#RIff Fist

[fredlikesrats]

watching leverage gag reels just to feel something

[coridallasmultipass]

Guys I missed the countdown by 7 minutes can we redo it?

[mybackiskillingmebb]

sometimes u rlly like a song for the one specific riff in it that plays a total of one time but also goes so hard

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being the non-mc significant other of lead guitarist! Sylus. part2

Imagine the night was going well, last set of play and they were done for the day until that damn request card came. The way he stared at it under the stage light, jaw ticking, heart twisting in quiet dread. Lips of an Angel. He didn’t need to flip it over. He already knew who it was from.

Imagine the way he gripped the card tighter, wishing it would dissolve in his fist. A request like this wasn’t just a song. It was a test. A fucking ghost tapping on his shoulder. He looked over at the frontman, already nodding, already smiling that smug smile that said "Just do it. One more time won’t kill you."

Imagine he wanted to say no. He should have said no. He almost did. But the crowd was waiting, and when he glanced out across the sea of dim faces, he didn’t see you. If he had, he wouldn’t have done it. Maybe.

Imagine the way the first chord came like muscle memory to him. The way his fingers danced a familiar pattern of pain. He hadn’t played this song for years. Had not sung it in longer. There was no reason for that. He never sings, only does on occasional day but mostly because nowadays, he only sing for you and only you.

Imagine the way he knew this song isn't just music. It was a confession with a melody. And tonight, he was about to lie to the only person who really mattered.

"Honey, why you calling me so late?" The words sat like broken glass in his mouth. They didn’t belong to him anymore. But she was out there.

Imagine the way her eyes, not as sweet and shiny as yours, locked on him. Like he was still that boy who used to write songs about her and pretend it didn’t hurt. Thag made something unspoken twist inside his chest. Not love. Not anymore. It was just unfinished business. The kind that rots if you never open the box.

"I gotta whisper cause I can’t be too loud." He used to believe that. Used to think love had to hide in shadows and stolen glances. But you, you showed him difference. You were sunlight and stability. You laughed at his shitty guitar riffs, kissed the calluses on his fingers, and loved him on the quiet days. You were never a secret.

"Well, my girl’s in the next room" He cringed on the inside. His stomach turned with every lyric. Because you weren't in the next room. You were probably at home, curled up with one of his old hoodies, reading the same damn novel you've been teasing him with for weeks. Or maybe out with friends, texting him when you got home safe. You were his now. And he was yours, only yours. And yet, the song came out like a betrayal he didn't mean to sing.

Imagine he looked at her, MC, only once. Just for a second. She smiled like the world hadn't moved on. Like she still owned a part of him. Maybe she did. Maybe she always would. But what he had with her was then. What he had with you was real. It was now.

Imagine the way he finished the song on autopilot. The way no amount of applause could cut through the guilt already pounding on his chest. The band moved into the next song, but he barely played. His fingers hit strings without hearing them. His mind was somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn't follow.

Imagine he didn't know you were in the crowd. He didn't know you'd planned this as a surprise. He didn't even notice the shift in the crowd. Didn't see you leave. Didn't see your face. Didn't see the hurt. Not yet. Later, when he got backstage, there was a note waiting on him. No name. No message. Just a guitar pick.

Imagine the way his heart dropped. The way he picked up the guitar pick. Custom-made. His initials engraved in your handwriting. He stared at it like it had teeth. Every second he was touching it felt like it burns him. And then it hit him. You were here.

Imagine the way he ran out of the back door. Searched the alley. The parking lot. The street. But you were long gone. The night had swallowed you whole, and it didn't even leave a single echo behind.

Imagine he went home that night and stared at the ceiling in silence. He tried calling. No answer. Tried texting. Left on read. He couldn't sleep. He could not breathe right. Every minute that passed was a beat he felt like he doesn't deserve.

Imagine, the worst part wasn't that he sang to someone he didn't love anymore. It was that he did it thinking you will never know. But you did, and what was the cause?

Imagine he never told anyone what happened that night. Not even the band. He kept it all to himself. And the pick. He kept the pick. Carried it with him like a secret punishment. You were his home. And now, he was just another man who sang the wrong song to the right person who didn’t stay long enough to hear him say sorry.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: part 4 u : imma bake some brownies rq. Bye.

[bennydwight]

Been thinking a lot about Adventure Time’s themes and it made me beg the question: What are scenes in animation, film or tv, that make you cry no matter how many times you watch them? Here are a few of mine:

1. Plenty of scenes in The Lion King lol, 2. The final scene of Gravity Falls, 3. Anne saying goodbye to Sprig in Amphibia, 4. Perrito comforting Puss in Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, 5. Anything involving Carl and Ellie in Up

This one's a little harder to answer, because oftentimes I find myself not reacting the same way to the scene itself, but to the music playing under it. Soundtracks are a powerful thing.

To this day, whenever I hear that little riff in Wander Over Yonder (it switches back and forth between a piano and a trumpet), my whole body goes heavy and I'm hit with this profound sense of melancholy. It set me off a good few times after the end of the episode 'The Wanders' (you know the part lol)

The ending little trill in TGAMM's 'A Soda To Remember'. In the ROTTMNT movie, after the portal closed. In Mass Effect 3, the track called Leaving Earth. All of Dos Oruguitas from Encanto. (I'm legit tearing up thinking about all these back to back.) Sound equals sad for me I guess :P

[eurorhs]

[freenightfall]

A RAINBOW IN THE DARK

summary: you and eddie have been best friends since childhood and the only place you've ever felt safe was at eddie's place.

pairing: eddie munson / f!reader

contents: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, cw child abuse/domestic abuse, brief mentions of emotional abuse, swearing, mentions of violence

word count: 4.2 k

You’ve stood at Eddie’s front door more than you could recall, more than you could count on your fingers and then some…but tonight felt different. Something akin to adrenaline rushed through your veins like the purest drug causing your entire body to tremble and shake in place as you stared at the peeling paint of the trailer door; but it wasn’t adrenaline. It wasn’t fun and carefree and exhilarating–what you felt was the complete opposite. 

The only word that you could think of was dread… but it wasn’t because of what you were going to face inside.

You had known Eddie your whole life—lived in the same trailer park as him, grew up with him, played as children as you ran around and caused havoc together in the junkyard. You huff out a small laugh as the image of your closet trimming with black lines marked in sharpie with both of your heights written beside them as you two grew throughout the years popping into your mind… it was one of the only happy memories you had in that house. 

Eddie’s place felt more of a home to you than your own ever did and you spent a majority of your free time there instead. That’s why you’re here now, because this place was always your safe haven, a sanctuary on earth from all the cruelty and emptiness that filled the walls of the place you were supposed to call home. 

Glancing up at the door, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to knock. But just before your fist makes contact with the flimsy door, it swings open revealing the weathered face of Eddie’s uncle Wayne. He’s dressed in his usual plaid shirt and jeans, accompanied with the safety vest that serves as his uniform. His wary eyes soften when he sees you and he relaxes briefly, shoulders dropping from its tense posture. 

“Hey Wayne,” you greet, voice smaller and quieter than he knows it to be. 

The quality of your voice makes him quirk a brow, but it only lasts a moment and the natural weariness consumes his expression once again. 

Just like Eddie, you’ve known Wayne your whole life. Eddie’s father used to live here too, but one day, before the crack of dawn and a week after he had turned 14, he left with all of his belongings—left with everything except for Eddie. 

Wayne nods in his own greeting and then opens the door wide enough for you to step in. 

“He’s in his room,” is all he says as he slips past you and makes his way towards his truck. 

The door clicks shut behind you and the trailer is almost silent if it wasn't for the orchestrated hum of heavy music playing towards the back of the house. Quietly you wander past the small living room and even smaller kitchen until you come face-to-face with the door that leads into your best friend’s room, cracked open just a sliver; just enough to allow the music playing from the speakers to seep into the rest of the trailer. The door to his room is plastered with signs and posters, some handwritten or drawn and others professionally done. It’s chaotic and messy and every bit Eddie. 

You knock, only to be courteous, before gently pushing open the door. 

Eddie’s on his bed, laying on his back with his beloved guitar in hand as he strums the heavy riffs playing on the record he put on earlier. Holy Diver, you recognize, by the metal god himself Ronnie James Dio. 

His eyes are closed as his fingers are working meticulously on the guitar solo masterpiece and his curly brown locks are sprayed around his head like a halo. 

The sight makes you smile and even though you’ve seen him like this plenty of times—lost to the equally heavy and poetic melody of the music—and yet it always makes your heart melt. 

“You know if you put in half the energy and commitment into your studies as you do your guitar playing you would’ve graduated with me last year,” you say. 

Eddie's eyes snap open and he shoots up in bed, beaming up at you with the most boyish grin he could muster, like it’s the first time he’s seen you in ages when you quite literally saw him the other day. 

“Heya stranger, didn’t expect you to drop in tonight!” He says with a dopey smile on his face, totally ignoring your statement on purpose.

You thread a hand through your hair and tussle the locks slightly, “Yeah it was a slow night so Mick let me off early.”

“Ah,” he sighs in realization, fingers still strumming the guitar strings absentmindedly, “boss man didn’t want to pay you for standing around I see.”

You nod, “Probably, but I mean getting off early beats trying to find something to do for another hour or so.”

“Yeah because doing nothing and getting paid for it totally beats doing nothing with your best friend,” he jests playfully. 

“I mean as much as I love working at the record shop, sometimes I would rather be here with you.”

Eddie places a hand over his heart dramatically and gives you an over the top, almost cartoonish look of gratitude, “I am honored, truly, that you would value my friendship just slightly more than that shitty conformist, sell-out-corporate job you have. Seriously, I might cry!”

“How the hell is working for a dingy little local shop conformist or selling out to corporate? It’s not like I’m working for McDonalds or anything. And besides, the only reason I have that job is so I can make some kinda cash, not that I’m making enough to get by as it is…”

It’s true, ever since you turned 16 you were working to make enough to get the hell out of Hawkins. There was nothing here for you but misery and heartache—the only thing keeping you here was Eddie, but you’d never tell him that. 

You couldn’t imagine leaving him behind. Sure he had Gareth and Jeff and the rest of the Hellfire Club to keep him company but other than that he didn’t have any friends. People at Hawkins High didn’t understand him, they took him at face value and made assumptions based solely on that. If they took time to get to know Eddie, knew him that way you and the Hellfire Club did, then they would all know that Eddie was one of the most creative, funny, and caring people on the planet. It broke your heart that people were terrified of him, mocked him for not conforming to society's norms.

You kept mostly to yourself when you were at school, reading in the library or finishing up passable schoolwork that was due later that day during study hall; the only exception were the days and nights that the Hellfire Club met for their D&D campaigns or meetings to discuss the future of the club where you sat behind Eddie in a little foldable chair and basked in the social interaction and antics that pursued, but other than that you didn’t partake in the high school experience. You wanted to finish and then get the hell out of dodge, hoping to escape this shitty little town and never look back at all the shitty memories from over the years. 

And sure you had your fair share of name calling and bullying, but it was nothing compared to how they treated Eddie. While you were merely misunderstood and ignored by the teens and adults at Hawkins High, Eddie was villainized. 

You hadn’t realized that while lost in your thoughts momentarily you had crossed your arms over your chest and one of your hands had involuntarily squeezed your upper arm. A sudden jolt courses through your bloodstream and you wince at the pain that radiates there.

Eddie notices and quickly he leaps out of bed, tossing his most treasured possession onto the throw of pillows and pulls up the sleeve of your Led Zeppelin tee. His eyes widen at the relatively new, blotchy black and blue mark that blemishes your skin. 

When he glances up at you through his thick lashes there’s something frighteningly irate looming in his normally warm brown eyes. He lets go of your sleeve with a tender slip of his ringed fingers and takes a small step back. 

“He did this to you?” Eddie asks with a nod to the blossoming bruise, nostrils flaring slightly as he speaks. 

You nod back, unable to keep his gaze any longer and instead avert your eyes to the beer stained carpet. “Apparently he didn’t like the way I looked at him after he yelled at my mom for not washing his work clothes on time.”

“Well maybe he should do his own damn laundry then...” Eddie scoffs, the huff of a laugh that escapes his lips is laced with disgust, like venom dripping from his mouth. “… at least he learned to punch where it doesn’t show this time.” The sarcasm in his voice was hard to miss.  

“He didn’t punch,” you say, “he just grabbed me.”

“Hard enough to leave a mark.”

“It’s nothing,” you reply, “it’ll be gone in a few days.”

Eddie shakes his head, “Why are you so quick to defend that asshole?”

“I’m not defending him!” You all but snapped, the weight of the conversation becoming too much all of a sudden as your vision blurs from the hot tears that had welted up in your eyes, because you weren’t defending your father. You wouldn't defend him if your life depended on it. 

As much as you despised the word and think it has been misused, you hated your father. It was because of him you kept your head down just slightly enough to avoid the gaze of whoever it was you spoke to. It was because of him that you flinched whenever someone even remotely raised their voice in anything but joy or surprise (which even then sometimes startled you). It was because of him that you wanted to walk about life hidden in the shadows, hidden away from everyone’s view.

You hated that he made you act like your mother whenever you were around him, a woman you couldn’t fathom as a naive child who could stand to be with a man who treated her the way he did—who yelled at the smallest inconvenience, who threw plates against the floor like a deranged child when upset, a man who hurled insults under his breath like daggers. You always swore that you would never let a man treat you this way, yet here you were… afraid of the man who you were supposed to love and you let him throw you around like you were some mindless rag doll.    

But Eddie saw you, he had always seen you, and he made you feel the way a person was supposed to feel. He made you feel like you were your own person with thoughts and emotions and passions. That’s why you loved Eddie… that’s why you fell in love with Eddie… and you hated yourself for it because you felt deep down, at some point—eventually—he was going to turn out just like your father. 

You knew he wouldn’t, but that gnawing feeling still burrowed itself deep inside of your head and poisoned your thoughts. It was easy for a person to change, for whatever reason. There was a hopeful notion that your father wasn’t always this way, that something had changed him for the worse and he was the way he was because something happened to him. 

People weren’t born monsters, they became them. 

“You know you could always stay here,” Eddie says then, demeanor softening when he sees your teary gaze avoiding him. “You basically live here anyway, so I doubt that we’d even notice if you were around a little more than usual.”

It was true, when you weren’t slaving away at work you always found yourself here, and back when you were still attending Hawkins High you caught rides with Eddie before and after school (and his little entrepreneur endeavors in the woods) back to his trailer to hang out with Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire Club. You always found an opportunity to stay the hell away from home, grabbed it by its throat, and ran with it.

Any place was better than the trailer you called home, you thought bitterly. 

You give Eddie a small smile, “I made it through 19 years of this bullshit, I think I can handle a little more until I can move out on my own.”

Eddie sticks his hands into the back pocket of his jeans and sways in place, a small attempt to ease the tension that had built up in the room after the slightly heated conversation, “Well the offer is always on the table if you ever want to take me up on it.” 

The smile on your face grows a little more, “Thanks Eddie… for everything.”

He smiles back, eyes crinkling, “that’s what best friends are for… but seriously just say the word and I will beat the ever-loving shit out of him.”

“With what? Your guitar?”

“That beauty over there?” He gestures to the heap of intricate metal laying abandoned on his bed. “No, no, no… I’ll save that joyous moment for these bad boys right here,” he raises his ringed fists and starts punching the air with childlike animation.

A laugh escapes you despite all of the mixed emotions swirling around inside of you, “I know for a fact that you’ve never gotten into a physical fight in your life, Munson.”

“What are you saying? That I wouldn’t knock his candy ass straight to the ground with a single blow?”

You contemplate it for a moment, just to humor him, “Well considering that my dad is 6-foot, 200-and-something pounds and you have no fighting experience whatsoever outside of D&D, there's no way in hell you’d make it out of that fight alive, so that is exactly what I’m saying… but you might be able to smart-mouth him to death.”

He grins with comedic menace, “That can be arranged.” He claps his hands together, intertwining his fingers together and brings them to his chest, and looks over at you with devious delight. “Enough of this dreadful chitchat!” He exclaims theatrically. “We need to lighten this dreary mood and I know just the way to do so!” 

Eddie moves to the nightstand beside his bed and rummages through the mess inside until he finds just what he is looking for. Whatever it is, he’s hiding it behind his back until he saunters back over to you like a child anticipating to show their parents their artwork, waiting for a reaction. But before you could chide him for being overdramatic he pushes the VHS of Fright Night into your face.

“Up for a movie night?”

***

You and Eddie are sitting beside each other on the couch. You’re halfway through the movie and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would, but you enjoy just being with Eddie way more. 

It reminds you of the late night spent next to each other just like this as kids: eyes glued to the screen of whatever Eddie managed to nab from the video store without his uncle’s knowledge as he slaved away at the plant to make end’s meet, stuffing an unholy amount of candy and soda down your throats, only this time instead of soda Eddie was babying a bottle of beer while you stuck with something a little less intoxicating (another thing you hated your father for, unable to enjoy something as dumb as teen drinking because you feared turning into the same breed of monster as him). 

The character of Peter Vincent comes on screen and Eddie’s hand darts out of the shared blanket covering the two of you, pointing towards the older man. “That’s what I want to be,” he says.

“A washed up actor?” You ask innocently, genuinely enough.

“No,” He shakes his head, “famous.” He continues without tearing his eyes from the television screen, “One day my band is gonna make it big, I can feel it, and when that day comes I’m gonna take you far away from this shitty little town filled with all of its shitty little people. We’ll travel the world and see cities way bigger than Hawkins, eat food that doesn’t come from a can, and be surrounded by people who look like us, think like us.”

“And I’ll be doing what, exactly?” You ask. with a weary grin “End up as a little groupie for you and your bandmates?”

Eddie's face scrunches up, eyes crinkling into mere slits, and mouth twisting into a strange contortion of movement as he shakes his head, “Nooooooo, being a groupie is way beneath you,” his eyes finally drift away from the screen and he stares at his blanket covered lap, thumbs twiddling underneath the heavy material, “I think the girlfriend of a rockstar has a better ring to it…”

If it wasn’t for the quality of his voice, you’d think he was joking. Throughout the years of your friendship you’d both been known to tease each other, playful banter and totally platonic flirting falling from both of your lips lightheartedly, but it was never anything more than two friends fooling around. 

This however… this felt different. 

“Yeah, I think it does too,” you whisper then, “or we could just shorten it to Eddie’s girlfriend.”

Eddie turns his head and glances over to you with a mix of surprise and confusion. 

He thinks he might’ve heard you wrong, that he was projecting his own wishful thinking onto your words. The TV volume was low enough that he can practically hear every breath you take, but still he doubted the words that fell from your lips.

His eyes dazzle in the television glow, like starlight in his warm brown hues, and you can tell by the way his body relaxes that he was relieved by your words, afraid that his feelings for you would be unrequited and not returned. 

“What?” You say with a timid smile and a gentle tilt of your head. Your eyes soften when you look at him and the look you give him makes his heart flutter. “Come on, like you didn’t know I liked you.”

Eddie shakes his head, the brown curls that frame his face swaying with him as he downcasts his gaze at his ringed fingers in his lap. “How long?” He asks with a huff of a laugh, trying to contain the joy that overrides his heart.

“Since forever, I guess? I don’t know… you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, I just thought that this was how best friends felt towards each other, but then I realized that I didn’t feel this way around other people… around other guys. It was always only you.”

The smile on his face grows, eyes crinkling at the corners at your confession. Always only you, your words echo in his brain like music. He feels like he’s in a dream—a wonderful, wonderful dream—but he’s afraid that this is just that, only a dream. He’s afraid that he’ll wake up in his bedroom alone and that all of this was just his subconscious playing a cruel joke on him. Because he was Eddie Munson, his entire life was just one cruel joke after another.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he finds himself lost in the way you look back at him. There’s a soft smile that graces your lips that solidifies the fact that you’re telling the truth, that you feel the same way about him that he felt towards you. 

“I guess that makes two of us,” he replies sheepishly.  

“Only took us long enough to admit it,” you laugh, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks. You’re glad that it's dark enough so that he can’t see the blush that appears on your face, embarrassed by how giddy this moment makes you.

He laughs too and he looks so boyishly happy, like a child who got the gift he always wanted for Christmas. 

One of his hands comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing along your chin. It feels electric, having him touch you in such an intimate yet simple way. It was something you always wanted, always dreamed of, and now—finally—it was coming to fruition.  

“We can make up for it, you know…”

You lean in close, enough to feel his hot breath fan against your lips.

“I’d like that,” you whisper before closing the space between you.

The movie that still plays in the background fades into non-existence as his chapped lips mold perfectly against yours. He slants his mouth to kiss you properly despite the odd angle, not wanting to ruin this moment. He’s waited his entire life for this and if he were to fuck it up by kissing you like some inexperienced deeb he’d never forgive himself for it. 

Those doubts ebb away when he feels you kiss him back, feeling how you push up against the couch to press yourself even closer to him, your lips parting slightly to reclaim his in another kiss. A shiver runs down his spine at the feeling, not daring to pull away from the warmth of your mouth, even when he’s desperate for air. 

He tastes of beer, the scent of cigarettes and weed hanging off of his clothes like cologne, leaving you nearly intoxicated as the senses invade your mind, making you dizzy with delight. 

Eddie still holds your face in his hand, gently tilting your head so that his mouth can press against yours the way he wants, the way that just feels right. 

He wants nothing more than to pull you into his lap and have you straddle him, giving him better access to your mouth so he can deepen the kiss. He’s desperate to explore your mouth with his tongue and taste you, to leave you just as excited as he was as you do the same, but it's too soon he thinks. He doesn’t want to scare you away with his eagerness when he finally has you where he’s always wanted you. 

The last thing he wanted was for you to think that all he wanted from you was your touches, that your friendship and his feelings for you were purely driven by hormonal urges. 

Eddie loved you and he wanted to make sure that you knew it, even if he couldn’t muster up the courage to say it out loud.

It feels like an eternity when you finally pull away from him, making him groan at the loss of your heat, but he smiles at the punch-drunk grin that’s plastered on your face. Your eyes are glazed over with a happiness that he hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“You look tired,” he whispers, “tuckered out after just one kiss, huh?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand cradles the back of your head, caressing the nape of your neck tenderly with the pads of his fingers. “But I am tired, it’s been a long day.”

“Then let’s get some rest,” he says with a lingering kiss to your temple, “tomorrow’s Saturday, which means we can sleep in as long as you want.”

You nod against his shoulder, straightening up to place one last kiss on his lips before sinking down onto the sofa. 

The two of you maneuver yourselves on the couch so that you’re both laying on your side, facing the TV. There isn’t much space, but with your back pressed firmly against Eddie’s chest you both seem to fit. 

He drapes the blanket over your bodies, wrapping an arm around your waist while propping himself up on his elbow slightly so that he can continue to watch the movie that somehow hasn’t ended yet.

You try to focus on the screen too, but your eyes are heavy with fatigue and slowly they flutter shut until you drift off into sleep. 

Eddie tries to fight off the creeping drowsiness that seeps into his bones, but fails miserably and after a few moments he dozes off as well.

***

The next morning Wayne jingles the keys into the lock, pushing the door open to the trailer with a tired grunt and steps in.

The TV is still running though the VHS had stopped playing hours ago, leaving the living room in a dim blue-ish white haze, the gentle buzz of the static lingering in the air. 

He’s about to yell at Eddie for leaving the TV on again after he fell asleep, ready to scrutinize the boy for wasting electricity, but he stops himself when he sees the two of you asleep on the couch. 

Somehow during the night you had managed to turn and face Eddie, tucking your head underneath his chin, pressing your chest to his in a comforting embrace.

The sight makes Wayne chuckle under his breath, moving towards the TV and switching it off. He sneaks past the couch as quietly as he could and makes his way towards his room to get some rest of his own, but not before muttering an “about damn time” under his breath.

[punkrockmlchael]

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist | Corroded Coffin Masterlist

FanBoy!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader

(Both Eddie and Reader are 18+)

This fic is for: birthday boy pop-up event by @corrodedcoffinfest ; the prompt is “gift”

Prompt: Gift | Word Count: 8,897 | Rating: E | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader | Content Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Weed and Underage Drinking | Tags: Eddie Munson, Fanboy Eddie, Popstar Reader, Concert, Gift, Meet and Greet, Celebrity Crush

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Eddie is lowkey a Pervert with so many thoughts about you, Dirty Talking, Kinda a Fanboy kink if you can call it that? (Mutual between Eddie and Reader), Smut: Oral (Fem and Male Receiving), Fingering, Cum Eating, Protected PinV, afab reader

Synopsis: Eddie was your biggest fan; it started after Gareth decided to drag him to your concert. Now, Eddie just doesn't shut up about you. So, the guys decide to come together and pitch in on an amazing Birthday gift for Eddie. This is based off of this blurb I had written and I had people ask for more of these two (including them actually meeting); so woo! Also this slowly turned into the longest fic I have ever written so, I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8.8k

Two months.

It had been two months since your newest album had been released to the public—copies of the vinyls sat in record stores far and wide while your top song played on every radio station on the top of every hour. 

It had been two whole months of Eddie Munson playing your album every day and night, no matter what he was doing within the four walls of his cluttered bedroom. 

Your pop sound and lyrics were a stark contrast to the usual heavy metal music that would ring through his room as he laid back on his bed, packing a bowl of the latest recommendation from his dealer. He’d play your music in the background while he messed around with his guitar, adding some heavy riffs to the poppy sounds that played from the record player. He’d sit on his bed, hand in his pants with his cock in his fist tightly; he’d stroke himself while your voice filled his ears, edging him closer and closer to release. The sound of your sweet and soft voice played late into the night, always seeming to help him drift off to sleep faster; and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that to anyone that would listen. 

Anyone. 

No, really, the Hellfire boys were so fucking sick of listening to Eddie bring you up in every conversation–during lunch at the cafeteria, between battles at Hellfire campaigns, during a late night smoke session in his van by the lake–it didn’t matter the occasion, your name was always rolling off of his lips like a prayer. It was like he was dating you; he spoke about you so highly and intimately, there was never anything negative spoken about you by that boy.

He was just such a love sick little puppy that thought about you every single minute of his morning, afternoon and evening. And the Hellfire boys always just shared looks and groaned while rolling their eyes when Eddie started talking about you. And Eddie noticed their looks, he noticed their annoyance with him but that didn’t stop him from speaking about you… it had actually gotten to the point where he would join the conversations of the cheerleaders just so he could talk about you and your music. 

You released a new song? He ran to the girls to ask if they had heard it yet before gushing over how good it was because, you never seem to have any songs that suck.

You announced a tour or a show near them? He was telling all the girls that he was going to do anything in his power to make sure he would be at that show, seeing you perform live yet again.

And, let’s be real, all these cheerleaders thought that was funny as hell, but they always allowed Eddie to join their conversations; in fact, some of the cheerleaders went out of their way and started the conversations with him. He was just like them—he was a fanboy at heart and he couldn’t help that you were his current unconventional musical hyper fixation at the moment. 

It had been two whole months of your posters and pictures being placed on his walls, hung up so carefully to ensure that they wouldn’t rip or tear. And, every time the guys came over he was constantly getting attacked and questioned by those pieces of paper. The posters were everywhere, there was one above his bed, there was one above his record player, hell, this motherfucker had one on the ceiling above his bed. You were the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning, cheesy, right? And, fuck, did the Hellfire boys tease him about that. I mean, it’s not everyday that the stoner Metalhead had pictures of a pop princess on his wall. 

But, could you blame him? You just happened to look oh so good in those posters. 

And his favorite to this day was still the one of you in that short fucking black dress; he made sure that poster was above his record player so he could look at you while sitting on his bed. He just couldn’t help it—that picture didn’t leave anything to the imagination. The way your curves were so full and perfect, god, he wanted to run his hands all over your body, feeling every single curve and divet of your plush skin. The way your cleavage looked like it could pop out of that dress at any moment, god, he wanted to reach out and squeeze your breasts gently, hearing the small moans and whines escape your mouth while he massages them between his hands, thumbs running over your hardened nipples slowly. Eddie just loved that dress on you so much but he desperately wanted to see it on his bedroom floor–preferably in a pile with his own clothes while you were pressed up against him, moaning and groaning his name with each and every thrust he made. 

He had countless thoughts about you since he had first listened to that album and somehow each one seemed worse than the last. 

He knows, he knows–he’s a pervert. You don’t have to tell him twice.

Seriously, though, each thought was worse than the last. He’s imagined you on your knees in front of him, hand wrapping around the base of his cock while taking it in your pretty little mouth. He’s imagined you on your knees on his bed while he's thrusting into you from behind, so deep and fast that you are screaming his name. He’s imagined hovering over you, kissing the soft skin of your neck as he thrusts into you slow and deep, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s imagined you on top of him, riding on his cock with your tits bouncing in his face. He’s imagined quickies with you after your shows in the dressing room, directly backstage, in the bathroom. You name it he’s probably thought of it with you. 

Eddie was just so whipped and craved you. Craved to know how you felt, how you smelled, how you tasted, how you sounded… he craved to know every little thing about you; all your little imperfections, quirks, any skeletons you had hidden in your closet. He just craved to know you on such an intimate and personal level. But, sadly, you were just a celebrity crush who didn’t even know he existed. 

At least, until tonight.

Tonight you were back in Hawkins, Indiana for a concert. Tonight, on Eddie Munson’s 19th birthday, you were in Hawkins, Indiana. You were in his hometown for his birthday. God, it was like the stars were aligning to give him the best birthday he’s had in a while, if not ever.

Eddie had purchased his ticket for your show months ago, literally the day they went on sale; he had called Gareth and bought a ticket for both of them (and, Gareth wasn’t entirely thrilled about that, but he knew he had to support his best friend… especially on his birthday). 

He had his ticket, he had his best friend by his side, he knew your new songs front to back; he was beyond ready for your concert.

But, the Hellfire boys had a surprise gift for him. They all knew he had a concert ticket, hell, the entire school knew he had a ticket to your show tonight. But, what he didn’t have was a meet and greet VIP ticket… at least, until Jeff pulled some strings with his dad who worked at the venue you were going to be performing at. 

And, my god, you should have seen the look on Eddie’s face when he opened that gift. At first, he looked at the Hellfire boys with a questionable look, he already had tickets, he didn’t need them. But when he read the words “VIP Meet and Greet Ticket” with your name next to it? Yeah, he screamed. A literal scream left his mouth as he thought about meeting you, talking to you, hugging you. And Gareth shook his head because he knew he’d have to stand next to Eddie the entire time during this Meet and Greet. (But, come on, Gareth was also secretly excited to meet you and see you face to face as well; he was just… not excited to deal with Eddie the whole time…) 

So, now, Eddie stood next to Gareth waiting in the meet and greet line amongst a ton of younger girls and teenage girls that were all gushing to meet you. And Eddie was shaking from head to toe. He was both excited and terrified at the same time. What if you were mean? What if you hated him? What if you were a bitch? What if you aren’t like anything he has pictured you to be? What if everything he has thought about you was actually just something he made up and you weren’t that perfect little angel he has you made out to be?

He’s never met a celebrity before… are you really just a normal person like him? Do you enjoy going to the movies just like he did? Do you enjoy listening to music and getting high just like he did? Do you enjoy pancakes over waffles just like he did? Do you enjoy spending your free time with friends and family just like he did?

“Eddie,” Gareth said, looking at his friend. Eddie snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Gareth, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hm?” He replied, looking at Gareth.

“We’re next,” Gareth said, motioning to the nonexistent line in front of them. Eddie gulped, looking up in front of him. He caught a glimpse of you and your smile and panicked. 

“I can’t do this,” Eddie said, shaking his head. Gareth rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, you can. Please, you don’t shut up about her. At least talk to her.” Gareth replied, looking at his friend. “She’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“She might.”

“Next!” The security guard called, looking up Eddie and Gareth. He raised his eyebrow slightly when he saw the two boys but shrugged, allowing them through. The pair walked towards the stage where you were standing in front of a pale pink and purple backdrop with hearts all over it. 

God, why was Eddie’s head spinning? He felt hot. He felt dizzy. He felt like the room was slowly melting away from around him as he stood there, looking at you. It felt like the heavens were opening up and shining down on you as you stood in front of them, glowing like an angel, a goddess, a beautiful princess that he wanted to sweep off your feet with his wit, charm and good looks.

You looked up at Gareth and Eddie and smiled, waving them towards you. “Hi!” You cheered. “Thank you for coming, oh my gosh!” 

God, when you spoke it sounded like a chorus of angels signing around you. Eddie had never been to church, but he felt like he wanted to fall to knees to worship you and sing your praises.

Gareth stepped towards you but Eddie didn’t, he just stood there frozen. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were already clearly done for the concert—hair curled perfectly, not even moving as you moved your head side to side, beautiful soft pink eyeshadow with glitter overtop, making you sparkle each time you moved. You were wearing some baggy light blue jeans and a pink crop top that showed off your midriff perfectly. 

God, you were perfect. You were real, you were perfectly real, and you were standing right in front of Eddie, beckoning him towards you with those beautiful and subtle hand motions.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Gareth said softly, stepping closer to you. You smiled at him, opening your arms for a hug. Gareth didn’t decline, he wrapped his arms around you gently before pulling away, looking at Eddie. 

Eddie watched Gareth hug you before he stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Hi,” he spoke softly. 

You opened your arms and Eddie quickly stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your body as he pulled you close to him. Your arms wrapped around him, smiling as you stood there embracing each other. His arms moved down to your waist gently as he held you against his soft and warm body. It felt like it was just you two in the room as you hugged, sparks flying around you like fireworks. He was so happy to be embracing you, to be holding you, and you allowed him to. You allowed him to hug you and hold you as long as he pleased; you didn’t pull away, you didn’t back away, you just hugged him tighter and smiled as he held you close to his body. 

After what felt like ages, Eddie finally pulled away from the hug, looking at you with a goofy and giddy grin on his face. Gareth glanced at Eddie and raised an eyebrow slightly before looking back at you. 

You smiled at them both, “thanks for coming to meet me and hang out!” You giggled, looking at them. “You probably know my name, but I don’t know yours…” You pouted, looking at the two boys in front of you that looked like they were at the wrong concert. Heavy metal band tees on, ripped jeans, boots on their feet; why on earth were they here to listen to you?

“I’m Gareth,” Gareth said softly, nodding with a smile. 

“I’m Eddie, it’s uh, it’s really cool to meet you. I’ve been listening to your music for quite some time and when I saw you were coming today I just had to come see you. Makes for a really cool birthday.” Eddie smiled, watching you. 

“Birthday? Oh my gosh, is today your birthday?” You asked, Eddie nodded slightly.

“Yeah, nineteen. Scary number,” he joked. 

“Our friend got him a meet and greet ticket for his birthday,” Gareth piped in, looking at Eddie. “He’s like, your number one fan.” 

“Oh my gosh, I was your birthday gift? That’s so cool!” You gushed, “thank you for listening to my music and supporting me, really, it means the world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love doing without people like you.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered out, nodding at you. “Anytime,” he added. 

You smiled, looking at the boys. “Well, can I interest you in a picture together? A signed poster? I have to make sure my number one fan has the best birthday ever.” 

Eddie blushed. You just acknowledged him and called him your number one fan. Fuck. 

“Yeah, that'd be cool,” Eddie smiled, Gareth nodded as well. 

“Perfect, come here and smile for the camera.” You said, motioning towards the boys. They walked to you, standing on either side of you. Gareth stood on your left and Eddie stood on your right. You wrapped your arms around their backs gently and looked at the camera and smiled with the boys. Once the photo was taken you looked at Eddie with a smile. “Want a picture of just the two of us?” You asked. He looked at you nervously. 

“You, uh, you’d do that for me? Can we? Really?” He asked. You nodded. 

“Of course! Consider it a birthday gift from me to you.” 

Gareth took this as a sign to step away, leaving you and Eddie together for your own picture. You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s waist and smiled, leaning closer to him for the picture. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as a goofy grin appeared on his face.

After the photo was taken you hugged Eddie again, smiling at him. “Happy birthday, Eddie. It was nice to meet you and Gareth,” you said, glancing at Gareth. “I hope you both enjoy the show. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“Thanks, princess,” Eddie smiled. Gareth smiled as well, waving at you. The two grabbed their posters and were on their way while you turned towards your next fan here for meet and greet—a little girl and her mom. You were crouching towards the ground to get to the level of the little girl as she ran towards you for a hug. You hugged her tightly and smiled, rocking her back and forth gently. 

Eddie looked back and watched from afar as he left. 

Fuck, did he love you.  

“I’ll be back,” Eddie yelled to Gareth over the noise of the bar. Your concert was over and Eddie was bummed to leave, so Gareth suggested heading to the Hideout for a few drinks to celebrate his birthday. Eddie reluctantly agreed, even though he’d rather be at home right now thinking about you with his pants around his ankles and his hand on his cock, stroking himself in time to your music.

Gareth nodded at Eddie, before going back to his conversation with Jeff. They were having a heated argument about something, but Eddie didn’t really listen to the details because he didn’t really care. That sounded rude, oh well, it was true. All he cared about right now was you. 

“Jack and Coke, please,” Eddie said as he walked up to the bar, away from Gareth and the other boys in the crowd. He grunted as he took a seat in one of the uncomfortable bar stools. The bartender looked up at him and smiled slightly, nodding to get him his drink. “Thanks, Mark,” Eddie added, watching the usual bartender go off to fix his drink. Once the drink was in his hand he raised it slightly, giving a nod to Mark as he began sipping on his drink. He looked around the bar, eyeing his surroundings as he usually did. 

Your concert was over, you had left the stage long ago and were probably a long ways away from Hawkins by now. Why would you stay here longer than you had to? Eddie sighed to himself, finishing the drink in his hand a little too quickly.

He had finally gotten to meet you, to hug you, to smell you. That was weird, yeah, he’s weird, but, did you know you smell like a mixture of roses and strawberries? Like, he was walking through a strawberry field with a bouquet of roses in his hands, on the way to give you said bouquet before falling to his knees to confess his undying love for you. Begging you for a chance to let him love you and hold you for as long as you would let him.

“Mind if I sit here?” A feminine voice rang through his ear on his left side. Eddie didn’t look up, he just nodded, mumbling what sounded like a yes as he stared down at the ice in the glass his hand was wrapped around tightly. “Thanks. Hi, I’ll have a Rum and Coke, please.”

That voice. Eddie knew that voice, he had listened to it everyday for the last two months. Not to mention, he basically drooled over it a few hours prior at the concert.

He stopped, looking up to his left. His eyes widened as he saw you sitting on the barstool next to him. Live and in the flesh.

God, you looked perfect.

Your hair was still holding its curl perfectly while resting against your shoulders, your sparkly stage makeup had been removed from your face leaving a more natural look but, damn, you still looked drop dead gorgeous. Instead of the pale pink sparkly mini skirt and matching top you wore during the concert, you now had the same baggy jeans from the meet and greet and a sweatshirt with your name on it. Wearing your own merchandise, huh? Damn, that’s hot.

You smiled as Mark slid the drink your way, leaving you with a flirty wink. “This one’s on the house, princess,” Mark said and Eddie shot him a glare. 

“Oh, why, thank you.” You replied, grabbing the glass in your hand. You brought it to your lips and smiled, sipping on the drink slowly. You glanced at Eddie, nodding at him with that adorable smile of yours. Fuck. “Hi, uh… Eddie, right?” You asked, remembering him all too well from your Meet and Greet earlier in the night. And, I mean, how could you forget him? Not many others showed up to your show with a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans and chains.

Not many people showed up like that but, damn, did you love it.

“Yeah, uh, hi. Uh, yeah, that’s me… Eddie,” he replied, nodding as he set his empty glass down on the bar, releasing his grip from it. “You, uh, remembered my name?” He asked, turning his body towards you slightly in the bar stool.

You smiled, nodding your head before sipping on your drink. “It's a little hard not to remember the name of my biggest fan.” You murmured, setting your drink down on the bar. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing, really good, actually. You always seem to kill it on stage…” Eddie said softly, taking in your appearance yet again. He just couldn't believe you were here in the Hideout and sitting right next to him. He was so scared that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you and ruin any chance he may have with you. Because, he totally believes he has a chance with you, yeah. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you’re here and sitting next to me but… I kind of figured you’d be on a tour bus driving as far away from Hawkins as possible right now. You know, getting ready for the next concert of your tour.” He rambled on, stopping at the end to take a breath.

You giggled softly, turning your body towards him. Your left elbow rested on the bar, your chin resting on your palm as a smile appeared on your face. “Why, thank you. I already said it once but, thank you for coming to my show tonight, it means alot. And, I don’t know; I don’t have another show for a couple days so I decided to stay in town for a bit… is that not a good idea? Is it not too fun here in Hawkins?” Your right hand reached for your drink, taking a couple sips as Eddie shrugged.

“Hawkins really isn’t that fun,” he admitted, smiling at the way you gave your full attention to him. Fuck. “But, I don’t know, with a gorgeous girl like you floating around… it might get better.” He smiled, leaning a little closer to you. You blushed softly, smiling at him. You finished your drink and set the glass on the bar. 

“Yeah? Is that so?” You asked, looking at Eddie again. You were able to actually take your time looking at him now, unlike earlier. Pretty brown doe eyes, beautiful yet nervous smile, long and shaggy curls that fell into his face a bit until he repositioned his head. 

“Absolutely. You might make it worth staying here,” he nodded. You smiled again, looking up at Mark as he came over towards you two, asking about drinks. 

“Yeah, I’ll take another Rum and Coke. And a drink here for my friend, Eddie, as well please.” Mark nodded at your words before walking off to make you and Eddie both another drink.  

“Woah, you don’t need to buy me a drink, princess. I’ll survive.”

“Actually, I do. Consider it a birthday gift,” you smiled, looking at Eddie with that stupid perfect grin on your face. “Speaking of, how was your birthday?” You asked, “I’ll have to admit, I’m still feeling slightly honored that you decided to spend your birthday with me.” 

“You already gave me a birthday gift today,” he argued, referring to the solo picture of the two of you from earlier. “But, my birthday was perfect. Actually, I didn’t think it could get better but, somehow, with you next to me… it’s definitely going to go down in history as the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Eddie replied, smiling widely at you. “Not everyday you get to spend your day with your favorite popstar, you know?”

“Oh, I’m your favorite popstar, huh?” You giggled, leaning closer to him. Fuck, that giggle. 

“Well, you’re definitely up there on my list.” Eddie smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips. Mark walked back over and set the drinks down on the bar before he walked away again. You both reached for your glasses, taking them in your hands. 

“Well,” you said, raising your glass. “Happy birthday, Eddie. And, cheers to many more for you.” You and Eddie clinked your glasses together before taking a sip out of them. 

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding. “Make it a note to come to Hawkins on my birthday every year?” He teased. 

“I'll see what I can do,” you responded with a flirty wink.

“You better,” Eddie replied with a goofy smile. You sipped on your drink more, smiling as you looked around the small bar.

“This place is cool,” you commented, looking back at Eddie. “And, you hate Hawkins?” He smiled.

“Not that I hate Hawkins,” he said softly. “More so that it’s a little… boring. Not much really happens here.” He added, shrugging. He watched you with a smile on his face as you continued to look around the bar, your eyes catching the stage in the corner.

“Is that a stage?” You asked, motioning towards the corner as you sipped on your drink. Eddie’s gaze followed your and he nodded, smiling as he took another sip of his drink.

“Oh, yeah! Tons of local bands play there every week, including mine. We play here every Tuesday night.”

“Woah, you're in a band?” You asked, suddenly a bit more interested in the boy sitting next to you. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, blushing slightly as you took more interest in him. “It’s, uh, it’s called Corroded Coffin; we play some more heavy metal sounds. I’m a guitarist and lead singer in it…” Eddied replied, nodding at you.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds cool,” you giggled, finishing your drink. You set the empty glass on the bar and looked at him, “heavy metal, huh? What makes me stand out so much that you listen to my silly little pop music then?” 

Eddie chuckled nervously, finishing his drink as well. “Well, you’re very pretty, you have an amazing voice and I do have a soft spot in my heart for pop music.” He replied, setting his empty glass down next to yours. “Guilty pleasure music, I guess you can say…”

“Well, I’m honored to be part of your guilty pleasure music.” You smiled, looking at him. “Oh, and I’d absolutely love to see and hear some Corroded Coffin songs, if you’ll show me, that is. I actually do enjoy listening to a heavier metal sound from time to time.” Eddie blushed, looking at you shocked.

“You listen to heavy metal?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It’s funny, I make pop music but I tend to not listen to that in my free time, actually.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly as he learned more about you. “Huh. It appears there is a lot that I don’t know about you, pop princess.”

“Yeah, I get that alot,” you nodded. “So, you play guitar, huh? That’s a skill I wish I had, I’ve been pushing myself to learn but, I just have very little motivation.” You admitted softly.

“I could teach you,” Eddie suggested, looking at you with a goofy smile. “If you want me to, at least…” 

“I think I would love that, Eddie,” you giggled, looking at him. 

He smiled at your giggle, looking at you. “You’re really pretty,” he said softly, looking at you. You blushed, smiling softly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know that Mr. Metalhead?” You replied, causing Eddie’s cheek to turn a slight shade of pink.

And with that you were both leaning closer to each other, eyes glancing at each other’s lips as you moved closer and closer together. Time stopped. Eddie’s ears were ringing and he felt like he was vibrating. You were so close to him, so close. He could see the small freckles on your cheeks, wanting to connect them all like little constellations. He could see the tiny baby hairs that didn’t want to stay down no matter how much hairspray you used, wanting to push them back and play with them gently. He could see the small scar that sat on your forehead from when you face planted on stage one night. He could see everything, and you were so beautiful. 

You smiled your little smile, tilting your head to the side as your lips pressed against his softly. Eddie sighed, the feeling of your lips against his enough to make him weak in the knees. He moved his lips against yours, kissing you back softly as his hand moved to the side of your face. He held your cheek, caressing it even, as his thumb ran along the smooth skin. Your hand moved towards his face as well, pulling him closer during the kiss.

He suddenly forgot where he was. All the noises of the bar around; the clinking of glasses, the yelling of partiers, the sounds of men hitting on women… it was all gone. There was no one else in the room. 

It was just you and him. The way it was meant to be—the way he wanted it. The way he dreamed it would be for the rest of his life; you and him against the world. 

Eddie felt like he was dreaming. Or, he died and went to heaven. He wasn’t entirely sure which was true but he was counting his blessings, and mentally thanking Jeff for those meet and greet tickets because; fuck. That gift just keeps on giving. Literally. 

He wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but, he didn’t fucking care about the logistics of all of this.

All Eddie cared about was the feeling of your lips on his neck as he struggled with his keys to the front door of the trailer. That, and the fact that his uncle wasn’t home, otherwise this would be awkward.

He finally got his key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. He stumbled inside the trailer, pulling you with him. He kicked the front door shut behind you both and led you to his bedroom, pinning you up against the back of the door. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, lips crashing into yours desperately. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer as you kissed him back, your lips moving against his with the same desperate want and need. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” you replied, fingers moving through his curls gently. He groaned, his hands finding your hips. He pushed his hips against yours, grinding against you slightly. A slight moan left your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back against the door. “Fuck, Eddie,” you sighed.

He moaned a little too loudly when he heard you say his name like that, a literal pitiful moan left his mouth as he kissed down your jawline to your neck. He attacked your neck with kisses and nips, his hips still moving against yours with a slow rhythm. “God, princess, you sound so good saying my name like that,” he mumbled, biting down on your neck a little rougher. ”You don’t know how bad I want you.”

You whined at the bite, eyes opening to look down at Eddie. Your fingers ran through his curls, tugging them gently before you looked around his room. Your eyes caught sight of the posters of you on his wall and an accidental laugh left your lips. Eddie pulled away from your neck and looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asked, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong?” He continued, hoping you didn’t think this was a huge mistake. 

You giggled a little, shaking your head. “No, sorry, just, you have posters of me on your wall?” You asked, glancing back at the posters that sat above his bed and above his record player. 

Eddie’s cheeks turned a bright red as he turned his head, glancing at the two posters you were talking about. “Look, I just, they came with your vinyl!” He replied, trying to prove a point. “What else am I supposed to do? Let them sit in my closet and collect dust, I mean, look at you!” He added, frantically hoping this wasn’t a weird deal breaker for you. 

Your right hand moved to his face, caressing his cheek gently before you turned his head back to face you. “You’re cute, you know that?” You asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. “A perfect little fanboy,” you added, kissing his lips again. ”My fanboy.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he nodded, looking at you. “Definitely your fanboy,” he replied, kissing you again. “I wanna make you feel good, please, can I?” He asked, pulling you towards his bed. You nodded, following after him. 

He tugged your sweatshirt up, pulling it up and over your body before discarding it on the floor. He laid you back on his bed gently and crawled on top of you, kissing your lips softly. Slowly, he kissed down your neck and over your chest. Eddie left soft and sweet kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, stopping right above the button of your jeans. He looked up at you, brown eyes glowing and waiting for you to give him the okay to continue.

When you nodded your head, he undid your baggy jeans. You lifted your hips gently, allowing him easier access. He pulled your jeans off gently, tossing them on the floor with your sweatshirt. He sat up on his knees, looking down at you. 

His eyes roamed over your body, committing everything to memory as you laid in front of him in your bra and panties. 

“You’re so beautiful, princess. Fuck,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. “Can I taste you? Please? Been dying to know what you taste like,” he begged, looking at you. 

“Fucking hell, yes. Please,” you replied, watching him pull your panties down. He left soft and sweet kisses on your inner thighs, slowly pushing your legs apart. He looked up at you as he licked a small stripe up your folds, moaning to himself as he tasted you. 

Fuck. You tasted better than he had imagined. So sweet, so… perfect. 

He licked up your folds again, his hands moving under your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, thighs now resting on his shoulders. You moaned softly, fingers tangling into his hair as you watched him. He left soft kisses on your clit, looking up at you as he did so. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you mumbled, tugging on his curls gently. “You’re good with your mouth, ah,” you added. He groaned at your words, tongue flicking over your clit gently before he sucked on it. His right hand moved closer to your core, his pointer finger and middle fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pushing into you. You gasped at the feeling, back arching up slightly as he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you while simultaneously sucking on your clit. “Jesus, Eds,” you whined, pulling on his hair tighter. He groaned against you, speeding up his movements with his fingers. 

“God,” he sighed, looking up at you. “God, you’re so… hot. You’re just so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful, you sound so pretty when you’re saying my name like that. You look so pretty like that. You’re just so… perfect.” Eddie said, leaving more kisses on your inner thighs before he bit down gently, leaving a small mark on your inner thigh. 

You moaned, grinding against his fingers. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up as yours?” You asked softly, watching him leave more bite marks across your thighs. He moaned against your thigh, his hips thrusting against the bed gently at the thought. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding up at you. “Gonna make you all mine.” He bit down on the plush skin of your thigh again, his fingers curling inside of you as he pumped them. He kissed back up your body, face now inches from yours as he slowed the movements of his fingers. He pumped them slowly, curling them with each pump as he kissed your lips gently.

You kissed him back, moaning as you tasted yourself on his lips. Your fingernails ran down his back gently, scratching at the fabric of his shirt. “Eddie–ah,” you whined, moving your hips up again, grinding against his fingers as he curled them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. “Gonna, ah, shit, gonna cum,” you moaned, kissing his lips a bit rougher than before. 

“Fuck, princess, cum for me,” Eddie groaned against your lips, speeding up his movements again. You whined his name, head falling back on his pillows as you clenched around his fingers, releasing your juices onto them with a loud moan. He pumped his fingers a bit more, helping you ride out your high as you fell back on his bed. You caught your breath, looking up at him with a sigh. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your juices and moaned, looking at you. “Good god, baby, you taste amazing.” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “yeah?” You asked, smiling slightly. You sat up carefully and kissed his lips. “I bet you taste even better,” you mumbled, reaching for his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. You pushed him back onto his bed and straddled his lap, kissing his lips desperately. Eddie kissed you with the same desperation as his hands moved behind your back, undoing your bra gently. You slid your bra down your body, throwing it to the ground. 

You left soft and sweet kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. When you reached his jeans you left soft kisses on his erection through the denim, looking up at him as you did. You left a flirty wink before you ran your nails along his lower stomach, running over the soft hair that sat directly above his waistband.

Eddie’s breath hitched as he watched you, groaning at the sight in front of him. He had dreamed of this moment more times than he could count but never in a million years did he think it would actually happen. Like, really? Were you real right now? Or was he passed out at the bar in the Hideout?

“Can I take these off?” You asked, looking up at him as you played with the hem of his jeans. He nodded, pushing your hair out of your face gently before running his fingers through it.

“Please, princess,” he said, looking down at you. You undid his jeans quickly, pulling them down. He moved his hips up, making it easier for you to free him from his denim pants. You tossed them behind you and they landed on the floor with a thud. Your nails ran up his thighs and over the fabric of his boxers before you slid your fingers under the waistband, tugging them down gently. 

As you tugged his boxers down, his rock hard erection sprung free, hitting his stomach. You looked up at him, sinking down between his thighs.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” you mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of his cock gently. “So pretty and so big,” you commented, pumping him in your hand slowly. “Not sure if I can take all of this in my mouth but, I really want to try,” you mumbled, looking up at him as you kissed the tip of his cock. “That okay?” You asked, your tongue flicking over the slit on his tip.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie moaned, watching you. “More than okay, fuck. Please, do anything you want to me, I’m yours.” You smiled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock gently. You sucked on it slowly, moaning around him. Eddie whined, his hand running through your hair again as he gathered it gently at the back of your head. 

You moved your head down slowly, taking more of him in your mouth. He watched you, pulling your hair gently as you moved to take more and more of him in your mouth. You made it down about three quarters of the way before you gagged slightly, pulling back from him. You pumped him in your hand and looked up at him. “You’re so big, I’m not sure I can do it,” you said softly, moving back to suck on the tip of his cock gently.

“Fuck, princess, that’s okay,” he groaned, tugging on your locks again. You bobbed your head slightly, taking more of him in your mouth. 

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing; this was definitely everything he imagined and more. Sure, he’d pictured you sucking his cock, but he never thought it would be too big for you to take fully in your mouth. God, you were somehow boosting his ego without even trying. Your sweet eyes looked up at him as you struggled to take him all in his mouth. Every so often you’d gag around him and pull back before going back to what you were doing. 

He moaned every time, watching you proceed to go deeper and deeper for him. He pulled your hair tighter and closed his eyes, groaning as you got him all in your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. He bucked his hips up, causing you to gag loudly but stay where you were, trying to fight through the pain and uncomfort.

“Fuck, baby girl, keep doing that and I’m gonna cum.” Eddie groaned as you went back to bobbing your head slightly. He moaned your name as you took all of him in your mouth again, and he thrusted his hips up against your mouth. He tugged your hair so tightly as he panted, releasing ropes of cum into your mouth. You groaned around him, swallowing it all before you pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his cock again. “Holy shit,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head. “That was better than I had ever imagined.”

“You’ve… imagined that?” You asked, tilting your head slightly as you sat back on your knees on his bed. Eddie sat up, his face turning a bright red color yet again. Damn, he was really out here exposing himself to you, wasn’t he?

“I, uh,” he stuttered, looking around the room. “…no?” He said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “No, because that would be weird and not right.” He mumbled, a giggle escaped your lips as you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“You sure?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Because, I think you’re lying.” You mumbled, fingers trailing small circles on his chest. 

“And if I am?” He asked softly, hands moving to hold your hips. 

“I think that’s really hot…” you replied, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He groaned against your lips and kissed you back, pulling you closer to him. He laid you back on the bed softly and hovered over you, looking down at you. 

“You are just so incredibly beautiful,” he mumbled, leaving soft kisses on your neck. “I still cannot believe this is happening,” he added, his right hand roaming over your body. He moved up to your chest, squeezing your left breast gently as he continued to kiss down your neck and upper chest. He kissed over right breast, tongue flicking over your hardened nipple. You moaned softly, hands tangling into his hair gently. 

“You’re so sweet,” you purred, tugging on Eddie’s locks. He moaned at the feeling and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it softly. You gasped at the feeling, head falling back on the pillows. “Fucking shit, Eddie, I think I’m going to need you to fuck me.” You mumbled, Eddie’s head shot up, looking down at you.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up gently. “You want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, moving towards his bedside table for a condom.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, running your fingers over his bicep gently as he fished for a condom. “Need you to fuck me,” you added, nails scratching up and down his muscular biceps more.

“Fuck,” he groaned, opening the condom. He stood up, pumping his cock a few times before he slid the condom on slowly. He stood at the edge of his bed and grabbed your thighs gently, pulling you towards him. You squealed softly, looking up at him as he lifted your thighs, moving closer towards you. He teased your folds with the tip of his cock before he pushed in slowly, moaning as he felt you around him. 

You gasped at the feeling, looking up at him. “Eddie,” you whined softly, eyes closing slightly.

“Fuck, princess,” he groaned, filling you up completely. He stayed still for a second before he started to thrust in and out of you slowly. He pulled you closer and your legs wrapped around his body, holding him against you. “Shit,” he mumbled, hands moving down to your breasts. He squeezed your breasts, massaging them as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “So pretty like this, fuck. You look so pretty taking my cock,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss your lips.

You groaned and kissed him back, hands wrapping around his wrists as he continued to thrust. He picked up the pace a bit, thrusting faster and deeper as he squeezed your breasts harder. 

“Ah, fuck, Eddie, shit,” you moaned, moving your hips against him as he thrusted. “Shit, fuck, you’re so big. You fill me up, god, fuck, made just for me, my perfect fanboy,” you whined, lips moving against his with desperate kisses. He moaned louder, thrusting deeper.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m your fanboy,” he groaned, biting your bottom lip gently before he tugged on it. “You’re my popstar, favorite one ever. Taking my cock so good and sounding so pretty, fuck, your moans sound prettier than your music.”

Eddie released your breasts from his hands and moved his left hand down to where your bodies were connected, rubbing slow and tight circles on your clit. A loud moan escaped your lips as your back arched off the bed, looking up at him. “Eddie, shit,” you moaned, nails scratching down his biceps again. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” He asked, thrusting faster. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on your favorite fanboy’s cock?”

You moaned, nodding your head repeatedly. “Yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my favorite fanboy’s cock,” you said blissed out as you felt your high come closer. Eddie made one more deep thrust and felt you clench around him. Your head fell back on the bed as you released around his cock, whining at the feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered.

“God, fuck, you’re so pretty baby,” Eddie groaned, “I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“Yeah? Fuck, cum for me pretty boy,” you sighed, feeling completely blissed out. “My perfect little fanboy.” Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him close to you and inside of you. Eddie moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as he released into the condom. He made a couple more thrusts before he groaned. Your legs fell back down and Eddie pulled out of you, helping you steady yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

He placed his hands out for you to grab and helped you sit up on the bed gently. You smiled slightly and sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him. “You’re so perfect,” he sighed, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. He reached for your panties and his Metallica shirt, handing them to you before he slid the condom off, tying it up before throwing it in the trash. You accepted the shirt and panties, sliding them both on before falling back on his bed. He chuckled slightly, looking at you. “You okay, princess?” He asked, you looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, you just took a lot out of me, fuck, you’re amazing,” you said, smiling at him. “And, you’re coming to bed with me… right?” You asked, he shuffled towards you and smiled.

“As if that’s even a question.” He grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid them on before laying down in the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist gently.

You moved towards him, a smile on your face as you rested your head on his chest. He left a soft kiss on the top of your head and hummed, closing his eyes.

You giggled softly and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. “What?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face gently with his finger tips. 

“A poster on the ceiling? Really?” You giggled more, pointing to the poster of you on the ceiling. He blushed softly, groaning as he covered his face with his hand. 

“Please don’t start with me,” he mumbled. 

“My perfect little fan boy, huh?” You teased and he turned bright red. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sighed, leaving another soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Oh, I will.” You said, snuggling into his side more as you closed your eyes again. 

Eddie held you close to his body and smiled a little. Tonight was different for him, he didn’t need to listen to your music to help him sleep. Instead, he was able to hold you in bed, listening to your breathing and soft snores.

Yeah, this was way better. 

Eddie woke up the next morning to some knocks on the front door of the trailer. He grunted, rolling out of bed gently. He found a dirty shirt from the floor and slid it on over his body. He stretched, groaning as the knocking continued. He looked at your sleeping form and smiled, remembering everything that happened the night before. He leaned down, leaving a soft kiss on your head before he shifted towards the front door of the trailer.

He glanced around and shrugged when he didn’t see his uncle, huh, must be working a double. 

Eddie opened the front door, Gareth and Jeff standing on the other side. “What?” Eddie groaned, rubbing his face as he leaned against the door.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Gareth teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re just checking in on you,” Jeff added, shooting Gareth a glare.

“I’m fine, why?” Eddie yawned, looking at his friends with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, how were we supposed to know? You left us at the Hideout and just disappeared.” Gareth shot back with a snark tone.

“Damn, chill,” Jeff said, looking at Gareth. “It was his birthday, he probably got wasted and came home to sleep it off.”

Eddie went to open his mouth and reply but he was cut off by you. You called his name and walked towards him in your panties and his Metallica shirt from the night before.

“Eddie,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You left me alone in bed,” you added, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie said with a small smirk, arm wrapping around your shoulder gently. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, looking up at his friends. You remembered Gareth but didn’t know his other friend. “Oh!” You smiled, nodding at his friends. “Gareth, right? And, I’m so sorry, but I don't believe we have met yet,” you added, looking at Jeff.

“Gareth, yeah,” Gareth replied, staring at you.

“Jeff,” Jeff said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You smiled and shook it gently.

“Nice to meet you, Jeff. Good to see you again, Gareth.” You smiled at the boys before turning your attention back to Eddie. “Come back to bed when you can, yeah?” You asked, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you turned back towards his room. 

Gareth and Jeff both stared at you as you walked away, retreating back to Eddie’s room with a slight shake of your hips. 

“There’s no fucking way.” Gareth said, looking back at Eddie. “Seriously?! You took her home?!” He questioned, the sound of jealousy evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, I did; so what?” Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door. 

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, still looking in the direction you went.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled, remembering something. “Thanks for those VIP meet and greet tickets, Jeffy boy.” Eddie smirked. “Now, I must be going, have a good day.” 

Gareth and Jeff just shared a look as Eddie closed the door in their faces, making his way back to his room to be with you again.

eddie tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @earthlyangelbby ; @jasminelafleur

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

49 / 1.5k / TF141's free use medic + lil riff on @majinbangus's words about Ghost trying to teach Soap how to take care of his toys.

...

"Is the collar really necessary?"

Ghost smirks, pulling the leash taut. "Are you really in any position to question us, love?"

You're forced to lean into him. A haughty scowl flashes across your face, but you smooth it back into cold, professional disdain. "No."

"That’s right. You’re not." His voice is a low, gruff rasp as he uses the leash to yank you closer against his solid body. "You’re not in any position to do anything except what you’re told, yeah? You got a problem with that?"

"No. Not one."

"Good." He smirks, his eyes running over you appraisingly. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says.

Gaz and Soap observe you and Ghost, stances relaxed and eyes sharp as knives.

"Look at that," Soap murmurs to Gaz. "She's already trained."

⬇ nsfw, dom/sub dynamics, free use, objectification, toxic polyamory

You cut a sideways glare at Soap out of the corner of your eye, but Ghost's fingers are still hooked into your o-ring. He forces you to look back up at him.

"Eyes on me," he growls. "You don't look at my boys without my permission, understood?" His cold voice is as soft as a knife sliding between your ribs, and he gives the steel o-ring a sharp, warning tug. "Or are you gonna be a handful this time?"

You stare up at him. You're aching, mind exhausted, body wired with too much energy. Restless. "Haven't decided," you tell him, voice low.

He likes it when you’re bratty. "Careful, love. You know the consequences for disobedience." You feel his hand thread into your hair, tugging it just a bit, forcing you to arch back against his grip. "If you’re gonna get smart with me, I'll gag that pretty mouth."

You shift, pulse speeding up. "Promise?"

Ghost's eyes darken. "Open."

You open your mouth just in time for him to grip your hair and slide his cock down your throat.

He keeps a tight hold, controlling you as you take him in. "That's right. Just like I trained you."

Soap can’t help but let out a soft groan of approval. His jaw is already tight from watching Ghost dominate you. You’re a pretty sight on your knees, even with your eyes turned away from him, even with the stab of jealousy in his gut. But you look so good like this Soap would watch you gag on anyone. Ghost isn't the worst option, anyway. Not when Soap knows you're still gonna be thinking about him.

But then Ghost starts rocking against your mouth, and Soap makes a soft, ragged sound, the sound of a man struggling to keep himself in check. "I want a go," he tells Ghost.

"No. Sit down."

Soap sulks, but obeys. With a grunt, he drops back onto the bed to watch. His pants are tight--he grips a fistful of fabric on each thigh in an attempt to keep himself occupied--but he won’t touch you until Ghost gives him permission.

His blue eyes smolder. He wants you. But Ghost is possessive about you, and Soap knows he has to follow his lead. He knows better than to go against a direct order.

Gaz smirks. He, too, knows better than to stir up conflict. He also knows better than to tease Soap right now.

"Gaz," Ghost says.

Gaz snaps to attention. "Sir."

"Bring the leather cuffs."

"Rog'."

Ghost's eyes never leave you as Gaz retrieves the leather cuffs from a duffel. They're soft with wear, but strong enough to withstand whatever bratting you intend to do. Strong enough to withstand the punishment, too.

"On her," Ghost orders Gaz, nodding toward your hands.

They're resting on Ghost's thighs as you continue working him in and out of your throat. You're hardly paying attention to their conversation until Gaz pulls your arms behind your back instead. You pull your arms away, gripping the back of Ghost's knee with one and slotting the other between your legs. You're not in the habit of making yourself easy to work with.

"What did I say, love?" Ghost's words are a low, warning growl. "Keep testing my patience. Give me a reason." He punctuates his words with a sharp, firm tug on your hair. "You want me to show you what happens when you misbehave?"

Gaz smirks, watching you lean away from him and into Ghost. He runs his fingertips down your arm, letting his hand travel between your legs to join yours. He grips it hard, pushing your greedy fingertips against your bare folds.

"Easy, doc," he mutters. "Nice 'n easy, yeah?"

You choke out a groan around Ghost, vision blurring at the rough handling. Your hips twitch forward. You need more.

And you feel Johnny's eyes on you, burning to be where Gaz is. So close to you.

Soap's body is taut, stretched far too tight, gripping his pant legs the way he's dying to get a grip on you. He can’t look away.

"Gaz," Ghost says, his eyes on Soap. "Don't be too rough. We don't want to break our toy again."

"Yeah, I remember," Gaz says with a smirk. He watches you grind against his fingers intertwined with yours, working on Ghost all the while. "Still. She looks like she can take a little bit of roughing up."

"Fuck off," Soap mutters.

"Careful, MacTavish," Gaz replies, cool as ever. "Jealousy’s not a good look on you."

"I get my turn," Soap snaps. "We've been over this."

"You get your turn with the medic when you learn to treat her nicer. Gaz," Ghost grunts, "that’s enough. Give her a second to breathe, and then get her wrists in those cuffs."

Ghost hooks his fingers through your collar again and pulls you away. You slide off him with a frustrated groan, fighting his grip. "Simon--"

"Greedy slut." He runs his palm down your cheek, possessive. He can feel how wound up you are right now, how much you want to play. He knows you need to be owned. "Pushing your limits won't get you rougher treatment. Not tonight. We're doing things how I want. You understand?" He gives your leash a sharp tug. "You're my medic. You do what I say."

You suppress an angry sigh, gulping in air instead as he strokes your face. The gesture is sweet, almost tender, and you don't want that. You want pain. You want tears. You want to be hollowed out and forget who you are.

"Fuck you." You let your head loll to the side and look over at the bed, leveling your heated gaze at Soap. "I want Johnny to touch me."

Soap's gaze glows with heat when you lock eyes with him. He hears you say his name, sees those pretty lips wrap around the syllables. The desire in his eyes is enough to make you shiver.

"Eyes on me." Ghost grips your face, forcing your traitorous eyes back to him. "You’re not getting him. He's not as gentle with you as I am. You know what happened last time."

"I like how he hurts me," you mutter. Shame prickles down your throat.

"Don't say that." A possessive edge sharpens his tone. He's not going to let Soap have you. "You want me to give you more. You don't want to be hurt. Soap is too rough."

You stare up into Ghost's face, naked as you are except for the collar and the cuffs as Gaz finishes securing them. But your gaze is cold and serious. You've never lied to Ghost before. Why would you start now?

He holds your gaze. You pretend at rebellion, but it's a ploy. You're already wet and malleable; you're still aching to wrap your lips around his cock again.

Still. He doesn't like when you get stubborn like this. Doesn't like being wrong. Doesn't like the thought of not satisfying you as much as Soap does. You should know he can give you the pain you need. He knows your limits; Soap doesn't. He can't give you to him. Not when Soap has demonstrated how little he's willing to control himself with you.

"That so?" Ghost's voice is a low snarl. "I’m sure Johnny wants that too." He glances back over at Soap, who's starting to look uneasy. "Looks like he's already trying to imagine it. Should we give him a better view, love?"

"Si--!"

Before his name can leave your mouth, Ghost is wrenching you up and forward, bending you over the dingy hotel room's countertop. He pulls the leash taut and winds the end several times around your leather wrist cuffs to force your back to arch.

Gaz smirks to himself, watching you arch against Ghost's grip. He sits on the bed, eyes on you as you struggle against his Lieutenant.

Soap has to lean forward from his position on the bed, jaw tight, eyes glittering as he drinks in the sight. Ghost grabs your ass and spreads you apart to make sure Soap can see.

"You think he's entitled to your body," Ghost growls, lining his cock up with your weeping slit and prodding his thumb cruelly hard against your asshole. "Fine. I'll show you both what happens to broken toys."

...

more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / more free use medic / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[whatifitis]

♡ Wickedly Amazing - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando is stressed and working all day so during his 15 min break, you decide to stress him out even more 😍

Author's Note: this is complete ass, i wrote it in 1 hr, feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 970

CW: fluff, my love for wicked the musical, lando matching girlies freak (i think)

Lando had been spending the whole day in meetings via zoom and to say you were bored was an understatement. You had already cleaned the whole apartment, sent some work emails, and read half your book. You missed Lando, even though he was less than 5 feet away. 

Lando had meeting after meeting and they lasted hours. You really only got to see him when you brought him water and food, just sliding it next to him to stay out of frame of the camera and not distract him. 

But Lando was about to have a 15 min break before his next, and hopefully final, meeting of the day. You took it upon yourself to annoy him in your usual fashion, and try and help him destress him a bit by possibly stressing him out. 

While Lan was wrapping up the meeting, you quietly set up a chair behind him and out of frame. You wrapped a throw blanket around your neck and had a broom in hand. As soon as you heard Lando say goodbye and leave the session, you played Defying Gravity on the speakers. 

As soon as the music started, Lando nearly threw his phone into the hair from the abruptly broken silence. He turns in his seat to see you walk around the corner, playing both Elphaba and Glinda’s bits in the song. 

The smile and amusement on his face was what you did these things for. You loved his smile, even more when he truly was happy and when you were the one making it happen. His smile was so wide and the corners of his eyes crinkled with the bridge of his nose. 

As you kept singing, he was cheering you on with some whistles, fist pumps and “that’s my girl”’s. You walked around the room putting on the performance of a lifetime. 

The bridge was coming up and this was your moment to truly blow away the audience (Lando). 

You made your way to the chair you had set up earlier and stood on top of it, shouting about how soon you’d watch them in renown. You threw your cape back to emphasize the imaginary wind blowing up, holding your broom close to you as you prepare to belt your heart out. 

Lando watched in awe through your whole performance. If anyone asked him about your singing, he’d say it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. Whether you were singing Defying Gravity or 22,  he loved it. He thought you were one of, if not the best, singers in the world. That your talent blew the competition out of the water. It wasn’t often that he got to listen to your singing, so the few times he was able to, he savored every second of it. 

But of course, he couldn’t let you have all the fun. As you belted and approached the final riff, Lando took it upon himself to become a part of the ensemble. He stood up from his seat and raced to kneel before you, slowly lying on the ground and singing along to the backing vocals of the song. 

He watched as you successfully attempted Cynthia Erivo’s rift, not being able to hide the smile that is plastered on his face. 

As the song ends, silence fills the room, only the sounds of the two of you trying to catch your breaths can be heard. You drop the broom and step down from your chair, looking at Lando who is now laying flat on the floor as if he was the one carrying that performance on his back.

He clearly wasn’t moving anytime soon so you decided to join him on the floor, falling onto him and resting your head on his chest, listening to his heart as it slows. You feel Lan wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and feeling him kiss your head. 

Lan unties the blanket from around your neck and wraps the blanket around the two of you, wanting to relax for the next few minutes with his favorite person. “That was amazing,” he says. 

“Would you say it was… wickedly amazing?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him, trying to supress your smile a bit. 

“Oh shut up.” he laughs, feeling you let out a few giggles as well. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, looking up at him, your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“For a lot of things. But mainly for being here, and making me laugh and making me happy.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just here, trying my best. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, thanks to you. I genuinely wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve been here through all my bullshit. I was rude as fuck at times, but you still stayed. I don’t know how I could ever repay you and how much it means to me.” Lan confesses, softly rubbing his thumb along your cheek. 

You move to hover over him, resting on your elbow, “You really don’t have to thank me, Lan. I do all of this because I love you. I do everything for you because I care about you. You’re my favorite person in the world and there’s no one I would rather sing with. I want to spend the rest of my silly little life with you, right by your side.”

“I love you.” “I love you.”

You move to capture Lando’s lips in yours. It’s slow and gentle, feeling him relax as you hold the side of his face with your hand. His lips feel warm against yours and he never wants to forget this feeling, of feeling so safe and happy and like he’s truly loved. He never wants to let you go. You’re his girl. His person.

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕥𝕨𝕠)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: lots of cute first date jitters, reader is clumsy, also a lot more cheese 🧀 — take your lactaid besties.

part one | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: i’m honestly blown away by all the sweet comments on that first little blurb. shy reader is 1000% me, so this is very near and dear to my heart. i hope y’all like this one just as much! also big kisses to my lovely angel @undead-supernova for looking this over for me <3

“This looks stupid.”

You huff, glancing at your reflection before rushing back over to your closet for the 3rd time in a span of twenty minutes.

But Nancy grabs your wrist from before you can make it there, pulling you down onto the bed beside her.

“Everything you’ve tried on has been cute… I don’t see the problem here.”

You groan and flop back onto the mattress, covering your face with your hands.

“I wasn’t exactly trying to go for cute, Nance.”

Your words are muffled behind your palms, but she gets your message loud and clear.

“I know you want to impress him, but my best advice is to just be yourself… that’s why he asked you out in the first place, right?”

You sigh, uncovering your face to look up at her. She has a brow raised, and as much as you’d hate to admit it— you know she’s right.

“Do you always have to be right about everything?” you puff out a small laugh and she beams, nudging your knee with hers.

“Of course, I am the brains of this operation, remember?”

You roll your eyes fondly before returning to your feet, smoothing over the denim of your skirt when you meet your reflection once more.

“Oh god, what about make up?!”

You only managed to change your shirt one last time before Nancy had to practically barricade your closet door shut with her body. Reminding you that, once again, you looked great.

It doesn’t help much to soothe that little voice in the back of your head that disagrees— but the rumble of an engine and a blaring guitar riff distracts from those thoughts momentarily as the panic finally starts to set in.

“Shit, shit, shit! He’s here already?” you squeak, glancing over at your beside clock.

6:45 pm.

He was 15 minutes early.

“He’s early… color me impressed.” She grins before peeking out your curtains.

“I’m… I’m not ready, Nance.”

Your heart is about to pound out of your chest and your palms are beginning to sweat. She steps away from the window to put her hands on your shoulders, face full of determination.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ll go down and let him in, you just take a minute and come down when you’re ready.”

You nod dumbly, eyes widening further when the doorbell rings.

Eddie’s here… actually standing on your front porch. Bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his own sweaty palms.

“Thanks, Nance.”

She just gives you a reassuring smile before starting down the stairs and opening the front door. To say Eddie is surprised when Nancy Wheeler appears at your front door instead of you is an understatement.

“Uh… please don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong address,” he steps back to take a look at the number on the house again.

“No, you’re at the right place. She’s just finishing getting ready, come on in.”

Nancy can see the way his shoulders sag in relief before he steps past the threshold. Dark eyes wandering around the interior of your entry way in utter curiosity. Pictures of you and your parents line the walls, but one in particular catches his attention.

You’re smiling up at the camera, eyes scrunched closed behind the round frame of your glasses— with your two front teeth missing.

The sight has him grinning despite himself, already catching more of a glimpse of the girl that’s been on his mind for the better part of that year.

“So… where are you taking her?” Nancy asks casually, leaning against the doorframe of your kitchen.

Eddie turns then, still clutching the flowers tightly in his fist.

“The Palace… and then Benny’s. But don’t worry, I’ll have her back before 11 pm. Scout’s honor.” He grins, raising his other hand in a mock salute.

You can hear their voices floating up the stairs, which only seems to worsen the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You take one last look in the mirror to straighten your top and make sure your eyeliner wasn’t smudged before you turn the knob and make your way down the hall.

The creak of the floorboards alerts them both to your presence when you slowly begin to descend the stairs. Your hand grips the railing tightly, eyes finally lifting once you reach the landing.

“Wow,” he whispers in dumbstruck awe.

You can feel your skin warm under the intensity of his gaze, tucking your lower lip between your teeth to hide a grin.

But the sweet moment is quickly squashed when your foot catches on the edge of the step, and you go tumbling forward. Eddie drops the flowers in his haste before closing that short distance between you to catch you in his arms. Your bodies collide, much like what happened earlier in the cafeteria.

Only this time he doesn’t let you go right away.

“Steady now,” he chuckles, and your eyes can’t help but drift lower to stare at his lips. “You okay?”

You nod, not fully trusting your voice when he’s so close like this, you swear he must be able to hear how fast your heart is fluttering beneath your ribs.

“Oh goddammit, the flowers.” Eddie groans, making sure you’ve got your footing before he bends down to pick up the crumpled bouquet.

“Uh, I promise they weren’t like this when I got here...”

He hands them out to you with a sheepish grin, the apples of his cheeks now flushed a soft shade of pink. And from this close proximity you can see the faint freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose.

Man, he sure is pretty…

“They’re beautiful,” you smile, finally finding your voice. “Thank you.”

“… well, you two should probably get going, right?”

You had almost forgotten Nancy was even there.

“Oh what about—” you gesture to the bouquet in your hands, but she quickly cuts you off.

“I’ll put those in some water and lock up for you, sound good?”

You don’t have much time for protest when she carefully takes the flowers from your grasp and nudges you right into Eddie’s chest. You apologize between small giggles when he steadies you again, and Nancy disappears into the kitchen.

His eyes are almost sparkling in childlike delight at the sound of your laughter, and it’s something he’d like to continue hearing for a long time. Eddie guides you both toward the front door. His rings clink against the knob when he swings it open, taking a slight bow before motioning you forward.

“Your chariot awaits, mi’ lady.”

The Palace is packed by the time you arrive, but for a Friday night in Hawkin’s— that’s no surprise.

Young teens dart between the different games with renewed excitement while Keith watches on with a bored expression. Eddie’s hand is held loosely in your own, fingers intertwined while you decide what to play first.

You both agree on air hockey, allowing him to tug you toward the table with a newfound pep in his step. He hands you the blue paddle, teasing telling you that red is always his color before he crouches down to slip two coins in the slot.

“Prepare to be demolished, sweetheart,” he grins cheekily.

Your stomach flips at those seemingly innocent words, and Eddie silently pats himself on the back for how flustered he’s already made you. That’s not something he’s used to, making a pretty girl fumble over her words. But it’s something he’s decided he wants to see a lot more of tonight.

Eddie ends up winning two rounds of air hockey, but his victories were entirely due to the fact that you were so distracted. Poised across from him, you spent more time admiring the way his tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration— or when he had to pull his wild hair back into a bun when it kept flying into his face.

Not that you would ever mention that little fact to him.

“What’s next?” you ask, unable to hide your glee when he takes your hand without hesitation this time.

“Have you tried Dragon’s Lair?”

He nods his head over to the game that was just recently abandoned in a fit of rage by short boy with dark hair. If you were being honest, skee ball and air hockey were more your speed when it came to arcade games. But the look of absolute delight on his face has you willing to try regardless.

And just as you suspected, you’re terrible at it.

You’re barely able to get past that first level without dying repeatedly but Eddie continues to give you an encouraging smile while he leans against the machine. He adores the way your lips are pouted in a slight frown when the dragon engulfs the knight in flames again.

“Here,” he mumbles, sliding in behind you. “Let me help.”

His arms cage you in against the machine, and you can feel the heat from his chest seeping through the thin cotton of your blouse. Ringed fingers gently hover over where yours are stationed on the controls, and in your nervous state you don’t notice the way his fingers tremble slightly.

Eddie guides your hands with ease, all but playing the game for you at this point. But your focus is no longer on the dragons and knights. They instead settle on his hands, and how they completely engulf yours in size. And the way his chain bracelet rattles against your skin with each flick of his wrist on the joystick.

They continue to travel a little higher, noticing how the muscles in his forearms contract each time he pushes that red button in rapid succession. It has your mind wandering to places that it definitely shouldn’t be…

Like how his hands would feel gripping your hips…

Stop that.

When you take a shuddering breath, you get another whiff of his spicy cologne when he leans his head forward. The faint hint of tobacco and mint still lingers on his lips when he blows a breath out in frustration when he finally looses that round.

The words GAME OVER flash across the screen in brightly colored letters, and you feel a little disappointed when he begins to remove himself from you. But you’re suddenly feeling a little bold, gently turning to grab his hand before looking up at him.

“Show me again?” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

Eddie grins down at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth for a fleeting moment. But his next move has your brain about to melt out of your ears.

He takes your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, carefully removing it from between your teeth. He allows the pad of his thumb to graze over your lip while the other slips around your waist. Eddie guides you back around by your hips, quickly resuming his position behind you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore

[splickedylit]

HAPPY HOMESTUCK DAY U WANT FIC? >:U

It's 4/13 and 4 days ago I finished posting Karkat Vantas vs The Evil Gods, a fic that I've been percolating for more than a decade and am very proud of, and which readers so far seem to have quite enjoyed! So this is me enthusiastically doing jazz hands at my baby. HEY THERE MY FRIEND DO YOU LIKE

1. Humanstuck, vigilante/superhero AUs, eldritch gods, possession/exorcism, religious horror, hurt/comfort and drama?! Alternia City as Basically Gotham?!

2. Riffs on the Winter Soldier/Turns Out The Guy You Love's Not Dead But He Came Back Wrong?! People slowly recovering from horrible dehumanization and learning to be people again through the power of many different forms of support and love?! People negotiating messy poly situations?! Pale Gamkar, even, perhaps?!

3. Copious shenanigans of Space and Time?! The ever-increasing urge to beat Doc Scratch's smug little "Hee Hee Hoo Hoo" ass with your bare fists?! Goddessdemonangel in a sundress?!

3. Ensemble casts whose backstories could sustain multiple spin-off fics each?! And the personnel forms I fabricated and filled out for every single one of them because I've lost control of my life?!

WINTERSOLDIERSTUCK WEDNESDAY WSUNDAY BE UPON YE. If you've been on the fence please consider checking out my huge and fully-illustrated brainchild (with an eye to the tags and warnings of course) because I had a lot of fun and think it turned out pretty sick! Thank you for attending my TED talk.

[https-bobreynolds]

six strings to save a god

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x enchantress! reader

summary: bob nearly blew his cover in an undercover mission where you both absolutely cannot use your powers at, so you save him with metallica instead.

author’s note: rewatched stranger things and got inspired by THE eddie munson, you will be missed💔

UNDERGROUND CLUB BELOW THE VIENNA STATE OPERA HOUSE, WESTERN EUROPE - 11:32 PM

private auction night

the air tastes like ozone and old bourbon. velvet curtains cover cracked plaster. there’s an antique chandelier above the bar flickering with blood-red LED bulbs, casting shadows like broken glass across the crowd.

somewhere in the crowd: mercs, arms dealers, hydra defectors, and warlords who don’t technically exist.

and at a table just beneath the second mezzanine, is robert ‘bob’ reynolds, looking perfect in a slim-cut black suit, nerves unraveling by the second.

you sit beside him, swirling untouched whiskey, watching him come apart thread by golden thread.

“he’s looking at me,” bob murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “he knows. the madripoor guy in the corner, he keeps- he’s not blinking.”

you glance up.

the man in question tilts his head, one brow raised. hands drifting way too slowly toward the holster under his coat.

bob’s about to snap. you can feel it under your skin like the low thrum of the void stirring.

“we got what we need, we have to leave this place now.” you whispered, giving him a look.

you didn’t say anything more, but he understood quickly, giving a nod.

“under any circumstances, do NOT engage and do NOT use any of your powers.” you remember bucky say, right before the mission.

you cannot let sentry, void or enchantress lose it here.

this is not the place for sun gods or eldritch abominations, so you do the only thing that makes sense in a room like this.

you stand, smooth as static, and quickly vanish into the shadows behind the stage, where a two-piece synthwave duo just finished their eerie, looping set.

and waiting backstage, among broken amps and stolen crates, you see it:

a scratched jackson king v custom.

you pick it up. test the weight. check the strings.

you walk out slow.

the crowd goes quiet for a beat. spotlights flicker to follow.

you nod at the DJ, who knows not to mess with it.

then, you slam into the intro to “master of puppets.”

the distortion screams.

the riff punches through the smoke like a fist. dirty. loud. real.

people down on the floor cheer, some boo, some start laughing in disbelief.

the suits look confused. a few start pulling out phones.

one of the auction security guards near bob’s table mutters, “what the hell-“

bob exhales like he’s been underwater for five minutes, he slinks out with the crowd’s attention squarely on you.

and you?

you shred.

“end of passion play, crumbling away

i’m your source of self-destruction…”

you sing like it’s prophecy, like the world’s about to burn and you’re the one lighting the match.

heads are banging, drinks are spilled, the tech auction upstairs is forgotten.

that guy from madripoor? he’s now two whiskeys deep and head-nodding like you’re doing a private concert just for him.

your fingers blaze through the solo like they were built for this. the guitar’s raw, snarling. just perfect.

and in the dark corner of the second tier, where no one’s watching anymore?

bob slips through a side door. free and clear.

you hammer the final riff with one last scream of strings.

“MASTER! MASTER!”

silence crashes like a wave behind it. the crowd roars, half of them think you’re just the best part of the party, the other half are too dazed to care.

you bow low, tossing the guitar off-stage like a mic drop.

and walk out like you own the world, panting as you slam the door behind you.

“you-” he starts, breathless. “you just-”

“i shredded,” you say, breathless and smug. “and saved your ass.”

he huffs a laugh, still dazed.

“i was gonna blow it,” he admits. “i could feel it coming… like the whole thing was about to fall apart.”

“well,” you smirk, brushing your hair back. “good thing i know how to play the hits.”

he looks at you, really looks at you.

the city glows behind you, the music still ringing faintly from the club.

and he says, “you’re kind of unreal, you know that?”

you shrug. “takes one to know one, sunshine.”

you look at each other for a second too long.

and somewhere in the club behind you, the next DJ starts spinning, but nothing could top what you just did.

tag list:

@lovetoalll

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Rogers’ office. This is Rosie, how can I hel--” 

“Where is he?” Peggy’s voice cuts over your own. 

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s currently in a meeting--” 

“Get him.” 

“Mrs.--” 

“Don’t argue with me. Go get him. Are you not his assistant?” She challenges brusquely. 

Her accent adds to the sharpness of her words. Her curt demeanour is a stark contrast to her husband. Your boss is always amiable, accommodating even, but the few times you’ve dealt with his wife have been similarly tense. You put a smile on so she can’t hear your anxiety. 

“Of course, Mrs. Rogers,” you preen, “I’ll put you on a quick hold.” 

“No, you will get him. No hold.” 

You suck in a sigh and hold your breath in your chest, “of course.” 

You set the phone down. You don’t see how her hearing your desktop will be any better but you wouldn’t want to irritate her further. It must be urgent. 

You stand and smooth out your dress. You step out from behind your desk, digging your nails into your palms as you ball your fists tight. You get nervous about most things. Answering the phone took your months to get used to and even now you tend to fumble over your words. 

You go to the door and brace yourself. You don’t know why you expect Mr. Rogers to be upset. He’s never been anything close to rude. Maybe short in times of stress but not unpleasant. You knock and wait as you twiddle your fingers against your striped pleats. 

It isn’t Mr. Rogers who answers by Mr. Barnes. You give a sheepish smile, “excuse me, doll.” 

He steps past you and you bid him a good day. He leaves without further courtesy and Mr. Rogers calls your name from within, “need something?” He asks. 

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Rogers is on the phone.” 

He doesn’t seem happy about that. His cheek dimples and he nods, wiggling his pen at you, “patch her through.” 

You go back to your desk and pick up the receiver, “hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s available now--” 

“I don’t want to talk to you, honey. Where is my husband?” 

You transfer her without another word. Phew. You almost feel bad for your boss as you hear him pick up in his office. His tone is low and dull. 

You try not to overhear, letting his conversation drone into a buzz. There’s enough work to be done without worrying about his personal life. Your own afterhours concerns are more than concerning. You wouldn’t say you have much going on and that’s the problem. It’s moment like those that ease your envy of others’ full plates. 

You haven’t seen the girls lately. The group chat’s been quiet but you suppose you could go ahead and say hi. Your weekly cocktails petered out to biweekly, then monthly, and now you can’t remember the last time you let go with a mimosa. 

You peek over your desk and back at your screen. It’s not only on them to keep things going. You pick up your phone and open the chat. The last message is a meme Elfie sent about printers. You shake your head and send a little waving sticker, keying in a message. 

‘Long time no see! I’m in need of drinks. Anyone free? When’s best? Hope you’re all taking care.’ 

You’re professional tone shines through even on WhatsApp. It’s a bit lame but you’re an entirely different person in text. Most people are surprised to meet the mousy secretary hiding behind her screen after the lively back and forth in Outlook. 

You set your phone down and try not to stare at it. A reply never comes while you’re waiting for it, nor does water boil when you’re watching it. As you click around and try to remember where you were, the silence sinks in. Your realisation brings your eyes up as quickly as Mr. Rogers shadow. 

You bat your lashes at him in surprise, “need something, sir?” 

He gives a half-smile, the type weighed down by disappointment. He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame, “you hungry?” 

“Um, well, it’s only eleven,” you shrug. 

“Mm, yeah,” he unfolds one arm to rub his neck, “I’m restless. You feel like getting lunch early?” 

“Sure, I can run out and grab you something,” you stand eagerly. 

“No, uh,” he drops his arm back over his other, “together. I had a reservation for me and Peggy but she canceled. I’d hate to inconvenience the restaurant and I just can’t sit and mope in my office.” 

“Oh, okay, I guess that works...” 

“Do you need to ask your boss?” He scoffs. 

You laugh at his joke, “do I?” 

He smiles, a real smile and drops his arms, “my treat. You know what, you earned it. You work so hard around here, a little employee appreciation is overdue.” 

“That’s so nice,” you chime, “uh, sir, I... I should leave an away message, should I?” 

“Oh, who cares, come on.” 

“Well, I mean...” 

“Ah, I get it, boss is a real hard ass,” he winks. 

“Sir,” you giggle nervously and teethe your lip. He watches your mouth. 

“You can catch up later. Come on, I haven’t played hooky in years.” 

“Hooky?” You stammer. 

He laughs, “a goody two shoes. It’s why I hired you but it’s okay to let loose once in a while.” 

“I know, Mr. Rogers, it’s just... it’s work.” 

“Too much of it and you’ll turn into me,” he huffs. “Please, I’m sure your husband would hate if you were never home. Never answered the phone.” 

“If I had one, probably,” you blurt out then look away shyly. 

“Really? I thought...” he begins and shakes his head, “doesn’t matter. I’ll grab my jacket and we’ll go. I missed breakfast.” 

“Um, sure, sir,” you agree and put your hand on the phone. 

When he turns, you look down. Missie sent a reply; ‘please, drinks are required!’ Ooh! Yay. 

[crappymixtape]

hang on tight, baby • part one

NAVIGATION -> PART I •  PART II •  PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+  | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T O N E 🎶 devil always made me think twice, chris stapleton

Clouds stretched overhead, lazy liked pulled taffy as the sun beat down on you in the midday heat. You’d been up since the first fingers of light had crept up over the horizon, dew still clinging to the long stalks of wheat in the early morning, but as the day spun on summer made sure to remind you what it was capable of.

That June in Oklahoma wasn’t anything to mess with.

Sweat beading across your forehead, you had half a mind to toss your hat over the corral fence but it was the only thing keeping you from getting sunburned. Pushing at your windswept hair with a gloved hand you tucked the flyaways out of your face and clicked your tongue at your horse, Tilly, to get back into position.

“C’mon, girl. One more run and then we’ll call it,” you coaxed, readjusting your grip on the saddle horn and giving her neck a pat. Tilly snorted, her hooves stamping in the dirt, anxious to take off again around the three wooden barrels dotting across your little makeshift arena. “That’s it, easy…” you murmured.

Barrel racing horses were built different, like they were brought into the world locked and loaded with a fire burning in them – they lived to ride like this. A black flash of muscle and tension set loose like a snapped rubber band and honestly? You lived for it too.

Tucking your chest tight against her mane, you knotted your fingers in the reigns, sucked in a breath and held it steady in your lungs. Three…two…one…

“Yah!” you kicked your heels to Tilly’s flanks and she took off like a gunshot. Hooves thundering across the ground, winding a tight circle around the first barrel in a blur as you ticked off the seconds in your head.

Seven, eight, nine – you rounded the second barrel – ten, eleven – you approached the third – twelve – and then you heard it. A blast of drums and twangy guitar riffs, a Chris Stapleton track followed by a loud engine backfire and it threw both you and Tilly off track.

Your booted foot smashed into the side of the last barrel and you yelped, Tilly kicking her back legs in a start with a high pitched whinny.

“Whoa, whoa–easy!” Pulling back on the reigns you soothed her, hands smoothing down her mane. Shh, s’alright girl, and she slowly calmed, cantering to a stop just at the edge of the corral where you could finally see who’d come tearing up the driveway.

Tyler Owens.

“Well hey, sweet stuff. Damn, you were lookin’ good for a minute – what happened there at the end?” he hollered out his open cab window and it made your hands ball into fists.

Brows pinched together and lips twisting into a deep scowl, you tugged at Tilly to head back to the gate, “I told you not to call me that, Owens.”

“What? Sweet stuff? What’s wrong with that?” you could hear the grin in his tone, saw him in your head without even having to look. Stupid smirk, stupid aviators, stupid toothpick and stupid belt buckle.

“I ain’t sweet,” you shot back and it pulled a chuckle out of him, a low, rough sound that put a flicker of heat between your ribs.

He cut the engine on his truck, boots shuffling in the grass as he hopped out, and the heavy slam of his door told you today just wasn’t gonna be your day.

Tyler tutted at you, teasing. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Sawyer?” and that snagged your attention.

Dismounting faster than he could blink, you were out of the saddle and marching across the corral to kick at the fence board his boot was resting on. He stumbled back at the force of it and laughed again, flicking his toothpick off into the wheel ruts of the driveway.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defense and took his sunglasses off, tongue running along his bottom lip, “Didn’t come here to get my ass kicked.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snarked, pulling your hat off to fan at your face, “You know I’m trainin’ right now.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, notching his foot back between the fence boards and leaning his elbows lazy on top, “But I also know it’s pushin' a hundred degrees and the humidity’s sittin’ at 50%. You been drinkin’ water?”

You swallowed, mouth dry — No — and rolled your eyes before turning to walk Tilly back to the gate, “I’m fine.”

He pushed off the fence and chased a line around the corral, hollering after you, “Betcha didn’t know I’m almost as good at chasing bullshit as I am tornados!”

You groaned, dumbass, and reached the gate with Tilly in tow, but Tyler’s hand was on the latch before you could get to it.

“So. I call bullshit,” he said again, a little out of breath and eyes stuck on the way your lips twitched against a smile. “What d'you say we go get an iced tea or something,” he opened the gate and somehow you managed to pass through without so much as a glance in his direction.

Stick to your guns.

“No, Tyler.”

“Ah, c’mon,” he insisted as you pushed past him to the stable, “You and I both know it’s too hot to be out here. So does Tilly.”

But you ignored him, walked Tilly into her stall and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Tyler had propped himself up on the other side. Arms folded over the top of the gate and hat tipped back just a little, but you went to work anyway undoing Tilly’s bridle, moving easily down to work at the buckle on the saddle and heaved it off her back.

“Least make yourself useful,” you huffed, saddle in hand and shoving it over the gate into Tyler’s chest.

“Shit–” he grunted, fingers scrambling to grab hold of it. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth, but he walked the saddle to the tack room anyway and came back with a renewed sense of purpose. “C’mon, Sawyer. Just a nice cold iced tea between friends?”

Sawyer. The nickname he’d gifted you when you’d moved in next door, a nod to your home town – Sawyer, Oklahoma. The home you’d left. The one you tried to forget. The place that held too many memories, too much hurt, and made your chest ache every time you thought about it.

You stopped brushing Tilly and let her get after a much needed drink of water, heaving a sigh from your lungs. It was cooler in the stable and without the sun beating down on you, you didn’t need your button down anymore. Fingers moving to undo the damp, long-sleeved, shirt clinging to your skin, it sighed with relief as the fabric shifted to let the breeze sweep over you.

“Tyler. I need to focus on training,” you grumbled glancing up at him, but it was mistake.

Without his sunglasses, you could see him tracking the movement of your hands. The buttons as they slipped through the loops one at a time. The heady mix of your sweat and shampoo a sweet scent lingering in the air between you and it made you feel dizzy. Made you want something you knew you shouldn’t have. Tyler knew it too as he swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw ticking as he bit down on the feeling flickering in his chest.

“Promise I won’t ask you again if you still hate me in an hour,” he said, tone a little strangled, and your lips betrayed you, the corner of your mouth tugging up in the world’s tiniest smile.

“Honest?” you challenged, quirking a skeptical brow and he winked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he traced his fingers over his chest and you swore right then and there you’d be the one to kill him if he put even one toe out of line.

❝ THE MINUTE THAT I SAW YOU WALKIN’ OVER, I FIGURED I WAS DIGGIN’ MY GRAVE. AND YOU HAD THE SHOVEL, I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, BUT YOU’RE JUST THE KIND OF TROUBLE I CRAVE. ❞

Your property was a few miles out of town, a small farmhouse with an old horse stable on seventy-eight acres you rented to the Calhoun brothers for their fescue. It was a lot of work. The house badly needed updating, but it was all you could afford with your winnings from nationals last year and in the end, it didn’t matter – if you hadn't gotten a fresh start you’d have suffocated.

So, a little over a year ago when you’d pulled up the dirt drive in your red Ford pickup, Tilly’s trailer in tow, you felt like you could breathe again. Felt like this little patch of earth there on the outskirts of Tulsa was just what you needed, but when you started hauling boxes out of the truck bed you heard the one thing you didn’t need coming up the road.

Your neighbor.

Tyler Owens.

Renowned twister chaser and resident hot air balloon with an ass that could make even the most beat up pair of Wranglers look good. You knew before he even opened his mouth that he was trouble, but he was easy on the eyes and – surprisingly – pretty helpful.

When your roof sprung a leak during a particularly bad downpour he came over. Climbed up the ladder with a hammer and nails hanging off the tool belt on his hips and had it patched in twenty minutes.

When your chickens got loose and took off into the Calhoun’s fescue he and his horse Banjo helped corral them back up and into the coop before they did too much damage to the crops.

And when he’d found you at the Tin Bucket last year, too many drinks deep after losing at the Fourth of July rodeo, he drove you home. Held your hair out of your face while you puked and cried and spilled your guts to him in a muddled mess and didn’t say anything after. Kept your secrets just that, secret.

“Still with me, Sawyer?”

Tyler’s voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked over at him from the other side of the truck bench.

“What?”

“You’re not here,” he chuckled, brows pinched with just the smallest bit of worry. “You’re somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks grow hot and tossed your gaze out your window, “Just thinkin’ about Friday. Adeline Stout got a 13:20 last weekend, I gotta beat that to qualify for nationals.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel, “Seems like you had it earlier.”

“Yeah, ’til you drove up.”

Tyler huffed a laugh under his breath and clicked his tongue, “Sorry. Should’a called first.”

Silence settled in the cab and the air between you buzzed, felt like static, charged and pulling taut with something loaded until the truck bumped over the curb of the parking lot and shattered it in an instant.

You couldn’t jump out of his rig fast enough and didn’t wait for him as you cut a path over the asphalt and into the dingy little diner, the bell overhead tinkling happily.

“Howdy, sugar!” Dot greeted you with her big, friendly smile, cowboy hats dangling from her earrings as she gave the man at the counter a refill on his coffee.

“Hey, Dot,” you couldn’t help smiling back, the bell on the door jingling again letting you know Tyler had finally caught up.

“Dottie, you are lookin’ fine as ever,” Tyler grinned, smooth like butter and the older woman chuckled, hand on her hip as she watched him pick out a booth.

“And you’re lucky I’m pushin’ seventy,” she teased back with a wink.

“Age is just a number!” Tyler played along and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll take a couple iced teas, please,” you cut in, Dottie giving you a knowing smile and it made your cheeks flush again.

“And fries,” Tyler added, sliding into a booth by the window and you followed suit, sitting across from him on the glittering red plastic of the seat.

“You got it, hoss,” Dot nodded, hollering the order back over her shoulder to the kitchen and pouring two big glasses of her famous sweet iced tea.

Picking at the peeling vinyl table top, your knee bounced, a silent protest at having to be still for a minute.

You always made sure to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind from wandering off back home and everything that came with it, and sitting across from Tyler Owens at the quiet little diner while Dolly Parton sang overhead about working nine to five wasn’t doing you any favors.

“So,” Tyler started, dragging out the ‘o’ and lifting his brows at you, “How’re the girls?”

The girls. The chickens.

You deadpanned him and shook your head, propped your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table.

“They’re fine.”

“Good, good. And the Calhouns?”

“Also fine,” you shot him a look, a side-eye glance, but he only smiled.

“And did you get your boots worked in for Friday?”

“Tyler,” you firmed, turning finally to look at him straight on and his smile faded.

“What?”

“All this–this small talk and being chummy and whatever, it’s just–”

“Just what?” he asked, leaning forward on the table toward you and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“What’s your game?” you leveled, meeting his gaze despite the way he had your pulse fluttering against your neck and his lips curved up.

“No game. Just bein’ a good neighbor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned forward just a little more. “Thought you said you were good at chasin’ bullshit,” you pushed and he burned, a flush of red from the collar of his white t-shirt all the way up to his cheeks.

“Alright, two iced teas and some fries. You need anything else, peaches?” Dot cut right between the two of you with a couple of glasses and a red plastic basket piled high with shoestring french fries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tyler recovered, thankful for the out and took the basket from Dot. “Think that’ll do it for now.”

“Mmhm,” Dot murmured, clicking her long pink nails on the table top. “You two be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” fell out of Tyler’s mouth automatically as she left you it.

You picked up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed some into the corner of the basket, swirling a fry around in it and lifting it to your lips to take a bite. Maybe you should be nicer to Tyler, should give him a chance, the benefit of the doubt, but you weren’t about to be made a fool again. Weren’t ready to put your walls down yet even if he was mostly sweet and only a little sour – the fun kind – but maybe it wasn’t fair.

“Gonna be outta town on Tuesday,” Tyler started, looking over at you through the long sweep of his lashes, green eyes meeting yours across the table. “In case you punch a hole through your wall or something.”

“Ha, ha. Should do stand up.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“With you?”

“Yeah, I gotta go pick up a case of rockets for our next video series.”

You scoffed, half-laugh half-nerves, but didn’t say no and his grin widened, eyes narrowed and almost closed with the way he was smiling so big.

“Pick you up at six,” he grabbed a bunch of fries and shoved them into his mouth, “Includes complimentary coffee.”

And something in you melted with the way he was looking at you. The way you could hear the tease in his tone softening and shifting more sincere and you cracked and finally gave him a real, honest-to-god smile.

“Fine,” you surrendered as he slapped a hand on the table and made you jump.

“Hell yeah,” he buzzed and you laughed, dropping your gaze to your lap so he couldn’t see you blushing.

“Keep your pants on,” you chided and the laugh that pushed from his lungs was hard enough to made his head tip back on the seat, but then you felt a buzz in your pocket.

You weren’t expecting a call.

Then Tyler’s buzzed on the table top.

And Dot’s from back behind the counter.

And the farmer’s at the booth behind you and when the siren sounded from down the street your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Tyler breathed.

Jolting up from the table he pressed a hand to the window and looked out across the plains stretching out ahead of you. Cotton candy clouds turned dark and heavy, curling in on themselves and tinged in an eerie yellow and when he finally turned to look back at you, the feeling in your stomach twisted into something more ominous.

A storm was coming.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come!  ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[lcvemiyuki]

“crossed lines” | tsukishima, hq

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋🎧ྀི - "the walls" by chase atlantic

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: he thought he knew the answers to everything and made sure to map out his every action. yet, none could rationalize the way you made his insides churn with a burn of conflicting emotions

warnings: suggestive (no smut!), enemies-to-lovers (they dislike each other), college student!tsukishima, swearing, fem!reader, lots of tension, pov switching

character(s): tsukishima

word count: 1518

a/n: heavily inspired by that riff part in 'the walls' by chase atlantic (had to listen to it a million times to perfectly describe it as in my head lolol)...this is my 1st time writing something so intense AHHH, i hope you like it!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Tsukki, wait!” Yamaguchi’s voice echoed into the rain-soaked street, the downpour muffling his words to a mere whisper against the relentless pattering of raindrops on the cobblestone pavement. 

“She’s such an idiot,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath, his annoyance palpable in the tightness of his voice as he followed your retreating figure, a lone silhouette against the cold, relentless rain. Yamaguchi had just relayed the latest news about your on-again, off-again boyfriend. The twitch in Tsukishima’s right eye, a clear sign of his irritation, was hidden by his black-rimmed glasses, but the tension in his body language was unmistakable.

He couldn’t believe you were storming out from the dorms into the darkness yet again. 

An invisible force pulled him in your direction, but instead of a gentle tug, it was more like a high-speed collision. The more Yamaguchi detailed the fiasco with your so-called “Mr. Perfect,” the tighter Tsukishima’s fists clenched until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. When he finally released his grip, deep red nail marks were etched into his pale skin. He didn’t hear his friend’s confused questions; all he could hear was the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his own heart in his chest, like a desperate drum seeking his attention as he followed after you.

When he finally caught up to you, he reached out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder before he firmly turned you around to face him. 

Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, a testament to the pain you were feeling, and your hand instantly rejected his touch, aggressively shrugging off his hold. 

“Are you seriously thinking about taking him back?” His voice cut through the thundering rain, raised just enough to be heard over the downpour. You scoffed in disbelief, tightening your grip on the baby pink umbrella, trying to recompose yourself.

“And what’s it to you, huh?” you snapped, your voice wavering with emotion as you lifted your chin defiantly. 

If this day could get any worse, it had to involve seeing his annoyingly, fault-finding face. He always acted with judgment and you knew he looked down on your every mistake. And what made it worse was that his opinion always spoke some cut-throat truth you couldn't swallow.

Now here he was, sticking his nose into your business and voicing his input.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” His eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s pitiful.”

His t-shirt clung to his body, soaked through, but the heat of the moment kept the shivers at bay. You were infuriating, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

So why did he feel compelled to chase after you?

He should be sneering at your stupidity. Yet, here you were, crowding his thoughts, his vision, everything.

His insults only fueled your anger, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. Yet, beneath the rage, a sliver of fear crept in—fear that he might be right. It was the unspoken truth that gnawed at you, the one everyone else probably thought but never dared to voice. But Tsukishima, with his sharp tongue and piercing gaze, had no such reservations.

If Tsukishima excelled at one thing, it was his uncanny ability to read you like an open book. He knew you too well, his eyes always catching the smallest, most insignificant details that he would mercilessly call out. Every comment was a well-aimed dart, hitting precisely where you were most vulnerable. It was infuriating how effortlessly he could unravel you, laying bare your insecurities with a few well-chosen words.

You clenched your fists, feeling the sting of his remarks, the heat of your anger battling the cold edge of your fingertips. His words echoed in your mind, a relentless reminder of the truths you tried to bury. Despite the fury blazing in your chest, you couldn't shake the nagging thought that he saw you more clearly than anyone else ever could. And that realization, more than his biting words, left a pit in your stomach.

The truth made you want to scream out into the looming darkness.

“Pitiful?” you questioned as your feet stepped down the curb, “if I’m so pathetic, then leave me be. Go project your judgment onto someone else other than rubbing it in my fucking face” you spat out harshly.

You didn’t want to deal with him tonight, not when you felt the weight of his words slowly sinking into your pores. You turned around to flee, but Tsukishima’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

You paused but didn’t turn back. His voice, though steady, carried an intensity that made your heart race—a quiet before the storm that left you both anxious and drawn in.

“Why do you care so much?” you mustered, your voice cracking slightly as you tried to stand your ground. When there was no response to be heard, you hesitantly turned around once more.

And the sight was maddening.

His blonde locks, usually slightly short, now stretched longer down his forehead, the rain streaming down his face. Although his whole body was soaked from head to toe, his expression remained unchanged. He looked on toward you, eyes darkened and burning holes in your body. His head tilted slightly as if he was trying to piece together what you were thinking—or maybe, reanalyzing his own.

“Tsukishima, why do you care?” you demanded once more.

Maybe it was the curiosity that urged you to repeat yourself; maybe it was the way you’ve never seen the six-foot-two man in front of you look so—disheveled.

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he took a step closer, almost unconsciously, as if he didn’t even know what he was doing. Those golden-brown eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place. Your heart raced as your breath escaped in a long, slow huff through your nose. Your glazed eyes locked onto his, watching tiny droplets slide down his glasses and cling to his long lashes. The heat between you was palpable; the rain felt like gasoline, fueling the raging fire.

“Why do I care?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his gaze fixated on your lips. It was as if he was echoing your words, distracted by the movement of your mouth as his eyebrows furrowed.

‘Because I burn with emotions that you sear into my whole being’

“Because you’re aggravating,” he seethed through gritted teeth, his frustration evident in the sharp edge of his voice. Yet, despite his irritation, his gaze remained fixated on your lips. 

You felt the intensity of his gaze, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw every fiber of your being towards him. 

But just as quickly as the moment had built, Tsukishima pulled back, his expression hardening once more. His jaw clenched tensely, taking a step back while his gaze shifted, trying to focus on something else. The uncertainty still lingered in the narrow space between you. 

“Just forget it,” he spoke under his breath. Turning on his heel, he walked away, leaving you standing there, frozen and stranded for answers. 

You watched him retreat, the distance between you growing with each step. Your heart pounded in your chest, a tumult of emotions circulating inside you. You thought he was leaving for good as the breath you exhaled was shaky.

But then, he stopped—standing there for several aching seconds. 

His gaze shifted among the surrounding objects as if building a barrier to contain his internal uncertainty. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, the weight of his conflicting emotions settling heavily in his stomach. Each thought rushed through his mind like a relentless torrent, creating a storm of confusion and frustration.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he felt this way, why he cared so much. 

The analytical part of his mind tried to dissect every possible reason, but the emotions swirling inside him defied logical explanation. 

He shouldn't have followed you out here.

He wanted to escape the turmoil, to drown out the noise in his mind.

 “—Fuck it,” he muttered. 

And something inside him snapped. 

He turned back and closed the distance between you in a few long strides; his cold hands cupping your face.

Before you could muster a word, his lips came crashing onto yours.

The kiss was fierce, filled with all the pent-up frustration and anger. His lips moved against yours with a desperate urgency, as if trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. You responded in kind, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions. Your hands instinctively found their way to his soaked shirt. You gripped the fabric tightly as if trying to anchor yourself in the storm that was Tsukishima.

At that moment, the precarious line of his loathing finally broke. 

The intense curiosity that had simmered beneath his animosity surged to the forefront. He was engrossed by a burning desire to understand the root of it all. 

Why did you consume him entirely? 

The need for answers outweighed his self-imposed boundaries, and he crossed the line he had sworn never to.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

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