you could have expected, and there was a light smattering of hair across his chest. Draped over his chest, sinking into the dips of his collarbones, was a thin gold chain, the same one you’d seen him wear a number of times at the café.

Miles whistled, snapping you out of the spell Alex’s body had put you under. “She’s oglin’ ya.”

“Am not!” you protested, glaring at him.

He only rolled his eyes. “There’s nothin’ wrong with admirin’.”

You didn’t say anything, only crossed your arms over your chest. It wasn’t like you needed to respond, though; the heat that spread across your cheeks like wildfire spoke volumes.

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself- which you did reluctantly- Alex had always caught your eye. You mostly attributed it to the mysterious aura that he was always shrouded in, brought into existence by how little he spoke, how much he kept to himself, and the documents he primarily occupied himself with. Even if you now knew what those documents had been for, there were still heaps of things that remained locked away from you. For fuck’s sake, you’d learned his last name from a complete stranger.

In some ways, his mystery was a siren call, coaxing you in for what you thought might be your untimely demise. If there was anything the piles of romance novels in your flat had taught you, it was that strange men- especially rich ones- shouldn’t ever be trusted with matters of the heart.

As Alex lowered himself into the pool, though, you let yourself ogle for a little while longer.

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #tranquility base hotel and casino #tbhc era #arctic monkeys #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n

[moneymartin]

Hi Jules!

Could I request a Lottie smut fic where you both work at a juice bar in the summer and you engage in some ice and food play behind the counter to beat the heat?

gender neutral reader please.

- 🦚

🦌- as cold as ice.

warnings: ice play duhhhh!!! a lil bit of food play, nipple play, hickeys??? ok thats it. didn’t know how to end im so fucking sorry 😭😭 NOT proofread..

a/n: send me lottie stuff to write!! plzplzplz im so desperate and ill bored out of my god damned mind.

sweat trickles down your face as you serve what you believe is the millionth customer of the day. this little ‘side hustle’ is fucking horrible, and only bearable thanks to lottie. she’s made everything a lot easier out here. the summer heat is no joke. “i’m fucking dying out here.” you groan and glance at lottie. she doesn’t seem as sweaty as you are. how could she though, she’s only in that crop top of hers and those stupid shorts that make her butt look oddly nice.

“c’mon! it’s not that hot out here. its just the fact that you’re dressed like its 60 degrees instead of 100 somethin’. jeans and a longsleeve? really?” she snorts. her fingers wrap around the handle of water pitcher, her fingers shoving themselves into your mouth to open it wide. “ah.” lottie rasps out and pours that ice cold water down your throat. you nourish the feeling of the water cooling you down just a little but lottie’s fingers in your mouth distracts the shit out of you. “good enough?” she asks.

“yes..” you mumble, wiping the droplets of water falling down your chin and swallowing it down. lottie’s eyebrows raise and her head scans around the area. there’s not many people nearby and she takes that as a sign. her fingers latch around the bar and pulls the gate down to cover up the bar. the click of the small light above you two flicks in your ears and the first thing you notice is lottie’s fingers wrapped around the bottom of your shirt. “let’s get you a little bit cooler, hm? seemed like you were lying when i asked you if the water was enough.”

she tugs your shirt off, glancing around the small space to find something she can cool you down with. her eyes land on the ice dispenser and she grabs an empty cup, filling it to the brim with ice. “let’s cool you off..” she mutters. lottie takes out an ice cube, placing it in between her fingers, seating you down on the floor behind the counter. she trails the ice down your chest, the cold feeling making you shiver and groan under your breath. “this is new…” you whine. it’s not something you’re very used to. luckily she’s pretty open to new this, and this is one of them.

her lips attach to your neck, her teeth digging in carefully and the cold temperature of the ice lingering way too long on one of your nipples. when you hiss uncomfortably lottie shifts the cube to the other one, her mouth now leaving marks onto your skin. “fuck, lotts.” your voice is airy and your back arches off of the ground. she’s still biting and nibbling, her other arm hooked around your waist. you can feel all the chills shooting up and down your spine while the ice continues to travel through your body. hell, you didn’t even notice that there was about 2 more that she placed. one on your tummy and the other on your midriff.

she pulls away from your neck, shoving a few cubes into her mouth. her cheeks are stuffed like a chipmunk’s. what a fucking loser, you think. her fingers tug at the waistband of your jeans, hastily getting them off of you.

once she believes that they’ve sat in her mouth for a while, lottie spits them out onto the ground, pulling your jeans down in one swift movement, and pressing her cold lips on your inner thighs. chills shoot up your body again, the feeling starting to become all too familiar. you watch her gaze up at you through her eyelashes and she focuses on cooling you off again. lottie’s hands grip at your bare thighs, spreading them a bit wider for more access. “almost done, sweetheart.. i can feel your body getting colder.” she sighs, her ice breath hitting your skin.

when her teeth suddenly sink into your thighs, you intake a sharp breath, tapping at her shoulders for her to stop. it’s been your guys’ signal incase you end up too overwhelmed with whatever she’s been doing. “stop… i- i’m cold enough!” you blurt out, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips. lottie stops like you say, and pulls your pants up to your hips again, buttoning and zipping them. her hands reach for your shirt, pulling it over your head and helping you stand up. “better, right? you’re not that sweaty anymore.” she smiles and fixes the collar of your shirt, running her fingers through your hair and making you look neat again. “mhm.” you hum, rolling up the sleeves of the longsleeve and opening up the bar again.

taglist: @catgirlshauna @jackietaylorssidehoe @t4tnat i miss u already 💔 ok lmk if u wanna be tagged thanx. i need more homiez!!!!!!!!

#yellowjackets #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews smut #charlotte matthews #charlotte matthews x reader #lottie x reader #lottie matthews yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yj x reader

[dodger-chan]

Some untitled platonic stobin angst for you all, set in July of '85. Apologies and thanks to @sharpbutsoft; I'll write something happier next time.

(also on ao3, for those of you who prefer interacting with fics there)

“Not bad for a guy who didn’t realize gay people existed two weeks ago.”

Steve would have been annoyed that Robin thought he was that dumb, but really, he was too relieved she was able to joke about it. The day he’d gotten out of the hospital she’d been skittish. Like she’d thought he’d start hating her once the world went back to normal.

As if he could ever hate Robin.

“I knew gay people existed.” He still couldn’t roll his eyes without thinking he was going to puke, but he could use scorn. “I just didn’t think you could be gay.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “I mean, I know I’m not, you know, obvious, because I’ve never had ‘dyke’ painted on my locker or had other girls not want me in the locker room. But, I kind of feel like I should be? Or, not like people would know I’m gay immediately, but that it shouldn’t surprise them when they find out? Like, I’ve never dated a boy, and I don’t like to wear make-up, and my taste in clothes- Though I guess you only saw me in my Scoops uniform. Or only remembered me that way. But I’d literally just told you that I’d had a crush on a girl. Which, even without everything else, is kind of a dead giveaway.”

“True, no normal girl would like Tammy Thompson.” He was never going to let her live that crush down.

“First, the word is ‘straight.’ Don’t say ‘normal’ like that. It makes it sound like there’s something wrong with me.” Steve nodded. There was nothing wrong with Robin. Except her lack of self-confidence. And maybe her taste in women. But he could help her with those things. “Second, I had a crush on Tammy for like three months almost two years ago. I have pined hopelessly over plenty of other, much cooler girls since.”

“Anyone at the moment?” he asked. Robin glanced away from him, so yes, there was. “Okay, who is she?”

“Thirdly,” Robin ignored his question. “What did you mean I couldn’t be gay?”

Steve did not want to answer that.

“Whoever she is, she can’t be as lame as Tammy.” Steve really hoped Robin would let him change the subject. “Still not cool enough to date you, but-”

“Steve.” She wasn’t going to. “You think I’m not going to like your answer. It’s bad, is that it?”

“Yep.”

Robin took a breath.

“Okay. Well, whatever awful shit you thought in the past, you obviously don’t believe it anymore, right? So, bad or not, it doesn’t change where we are now.” Steve was pretty sure it could, or Robin wouldn’t be asking him. “Though, it’s not that you thought I was too pretty to be gay, right? Because that stereotype has always bothered me.”

“No! Not that you’re not pretty. Gorgeous, even. If I were your type, I’d still be totally into you.” Steve still was into her, but it was getting a bit less romantic every day. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Dingus.”

“No, that’s why. Why I thought you had to be, you know,” normal, “straight.”

Robin frowned at him.

“You thought you couldn’t fall for a girl who couldn’t like you back?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

“What then?”

“It’s hard to explain.” It barely made sense inside his own head. Putting it in words, making it all make sense to someone else might be impossible.

“Scoops burned down with the mall, Steve. I’ve got nowhere else to be until we get a new job.”

“Okay, well, you know how people say that gay couples don’t really love each other the way, um, straight ones do?”

“Yeah, and it’s complete and utter bullshit.”

Sure, Steve knew that now. But before Robin how was he supposed to learn any different?

“Right. But I’m an idiot, remember? So what I thought was that gay people were somehow unlovable. Not just romantically,” he explained. “Friends wouldn’t be able to love them either. Or their families. Everyone who was supposed to love them just couldn’t. Even if they tried. It wouldn’t be their fault, really, but-

“But I fell for you. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful. Or funny. Or smart. Or that you were there and didn’t hate me as much as you pretended to. I loved you enough to stop being all hung up over Nancy. And since I loved you-”

“I had to be straight.” Robin finished for him. “The logic’s sound-ish, but your premise is absurd. People aren’t unlovable, for one. Besides, wouldn’t that lead to people identifying gay kids early on? If a parent didn’t love their toddler, wouldn’t they want to know why?”

“Maybe. But it’s not like it’s something they’d talk about. What parent is going to admit they don’t love their kid before it’s obvious to everyone else who the problem is?” Robin scowled at him. It was a scowl that said she didn't like his answer, not that she thought he was wrong. He liked that he could tell the difference.

“You’re such a weirdo, Dingus.” Robin leaned her head against his shoulder. Gently, careful not to jostle him. “How did anyone ever think you were normal? Did we just know you were good at basketball and never listen to anything you said?”

“I’m better at swimming.” He also hadn’t said much at school. Talked a lot, sure. Or, at least, as much as everyone else.

“Yeah, yeah. And you can talk to girls without stuttering and chug beer while doing a headstand. All hail King Steve and his perfect hair. We payed so much attention to you that we didn’t pay any at all.” He’d never thought of it that way. “And we overlooked how weirdly your brain works.”

“If it works at all,” he said, with a soft laugh.

“It works fine,” Robin disagreed. “Just, kind of backwards? Or sideways, maybe? I mean, you thought gay people were unlovable when pretty much everyone else thinks we don’t love at all.”

“Don’t love? But that’s clearly stupid.” Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard a dumber idea and he’d spent most of his life hanging out with Tommy H. and Carol. “Loving someone is easy. It’s like a layup.”

“Some people are bad at basketball, Steve.” That was fair. Dustin would probably have trouble with a layup. He might even have trouble dribbling. “Is it really easier to think people are unlovable than to think some people might be bad at loving?”

There was a pulsing sound in Steve’s ears. He wasn’t sure if it was from his headache or his heartbeat.

“I never had trouble loving people.” It was almost an admission. He didn’t think he could get any closer.

“Oh, Steve.” Robin was smart. She could hear what he hadn’t said.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #short ficlet #my fic

[isa-ghost]

qPhil & Other Egg Headcanons

Happy birthday original eggos 😭💚🎉

Note: Although I made these bc the og eggs are birth today, I've done at least one hc for each egg! They're a bit limited bc they're based off what I've seen through 3 POVs + osmosis through liveblog, but I included them all nonetheless. :D

qPhil headcanons masterlist

He thinks Leo has so much fucking swag. How does a literal egg look so fucking cool like at all times. How does she do it.

Secretly admires the shit out of Dapper. He's fucking brilliant. Hilariously unhinged. Insanely devoted to his collection habits. Adorably takes after Bad in looks and silliness. He's just such a badass little guy.

Pomme his fucking beloved. Brilliant just like her siblings, insanely perceptive, tough as nails yet still soft as flower pedals. He sees huge survivalist potential in her. He wishes she could shed some of the stress she's always seems to be under. He relates to her a bit too much sometimes. He hopes that poor girl gets a break.

He's absolutely gutted he didn't get to know Trump like at all. He saw little to nothing of him. He hopes he's at peace with Maxo.

GOD he wish he got more time with Flippa. She took him out like it was nothing. He would've loved training her alongside her parents. He bets she would've been an awesome pvper one day.

He wishes he could've seen more of Tilin. He more familiar with her than he was Trump but still not enough.

Richarlyson makes it so hard not to pick "favorite eggs" besides his own. Richas is always on some wild ass shit, Phil fucking loves it. That kid's just high on life at like all times. Unreasonably funny on top of it all. God does Phil worry about him though, he's gotten way too into risking his life for the lulz.

Ramon practically feels like a third child to him (sometimes). Much like Dapper, he loves how brilliant he is and how cracked at his craft he is.

Bobby's death absolutely devastated him. He loved that little shit. And he loved how happy he made Roier and Jaiden. Seeing how severely his death broke them made his heart ache. He had nightmares about going through the same thing.

He's DETERMINED to get to know Chunsik further. Timezones are a bitch though. :( But he will be damned if something happens before he can get more familiar.

Empanada is unreasonably cute to him, and he loves seeing her take more and more after Bagi every time he sees her once more. He absolutely loves how close she and all her moms are. He genuinely fears the Pancake Mafia tbh, and he's convinced Empanada is the head.

He adores Sunny. She knows what she wants. They're not afraid to speak their mind as long as they're comfortable. She's silly and playful and sweet. Yet they still have this small, but palpable cool edge to them. Truly one spunky little girl. 😎

Phil is like 90% sure Pepito is just always going thru it, but has a sneaking suspicion that's just how Pepito seems at first glance, and maybe thats just what Pepito WANTS people to think. Either way, Pepito is just such a Creacher and Phil loves it. An absolutely loveable little guy.

He on/off considers commissioning Ramon or Dapper to make bombs to go fuck up a Fed building. He'd let them join him tbh.

He's so insanely afraid of accidentally hurting the eggs, but he'd love to spar with them and teach them more pvp skills so they'd be even better at defending themselves. He's only comfortable doing so with his own eggs.

God, he wants more times where ALL the eggs are together. He loves watching them interact, he loves their dynamics with each other and the chaos that unfolds when they're all in one place.

Phil: I don't want to build things bc technically that's doing the Feds a favor by making the island cooler. So fuck them. // Also Phil: *would build an entire city for these goddamn eggs if it meant they were safe and happy*

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qphil headcanons #qsmp leonarda #qsmp dapper #qsmp pomme #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp chunsik #qsmp sunny #qsmp empanada #qsmp pepito #qsmp ramon #qsmp bobby #qsmp tilin #qsmp juanaflippa #qsmp trump

[kungfubarbie101]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

nsfw/smut, slightly public, fem!reader, teasing/edging, fingering, cunnilingus, female orgasm,

Today was different and you mean different. Ghost hadn’t been at the weekly afternoon meeting today which caused you to knit your eyebrows in confusion. That’s until Price had announced that Ghost was “sick” and wouldn’t be able to make the meeting. It was you and a few other people including Soap.

(Your sitting down the far of the table)

You called total bull shit on it since Ghost seems to rarely get sick and which he would of touched base with you on if he wasn’t feeling all that well.

Through a 15 long minutes of Price going on and on about the new upcoming mission that was coming in the next few weeks, your attention wasn’t really focused on him. Your focus what something in between your legs, and that something was a person. And that person was Ghost.

You peered down, trying not to make it to obvious, seeing as his blue eyes stared lustfully up into yours as his hand squeezed the back of your calves. One of his hands pulled the bottom part of his mask up, exposing his tint pink lips which where curled into a grin, his finger pressed up against them in a shushing gesture. You quickly looked up back to Price who was still babbling about the mission, your cheeks growing hot.

His fingers danced and ran along your inner and upper thigh, drawing circles around your exposed skin. Fuck, why’d you have to wear a skirt this afternoon. His hands had traveled more in between your thighs, pushing them further in then they where. You tried to squeeze them to get him to stop but his force out stronged you and he forced them open.

His thick fingers, ran up under your skirt, your warmth coding his cooler hands, making your skin shiver in goosebumps. You felt his two of his fingers press against the warmth in between your crotch, you knew he could feel how wet you where already getting from the quick arousal pooling in you.

He rubbed his fingers against the wet stain of your panties, pressing just around your pulsing clit, making you shutter under his touch. His index finger rubbed up and down your clothed pussy, teasing you to work you up. You practically kick him in a light manner to tell him to stop with the teasing. Which he chuckled quietly to himself, pressing his fingers harder against your pussy, teasing you once more.

His fingers weren’t even inside of you and you where already breaking.

He scrapped his two fingers to the side hem of your panties, pulling the fabric up. He snapped the fabric back against your pussy, making your eyes widen and look around to make sure no one had heard since the elastic made a snapping noise. Both of his hands lingered up your skirt, all the way up to the top of your panties, grabbing the hem of the elastic and pulling them down your thigh. Your heart was pounding and your cheeks felt warmer.

He made it almost past mid way down your thigh before tapping you, making you look down at him again, seeing as he looked at you and at your crotch. Motioning you to buck your hips up so he could pull them the rest off.

You looked away from him, gaining the confidence and pushing your hips up, allowing him to slide the rest of your panties off. As soon as he got them to your ankles he grabbed them and shoved them into his pocket. As your pussy was now exposed, he pushed your legs open again, a cool breeze hitting your hot cunt. You bit your lip, feeling as his slender thick fingers snaked up to your pussy, feeling as one of his fingers slid into your slit, rubbing against the wetness that was pooling. Your fingers gripped against the edge of your chair, still trying to keep some focus to Price.

One of his fingers entered you, curling his finger right against the base of your g-spot. Your vagina felt like it clenched around his finger, the sensation feeling like you had to pee but you really didn’t. He rubbed against your spot again and again, slipping in another finger. He wanted to edge you, wanted to feel as your vagina clenched around his fingers, the way your wetness lubed his fingers. He would imagine as you came around his fingers, around a room where no one knew what was going on under the table.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching your plush pussy out. Your clit was jolting with excitement, until Ghost removed his fingers and replaced them with his mouth. He licked a straight line up your pussy, tension was growing inside of you, the excitement of doing this in front of people was making you wetter.

You grabbed the end of your skirt, pulling it up higher so he could get into you more.

His tongue swirled around your pussy, teasing your clit, adding and un adding pressure. He grabbed your hips, sliding your lower body forward more against his face almost burrowing it into you. His mouth sucked and nibbled at your clit. This was more exciting then doing this in the bedroom, it was more of a rise in a way. The thought of getting caught was edging Ghost.

His tongue felt like it was writing his name against your cunt, feeling you up. You where covering your mouth at this point, holding back your small moans that where begging to be heard. Your bottom lip feeling as it was about to be chewed off from your teeth biting against it to keep yourself shut. Your thighs squeezing against his head as you felt yourself getting somewhat closer to your orgasm. This made Ghost stop, making you take a breath but squeezing your thighs again in a way of telling him to keep going.

Ghost had wanted to wait for your orgasm to slowly disappear before he dug his face back into you, his tongue pacing around in nice circular motions. Tongue fucking you nice and slow but rough as he laid his tongue flat, licking a straight line. His tongue was rough in a way, not like sandpaper but still moist. Your mouth was still concealed with your hand, biting at the top of your thumb, your eyes drifting closed off and on. You still tried to focus on Price, but it got to the point where you couldn’t, you could only concentrate on how Ghost was eating you up.

That’s until…..

“(Your name)? What is your opinion about the mission? You’ve been extra quiet back there….” Price’s thick british accent rang in your ears, making you uncover your mouth, raising your eyebrows and giving him a small smile like you where paying attention. Ghost stopped, listening to you as his head was still buried in between your legs.

“I uh…..I agree with what your saying. I think the mission will be a great succ-“ Before you could finish, Ghost had pushed two direct fingers inside of you, your hands gripped the table, getting lost in thought as Ghost pumped his fingers once again inside of you. His fingers circled and curled.

“(Your name)? Are you alright?” Price was about to walk over before you told him to continue what he was talking about, not to worry about you. You held in a moan as you powered through the answer to him. Price just raised an eyebrow, giving you a puzzled look before waving it off and rolling his eyes before he continued again. You where released.

You thought you where fucked at that point. You gave Ghost a little kick under the desk which he squeezed your calf in return. You knew he had that shit eating grin on his face like he usually does. Ghost removed his fingers, placing his hot wet mouth right back on where he was sucking and teasing at. Your clit.

You wanted to tease Ghost back, so with taking your heel/shoe off and placing it right against his groin, feeling that he was already hard. ‘Already hard for me?’ You thought to yourself, ‘Just by eating my pussy?’. You smirked, rubbing against his groin more, feeling as his hand clenched against your calf and his hips bucking up like he wanted more.

Ghosts breath hitched on your pussy, which ended with a low heardless groan that vibrated against you. You smiled at yourself. Ghost went harder against you swollen clit, rutting his tongue in all the right places. The feeling of you cumming was already getting close but you wanted to make Ghost cum first.

Your foot rubbed in circles on his dick, feeling as it twitch lightly in his jeans. Ghosts eyes where closed, humming sweetly into your cunt as he ate. He was already close, all this pussy eating was getting him so worked up he was about to cum right into his jeans.

You wanted to see his face so badly, the way how precious it must be, cheeks dusted pink and temple glossy with sweat. The way his dick was probably already leaking with pre-cum was making you horny. To feel his cock inside of you was making your tummy turn and your pussy pulse with excitement.

He ate you up like you where his final meal, he went faster as you rubbed your foot against the bulge of his dick. You looked round quickly seeing as Price was to busy talking to a recruiter and no one was paying attention to your side of the room, so you decided to grind against Ghosts face slightly. Bucking your hips more into his face.

This made Ghost hungrier. He sucked on your clit, teeth grazing just ever so slightly against it, making you sigh quietly into your hand.

You spread your legs wider, making Ghost burry deeper. There was the knot again. Your lower stomach turned again, feeling it made your legs tremble, trying to get yourself to cum faster. Your foot rubbing against Ghosts crotch left, you couldn’t focus on making him cum first, you where busy with yourself cumming against Ghosts face. You bit against your thumb, your body feeling hot and sweaty as Ghost ate you out faster and faster until finally came on his face.

You hips bucked forward as you did, your legs trembled as your orgasm hit. Your eye lids closed feeling your pussy tingle. Ghost lapped you up, removing his face from your crotch, wiping the access off his face. He watched as you hips moved slowly against the chair, still coming slowly down from your climax. Your legs still spread for him.

Ghost rubbed his dick through his pants at the sight of you grinding against the chair. He was about to pull his dick out and finish himself off here but decided to wait, he wanted to fuck you like he wanted to in the first place. Hard and balls deep.

Your eyes scanned the room, seeing Price finishing up the meeting with his corny wrap up. He told everyone to be ready for the mission and he’ll see you later. You stayed out for a second as everyone left.

“Are you coming?” Price asked you, his eyebrow tilting up. You shook your head quickly before waving him off, trying to get him to leave. He just looked at you and rolled his eyes slightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow then” And he left.

You sighed out heavily. You looked in between your legs, seeing as Ghost was gone, that’s until you heard the door slam shut and lock making your head jerk up.

“Clothes off and on the table, now”

#simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley #ghost x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut #mw2 smut #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader

[fruitsofhell]

Yall, its time to ramble about visual/environmental storytelling cause this is silly article is driving me insane.

I won't argue for if the game should have had more constant and involved cutscenes like Robobot or Star Allies, but what I will say is that this game is VERY rich in story through the world design. The Forgotten Land as opposed to say the Land of the Sky in TD or the entire galaxy of Star Allies is like, DROWNING in writing and narrative. It builds so much mystery and intrigue through the theming of every world and even individual levels, with exploring both how the people of the land originally lived and how it's being reclaimed by nature and the animals.

I think the closest things maybe is Robobot and Halcandra in RTDL, the former having great little designs that key you into WHAT Haltmann is doing and what makes it so toxic. Halcandra though is the ultimate grand-daddy, the contrast between it and the Lor, and Egg Engines and Dangerous Dinner is full of theming and clues about the nature and history of the planet. AND THAT IS STORY, THAT IS WRITING! Especially when compared to say Star Allies, where most of the levels of the levels are just ye average Kirby themed fluff with little to say about the Jamba or the state they've left the galaxy in. But when you play through the casino levels of Robobot, as well as delightful theming and level design, you see that Haltmann is erecting literally the most predatory entertainment centers imaginable. When you step off the sleek futuristic Lor into the scrapyards and wastes of Halcandra, you get fun intimidating final worlds, and a good grasp on *why* the people who made the Lor aren't around anymore, and may even start questioning why Magolor made such a great fuss of dragging you to this horrible place. Music is also deeply important to this storytelling. Each of the factories/towers erected in ever world of Robobot's theme is a remix usually of themes related to older mechanical levels, subtly clueing you into where Haltmann go their technology from. Outside the Lor rather than the comfortable motif of Green Greens is this almost comically suspicious and disoriented theme once you're stuck on Halcandra and returning to Magolor with more doubts about his words. The final level inside of the volcano house a theme that is teasing the twist to come, and the theme for fighting Landia before the big reveal is less triumphant, and more majestic and pensive. Possibly trying to evoke more hesitance than confidence, even if most people wouldn't catch on to that on a first run.

But the cooler thing, is that while Robobot has this cool theming at key levels, and RtDL does at the end, this type of shit is pervasive ALL throughout Forgotten Land. Every world and nearly every level is a unique, well thought-out set piece! You get to see abandoned towns, cities, malls, stores, factories, resorts, and an amusement park, each which serves as more than just a fun location, but a clear picture of the world and the state its in. This intent is made clearer through the music and tone that goes out of its way to not highlight the destruction of these areas but their beauty, wonder, and mystery through the eyes of an clueless animals and our favorite pink alien. The abandoned Alivel Malls theme is a track as upbeat and peppy as what must've played over it's speakers in it's hayday, because the hustle and bustle breathed back into it by the animals and Kirby just exploring this mysterious complex is just as lively. The theme of the Everbay Coast is peaceful and sunny despite the Holine ruins because it's as part of the scenery to the animals and Kirby as the picturesque palms and sands. And Wondaria!!!!!!!!! OMG WONDARIA WHERE TO EVEN BEGIN WITH EVERY FUCKING LEVEL AND THEME IN WONDARIA!!! THIS IS WHY I CAN'T TAKE THAT CLAIM SERIOUSLY - y'know when I cried at Forgotten Land? In world 3. Not because of a cutscene or a line of dialogue, but just from the sheer emotion the setting evoked in me. The sweet, laid-back, starry-eyed wonder that it expressed from Kirby mixed with my own sense of nostalgia being aware of what that place was, and how beautiful it was to see it rediscovered and adored by Kirby and the animals of the Forgotten Land. It evokes such a strong feeling of bittersweetness, of existential dread comforted by the knowledge that the simple joys and memories we create places like amusement parks to share will continue on as long as there is life in the world. And unlike some of my musings about past games, this was explicitly intentional. What truly brought the tears to my eyes was remembering an interview where the devs were explaining how they were trying to keep the tone light and Kumazaki said specifically they wanted to evoke peace and beauty rather than loss.

LIKE THIS IS WRITING! This is storytelling, this is intention. It's just subtle, but not at all unimportant, and it ties into the more overarching plot. It raises the question constantly of where the people went that is answered by Forgo, and expresses the dichotomy between the simple innocence of the animals compared to the ambitions of the people who abandoned them and that is now possessing their leader. It creates stakes for Elfilis and Forgo's intentions to destroy everything so beautiful and pure about the current world, but as it absolves the current world of guilt, it puts into perspective JUST HOW LONG Forgo must have been locked away that things changed so much. And as softly as the exploits of the original people are portrayed by the game, knowing their treatment of Eliflis and Forgo as a thing of entertainment and tool for innovation is sickening placed in contrast with it. Like back to Wondaria, the way it shows how much space travel must have pervaded the imagination and escapism of the people either before or after Forgo's arrival is insanely smart. And it gives me chills in the best way seeing Kirby run around images of cartoon aliens from a civilization who would never meet him. Of Kirby, Elfilin, and Bandana sticking their head into a cardboard cutout of an astronaut meeting an alien, with the text "wish you were here" above in a script they don't even understand. A SCRIPT THE WRITERS MADE FOR THIS GAME SO THAT THEY COULD ADD MESSAGES LIKE THAT INTO THE WORLD FOR KEEN PLAYERS TO NOTICE AND MAKE CONNECTIONS. Like it's insane. The dedication the Hal Labs has to stuff like this is maddening! It's so sweet and heartfelt and crafty, I'm so pissed off how little respect it gets because people don't understand visual storytelling!!!!! Saying Forgotten Land is light on story is preposterous, it might just be one of the most finely crafted stories the series has had to date, and is just a really solid piece of science fantasy writing in general honestly. It is packed with environmental storytelling that drives me Up The Fucking Wall, Man.

#kirby #kirby and the forgotten land #katfl #elfilis #forgo #kirby lore #shut the heck up #media analysis #GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH (i love kirby) #im in my “writing is more than text” essay warrior era #this is part of me collecting stuff for a bigger essay though :3c i just got so distracted by this take #also i started this cause i though this article was from a bigger outlet than it was #so now i feel like my intensity is unjustified but idrc cause as i said: warrior essay era #OO ALSO I MISSED TALKING ABOUT THE LATER WORLDS #THE CITY IN WINTER HORNS FEELS LIKE A BIOME THE DELAPADATED RESORTS OF WASTES ARE NOW OASES IN A DRIED UP TROPICS- #-AND THE FUCKING CITYSCAPE OF REDGAR FLOODED WITH LAVA IS LIKE ITS OWN PART OF THE MOUNTAIN ITS SO BEAUTIFUL #its a fun twist on the typical final lava world that also gets to do double duty with evil industrial looking shit ARGFDSH so cool #tag talking