#but he also doesn't know what chapstick is

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗟𝗦𝟮 logan sargent x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”

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Sight

Logan absolutely loves seeing you danceing and having the time of your life

it makes him all giddy and happy inside

watching you forget yourself and follow the beat or jingle, he cant help but admire the sight

if youre dancing at a party or at home in a game of just dance, you know he's hyping you up

"that is . . . not-" Logan tried to hold in his laugh, sitting on the couch watching you play just dance (and recording for later). "SHH!! Let me concentrate!" you hushed back, trying to copy the moves only to gey a lot of errors snd red. Logan put his hand over his mouth, watching you you eventually trip and sit on your ass in surrender. "I dont like this routine." you grumbled, watching the blond get up to lift you back on your feet.

Touch

It's becoming a regular activity where the two of you are caught in a crowd,

wheather at a concert or in a street or even at circuits by fans or reporters.

His biggest worry with these things is losing you in the sea of people,

so when you grab onto him it eases his mind that you’re close and that he won't lose you.

“Y/n?” He called looking behind him in search of you. When he felt the little tug on his pinky finger he knew you were somewhere behind him in the crowd of people. The football match had ended and the halls to the exits and parking lot were packed. The only thing keeping him in his head was you holding his pinky and with him still.

Smell

Although not it’s something from you in particular, Logan associates incense with you.

He finds it a really calming part of you.

You usually light one up when studying. The scent fills the apartment if you forget to close the door or if you study in the living room.

His favourite part is that the smell sometimes sticks to you after an hour or three, which usually tells him how long you’ve been preparing for exams.

Sometimes, you light one jokingly, pretending to cast a spell.

“Calypso,” You pleaded, trying to hold in a smile as Logan sat on the chair, face in his hand, doing his best to hold in laughter as you circled the smoking stick around his head. He had his bags packed, ready to leave for the airport for the next race only for you to stop him and push him in a chair. “Give Logan a win, you bitch. This is the 7th time I've asked. please, thank you. Also, make Max crash out- actually, the whole grid. cradh them all out. cheers."

Hearing

Logan's favourite part of the day is hearing you talk.

It doesn't matter what about.

Whether it's work, or something you're passionate about, or even gossip or just vents.

You have all of his attention.

youre the onky thing he hears, 100% of his concentration is on you.

its also very evident on his face and reactions, he practically turns into emojis,

'guess what!! i got the job!' 'You got the job! Told you could do it🤩'

'logan!! Person A cheated on Person B!' 'WHATT?? 😨'

'i love this course!' 'which one the one with friend? the assignment you had fun doing? 😊'

"Wait, wait. start over because I'm very confused." Logan told you, moving to sit closer to you so he can hear over. "What are you confused about?" You'd ask, and just like that, Logan would repeat everything you said, his facial expressions contouring to show concentrated blondie confused about the gossip you just spilled.

Taste

chapsticks have flavours. And logan is lucky that you have plenty because it makes kisses more delicious.

he already feels like he melts every time you kiss him,

now imagine double the effect with flavoured kissies!! hes not pulling away

"oh, but baby, you're so sweet" he protects if you try to part

he pouts and chases your lips and licks them if he manages too, might even bite yoir lower lip to keep you close.

"hm!" he hums surprised by the new flavour, momentarily licking just a bit to familarize himself with the flavour before going back in deeper with the kiss, holding your waist to stop you when you try to pull away. "Logannn," you whine against his lips but a moan only left your throat feelinghim tilt his head a little. "No one's looking," he mumbled to assure you. "You're like my very own cherry tree." he chuckled before kissing you, more softly this time.

[livingdeadvoid]

Can all us Stiles Stilinski writers agree to write him or hell even draw him with chapped lips? Or am I the only one who thinks that boy needs chapstick but refuses it because "it feels weird"

[ddejavvu]

lovesick!eddie swears his heart is about to absolutely explode when he wakes up to finding you humming in the kitchen while making breakfast. Also, lovesick!eddie has talked waynes ear off ab you sm he already starts saving for a wedding 🥹

From the second Eddie bursts through the trailer door, Wayne's digging through his pockets.

"Wayne," Eddie gushes, and the man's hands curl around a stray quarter, "You'll never believe what Y/N just did!"

"'She look at you?" Wayne looks up from where he's wrestling with a penny that doesn't want to come free from where it's tucked under his wallet. Eddie doesn't even take it as a jibe, shaking his head so that his curls go flying everywhere.

"No, I mean- like, yes, but that's not why I'm like this! She bought my favorite flavor of chapstick," He boasts, chest puffed out in pride, "She knows! She knows me 'n she wants me to, like, like her!"

"Yes," Wayne hums, like it's the simplest thing in the world, "That's what'cha do when you're datin' someone. You do things they like."

"I- I know but.. You just don't get it!" Eddie's eyes are shining and Wayne swears he's never looked less intimidating, even with the chains on his belt and the devil on his shirt, "It's big! It's huge," He stresses, and Wayne finally balls up the change in his hands, "It's perfect. She's perfect."

"Happy to hear it, son." Wayne smiles, his voice gruff. He brings the fistful of change over to the table beside the couch, dropping it into a jar where it clinks against a substantial pile of other grungy coins.

"Starting a swear jar, are you?" Eddie breaks out of his lovesick trance only to tease his uncle, "Great fuckin' idea."

"Not a swear jar," Wayne shakes his head, trying not to let on how amused he is by Eddie's brazen quips, "Marriage jar."

"Marriage," Eddie's brows furrow, "Who's getting married? Oh my god, did Ms. Nelson finally call you? Jesus, I gave her the number weeks ago and I thought she'd never use it! For someone so desperate for a washing machine repairman she was real skittish about asking you. Must be your rugged good looks," Eddie knocks his foot into Wayne's where it stretches out on the carpet before him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Not me," Wayne finally lets himself laugh, nearly kicking Eddie back, "You. You and Y/N," He explains, taking a sip of the beer he's holding, "Every time you come around here talkin' about how the sun shines 'out her ass, I drop my loose change in. Reckon' I can pay for a nice wedding in a week if you keep this up."

It's the first time he's ever seen Eddie speechless. The boy usually has many words to say about any given situation, most of them unsuited for young children. But now he's gaping at Wayne like a fish, a mix of horror and gratitude swirling in his eyes.

"You- You're, like, thinking about that? Our marriage, that is?"

"'Course I am," Wayne laughs gruffly, "I see the way you look at each other. I'm not married m'self, but I know when two people will be."

The atmosphere of the trailer is no longer euphoric or teasing, it's shifted from both to become epiphanic. Eddie lets Wayne's words sink in, blinking slowly as he tries gathering the words.

All he manages is a gentle, sincere, "Thanks, Wayne."

Wayne understands.

"Of course, son."

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: platonic to romantic yandere, no transphobia but transgender themes, bullying, not proofread

male to fem reader

had a crazy idea about a platonic yandere bully Bakugou, who's always pushed his childhood friend around ever since he found out he was quirkless (just like BakuDeku only with reader)

but then, one day, reader gets hit with a gender-switch quirk, turning him into a girl. at first, he decides to wait it out at home, but then several weeks pass, so he decides to go see the doctor - who then tells him that since he's quirkless, there's nothing preexisting in his system to fight off the foreign cells that have mutated his body - basically telling him that there is no cure that will change him back to the way he used to be, but giving him the same option one would give any girl who wants to transition.

just think about the fucking change in dynamic.

like, Bakugou would continue on with his bullying bullshit, but the reader finally puts down his foot, telling him he's going to file sexual harassment if he doesn't keep his sweaty hands off him.

and Bakugou's just like ??? you'll fuckin' what ???

and Bakugou's friends are all, "it's kinda lame to be pickin' on some girl- we're a little too old to be pullin' pigtails..."

and again, Bakugou's like ??? fuckin' what ???

and then he's like, "well, if i can't bully him as a guy, then..." and reports you for not wearing the girls uniform, thinking he's being so fucking clever.

but then you show up in a girl's uniform, and everyone's just fawning over how cute and perfect you are.

you have other girls asking you to sit at their table, fixing your hair with cutesy clips and your face with some lipgloss.

guys are stopping you by the lockers, a little awkwardly since they know who you used to be, but fuck- you're just so adorable- it really suits you

and Bakugou's forced to look at it all with his eye twitching. you used to be such a fucking loner; he could have you all to himself and know people want to be your friend and shit, or worse...

and then boom, platonic yandere turns into romantic yandere

and everything is so fucking awkward on both sides...

because he'll still bully you, but it's changed very clearly from getting the crap beat out of you and being stuffed in a locker to...

well... a whole new range of things

from being told that all the boys only flirt with you as a joke and that you look like a fucking clown with all that makeup on - even when you're only wearing chapstick and have been so dim in your boyish mind to even have noticed that anyone's been flirting with you.

but then there's this one guy who's been sending you love letters almost every day who decides to corner you and confess, and even though you turn him down, he still refuses to let you leave. and there's this instinctual terror blossoming inside you that you've never ever felt before once you see him looking down at you with that predatory look in his eyes, and before you know it, you're standing there fucking crying even though he hasn't even touched you yet.

and then comes your unlikely hero, and Bakugou just fucking thrusts this guy up against a wall with his hands balling his collar, sneering at him to fuck off

and feelings of relief are so confusing you end up just standing there awkwardly, blinking your eyes that won't stop spilling with tears for some odd reason you're not yet used to. you end up saying a small "thanks," but even the small gesture makes you blush and feel flushed because fuuuck wasn't that kind of attractive what Bakugou just did for you ???

but no, you hate that guy ??? he used to give you swirlies and wedgies and black eyes, and even now, he still bullies you

being a girl is so confusing

but being Bakugou is also confusing because he's feeling the simmer of other instincts that had previously lied dormant - protective instincts and something else that makes him have to fight off a boner standing there seeing your pretty little face all teary and cute

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.06 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s your boyfriend. Now what?

Previous Part: Disaster Preparedness

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. First Dates and silliness, Sickeningly sweet fluff, miscommunication (not in a bad way), sexual tension, smut, allusion to oral sex, PinV Sex

Note: Here we go guys, the penultimate installment of SMVerse. We only have the finale to go. It's been a wild ride, I'm both ready to move on and give my other stories their attention, and also a little bit loathe to let my babies go. They can always make their little appearances in one-shots in the future if I need them back.

Thank you to @deathbecomesthem and @courtingchaos for looking over a few little things. Your insight is always appreciated.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

"Do I show up with flowers?"

"Flowers?"

"What's that voice, you don't like flowers?"

"Not really."

How you got to become friends with Steve Harrington, you couldn't tell for sure. One day, he was just a frantic customer running around in a Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform worrying about cherry chapstick, and then suddenly he was sitting in your store once a week looking for relationship advice.

Like today, as he tried to figure out plans to win back his ex.

Or something like that.

It was hard to tell with Steve. Oftentimes you got a half-finished story, as though you were some omniscient being that was supposed to know the other parts already. Sometimes he'd be an apt listener with the patience of a saint as you gave him whatever advice you could, and sometimes, he would go off on a one-sided tangent, and thank you for something that you didn't even know had come out of your mouth.

He reminded you of Jimmy a lot, which was why you were as patient with him as you were.

It was fine; it was a Thursday in January and the holidays were over, that meant the mall was dead. You'd hadn't had a single customer yet and a mountain of shipment to process. He could stay as long as he wanted, as long as he kept bringing cookies as payment.

"Everyone likes flowers," Steve argued skeptically after a moment of contemplation. "You're telling me Munson hasn't gotten you roses or something?"

Speak of the devil...

The shop bell rang, a chain rattled, and leather squeaked, and before you could answer, your boyfriend--you were still giddy referring to him like that in your head--himself chimed in.

"If I was a jealous man," he started with an exaggerated glare at Steve. "I would say you're here flirting with my girlfriend."

You rolled your eyes at his antics and crossed your arms over your chest, both Steve and your menial tasks forgotten momentarily, but you giggled nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Don't you have school?"

"I came to ask you a very important question," Eddie smiled conspiratorially. "But imagine my surprise when someone else is sitting in my spot."

"It's not your spot. And I'm giving him advice."

"Again?"

"He's hopeless, apparently."

"I'm right here," Steve exclaimed and got to his feet, ready to leave. "I didn't come here to be made fun of. I actually need help."

You were about to deliver a snarky remark to your friend when Eddie held a hand out towards you and led Steve out of the store.

The shop bell rang again and you sighed, lamenting your conversion for the millionth time.

You'd just bully Eddie into buying something small.

After a short time, Eddie returned to the store and approached you with a smug smile on his face.

"What?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing," he replied nonchalantly. "Just playing Cupid, that's all."

"Look at you, hopeless romantic." You opened another box and gleefully picked up a little purple jewelry carding that proudly displayed fuzzy red heart studs. You held them up to Eddie's face and squinted one eye.

"What are you doing?"

"Valentine's Day is coming up," you explained. "Trying to see if my resident Cupid here would look cute in heart earrings."

He slapped your hand away and chuckled.

"You know I would," he teased and then fluttered his lashes at you coquettishly.

"Does that mean you're finally gonna let me pierce your ears?"

"Mmmm, does Claire's have a lobotomy option I could consider first? Maybe next time, sweetheart."

"I knew you hated needles," you shot him a teasing glare. "Alright, why did you skip school today? Spill. What is this very important question you wanted to ask me?"

Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rocked on the toes of his boots, then began pacing around nervously. Which made you nervous in turn.

"You know, you just mentioned Valentine's Day," he began. "And...actually yeah, they're starting to talk about a Valentine's dance at school. It's corny, they always do it. Paper hearts and cherry punch and sugar cookies and bad love songs.

“And the guys were asking if I was gonna ask you. Well, Henderson more than anyone. I think he has a crush on you if I'm being honest, even though he insists that he has a girlfriend in Salt Lake City, do you believe that? Little liar. Isn’t the whole bit that the fake girlfriend lives in Canad—”

"Eddie," you snapped him out of his tangent with a laugh, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. "Are you asking me to the dance right now?"

Ok, a high school dance...wasn't exactly your idea of a good time but...the idea was a bit of a novelty. They didn't have dances like that at your very Catholic, very-all-girls high school. Even prom with the neighboring boys school was...modest dresses and suits and a nice dinner at a banquet hall. No real fun, no real dancing.

Last time you really even danced with someone was at a party Jen dragged you to and then you ended up in a heated makeout session that maybe went a little too far. And wasn't remarkable.

To go to a school dance with Eddie...that would be so sweet and fun. A do over for some non-existent or downright mediocre experiences.

"No, I'm not actually."

Never mind then.

"But it reminded me," he abruptly turned to face you. "That we haven't gone out on an actual date yet."

"Wh...Eddie what do you mean?" you scoffed. "Did you hit your head? We went out on Christmas Eve. Dinner at Benny's."

Eddie had picked you up for work with a thermos of hot coffee that day, you both worked until the mall closed, and then went straight to the diner. The jukebox played Christmas carols only and Ben had two special holiday prix fixe meals: a classic Pot Roast dinner and then one with a little more Benny’s flair—Christmas Dinner style omelettes, candied yam hash browns, and hot cocoa with peppermint whipped cream. You and Eddie ordered one of each and shared.

But you were both so tired that you didn't even talk; you just sat on the same side of the booth snuggled against each other, dozing off and picking at your food until Benny came to wake you both up when he was ready to close.

When Eddie dropped you back off at home, it started snowing right when you kissed goodbye. It was the perfect date.

"I've decided that it isn't our first date," he announced.

"And why is that?"

"Because we didn't even say anything but 'fuck that guy wanting to make a return on Christmas' and 'pass the salt.'"

"You also realize that we've been going out every Sunday since last..." you paused briefly to think back. "May? First week of June?"

"Those don't count either," he shook his head resolutely. "In fact those were specifically not dates."

Funny, that’s how you always thought of them too.

You were about to give in and agree, about to tell him "whatever you say Eddie." He did make a good point and it wasn't like he was calling your relationship off, he just wanted another chance at a first date. What was the harm in that?

But he beat you to the punch, suddenly nervous under your scrutiny.

"Listen, I know it's silly," he crossed his arms over his torso and shrugged. "I just...want to get it right. Make you dinner, see a movie, I know you just told Harrington you don't like flowers but...a bouquet of cookies or something?" He reached over and flicked the bag of cookies on the ear piercing station. "Make you a mixtape, I dunno."

"You made me a mixtape already, Ed."

"Yeah but I want to give you the kind of mixtape a guy makes for his girl."

You melted at his words and fought the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips and butterflies that suddenly fluttered in your stomach.

"And what's on that one that's not on the other one?" you teased, intentionally obtuse.

"You know...ballads and...sappy love songs and..." He froze and you watched as he flushed prettily. "You're making fun of me."

"It's really fun to do," you told him matter-of-factly.

Eddie ran a hand over his mouth and then looked around. He leaned back to glance out into the mall, and then faster than you could react, he ran right up to you, cupped your face in his hands and smooshed his lips to yours in a kiss. You dropped the jewelry you were holding and covered his hands with yours; you took two little steps to get as close to him as you could, and sighed as he broke away to continue pecking at your lips between his words.

"You're a menace." Peck. "You're a trickster." Peck. "And I'm picking you up for a real date." Peck. "Our official first date." Peck. "On Sunday."

You were joined together once again and he paid special attention to your lower lip, sucking on it in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Hmmm," you pulled away, trying to ignore the heat that was overtaking your body. You were still at work, after all. "Sunday huh? I thought Sundays didn't count."

"Well they count starting now." He stole another peck and then backed out of the store. "You have a great day, sweetheart. See you later."

---

Everyone teased you for your entire shift on Sunday.

Mindy was the first, having already unlocked the gate and counted up the registers for store open.

"Oh lookie here," she whistled. "Miss Lovebird is all dressed up for her date with the wannabe-rockstar."

You did a little spin and a pose for her; not dressed in your Seventeen Magazine best, but something a little more comfortable--still a dress, just a little more you--so you wouldn't have to frantically change for your date.

Chrissy offered to do your makeup on break and then confessed that she had a first date fast approaching too.

"No more Jason?" you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful as she swiped eyeshadow on.

"No, he was kind of..." she sighed. "He wasn't what I thought he'd be like as a boyfriend. I don't think I would've had the courage to end things and go after someone I really liked if I didn't work here though. I've...gained a lot of confidence since being here."

"I'm glad," you beamed at her.

Stacey even apologized for all the jokes she'd made about Eddie before she left at the end of her shift.

"I know I give him a lot of shit, but Munson's actually alright," she sniffed uncomfortably, as though complimenting him was something she was allergic to. "That thing he did at Christmas...the Santa thing? That was really sweet."

"Yeah it was."

Finally, 6pm rolled around and the gates closed. The rest of your team went home and you were left counting down the registers in anticipation as Mindy gave you a talk very reminiscent of the Birds and the Bees that your parents gave you once upon a time.

Before you knew it, Eddie was standing outside with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, and you flashed him a quick "five" to let him know you wouldn't be long.

"Ok listen," Mindy got real close to you know, hand on your shoulder, lips close to your ear as she whispered. "If you guys wanna do the ol' Horizontal Tango tonight--"

"What are you 75?"

"--at the very least do it in a bed and not the back of his van, ok?"

"I swear to god," you mumbled under your breath.

"Invite him back to your place. Light a candle. Ambience. Make sure you have condoms."

"Melinda!"

She started cackling.

"I mean, I guess you don't have to have--

"Utter one more word and you're fired," you pointed at her threateningly.

Mindy immediately held her hands up innocently and then dragged her fingers across her lips like a zipper.

As you finished counting down the registers though, you wondered if you'd only shut her up because she was crossing a line...or if it was because she was actually really good at reading the secret expectations that you may or may not have had for this date.

It was just a first date, nothing was gonna happen. You could think about all of that next time. But…what if…

The store suddenly became unbearably warm.

Before long, the two of you ducked under the gate and Mindy simply waved goodbye while holding back her laughter as Eddie approached you.

"What was that?" he asked, thumbing over his shoulder at her. "Everything ok?"

"She thought she was being funny, but instead she's just an asshole," you explained, trying to laugh off the awkward conversation and illicit thoughts that still lingered in your mind.

"Ah," he nodded slowly, his eyes squinted for a moment and you swore you saw the gears turn in his head. "Yeah...Kyle did the same thing for me too. You remember when I found out the kids had a bet against us? Apparently the whole team had a secret bet going too.”

"And Kyle won?" you questioned eagerly, glad for a change of topic.

"No, Paulie. But P gave me a cut, thanked me for being such a stick in the mud and holding out as long as I did."

"How much?"

"Fifty bucks," he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. "Gave it to me today and told me to take you someplace nice. Which was the plan anyway, if you were wondering."

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a second before Eddie cleared his throat.

"You look nice sweetheart," he said with a nervous smile.

"Thanks, so do you."

And he did.

He had his leather jacket over a fitted forest green henley, with ripped black jeans and boots. You'd never considered green to be such a favorable color on him, his usual outfits consisting of blacks and reds and the occasional blue, but it was dashing. Brought out the glowing warmth of his eyes, the tiny honeyed flecks that often got lost in chocolate depths.

"I, uh, have something for you," he announced, fishing something out of his pocket. "I didn't have time to do a new mixtape, so you'll have to take an IOU for it. This...might be a little cheesy... but...well, close your eyes."

You followed his instruction and felt him grab your hands and lift them up. He positioned them just so, and then left you standing there as he prepped whatever your gift was.

"It's not my usual thing," he muttered as he fumbled with what-sounded-like a rustle of paper. "But the guys helped me clean out the van--"

"You cleaned the van?" you scoffed. "For me? Eddie I've been in your van before."

"Hey listen," he suddenly sounded offended. "First date and such, you deserve the best."

"I like the clutter in your van," you told him truthfully.

"Listen, if I hadn't cleaned it out I would've never been able to gift you with this, the Mirror of Galadriel. Well it's more like a hand mirror. Hey no peeking!"

He continued telling you about the way Lucas and Will, crafty as they were, helped him make this little surprise during the break of their Friday night session of Hellfire.

"Apparently Sinclair's little sister and her friends make these for each other, and he's helped them. Which, ask me to paint minis for DnD any day; this shit was hard. There. Open your eyes now."

He slipped something over the tips of your fingers and when you opened them you found...

"A cootie catcher?" You asked with a laugh. "Eddie..."

You were about to ask what the deal was when you noticed it wasn't just a folded piece of paper littered with numbers and words, but taped and glued together with bits of familiar papers.

You brought it closer to your face for further inspection, flexing your fingers this way and that to see the bits folded inside.

Was that the logo from Pizzeria Uno? And...a movie ticket?

"Eddie...what...?"

"Ok, it's not just garbage," he assured you. "I know I don't really clean out my van that often. Shit, there was homework in there that I was supposed to turn in last year. No wonder I had to repeat again. But I guess I never realized that after our not-dates, I sort of left a few things in the glovebox or emptied my pockets in the back to throw out later.

"This...this is from our first outing for pizza. And when we went to see Day of the Dead. I cut up the order form when you paid the last installment on Sweetheart. And this? The menu from that one takeout place we ordered from? That night when...you know...before we went to Chicago? A-and a Chef Boyardee label. Y'know from that one time we ate dinner at your place? Well, actually, I don't think it's from that night.

"I-I know, I'm a walking contradiction," he concluded with a laugh. "I said that this was gonna be our first official date and here I am with a reminder of all the times we weren't dating but...I guess I figured...our times together as friends are just as important as any date. So now that...you're actually my girlfriend, I needed you to know you'll still always be my best friend too."

You felt your eyes water and your heart pound in your chest.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"It's only," you let out a watery laugh. "Only the best gift I've ever gotten."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Not even the Boston cassette I got you?"

"Not even that," you shook your head. "Seriously Eddie...it's perfect."

All you wanted in that moment right there was to kiss him.

And you would have, but the lights in the mall concourse dimmed, signaling customer hours were over and that everyone needed to leave.

"You ready?" he backed away from you and held his hand out, fingers wiggling and eager to twine with yours. You gladly took it, expecting to hold his hand as you walked out towards the employee lot, but he surprised you by twirling you in a circle. He spun you into him, tucked against his side, and draped his arm across your shoulder.

You were sure it was gonna be a perfect night. Again.

Because he was perfect.

---

Turns out the Cootie Catcher wasn't just a gift with little mementos of your friendship, it was the means of which the two of you would decide the fate of your date night.

"I'll pick first," he explained. "And then you pick next ok? You just gotta trust me on this."

Throughout the night you both picked numbers and pinched the corners of the cootie catcher back and forth, back and forth, until you came up with the next activity you would embark on.

"Dinner at...the Hideaway," you read the first outcome that had come up. "The Hideaway? I thought it was the Hideout."

"No, they're two different places," Eddie explained. "Damn, you've almost lived in Hawkins for a year now and you still don't know? I'm a really bad Welcome Committee."

Turns out the Hideaway was a sports bar on the outskirts of town. The bar itself was a little crowded with patrons drinking beers and watching football on the twin tv's that were mounted overhead, but there was a tiny little dining room off to the side that was practically empty.

As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a glimpse of The Wayne under the sandwich header.

"Wayne as in...Uncle Wayne?" you asked with a laugh, and Eddie couldn't have looked any prouder if he tried.

"Yup," he puffed out his chest. "Nothing amazing ever happens in Hawkins, but if you can guess the Super Bowl winner accurately at the beginning of the season for 5 years in a row, you get a sandwich named after you at a bar."

"Shut up," you laughed. "He did not."

"Swear on my mother's grave," Eddie leaned forward and challenged you.

You both ended up ordering the Wayne, and Eddie spent most of dinner telling you Wayne's Scientific Method to choosing the winners, and then the way the winning streak broke.

"He put twenty dollars in a pool at the plant," he explained. "Figured he'd been guessing right at the Hideaway for so long without getting anything more than a free dinner out of it, he might as well try to win a little cash. Turns out fate only meant for him to win a hearty chicken dinner and nothing more, so he didn't try to tempt the Gods again lest he incur their wrath."

The sandwich was delicious, the company even better. And you held hands across the table pretty much the entire time.

---

Back and forth, back and forth the cootie catcher went, and you groaned when you saw the outcome.

Bowling.

"I'm not good at it Eddie," you tried to persuade him to choose again. "I'm gonna embarrass myself."

"Too bad, I'm not good at it either. We'll both look like idiots together."

"I'm wearing a dress Eddie."

"This is our destiny!" He exclaimed with a tone of finality, hand on the gearshift to put the van into drive. "And before you try to fight me on it, I'll even let my chivalry take a hit and let you pay for the first round of beer."

Knowing that a win was a win, you agreed.

Reluctantly.

The Roane County Bowlarama was something out of a time capsule, though, and that in and of itself was a novelty. Casino carpet and funky modular chairs and a neon light that sat over the pristinely waxed hardwood lanes in a very kitschy style that proudly advertised the Bowlarama's foundation in 1960.

It certainly smelled like nostalgia in here.

Eddie went to get your shoes while you meandered to the little concessions counter to get two solo cups of cheap beer and a soft pretzel with plastic cheese for the two of you to share.

As you got your score cards written up, you confided in Eddie that the only time you'd ever been bowling was for a birthday party for a classmate when you were in the 7th grade.

He just laughed and told you it had been the same for him too.

He pointed down to one of the lanes where a family was happily bowling with their two small children.

"If you go over there, I'm sure you'll still see the dent in the floor where I dropped the ball," he whispered. "It was too heavy and I went to go bowl and it dropped out of my hand and almost cracked the hardwood. And I vowed never again."

"Then why did you put it on the Cootie Catcher?" you asked incredulously.

"Well, we've gotta look stupid in front of each other sometime, right?" he reasoned.

“As though we haven’t done that already.” You shook your head. "Eddie Munson, you are something else."

"I know." He bowed proudly and then went to take his turn.

At the end of ten frames, you turned in your scorecards and your shoes at the counter, all the while snickering as the attendant read out your abysmal scores.

You'd beaten Eddie, sure...but it wasn't hard to beat a zero.

Was he really that bad at bowling or had he let you win? You’d never know.

---

It had been a great night but it was getting late by the time you got back out to the van.

Normally, you wouldn't mind a longer Sunday night out with Eddie, even if you had work and he had school in the morning. Honestly, you couldn't quite give a shit if you were tired for a Monday morning call with your boss or to unpack shipment boxes.

Still, you stopped Eddie before he could fish the Cootie Catcher out of the cupholder on the console.

"What's wrong?" he frowned. "You getting tired? Too tired for a late night snack? I put Dairy Queen for ice cream and Bradley's for a mystery snack adventure as options."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to entice you into letting fate take you once again.

The thing was...ending the night wasn't really the thought on your mind. It had been a great night out, reminiscent of those few early Sunday nights, cruising around Hawkins and finding someplace new you hadn't been yet.

But part of the fun of some other not dates with Eddie were the times you got to spend alone. Even recently, as you started cuddling and making out on the couch or stealing kisses in the food court at the little table hidden closer to the JCPenney entrance while sharing cheese fries, it was the intimacy and closeness you cherished. Those times spent together were spent in a world just for the two of you.

And as the night went on and you came to that realization, Mindy's words echoed through your head: Horizontal Tango.

God, ok, that was not the way you wanted to think of it, but it did get your mind on that night. The last time things had started getting heated between the two of you, the night you thought everything had been ruined before you both realized that there were some actual feelings deeper than friendship there.

That had been...nice.

Sure you'd been high, but laughing and groping and kissing and grinding...

Yeah it was more fun to do all of that with someone than to take care of things on your own with your imagination or one of the bodice rippers you secretly bought at Waldenbooks at your disposal.

One of the bodice-rippers with a love interest that your brain had started to fill in with a certain metalhead that was your then-crush and now-boyfriend.

Suddenly the more you thought about it--actively thought about it--sitting here in the van with Eddie, surrounded by the scent of his cigarettes and his Old Spice cologne, having just had probably the best date you could ask for...you realized that you wanted more too. With him.

More than a quick fuck at a party or a romp on a couch.

You wanted Eddie.

First date be damned.

"Sweetheart?" Eddie pulled you from your thoughts. "We can call it if you want. If you're too tired to drive, I can take you home now and...I'll pick you up for work tomorrow before I go to class."

"Uh." You worried your bottom lip, at a loss for words, as your hand still gripped the top of his over the center console. He was being so kind, so chivalrous, so thoughtful with this whole date, all of these sweet plans...you didn’t want to undercut the effort he’d put in.

How did one just ask their boyfriend to have sex with them?

"Do you wanna have sex?"

The words escaped your mouth as though you were on autopilot, and both you and Eddie stared at each other dumbfounded as the question hung heavily between you.

Well that was one way to do it.

"Wha...whe...like? Here? Now?" He stared at you wide-eyed as he questioned. There was a beat and then he shook his head and stared down at your hands in silence.

What you wouldn't have given at that very moment to hear the thoughts that were clearly racing through his head, as he visibly tried to compute the situation you were both in.

You felt your chest get tighter and your heart raced.

See? First date, no fooling around. You should have trusted your instincts.

"I mean...yes,” Eddie finally blurted out. “But it wasn’t on the cootie catcher.”

It was silent for another moment, then you both broke down in hysterical laughter.

Unintelligible words were shared as you both relived the last few tense moments with intense clarity—basking in the silliness that could only be shared between the two of you—and then you both seemed to have a lightbulb moment. Eddie turned in his seat to grab something from the back of the van while you dug for something in your bag.

It was a race to see who could get there first, and Eddie won as he fell back into the driver's seat with a sharpie held in the air like his ultimate prized possession. You abandoned your own search and began carefully unfolding the cootie catcher and before long, on the inner most flaps, new adventures for the night were written.

Blizzards at DQ was soon scribbled out in favor of Your Place.

And Mystery Snacks from Bradley’s replaced by My Place.

Eddie started situating the fortune teller over the tips of his fingers when you grabbed his wrist.

“What if we don’t end up getting either place?” You asked a little stupidly.

“Well then I guess we’re gonna head to the civic center and play Boggle with Gareth’s mom and dad, Sweetheart,” he snarked. “Pick a number.”

Back and forth the cootie catcher went as you called out numbers.

Until Your Place sat proudly on display between you.

“Alright then,” Eddie placed the cootie catcher back into the cup holder and then clapped his hands. “Your place it is.”

---

For as bold as you both had been in the van, it was unexpectedly awkward when you got into your apartment.

It was a moment of being in a place you'd both been a hundred times together before, but the implication of why you were there made it difficult to simply begin.

You both ended up on the couch for a while, watching some late night reruns and sharing a pint of Rum Raisin until you were calm and comfortable enough to share tentative kisses and touches in front of the glow of the tv.

"This isn't..." Eddie chuckled when you found yourself horizontal on the couch and he kissed his way down your neck and across your décolletage. "This isn't like a porno."

You both broke down in laughter again and he admitted that that thought had been on his mind all night, along with the possibility that this would be waiting for the two of you at the end of the date.

"I had that thought," he continued once the laughter had subsided. "Last time we were like this. That's...do you remember I...god did I honk your boob?"

"You did," you remembered fondly, even though the outcome of that encounter was anything but a fond memory.

"I think that's why I did it," he ran a finger along the neckline of your dress, which caused goosebumps to erupt along your arms as you shivered with anticipation. "I don't need to be anything with you except myself. I don't have to be the...hot boyfriend or the hunky pizza guy or anything. I'm just me, and you're just you."

"You can't make me cry before we fuck," you told him matter-of-factly, and dragged him back up so you could kiss him again.

"Actually," he broke away again and his brows shot up into his bangs. "That's another kind of porno. We can add that to the list for next time ok?"

That set the pace and the expectation for the rest of the night: intimate moments punctuated by words and laughter.

There was no rush, so you took your time to explore one another's bodies. You moved from the couch to the bed and clothes came off one piece at a time, including socks which both of you agreed was the least seductive piece of clothing to remove.

"But I did read about this thing with tights once," you bit your lip in too-little-too-late realization, after you'd chucked your pantyhose into the corner of your bedroom. "It was kind of hot."

"I'm making notes," Eddie tapped his temple twice. "Don't worry. Next time."

And if you ever had the impression that Eddie was a bad student, all of that doubt vanished because he was incredibly studious when it came to your body. Both of you were as you licked and kissed and groped. You took the time to find spots that were sensitive or ticklish, that generated moans or giggles.

Boy, did you find out how much he liked to giggle.

You traced along the hazy ink of his tattoos with the tip of your tongue, in awe of the imagination that he'd put into each piece of artwork permanently etched on his body as he stammered out a brief story of each one. He told you about something he wanted along his ribcage, and when you went to kiss along the proposed path, he burst into a fit of laughter that almost rocketed him off the bed.

Soon there were more panting breaths than breathy laughter. As Eddie took his time worshipping you, committing every dip and curve and crease of you to memory--just like all the other things that he seemed to take note of--and the way you hiccuped and moaned as he lavished you with attention.

You both became teachers, showing one another just how you found pleasure alone--Eddie quick to admit that his solitary ministrations might have been done to the thought of you--before tonight. You were both happy to oblige each other's desires with your hands and mouths.

You quickly realized how much you liked the way that he stuttered your name as you suckled the head of his cock, and he seemed to take that as a challenge when he kissed and sucked your clit in return, the first partner you'd ever had to think to do so and not just fumble with zero thought or coordination.

"I'm a sex god," he boasted, chin resting smugly on your mound after you'd finished riding the crest of your first orgasm. "What can I say?"

"You're so full of it," you scoffed. "But you can say whatever you want if you just promise me you'll do that again."

"Oooh, gonna especially take note of that one," he said mischievously as he walked his fingers up the length of your body and then took your hand in his, both of you ready for the pièce de résistance of the night.

It was a lazy kind of fucking, even though the two of you were as wound up as you were; however, considering that you'd both had an entire day of work and then a lengthy date and foreplay, neither of you could complain.

You could have headboard-banging, heart rate-climbing, frenzied, nasty sex anytime you wanted for however long you'd be together.

"Hopefully forever," Eddie whispered against your mouth after you'd reassured him of just that, as he sank into you and realized that he was more comfortable in the cradle of your arms and thighs than stiffly knelt above you. "You promise?"

"Hopeless romantic," you muttered in return. You moaned as he slowly bucked into you and created a delicious drag of his fingers on your clit again. "But yeah, I promise."

There were very few words after that, just sounds. Pants and sighs and sucking kisses; a few swears as you both found the peaks of your pleasure, and finally an "is there any more of that ice cream" once Eddie collapsed beside you when it was all over.

You both couldn't help but brag how great it had all been come morning, when he drove you back to the mall for work.

Or when you showed up at his place the following night to do it all over again.

Next Chapter: Longevity

[mayfieldss]

Not so secret - Carmen Berzatto

Request / summary; hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on carmy where him and the reader are secretly dating. one day richie accidentally  catches them making out, but they don't notice him. he's kinda shocked because knowing her (she's the typical shy good girl type) and carmen, he would have never expected it. but richie being richie can't miss on the opportunity so he soon starts making comments here and there, hinting at what he saw and teasing them. the rest is up to you.

AN: I see your vision and I love it.

Content Warnings; language, sexual innuendos.

The thing you had with Carmen had been going on for months. It was a relationship that was wild, and crazy. But it was also so romantic despite the sneaking around, hiding in the shadows of storerooms, and the stolen kisses. In fact, you think that made it all the more exciting. The hidden touches, Carmen's hand grazing gently across your back throughout the day for no one to notice. His sweet smirks as he sent you a text during family, one that made your cheeks go red and caused your muscles to tense in anticipation. But the rush of his lips on yours when you could be caught at any moment? That was your favourite.

And right now, you couldn't get enough of that feeling. Carmen's hands, hot and calloused, were all over you, seconds away from creeping underneath the fabric of your shirt, and just the concept of it was enough to race heat through your bloodstream. And Carmen was loving it just as much. Despite the chill of the freezer and the harsh metal of the shelves that you both kept bumping into, it was one of the highlights of his day. He can smell your shampoo, deep within his senses, and it's as though he's being wrapped in you, your presence pulling him down into a spiral of his favourite feelings. And God, he loves it. He loves the feeling of your hands pulling at his shirt, his apron, and his hair. He loves the way you taste, your tongue fighting with his, and he loves the harsh breaths you take as he kisses you deeply.

"I fuckin' love you," he mutters the words against your lips between each frenzied kiss, and he's entirely infatuated with your body, running his hands down your sides, fingers trailing up your back beneath your shirt. He's so caught up in the moment, in your tinted Chapstick leaving marks on his face and neck, that he doesn't hear the creaking of the freezer door or the fact that Richie has made an appearance on the scene.

The man stands with his mouth agape as he peaks through the gap in the door, smart enough not to swing the entry wide open for the others in the kitchen to see. He watches the way Carmy is clinging to your body for mere seconds, pressing you up against the shelves as the produce leans precariously, just waiting to fall the moment a frantic movement knocks it forward. And he witnesses the way you jump, Carmy's hands holding tight to your thighs as your legs find their way around his waist. And that's when Richie leaves, not wanting to intrude upon the rest. But he just can't quite believe it, and he laughs to himself as he moves away not entirely able to process what he just saw.

You, the quietest girl he's almost ever met, kissing Carmen Berzatto. You, someone, he doubted had ever run a red light, let alone had a secret relationship with her boss. But what really got him laughing was Carmen, a guy he thought he knew so well, getting hot and heavy in a freezer with one of his employees. Carmy Berzatto with his hands all over someone like that, practically dry humping you against the shelves. He just couldn't believe it, but he guessed that was why the both of you thought you could get away with it. Because it seemed like the most unlikely of situations.

Richie, however, just can't help himself and once the two of you emerge, leaving separately as to not cause suspicion, he's on you both like wildfire. "You good Cousin?" he places a hand on Carmy's back as he walks with the man through the restaurant. "You seem a little roughed up dude."

Instantly, Carmen's running a hand through his hair, over his shirt, trying to smooth himself out. "Yeah, Cousin. Tough day." He lets out a breath, and Richie catches the quick glance Carmen takes at you, trying not to laugh at the way Carmy looks as though he wants to jump you right there and then, despite what you'd just been doing moments ago.

For the rest of the day, Richie is watching, unable to stop small snorts from escaping whenever he catches a touch or two between you. He finds it just so humorous; the two of you together. When he thinks about it you are a perfect pair, a match made in heaven, though Richie doesn't believe in the thing. "Hey," Richie calls you over, making a show of checking the coast is clear before he speaks. "I saw Carmy go into the freezer earlier, he didn't come outta there for ages, d'ya think he's alright or should I pull him up on it?" his false concern runs free, and he finds absolute hilarity in the way your cheeks begin to heat, though your face remains deadpan.

"Maybe he just couldn't find something, it's getting unorganised in there." You mutter, adjusting the collar of your shirt as if it deserves all of your attention in this moment.

Richie nods, brows furrowing as though in thought. "Yeah, I did see a couple of crates toppled over in there earlier, shit's a mess." and with that he walks away, leaving you free to panic and squirm at your uncareful actions.

"We can't do things like this at work anymore." You mutter as the night air creeps into Carmy's apartment. You're tucked under the covers of his bed, limbs entangled with his and you can't help but think of how close you'd come to exposing your relationship. "Richie thinks there's something up with you."

Carmy hums, thinking it over in the darkness. "There's always something up with me, he knows that."

"Yeah, but still, we're taking a risk." Carmen can feel your breath fanning over his skin as you speak and as if on instinct, he holds you tighter.

"He doesn't know anything." his voice comes as a tired mumble, and he doesn't think he'll be able to keep himself awake for much longer. He's so much calmer when he's with you. You make it easier for him to relax.

"He gonna know something at some point." there's a sigh that leaves you with the words "We just can't keep doing this."

That makes Carmy's heart skip a beat and he sits up slowly, you following suit. He turns to face you, legs crossed under the covers. "So, you wanna give up on us?" He's worried you'll say yes, that he'll have to let you go, the one good thing he has right now slipping between his fingers like water running over his skin.

"I don't want to give up on us." his voice comes quiet but strong as he takes your hands in his own, trying to convince you to stay before you've even thought of leaving him.

"I don't want to give up Carm," Your hand squeezes his own in a sweet kind of reassurance. "We just can't keep messing around at work. Don't treat me differently, don't kiss me when we think no one's watching. We're gonna get caught if we keep this up, you know."

There's a silence between you, something of disappointment hanging in the air at the concept of no exhilarating make-outs in the storeroom, or out the back of the beef when things are quiet. "Yeah, I get it." Carmy pauses, his thumb running back and forth over your knuckles. "Do you think we should just come out with it?" His question is sincere, genuine but even in the darkness, he can see the hesitancy in your eyes. "But I don't want you to freak out if you don't want to." He adds the last part on quickly, hoping your panic might subside.

"Can we just see how tomorrow goes?" your brows are furrowed, and Camry can see it even with the absence of light. He brings a hand up, uses his thumb to smooth out the creases between your eyebrows as he nods.

"Sure, baby." with that he pulls you in, arms enveloping you and as lays back down, hoping things will all work out.

The next day Richie is back at it again, though he's noticed some changes already. He watches with eagle eyes, examining the way Carmen will reach for you out of instinct before he pulls back as if suddenly aware of personal space. Carmen still seeks you out during family, Richie notes, though you don't make as much eye contact, and there aren't as many gentle grazes of hands and knees underneath the table.

For a second Richie thinks he might have broken something, but then he remembers who he is, and he can't help but smile at the awkwardness. He can see through it, just how badly Carmy wants to be beside you at every second, and the glances you send his way aren't in any way subtle either.

"Hey," Richie settles himself beside Carmy as the man smokes a cigarette just outside the beef, nudging Carmy's shoulder roughly with his own. "You in the dog box, huh?"

Carmy looks more than confused, brows raised as he blows out smoke, "What?"

Richie nods back toward the door of the restaurant, watching closely to see his friend's reaction as he speaks. "Your little girlfriend mad at you or something?" he's testing the waters, and it's working by Richie's standards, Carmen's shoulders tensing.

"Girlfri—, cousin what—What girlfriend?"

Richie mouths your name, his smirk growing ever wider, though he tries to act as inconspicuous as possible. It's not working though because he finds too much humour in Carmen's relationship with you. He can see how the two of you would work but keeps thinking back to when he'd caught you both in action. He can't quite believe just how much the both of you can change when you need some relief.

Carmen mutters your name a few times, trying to process with his eyes locked on Richie's "What, no we're not a thing, Cousin. Friends, we're friends" he's stuttering a little, but acts as though it means nothing at all, and Richie lets out a small laugh, snatching the cigarette from Carmy's fingers to take a breath of it himself.

"Well, your friend has been distant today, hasn't she? So, what'd you do Cousin?"

"I didn't do shit Richie, fuck off."

To that, Richie calls bullshit, as Carmy takes his cigarette back. "Look man, I'm not judging. I've been in the dog box more than once with Tif—shit that's why I'm here right now." He nudges Carmen's shoulder again, looking out toward the street. "There's no shame in fucking up love bro."

"Love?" Carmen sounds shocked, and Richie bets that if he turned to face him, he would see the wide blue eyes of the Berzatto boiling with confusion. "What the fuck does love have to do with any of this?"

It's crazy to think that Carmen himself might not see it, though Richie is sure that he does. Carmen is hiding the fact that he's been making out with you in the storeroom, sure, but Richie doubts that the man has ever been able to hide just how in love he is with you. Even before he'd caught the both of you tangled in each other Richie swore he could see the deep affection within his close friend. He'd thought it was a platonic kind of feeling, a protective love that a companion would give to someone they cared for, but now Richie knows it's more.

"Carm, she's fucked you up bad, hasn't she?" he pats the man on the back before he stands, disappearing back inside the beef. He hears Carmy shout a 'the fuck's that s'posed to mean?' and he laughs it off as he leaves, heading next for you, to see how far he can push his suggestions.

"So, Carmy." Richie is leaning up against the stove, a dangerous task considering the elements are on and cooking yet another meal. "You mad at him or something?"

You look up briefly from your work, and Richie has to admit you have a better poker face than so many others he's tried to fool.

"No, I'm not mad at anyone." You're chopping up garlic with expert skill, and you seem so calm, though Richie notices your movements falter when he speaks again.

"Really? Cause' you seemed all over him the other day, and now? I dunno, different vibe I guess." He's acting preoccupied, but he's not doing it particularly well, and he's sure you see right through him, but he sees right through you just the same.

"I'm not mad at him Richie." you wipe the excess garlic from your knife with a gloved finger, before moving onto your next task, Richie following behind you.

"So, you admit you were all over him?" He's got one eyebrow raised in question and he's so close to spilling everything he knows, but he wants to know how far you'll go to lie for what you have with Carmy.

You shake your head, and though Richie can't see your face he knows you're panicking just a little. "I didn't admit anything, Richie. You're fucking insane."

"Oh yeah, sure you didn't." He's teasing you and he knows he's so far underneath your skin that you can't possibly reach him without slipping up.

"Fuck off." you're trying to outrun him it seems, knowing that he's behind you asking questions makes you work faster as if to escape the assault.

"Defensive? Got something to hide?" He knows he's gone past the point of joking now and that it has to be obvious that he knows something if not everything.

"Cousin," Suddenly Carmy has come to the rescue as if he can sense your distress from across the kitchen, and Richie catches the warning look you give him. "Stop bothering my chef and get back to work."

Richie scoffs, arms folding over his chest in mock disbelief. "Your chef? She's your chef now?"

"Yes, Cousin," At some point Carmy has stepped in front of you, and the protective stance is doing nothing to kill the rumours Richie is trying to start. "She's my chef, I employ her, I pay her—"

"And you fuck her too." Richie finishes, and the look on both your and Carmy's faces is what he would deem to be priceless. "Yeah, I saw you two the other day, hot and heavy with the fucking frozen beef stock," he says it so matter of factly and the heads of everyone else in the kitchen seem to turn, staring wide-eyed.

"You two are doing it?" it's Tina, holding her ladle mid-way to her mouth as though she was about to taste her sauce not a moment before the announcement.

Carmy watches you shrink into yourself, the embarrassment creeping in and he shakes his head. This wasn't how you'd planned to do this, in fact, you hadn't planned to tell any of them yet at all, but the world, and Richie had other plans.

"We're not just doing it," Carmy shouts, loud enough to alert everyone in the kitchen who has their ears straining to hear. "And I would appreciate it if we didn't over-simplify things."

"Well, then what is going on?" it's Ebra, shouting from over a shelf with Fak by his side, trying to act as though he isn't invested in this turn of events.

Carmy looks to you for permission, and you nod because there really is no avoiding this anymore.

"I don't want any of you to make a big deal out of this," Carmy begins, moving back to take your hand in his own. "But this is my fucking girlfriend alright?" he gestures to you just to make a point of it, before moving on. "Now get the fuck back to work."

There's a loud cheer from Fak, who has a wide grin plastered over his features, hands clapping like an amused child. "I knew it, I knew it."

"You didn't know shit, Neil." Richie comments, practically spitting the words back at the man. He's cut off from saying anything else though when Carmy hits him in the gut, hard and fast. Richie wheezes, doubling over and giving Carmy the perfect chance to scold him.

"You're a fucking asshole, Cousin." he's mad, and the emotion is radiating off of him in waves, though the feeling is solely focused on Richie, and he can't deny that the heaviness in Carmy's words makes him a little nervous, though he acts as though it doesn't.

"Yeah, yeah, I wasn't the one slacking off work to get all touchy-feely with my girl." the statement might have had impact if not for the fact Carmen had already walked away, pulling you outside before anyone else could say a word.

"You okay?" Carmy has his hands on your shoulders, squeezing with a kind of reassurance he has found he can only give to you and though you find it a little hard to breathe, there's a sort of relief there too.

"Yeah," your voice comes as a mutter, and the fresh air on your skin holds you close, just as Carmy brings you into his own embrace.

"I know you didn't wanna tell anybody. I'm sorry—" he pauses, placing a kiss on your hair, relishing in the feeling of your arms around him and your hands splayed out across his back. "I know I make things hard, shit I'm not the best person to do this with but, you know I love you right?" He's a hopeless mess, and the sound of his voice, the words he's saying seem to echo through the bustling streets.

"Carmy," looking up at him is like an illusion, he's like a figure of your imagination, art your mind created to give you peace. "You are the only person I would ever want to do this with—this love thing, I wouldn't do it without you."

Everything you say is true, and Carmy tries to soak up every word like a sponge. He wants to write it all down, he wants to ask you to say it again. But he doesn't. He just kisses you, soft and sweet, and tries to memorise the way you smile against his lips, sharing laughter with him as everything sinks in.

The secret's out, but something about it is just as thrilling as when you were hiding it all, and for the first time in a while Carmen is properly excited about what is to come.

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @diorrfairy

GENERAL TAGLIST: @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @s00buwu @hiya-itsamber

[theycalledhimastar]

I may love Kyle, but I can totally admit when he acts like a total weirdo (he doesn't, he's perfect).

☄. *.

Alright, for starters, man takes up all the counter space with his stuff. Unlike Simon, he is very loyal to his brands and he has a longer face care routine than you do.

Just look at his perfect skin and tell me I'm wrong because you can't, that shit's flawless and he intends to keep it that way.

Every towel in the bathroom smells like him whether or not he's used it and you will never ever figure out why.

(It's because he probably used it-)

"Kyle, did you use my towel after your shower?"

"No, why?"

"Because it literally smells like your bodywash."

"How do I know you didn't just use my bodywash?"

Don't make this about me, Kyle Garrick. You know what you did, you're just lucky your shampoo is easy on the senses. He's the one task force member that seems to be able to differentiate between what smells good and what is altogether too much.

The type of guy to have long, gorgeous eyelashes and always, ALWAYS complain about them getting in his eyes.

Like suck it up pretty boy, you're literally living my dream here with those baby doll eyelashes of yours.

He also knows it pisses you off so he tries not to mention when it happens, so you'll just catch him sitting there on the couch blinking like a madman. Trying his darndest to get the annoying eyelash from his eye without drawing attention to it. Although really and truly this just makes it more noticeable and kinda funny to watch.

Applies Chapstick in that really weird way that guys do it where they make a duck face, except he's fully self aware, he just knows it weirds you out so he exaggerates it further.

"Babe what are you doing, that's not how you apply chapstick."

"What do you mean, there's no right way to do it." :0

SLEEPS WITH HIS SOCKS ON BECAUSE HIS FEET ARE ALWAYS FREEZING!!!

Like thank you for sparing me from those absolute ice blocks, but like babe, that is unnatural. It is cruel and unusual and I will not stand for it!!

(Socks stay on during sex-)

Also prolly wears long sleeves and pants to bed regardless of how warm it is because he swears its more comfortable. Bro going to bed fully dressed, all he needs are shoes smh.

On a similar note, his hands are always cold, but instead of putting them in his front pockets or his jacket pockets like a normal guy, he walks around with his hands in his back pockets given the chance.

Doesn't think it's weird, but he walks around leaned back in order to do it and it looks goofy as hell.

Willing to advocate for you and it's really sweet, except it'll be for every single little thing. Like not just ketchup that you ordered but didn't get, if you off-handedly mention that whatever you ordered is kinda cold, he is on it immediately.

"Hey, uh, my Partner here says their food is a little cold, is there any way we could fix that please?"

Like he's not rude about it, but you still want to die inside because it's not a big deal and he doesn't seem to get that you really weren't complaining or trying to get him to fix it.

[dapper-zappa]

Sweetest Kisses | Spider-Verse HCs

Featuring: 1610!Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabakhar, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: How it's like for them to be so in love with the feeling of kissing your lips with chapsticks on.

A/N: There'll be a part 2 with Peter B, Margo, Jess Drew, Ben Reilly, and Spot so stay tuned!

MILES MORALES - SPIDER-MAN

Loves how they add this little kick of flavor whenever your lips touch his, and I just KNOW for sure he'd play the chapstick challenge with you by guessing what flavor you're using right now.

"Is this one cherry flavored, ma?"

"Guess again."

"Wait wait, I think this one's watermelon?"

"Peaches and cream, actually.

"Man, why do I always lose this challenge?"

GWEN STACY - SPIDER-GWEN/GHOST SPIDER

Doesn't want to admit it (until you find it out yourself) but she loves how good the flavored chapstick tasted and smelled on your lips as an excuse to stare at your lips more just so she can get you to kiss her. Also, I feel like she'd secretly steal one of yours because come on, the lipbalm is so good, ok?

"Hey, isn't that one of my chapsticks?"

"Uh... yes"

"Gwen..."

"Fine, but I can't get enough of how good your chapstick tastes, okay? And it smells so good!"

Then you'd just kiss your silly girlfriend on the lips to satisfy her craving ;)

PAVITR PRABAKHAR - SPIDER-MAN INDIA

Thinks you're even more precious to how sweet your kisses feel with the flavored chapsticks you often wear as of now. Would definitely steal kisses from you at times and whenever he pulls away, you're faced with the biggest grin ever from your boyfriend.

"How are you this sweet, meri jaan? You're the sweetest thing I've ever met but knowing you wearing the flavored lipbalm if I kiss you makes you even sweeter."

"Maybe you're the cuter one, Pav." you booped his nose.

Cheesy, but Pavitr's your kind of cheesy, right?

HOBIE BROWN - SPIDER-PUNK

The feeling of your flavored chapstick AND the cool metal of his lip ring combined? Now that's a treat because them combined makes his kisses even better thanks to the fact he enjoyed the taste of your precious lipbalm. So whenever you pull away, he'll pull you back in for a kiss.

"Nuh uh, love. Just wanna taste ya more."

"So you wanna do it again? But wait until I finish reapplying the chapstick-"

"That can wait. Now, let me taste that again."

MIGUEL O'HARA - SPIDER-MAN 2099

I established that Miguel won't show much PDA in from others but as soon as the two of you are alone... he can't get his hands and lips off you. So like, if you're one of the people out there who prefer chapstick to lipstick, Miguel would love it too because he LOVES tasting them in your lips whenever he kisses you. He'll offer to apply it for you, only for him to ruin it by kissing you right after.

"Miguel!"

"What, cariño?"

"You ruined it!"

"Can't help it when your lips taste this good."

[malereadermaniac]

Relationship headcanons ~ Raihan x Male Reader

Random relationship headcannons with Raihan

Sorry its short

The media had a field day when some paparazzi photo got leaked of you two out on a date. Even though Raihan is extremely vain and social media-present - you're not, and your boyfriend does nothing but respect that. But once that picture was on on every gossip page on Instagram, you two decided to lean into it. If anything, it would boost Raihan's popularity more!

You now feature in videos from time to time and you even have a special segment in his match videos of you cheering him on. Raihan loves that he gets to show you off now, every single one of his instagram posts has you in it, he has about 3 highlights of just you - it's very sweet.

The region also loves you. They originally had a lot of questions (which Raihan answered in a Q&A, of course) but now everyone sees you and Raihan as THEE Galar couple - people wanna see you just as much as they do Raihan!

The muscular gym leader loves to treat you like a Prince, he figures that if he has all this money from being a gym leader and an influencer that he should put it to good use on you.

Dates almost every night, and if you two can't be bothered to go out, then you call it a movie night and cuddle until one of you falls asleep in the others' arms.

Dates with Raihan are also all inclusive - this man pays for everything! It started with your first couple of dates being treats on him, which you would protest and demand to split the bill. But later on, you slowly let Raihan pay for your dates more and more - the conversation usually going something like:

"Is today's treat on you?" Already expecting the answer to be a yes

Raihan just smugly nodding with a small smirk in the hottest way ever

"You're buying?" You ask again with a small smile forming on your face subconsciously

"Of course, love" Raihan says with his signature grin after he swallows the huge mouth of food he was munching on

You then treating him in your own way and kissing Raihan's cheek cutely, making the grown man blush.

Now that the two of you are so deep into your relationship (4 years to be exact), you don't even bother to bring a form of payment with you on dates. But you still make sure to ask Raihan if today's treat is on the house, knowing all you have in your bag is chapstick and lube.

It boosts Raihan's ego to tell you that he's paying for you, who are you to deny your boyfriend such childish pride?

The two of you pokemon battle to decide most things, or just whenever you feel like it really. And even though Raihan promises he doesn't hold back, it is strange that you beat the 8th gym leader of Galar every time the two of you scrap.

Raihan also gifted you an Eevee on your one year anniversary saying that "just like an eevee can turn into everything, you turned my life into everything" - you never expected the strong and popular Raihan to be such a sappy man! That eevee is still on your team, your ace and partner pokemon (eeveelution). And even though it's YOUR pokemon, Raihan loves it just as much.

On the topic of pokemon and battles, not only do you support your boyfriend at every single one of his matches, but you two are the Double Battle champions at the Wyndon Battle Tower - a title you two have held for a while now. You two have such great synergy during battles that you rarely have to talk to understand eachother, one of you just has to tell your pokemon to attack with a certain move and the other will know what to do next!

The biggest fan of your relationship is Leon by far! He acted as your bodyguard when the paparazzi photo leaked, keeping crazy fans and more media representatives away from you - sacrificing his time to answer their silly questions about his championship in order to give you a chance to slip away.

He's also the one who forced Raihan to actually ask you out, the charismatic man actually being a wet wipe when it came to communicating his feelings to you!

And to this day, Leon is willing to 3rd wheel you and your boyfriend - and it isn't even awkward. The two of you hang out like close friends do.

You couldn't be happier than you are with Raihan

He treats you like a God and respects you and your boundaries no matter what. And he isn't too hard on the eyes either!

You ground him when his adrenaline junkie personality gets the best of him (especially during battles) and bring up his mood if he's ever feeling down for whatever reason - you're both the light of each others lives.

[captaincapsicle83]

One Night Stand

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I don't know if anyone's noticed, but Clint Barton is my muse and he runs the cult...that I'm...in (I hope we get the reference or I sound insane). I just like writing silly Clint into my silly stories, I just noticed that theme.

TW: cursing, mentions of glass, mentions of injury,

Summary: You wake up the night after one of Tony Starks' biggest parties. And you're not in YOUR bedroom.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Tony Stark x reader (platonic), Bruce Banner x reader (platonic)

You wake up, light streaming through the blinds onto your face. You groan. This is why you got rid of the blinds, light always came through them.

...wait a minute.

You already got rid of the blinds.

You shot up in your bed. The bed. It wasn't yours. This pillow wasn't yours, this black comforter wasn't yours, and these clothes...

Holy mother fucker of Odinson.

You weren't wearing any clothes.

"What the fuck?" You say, out loud and clear. Something stirs in the bed.

You look over in horror, and an unidentified lump is hidden beneath the covers.

Okay, you think. Nows your chance. Nows your chance to be a reasonable adult, and talk this out with this person.

(Within seconds you have gathered your lost articles of clothing and dashed out of the strangers room).

You were lucky in a sense, the sense being that this person lived in the tower that your best friend owned. Him and all his avenger friends lived here, and he gave you a room on his floor that you used sometimes.

Oh shit.

You slept with an avenger.

And it wasn't even Thor. He wasn't ok earth right now. That sucked. He was on your bucket list.

You sat on your bed, pouting mostly, wanting desperately to nurse your throbbing hangover.

You didn't quite have the guts to leave the room just yet. You remembered the in-building AI right at that moment.

"Friday," you croacked out. Your mouth was horribly dry, and you were also in desperate need of some chapstick. "Where's Tony?"

You weren't sure exactly the extent of what the AI could do, but she seemed happy to answer you.

"Mr. Stark is in his lab, accompanied by Dr. Banner. Would you like me to page him for you?"

"Can I just...go there?" You asked. Your room was much darker, having black out curtains instead of blinds.

Curse the blinds. And their creator. Edward Bevan. Curse him.

"Of course, Miss L/n."

Luckily for you, you knew where Tony's lab was, and what floor number to press in the elevator.

You kept your eyes closed on the blinding ride down, the bright fluorescent lights giving you an aneurysm.

The lights in the lab were even worse.

You walked into the room, eyes squinted and using your hands to shield yourself. Tony clearly found this hilarious, chuckling like an idiot.

Not even chuckling. The bastard was giggling.

"Lights not made for a hangover sweetheart," He shook his head, and you shit him a snarl and a death glare. Bruce gave you a sympathetic look and was holding out a bottle of water.

"You know any trusted detectives?" You asked, smiling at Bruce, and taking the drink from him gratefully.

"Ooh, for what?" Tony asked, looking intrigued. "Spill the tea sis."

You did, two mouths were agape when you finished.

After a minute of silence, Tony whips his head towards Bruce, "Was it-?"

"No!" Bruce scowls, then cringes and looks at you. "Not that-...I'm not saying...I wasn't even drinking last night, I would remember."

"Oh-kay," Tony says, exasperated. "We'll it wasn't me-"

"Thank god."

"It wasn't...Thor."

"Unfortunately."

"And it wasn't Peter...he doesn't have a room here."

"And he's a child!" You mention, giving Tony a disgusted look.

He waves you off, tapping a little metal tool to his forehead, presumably to help him think.

"Anything you remember? Did you get a look at them?"

You think about what you could possibly remember. Last thing last night was downing shots with Tony and a bunch of his friends, and getting told names you didn't commit to memory.

"They still have blinds in their room," you throw out there, shrugging. Nothing else came to mind.

"Friday," Tony calls out. "How many avengers on the 93rd floor have blinds in their room still?"

"About 7 sir," she answers. The only woman who would ever call Tony Stark, and the likes of him, sir.

"Which ones?"

"Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, Vision, Miss Romanoff, Mr. Barton, Mr. Barnes, and Dr. Banner."

"Yay!" Tony says, and you can't pin if it was sarcastic. "That leaves six."

"Yay," you and Bruce both answer monotonously.

"Hmm," Tony taps his chin. "Do you think putting out a message, asking who got laid recently, would be too bold."

"A little," you responded, arms crossed.

Tony sat down at his table, you following, and poor Bruce too, who clearly was sucked into this against his better judgement.

"You don't happen to remember what room?"

You did not. You had dashed so quickly, and it all kinda looked the same.

"Who do you want it to be?" Tony whispered. "We can just...let you pick and say you did 'em."

"Bartons kinda hot," you shrugged.

"Bartons kinda married," Tony mimicked your expression.

"He was...big...er..."

"Are you fat shaming your fuck buddy y/n?"

"No! I'm just saying...They werent...I dont think it was Natasha."

"Yeah, neither do I. So, assuming Bartons faithful, that leaves three men and a robot."

"Does vision have a-..."

"No."

"So then, that's three men," you say.

○○○

Tony invited you to lunch with the team. Subtle.

You, him, and poor Bruce (still looped into the mess) stood at the back of the room.

"Okay, so...I was thinking," Bruce starts. Tony looks surprised at the input and begs him to go on. "Well, if everyone's here, you can go look at those threes rooms, and see if they look...familiar?"

Bruce's suggestion let's a hush fall over the three of you.

○○○

The first room you entered, Sam Wilson's. You knew immediately it wasn't the right one, it being surprisingly bright in nature.

But, you were a nosy little fucker, and therefore when you saw the pictures that, from afar, looked a lot like Captain America fanart, you had to take a gander.

A few cellphone photos later, and you stuffed the drawings back into the drawer they were sticking out of. You thought about the luxury snooping would be, but figured your luck was being pressed already.

The next room was right next to it, belonging to Bucky Barnes.

You turned the handle of the door, carefully making your way in while watching the hallway. You had to be sure no one saw you enter.

Your back still to the room, you carefully and quietly shut the bedroom door. You had your phone still out, in your right hand.

You turned around, and dropped the Stark branded cellphone to the ground. It was new, without a case, therefore you were probably shit out of luck.

You didn't have time to check on it though, because your bright ass didn't check the room for occupants.

Well, occupant. The occupant.

Bucky Barnes.

The blinds were open, shining midday light into the room. The dark bedding was in a disarray ok the mattress, a clear indicator of a rush out of it.

The man looked at you, mouth slightly agape. Your mind was racing, a thousand miles a minute, trying to find a good way to break the silence.

"Did I have have sex with you?" You wanted to slap yourself silly.

He seems to have to take the time to pick his jaw up off the floor. He clears his throat (ew, fuck, was that attractive? Were you attracted to that?), and says, "Well...maybe I need to explain a few things."

"Do you?" You question, your voice about ten octaves above where it normally sat. How many times could you ask yourself, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He seemed to swallow (and you only noticed because you were absolutely OGLING his features), and trys to talk, coming up with nothing.

He motions for you to sit down on the little couch he had, matching his dark aesthetic.

"Let me just tell you what happened last night."

○○○

"Do you still have a dartboard?!" You screamed into Tony's ear. No reason to. It was the after party of the real party, the only people left were the residents of the tower.

"Ooh! Yes! Darts!" Tony hopped up, like a joyful child.

"No!" Steve grabbed the back of Tony's shirt, pulling him back. Tony's dramatic ass flopped himself onto the floor, whining like a toddler.

"I never get to do anything fun!"

You had abandoned the idea of darts, and were now playing a game of dodgeball with Clint. Except that there were no balls, only drinking glasses.

It was around that time the sober members elected to take the drunkest of the drunk to bed.

Steve took Tony, Bucky chose you over Clint (leaving Nat stuck with him).

Clint collapsed himself to the floor, smashing his knee on a pile of drinking glass shards (you had missed).

"Point by omission!" You yelled like a battle cry.

Bucky touched your shoulder, "Cmon doll, let's head to bed."

"For you? Anything!" You threw the glass you were holding in Clints direction, and he screamed at you in Arabic (no one knew Clint spoke Arabic. Upon questioning, neither did he).

Bucky got you to the hallway, and that was about as much as he could do without picking you up and carrying you to bed, which he admitted he would have if you didn't scream in protest when he tried.

He led you to your room, and left.

He got in his bed, closed his eyes, and let out a breath. Before he could process the sound of his door open, you catapulted yourself onto the bed.

Apparently, he tried to send you back a couple times, but after that you would start removing articles of clothing everytime you came in.

Well, that explained that situation.

"So I eventually just let you stay," Bucky shrugged. "I was tired."

You couldn't decided whether to laugh or cry, finally saying, "Holy fuck, I'm so sorry."

Bucky let out a loud laugh, his smile cresting dimples under his eyes, "Trust me, don't worry about it. Steve is a much worse drunk."

"I'm gonna need that story."

"I could tell it to you over dinner," You almost don't take it in before saying yes. You only hesitate slightly, before smiling and agreeing.

That smooth fucker.

[harcove]

(Ear)ring - B.H.

a/n: not a request this time, whew, but I hope everyone likes this all the same! I actually really liked writing this one and do not immediately hate it lmao, this idea just came to me a few nights ago lmao

length: 2.5k

warnings: none? fluff? ig ooc billy but like is it really ooc if this how i write him lmao

pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

summary: you want something to wear that's billy's, but all of his rings are too big for you, so there's always something else.

If it were anyone else in his room, looking through his things and touching them, Billy might've snapped. He might've been a bit more cagey, paid a bit more attention. But it was you, and as far as he was concerned there wasn't a thing in his room he needed to hide from you. The worst thing you'd find was a stupid magazine, but he already had a porn star poster on his wall. Had since long before the two of you started dating. At this point, it filled empty space on his walls.

Besides, you were part of him at this point. Billy had no qualms with you being in his space, touching his things. You knew what he didn't like you doing and vice versa at this point.

So, while you look through his tapes, he lays on his bed leaning against the backboard, a book opened in one hand while the other rests behind his head. His stereo playing one of the tapes he had made in collaboration with you. The music taste between the two of you had been on two sides of a spectrum but sharing them with one another was the only time Billy enjoyed your music taste. If anyone else tried to make him listen to it, he'd hate it.

When the final song finished, you pulled the tape out and put another one inside, this time the music was definitely a mix he had made only for himself, yet you still smiled while it played.

Seemingly bored of your rummaging through his various tapes of music, you pulled yourself off the floor, making an exaggerated sound like you were an older person getting out of bed. You had a little hop to your step when you stood straight and made a beeline for his dresser, covered in various trinkets.

"The fuck was that?" Billy questions the noise you made, looking away from the book Hard Times and looking to you, "sounded like an old ass man."

You shrug, "just practicing for when I'm an old lady."

"Keep practicing," he rolls his eyes and turns back to his book.

He doesn't see it, but he knows you're sticking your tongue out at him like a child.

On his dresser are a variety of things. A shirt he haphazardly threw on top rather than putting it away or in the laundry bin, a few different hair products that he liked to use, chapstick that you left at his house so if you forgot your other one you could use this one when you were there (he also used it too now), a few tapes he hadn't put away, a random book, and a little dish with different rings inside.

The dish was what beckoned your attention as you began to look through it.

Billy had a lot of rings. All of them were rather thick, made of silver or something else of the same colour. Some had designs on them, but most were rather plain to look at. He didn't wear them all at once, but somedays he'd wear a few on his hands. Sometimes he'd switch one out for another. But the one ring he never took off was one that had belonged to his mother. It was on his hand always.

Plucking a simpler ring from the dish, one that also looked a bit smaller than the others, you put it on your index finger. Too big. You tried your ring finger. Nope, way too big. Your thumb. Still no. It felt weird, definitely not meant for that finger.

Going through a few more, it gave you the same results. Rings too big for your smaller hands; it truly put into perspective just how much bigger Billy was than you in almost every aspect there was. Taller than you, buffer than you, bigger hands, feet.

You sighed dramatically, "you have huge hands you know?"

Billy looks up from his book again, this time looking at you almost as if you'd grown another head. To others, he likely would have come across as annoyed, but you knew how to read his face better than others.

And suddenly it's turning from mild confusion to a smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes. You'd given him a perfect opening you realize, preparing yourself for whatever his brain had prepared for you.

"There are a lot of things about me that are big sweetheart," he almost purrs when he speaks. He sounds confident, snarky, and amused. If you weren't across the room you'd have playfully hit his shoulder gently.

But as it was, the best you could give him was a pointed look and a few words.

"Sure," you respond with an eye roll, "sometimes you are so..."

You look for a word that expresses itself properly but find yourself coming up empty; Billy however is quick on the draw- he always is.

"Sexy, the best fuck-" He offers words without much thought, only looking into your eyes- blue ones piercing through you as he smirks. He knows what he's doing. He always does.

"Annoying," you quickly cut off his words, huffing as your ears heat up, "I was thinking of the word annoying."

"That's not what you said the other night in your room."

"Oh my God, Billy."

"Yeah, that's more like what you were saying."

This time you don't even bother to offer him a response, too flustered to even try. You know it will be thrown back at you as you inevitably give him more ammunition to tease.

Instead, you puff your cheeks out akin to a child and turn your back to him once more busying yourself with the dish of rings in front of you on the dresser. Picking some of them up and looking at them in your hands but not really noticing them anymore.

Billy watches you fully now, dog-earing the page of his book he's stopped on instead of using a bookmark (he'd lose that shit so fast, and really, this is much faster and easier to do) and throws his book to the side on his bed. Stretching his muscles out a bit, he moves to stand to his full height, putting his arms up to stretch and then letting them fall.

Either you're ignoring him and what he's doing, or you're really enraptured with the rings in the dish. Billy is fairly sure it's the former.

It doesn't stop him from slithering his way up behind you and resting his heavy hands on your waist, digging his fingers into your sides roughly, but not enough to actually hurt you.

It elicits a small noise from your lips, one that emboldens the dirty blonde behind you as he pulls his body fully against your back, capturing you in his firm grasp.

His head dips to rest his chin on your shoulder and so he can peer into your face and gauge your emotions. Get your attention. But you're stubborn, and even though he can physically feel the way your body melts a smidge into his own, enjoying his presence and touch.

Your body always gave you away.

Your eyes stayed trained on the ring in your hand however and Billy watched the way you played with it.

"You want one?" He asks you, waiting. If he could pull you closer into his body he would.

You don't answer, trying your hardest to keep up the act of silence against him for teasing you. You aren't that mad in reality, it's just the principle of the thing you started.

And part of you enjoys the moves he makes to coax you to speak.

"You can take one," he continues, taking the ring out of your hand behind you and taking one of your smaller hands into his, slipping the ring onto one of your fingers where it sits loosely, not fitting whatsoever, "small ass fuckin' hands."

There's something about how he puts the silly little (it is not little and it's probably silver plated or platinum) ring onto your finger that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

It's the imagery of him doing so that makes you feel a spark. Makes you feel something deep in the pit of your stomach, something telling you that one day you hope he does this again, but for a different reason and with a ring that fits.

But that wasn't important right now. You were still young.

"Yeah, like I said... You have big hands," you finally speak, clearing your throat nervously, "It's too bad. Wearing something that's yours would be nice."

"You wear my shit all the time. Isn't that my shirt?"

It was, in fact, his shirt.

"That's not what I mean, I mean something like this. That I don't have to take off... It's like... Having a piece of you with me, all the time. No matter how far we are from one another or whatever happens to either of us, it's like a piece of you is with me always."

It was so cliché. And Billy's continued silence after you spoke only made you cringe at yourself. Albeit the words were true, and you meant them from the bottom of your heart, you also recognized how silly and corny it sounded. Billy wasn't corny, he wasn't mushy and soft like that. He had to be rolling his eyes you just couldn't see.

"Okay, go ahead and laugh."

But rather, Billy was just staring. Not rolling his eyes, making any jokes. You couldn't see this because he was still behind you, your back pressed against his front. But he wasn't preparing himself to laugh or make fun.

If you were anyone else, maybe he would have. If he heard someone else say something like that to someone he would've rolled his eyes and thought it was the corniest shit ever. But this wasn't the case.

It was you. And it made his chest tighten. The implication that one day maybe there was a possibility that life could tear you away from him or vice versa wasn't something that Billy liked to think about or entertain.

As far as he was concerned, nothing could happen. Not if he didn't think about it in the moment.

Pulling himself away from you suddenly, you missed the sudden loss of his warmth and his body against yours, the way his hands molded around your body.

You worried for a moment that you'd said something wrong. But you couldn't get a word in as you watched him move around his room.

Billy was on a mission, he went to a dresser beside his bed and knelt down. Inside the drawer was where he kept the few earrings he had and liked to wear in his single pierced ear.

He didn't like leaving them out in the open. His father used the fact he had his ear pierced against him. Neil would probably throw them out or use them as more ammunition against his son if he saw them sitting out.

Picking out one of the earrings- one that dangled- Billy stood up straight again and made his way back to you.

He took your chin into one of his hands and tilted your head to the side, then tilted it to the other side before settling it back to look directly at him.

"Left or right?"

"What?"

"Left or right, Jesus, which ear do you want this in?"

He dangled the earring in his hand in front of your face, as if it was obvious what he wanted and you were just annoying him.

In reality, he was very much unused to this- this feeling and the actions he was taking.

"Oh, right-" you quickly catch on as your heart swells, taking your small stud silver earring out from your left ear, holding it in your hand, waiting.

Billy's hands are gentle. Actually very gentle in this moment. You know him to be heavy-handed- not on purpose. The way he holds your hand is tighter than other people might, or the way he holds you is tight and you're always pulled against him. In bed, he's leaving his fingers indented on your body. He's never hurt you, but by default, he's rougher than other people.

But right now, as he takes the dangly earring and holds it so close to your ear, he is the most gentle you've ever seen him. He's so carefully placing the earring into the small hole in your earlobe, making sure it's in and not going to come out.

His fingers are warm against your ear and skin, and it feels peaceful. The way his knuckles brush against the side of your face as he puts the earring in. You just want him near you.

Billy's hands pull away once the piece of jewelry is secure, taking your face in his hands again, slightly squeezing your cheeks together as he does so. Seemingly admiring his handiwork and his earring in your ear, his face that he'd been keeping neutral seems to brighten a smidge and you note the upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"Looks good," he says suddenly, turning your face to look into the mirror on his wall.

The earring moves at the movement, dangling and touching the skin below your ear softly and it sort of tickles. But he's right, it does look good. Maybe it's a bit odd in contrast to your other ear, stud alone while the other is more dramatic, but you love it all the same. It's his, it's him, and he's letting you wear it.

"Give me your earring."

His hand is out expectantly, waiting for you to drop the object he's referring to into his open palm. Focused on admiring the earring in your ear and the warm feeling in your stomach, it confuses you for a few seconds as he moves his hand in a motion that repeats his previous words but this time only in his actions.

You place the object into his hand and he's easily moving, removing the small hoop he decided to wear in his ear that day and putting it on the dresser beside the dish of rings as he pulls the back off your simple silver stud.

He slips it into his own piercing hole and closes the back as if it's second nature, not messing up or having trouble finding where the hole is. 

It looks so simple for someone like Billy Hargrove. It's a little circle stud, not a hoop or a dangly piece. But it makes your eyes widen and fill with the beginning of tears.

It's the act of him doing this that makes you want to cry. The fact that he didn't just leave it at giving you his earring to wear, but also wearing yours in return. It is so goddamn cheesy, corny, cliché maybe. But your heart doubles in size when you look at him.

"Not as cool as my earring but..." he looks at himself in the mirror, making you turn to look as well, facing a reflection of the two of you with his earring in your ear and one of yours in his, "It's you."

It's you. That's how you feel. It's him. And it will always be him.

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Making out with them

❖ Characters: Shidou, Aryu, Gagamaru

❖ Reader: genderneutral

❖ Summary: What it's like to make out with them

❖ WARNINGS: suggestive

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | Requested.

☰ Shidou:

ꕤ Shido was never shy when it came to you and PDA, he would show you off like the biggest price - no shame

ꕤ He's also not afraid to kiss you in public, hands gently pulling you against his body, lips caressing yours and if anyone was watching he loved to make them uncomfortable, shoving his tongue into your mouth

ꕤ but behind closed doors he can be much more gentle

ꕤ still pulling you in by your waist, craving to feel your body against his but his kisses were so much more gentle

ꕤ Sweet kisses littered over your lips with a hint of playfulness

ꕤ Shido gets completely lost in the kisses you two share, playful yet passionate and he moans so loud when you slip your tongue into his mouth, taking the lead for just a moment

ꕤ it doesn't last long before he's pinning you against the wall, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth when you gasp from the sudden change of mood

ꕤ you can feel him grinning into the kiss, knowing he has you exactly where he wanted you to be

ꕤ the way his kisses made you forget time and space completely was still stealing your breath, not registering how his hands wandered from your hips to your ribcage below your shirt

ꕤ only when he gently squeezes you, grabbing at your skin just below your chest you're pulled back to reality, meeting a mischievous grin, wordlessly asking you to take things further

☰ Aryu:

ꕤ Chances are big that Aryu is taller than you and he adores the fact, cupping your cheeks gently and leaning down to kiss you with utmost care

ꕤ his movements are calculated, calm and gentle, treating you like you're gonna fall apart if he's even slightly more rough

ꕤ Aryus lips are the softest pair of lips you will ever get to kiss, always tasting slightly like his strawberry chapstick but never sticky

ꕤ He likes to tower over you or have you on top of him if you're sitting or laying down, liking how beautiful the light illuminates your features and making you look like an angel

ꕤ His kisses make your head spin, gently sucking on your bottom lip before letting go and giving you a sweet smile, checking in if you're still enjoying yourself

ꕤ He can't help himself but to get lost at how pretty you are, lips still shining from the kiss you two previously shared and before you know it, his lips are on yours again - addicted to you

ꕤ you can feel him shudder beneath you if you take your fingers through his silk like hair, moaning softly into the kiss when you start tugging on some strands

ꕤ use this chance to slip your tongue into his mouth, caressing his tongue with yours and he will turn into a puddle

ꕤ He likes it when you lead the kiss and caress him and if you'd like to go further, just start tugging on his hair and clothes - he likes it a little rough.

☰ Gagamaru:

ꕤ Kissing Gagamaru is primal, all tongues and teeth clashing because he just can't hold back

ꕤ He does whatever feels right, no matter what it is, acting on pure instinct so it's no surprise that his hands roam your body or hold you closer, not wanting to part the kiss

ꕤ A lot of times he prefers you to sit in his lap while making out so he can grab you wherever his long arms can reach or just wrap them around you to hold you close

ꕤ other times he likes to lay on top of you, almost smothering you with his body but he's so desperate to be close to you, his tongue inside of your mouth like it belongs there

ꕤ he doesn't mean to but sometimes when you start whimpering into the kiss from how good his kisses alone make you feel, he grips onto your thighs a little too hard

ꕤ Gagamaru only parts from the kiss if you tap his shoulder twice or he desperately needs to catch a breath, otherwise he would kiss you for hours on end

ꕤ He also doesn't care what you or anyone else thinks, he moans and grunts a lot, his body needing to vocalize how good you make him feel with your lips, your tongues dancing with each other

ꕤ most times things lead from one thing to the other naturally, his hungry kisses working you up

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[todostiddies]

Eren Boyfriend Headcanons pt 3

Modern Eren headcanons for GNreader, a continuation of pt 1, pt 2

*** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ***

watched youtube and tik tok tutorials on how to take better pictures because he wants to impress you

but also thinks you're worthy of only an actual photographer you're so beautiful to him and so he want to fill his camera roll (and his insta!) with you and make it look worthy

this also shows because he lowkey becomes like the photographer in the group that sometimes when he's feeling sentimental and/or drunk he'll heckle the group on nights out for pictures and pull the whole "we're gonna grow old one day and need these to look back on" line

he also begins to take really artful photos sometimes?? and people get a little shook cause he'll have a great perspective and shot and then other times he holds his finger up to the camera to make it look like a butt in front of every other picture lmao

if he gives you a bite of something hot he'll blow on it for you first <33 and then he'll bring it to your mouth and feed you and sometimes make you blush just from his insane unblinking stare as he gauges your reaction lol

but if people are eating with you guys and conversation is flowing don't be surprised if Eren eats the bite he just prepared for you because he got too distracted

then he'll look to you all shocked like it wasn't his own hand lmao and he'll give you a cheeky smile or a pout before making another bite for you or he'll pull the iconic cheesy line "just checking for poison babe" with an embarrassed blush

judges horror movies like it's his full-time job

literally will ruin some movies or moments for you by commenting or joking about the characters and set up too much (he does it because he's secretly afraid and has to diffuse his own tension and keep a brave face for you)

has a drawer of letter's he's written to you as a suggestion from his therapist, so sometimes after fights or feelings of pent up love or other feelings he doesn't know how to verbalize he'll write them all down and it's helped with your guys' communication a lot since it gives him time to process and figure out how to say things

he plans on giving you the letters on a big anniversary or the night before your wedding

if he's in a good mood he will dramatically swing your arm while holding hands

sometimes he wordlessly plops his headphones on your head at random times and plays a song for you to hear then looks at you for your reactions and finally for your spoken opinion when he takes them off your head with a raised brow

he hates doing his homework but likes to help you with yours, and if you're burnt out or fall asleep working he'll often times do some of the work for you or help speed the assignment along (with your consent and he's learned all your writing and work styles so he can mimic you pretty well but I don't condone academic dishonesty obvi but lets be real we've all been there)

whiner

whines when he wants your attention

and whines when he gets it (if you know what I mean wink wink)

back to the photos, he has SO many photos of you and of you guys together. But he doesn't just take them and keep them, he'll shove the photo in your face and make you give yourself at least four compliments and then at least one about his photography skills lol

will randomly make eye-contact with you and plaster on the biggest smirk before lifting up his shirt to flash you his abs and v-line when he's in a good mood (and horny)

sometimes when you guys study together and he gets bored he'll take one of your open notebooks or planner and scribble in the margins and fill it with little compliments and song recs for you to find later

if he is shit talking someone this man simply does not care who hears it

he'll be so loud and bold about it too

"Eren, they're right behind you?"

"So?"

whenever you put on chapstick or anything on your lips he says "gimme a taste" and then kisses you

he'll always give a review too. like about the flavor to texture and mostly it's raving but there has been some snubs

a fry stealer to the very worst degree

always wants a sip of whatever you're drinking and if he likes it then that's your and his drink now

big fan of Zelda and always tells you that he'd be your Link if any dark calamity took you

also gets super giddy when you play Zelda in Mario Kart or Super Smash cause then he gets to pick Link even if Link isn't always the best to play with (which is an actual Nintendo crime but maybe I just suck at playing Link lol)

gets so fucking mean when playing Mario Kart as in he will throw every obstacle your way and does NOT let you win and is not above resorting to straight up distracting you or messing you up while playing

will sometimes steal Zeke's bike and take you on rides on it

he'll go fast with just himself but always keeps it under 60mph with you if even that

hums to himself while cooking <33

he can cook but he can't bake because he likes to play around with recipes a lot (by play around I mean he won't have ingredients and is too lazy to go to the store to get them so he wings it)

likes you to taste test his food

and there's always one candle half melted in his kitchen from yalls dinner dates <33

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[constantcrying]

Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

[gh0stswh0re]

i literally can not stfu, so here's what i think könig looks like:

his nose is kinda big, slightly (and i mean just barely) crooked to the right. a fight broke out at a bar, and a random ass guy smashed könig's nose in, breaking it. (just definitely don't imagine him standing up, straightening his back and groaning as he wipes the blood off his face, tasting it)

has rlly cute lips, is also absolutely obsessed w chapstick. but deadass his lips r so pretty, i just know it. he has a little scar going up his lower lip - almost fully healed, he's had it for as long as he can remember.

his jawline is literally perfect - chiseled, but not too much. he has a habit of clenching his jaw and not to be a hoe on the main, but just the thought of looking up to him as u are down on ur knees and he's biting down on his shirt or clenching his teeth together is MAKING ME ABSOLUTELY FERAL AND I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE

dirty blonde hair, buzzed down.

has barely visible freckles on his cheeks - they were a lot more prominent when he was younger and he even got teased because of it.

has a slit in his left eyebrow - it was a bet, when he first joined the army and desperately wanted to impress the other guys. getting shit faced, he took his pocket knife and clumsily shaved a line in his eyebrow - the thing is that it never grew back properly.

doesn't like it when u stare at him (for too long, and being too close to him), because he can't help but think u are picking up on the small details of his appearance, but he does the same thing to u - admiring u as u sleep curled up next to him or after he pulls away from a kiss.

[ddejavvu]

Nsfw M for Anakin pls😍😍 thank you mei😵‍💫🫂

request a letter of the alphabet for your favorite character!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

what doesn't turn anakin on? anakin focuses more on you than on what you're doing. that's not to say he doesn't like what you're doing, it's that he always likes what you're doing. you could just hold eye contact with him for maybe ten seconds straight and he'd pop a boner. 'all you have to do is breathe and he's into you' yeah because he gets to watch your chest rise and fall. he gets to stare at your tits. he gets to watch the muscles in your jaw work as you listen to whoever it is that's holding your attention. he gets to watch your ass while you walk. etc etc etc. he can control himself enough to get through the day, he's not just constantly painfully hard he's a little bit constantly painfully hard, but make no mistake, there's very little that you could do that wouldn't turn him on if the time is right. and it happens a lot when the time isn't right, too. you guys sneak away a lot.

but, of course there's certain things that really get him going. a staredown as mentioned above does it, because it's like a challenge, and anakin skywalker has never backed down from a challenge. plus it means he gets to act all high and mighty when he 'wins' the challenge.

he really likes it if/when you wear chapstick/lipgloss/lipstick, etc. not only feeling the remnants of it if you kiss him, but watching you apply it... makes him think a little too much about the last time you had something prodding at your lips. honestly he might try to rub his dick up against your lips and coat them with precum like it's lipgloss 'cause he's a sicko. he'll want pictures of you like that, too, with his cum smeared all over your lips.

he likes it when you roll up your sleeves and help him tinker with stuff. even if you're not really doing anything/don't know how, he likes watching you try. and he gets a little ego boost out of how he's better at it than you, if i'm being honest here, because he's anakin. he'll gladly do the wrap-around-from-behind-and-put-his-hands-on-yours-to-help-you thing and all of a sudden you're not tinkering with droid parts anymore ! he also likes it when you actually physically get dirty. if you've got grime on your hands or a smear of something oily and greasy on your cheek he gets hard.