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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Text

happy birthday loser; jjk x reader; 18+

summary: after three years of simping over your roommate, you give him one hell of a birthday celebration. idiots to lovers pwp oneshot. literally zero plot

warnings: explicit smut, mutual thirsting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting, loud filthy (unprotected) sex. wrap before u tap

a/n: happy birthday jungkook! this is my first oneshot in 4+ years so be gentle w me please, usually i prefer to write series but i wanted to challenge myself and ofc write something special for everybody's favourite maknae's birthday. enjoy!

word count: 8k

On Thursdays you cook burgers for dinner.

But today isn’t just a regular Thursday.

It’s your roommates birthday, his twenty-fifth to be exact, so when you ventured to the grocery store last night you were sure to pick up the ingredients for his favourite meal in preparation for tonight. Samgyeopsal.

Pork belly is his favourite meat, you’ve been subjected to many a conversation about how tasty he finds it, how it’s the right balance of protein and fat, how it goes with anything, how he likes to wrap the succulent meat in lettuce leaves before submerging it into sauce and shoving it into his mouth.

It’s his favourite food without a shadow of a doubt. And so you’ve taken it upon yourself to cook it for him on his birthday. He is your favourite person after all, without a shadow of a doubt.

Jungkook moved in with you three years ago, at a very dark time in your life when you were wallowing in your post-breakup blues. You initially met the triple threat of tall, dark and handsome Jungkook at an open mic night when he struck up a conversation with you at the local bar.

As if being gorgeous isn’t enough, he’s a very talented singer and guitarist too, he and his grungy rock band like to play at bars and clubs on weekends. When he’s not busy at his nine to five as a software engineer, where he’s due to be leaving any minute now.

The more you got to know him you quickly realised he’s somewhat of a loser. Not a loser in the sense of having no friends and nothing significantly interesting about him – not in the slightest. Jungkook is a loser in the sense that he’s extremely introverted, painfully so, and lacks social skills.

He prefers to stay home after a gig, he doesn’t care for parties or girls or even much alcohol. He loves the quiet life, spending most evenings glued to his laptop to play videogames or sat beside you on the sofa binging something on Netflix. When he's not running his expert fingers over the nooks and crannies of his guitar.

Truthfully you’ve been kind of infatuated with him for a while now, he’s just so endearing and rib-shatteringly hilarious without even trying. It’s hard not to fall for him. His smile is earth-shatteringly perfect, his touch more so. You are but a woman after all, and a woman has needs and desires just like everybody else.

Jungkook being what you both need and desire daily.

At the time you met him a relationship was the last thing on your mind. Him moving into your spare bedroom was just a way to make up the rent and bill money your ex-boyfriend used to pay. But now you’re three years single save for the very occasional one night stand and Jungkook has never looked more appealing.

Maybe it’s the way he helps you reach snacks on the highest shelf when your tiptoes fail you. Perhaps it has a little something to do with the sweet melodies that flow from his pierced lips, flooding the apartment whenever he showers. It could be the fact he likes to ‘air-dry’ and parades around the place wearing nothing but a damp towel after said showers. Or it might have something to do with the way the supple skin beneath his big brown doe-eyes crinkles when he smiles.

But maybe, maybe, it’s because he’s everything you never realised you were looking for – until it quite literally showed up on your doorstep and moved in.

Okay so maybe you’re down bad for your roommate, but who in their right mind wouldn’t be? If you had to pick one word to describe Jungkook it would be… Perfect, handsome, funny, sweet, sentimental, ripped, gorgeous, talented. Any of those work just fine, it would be an insult to simply pick just one.

One of the many perks about living with Jungkook is that you’re both organised messy people, sure there’s some clutter here and there throughout the apartment but you both know damn sure what junk is where. Your personalities match, you don’t make the rules, they just do. All your friends say it, as do his friends. You'd be a show-stopping couple for sure.

It’s just that well… The man is somewhat emotionally constipated, can’t smell what’s right under his nose no matter how many hints you’ve given. Like a nose-blind lion on the prowl, there's a willing zebra right here, but he hasn't seemed to notice.

Wearing low-cut shirts at dinner, skirts that are a little too short, always making sure your makeup is clean and dewy looking even when wearing sweats. The innocent flirting that’s nowhere near innocent on your end. You shower him with compliments on the daily, being sure you don't appear too indifferent or nonchalant about it. You mean every compliment you've ever given him.

You like him, but you didn’t realise how frustrating that would prove to be giving his obliviousness.

But that all ends tonight.

You’re wearing a simple black slip dress, the smooth fabric ending just below the curve of your ass and the straps are so dainty that he’s bound to notice your exposed cleavage. Maybe even the lace trim of your sheer bra too, complete with a matching thong of course.

It’s not uncommon for you to get dressed up randomly, even before Jungkook moved in, you’ve always liked making an effort and looking pretty. It makes you feel good, confident even. You even went as far as to shave today, ensuring you're extra smooth, yknow just in case.

It's been a whole eleven months since you invited a guy back here, and the outcome was less than satisfying. Much like all your sexual endeavours, he got his and all you got was the ick. You haven’t seen the guy since.

It’s been a hot minute since Jungkook invited a girl back here too, maybe even over a year now. The way your roommate likes to saunter around half-dressed with long, messy brunette hair and a wicked smile has always affected you, made your mouth dry and your panties damp. Truthfully you don’t understand how a guy like that is single, well maybe it's because he doesn’t appear to have a radar for women, but you’re grateful nonetheless.

Black helium balloons fill your lounge, the big ‘25’ being the most obvious. You’ve spent the day mentally preparing for this, you want to show him how much you appreciate everything he does for you and celebrate his birthday properly. From him always prepping extra breakfast in the mornings just to make sure you’ve eaten, to his inked fingertips giving you back massages when you’ve hit the gym a little too hard. He’s usually the one to cook dinner most nights, so tonight you want to return the favour with a smile.

You’re just about to start prepping dinner when the unmistakable sound of his key in the door sends a rush of excitement through you. He’s home.

“Hey loser.” Jungkook’s voice is casual when he slips into the apartment, you’re too busy reapplying lip gloss to get a good look at him just yet.

“Good evening.” You chuckle, clamping the handheld mirror shut and sliding it into a kitchen draw.

You don’t know when it started, nor who started it. But the two of you like to use the term loser as a term of… almost endearment. It’s an inside joke between you both, friends and family members often gasp at the nickname you have for each other but for you? The word loser started to make your heart flutter and squeeze a long time ago. Finally you peer to the doorway and acknowledge him with a kind smile, one he’s reciprocating already.

“Happy birthday loser.”

As always he looks good enough to eat. His chiselled yet soft features, tanned skin, the little beauty mark nestled just beneath those very inviting lips of his. The muscles that threaten to tear through the fabric of his clothes. The tattoos that peak out from his sleeve cuffs. The piercings, his long dark hair that parts in the middle and frames those very handsome, genetic lottery winning features of his. You fight a teenage-like sigh, just looking at him is enough to make your heart race.

“What’s all this..?” His eyes scan the room as he shimmies out of his blazer, leaving him in a black shirt tucked into slacks of the same colour. His favourite colour is black, almost everything he owns is black, hence the fitting colour of the birthday decorations. “Are you making pork?” His angled chin tips in your direction, lazy footsteps bringing him closer.

“Mhm.” You nod, suppressing a grin, “You like pork belly, right? I thought it was your favourite.”

He’s nodding along to the sound of your voice, still smiling, “No I do, it is. It’s just we usually have burgers on a Thursday.”

“Ahh, but today isn’t just Thursday,” You remind him with a mischievous wink, “It’s your birthday, Thursday the 1st of September.”

“Congratulations you know how to read my drivers license.” Jungkook snorts when he props himself onto the kitchen countertop, next to your little workstation, “You look nice.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t have to do all this yknow.”

“I wanted to.” You hum, turning on the stove.

“But what if I already have plans to celebrate my birthday?” His pierced brow quirks, the silver barbel glimmering beneath the harsh kitchen lighting.

You tut, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when you glare at him and see his nose is already scrunched playfully, “Do you have plans?”

“Looks like I do now!” He claps, taking a beat before cocking his head to one side, his features softening upon watching you cook, “Thank you Y/N.”

Looking him dead in the eye you offer a genuine smile, “Anytime.”

“Would you be offended if I showered before we ate? The AC at work broke and this shirt feels sticky.” He sighs, cracking his neck.

“Why would I be offended?” A light puff of air rips from your nostrils when he fails to respond, his features blanketed with uncertainty and confusion. He really is emotionally constipated.

“No, I wouldn’t be offended loser. Go shower.” You’re giggling, shaking your head in disbelief, “It’ll be ready by the time you’re finished.”

“You’re the best!” He hops off the counter, making sure to spank your ass before skipping into the bathroom. “Happy birthday to me indeed.” He chuckles, winking in your direction before he closes the door behind him.

It’s always like this, the playful flirts and touches, but you crave something more. You want him to shove his tongue so far down your throat he could eat you out at the same time. You want to feel his tattooed hands to explore every square inch of your body while he fucks you into oblivion. The thought alone is enough to frustrate you.

Maybe you should just hop on top of him one night in front of the TV. Sometimes you do sit on his thighs, his ridiculously strong thighs, if there’s a lack of seating. You sigh dramatically, mentally debating whether the large sofa would fit through the window. If there’s nowhere to sit you’d have to sit on him. Problem solved. All you have to do is throw the fucking sofa out the window and pray he takes the hint. Easy enough.

The sizzling meat in the pan is interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, revealing a cloud of steam and a shirtless Jungkook, tattoos and muscles displayed in all their glory. He’s wearing nothing but Calvin Klein boxer shorts, grey ones, that leave fuck all to the imagination.

“Forgot my towel.” He chuckles awkwardly, briefly heading into his bedroom to retrieve said towel. That damn white towel. What would he do if there were no towel? Walk around bare-ass with his dick on show? Maybe you could throw the towel out the window instead, it would be much easier than the sofa.

“You okay?” Jungkook’s presence startles you, he’s right next to you with furrowed brows and his stupidly muscular arms crossed over his chest, towel draped on his shoulder. “You zoned out again, thinking about anything good?” He’s laughing, wetting his lips between smiles.

Your gaze flickers to the bumps of his toned abdomen before settling on his face, he’s smiling brightly at you, seemingly unaware of the carnal desire you have to pin him to the kitchen floor and mount him right now.

“I’m fine, go get your shower.” You act indifferent, prompting a quiet, unconvinced ‘oookay’ from your roommate before he’s gone again.

You’re genuinely entertaining the idea of throwing out, no wait burning that sofa now, Jungkook’s thighs have always been way comfier anyway.

Interestingly enough the timing of his shower is perfect, you’re plating up dinner on the coffee table when he’s finished. Making sure to grab a bottle of soju from the cupboard, he’s not much of a drinker but you figure it is his birthday after all. Dragging two plump cushions from the sofa you’ve suddenly grown a strong hatred toward, you sit on one, leaving the other free for the birthday boy himself.

“Oh my god this smells great,” Jungkook comically inhales until his chest, his bare chest, is full of air. “Have you watched those 365 days movies? Someone at work recommended them to me earlier.” He says nonchalantly while sitting next to you, only wearing that damn white towel over his hips. The scent of his coconut bodywash clings to his beefy frame and floods your senses.

“The sex movies?” You laugh, handing him chopsticks all while trying to keep your gaze on his face. Somewhat a difficult challenge considering he's half naked. Again. “I’ve heard they’re really graphic with basically no plot, just steamy sex scenes, bad accents and a hot guy with tattoos.”

“Ah, you do like a man with tattoos.” He sniffs, fingertips lingering on yours while he grips the utensils, “Well since it’s my birthday I say we watch them. Seokjin at work said they're pretty good.”

“Okay,” You shrug, “But since when do you know about what kind of man I like?”

At this Jungkook grins, finding the remote and switching on Netflix, “You’ve only ever brought two guys back here since I moved in, both had tattoos. It’s a reasonable assumption to make.”

“Valid.” You’re nodding, beginning to tuck into the food, “I guess I do like men with tattoos, yeah.”

“Yeah?” He asks, gently elbowing your side. When you glance at him he’s smiling, wiggling his thick eyebrows animatedly while gesturing to his dark sleeve tattoo. “I’m a man with tattoos.”

“That you are.” You wink, praying to every higher power that one of these days he's going to acknowledge you're a woman. A woman with a vagina. A vagina that needs stuffing immediately.

“Shit Y/N this is amazing,” Jungkook’s frowning while he chews, a crystal clear sign that he’s enjoying the food you’ve made, “You should cook this more often, so much better than burgers. Fuck,” He moans, dark lashes dusting his face when he squeezes his eyes shut, “So good. So fucking good. Best birthday meal ever.”

This is how most of your nights together are spent, sat witching TV on the floor while eating dinner and enjoying each other’s company. You’re coming to the end of your meal when the first sex scene in the movie starts playing, well, okay not really. The characters aren’t having sex but she’s tied up to the bed watching someone else suck off the sexy guy with tattoos. Your brows are hiked up your forehead, eyes wide, this is not where you thought the plot was going.

“Would you ever do anything like that?” Your roommate asks with his last mouthful of food, watching the TV while running a hand through his damp long hair, “Maybe not the kidnapping part but would you ever wanna watch someone have sex?”

“Nah,” You shake your head, “Not for me. What about you?”

“For sure.” He affirms with a nod, still staring at the screen, “But I’d rather be watched than be the one watching. Especially if I was into the girl, I’m way too jealous for shit like that.”

Ignoring the way his response sends a shiver down your spine you swallow your food, “Aren’t you a little socially awkward to put yourself in that kind of situation? No offence.”

“None taken, I am an awkward guy,” He snorts, “But I don’t know, the idea of someone seeing me absolutely destroy someone kinda gets me going… I like the idea of being watched. Don’t you have anything like that?”

You gulp, “Like what?”

“Any kinks or fantasies.”

“I guess so… Doesn’t everybody?”

At this Jungkook takes it upon himself to pause the movie, giving you his full, undivided attention, “Tell me some.”

“Jungkook…” Your sigh shifts into an awkward giggle, truthfully he is your fantasy. And that towel doesn’t leave much to your imagination, if anything at all. But it doesn’t take you long to crumble, “Okay fine, what do you wanna know?”

“Where would you most like to have sex?” He’s smirking, hooded eyes boring into the depths of your soul, “Anywhere in the world, go.”

“Hmm… I don’t know actually, I’ve never thought about it. What about you?”

“My bed.”

You deadpan, a single brow quirked, “Your bed?”

“It’s comfy, it smells nice, and I can go to sleep after without worrying about getting home since I’m already here. Of course my bed is the number one choice.” He’s looking at you as though you’re stupid, as though his answer is obvious when he scoffs.

“Okay… that’s fair enough.”

Jungkook’s watching you closely, and you swear you see his vision drop to your chest for a millisecond before settling back on your eyes, “What would your ideal guy do to you in bed?”

Sucking in a breath of air you’re already nodding, “Easy. The ideal guy isn’t selfish and knows how to make me come, maybe even squirt. No guys ever made me do either. Your turn.”

“None of the guys you’ve slept with have made you come? What the fuck! Um-, okay…” He licks his teeth before making noises akin to car turning lights, emphasising his thoughts, “The ideal woman is bossy, not dominant but knows what she wants and tells me how to do it. I like vocal women, women who aren’t scared of their own voice. Plus the ideal can actually ride me, the amount of women that give up after four bounces is kinda disappointing.”

Suddenly your mouth feels very dry, prompting you to swallow nothing. Thankfully you’ve never heard Jungkook having sex, there’s been a couple of times you’ve heard heavy breathing and little whimpers from his bedroom but it’s always when he’s alone in there. Guys masturbate, it would be unreasonable to expect him not to do it when you’re home. Plus you’ve definitely gotten yourself off while he’s slept in the next room, you have zero room to talk.

“Really? Four bounces?” Your voice betrays you slightly, wavering with curiosity.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong I don’t mind doing all the work, it’s just annoying when they talk a big game and put in minimal effort. Just be upfront about wanting me to be in charge, you know? I like being in charge it’s no big deal.”

You’re shaking your head, frowning with an uncertain smile, “Then what are you complaining about?”

At this the birthday boy sighs exasperatedly, as though you’re missing the point, “It’s just annoying isn’t it? When you think somethings gonna go a certain way and then it doesn’t…”

“Tell me about it.” You snort, pouring two shots of peach soju.

“Okay,” Jungkook takes the shot of soju, snapping his fingers excitedly, seemingly unphased by the bitter taste of alcohol, “Who do you wanna sleep with more than anyone in the world? Who’s your number one?”

Slinging back the soju, you bite the bullet with an devilish smirk.

“Hmmm… You.”

Stone cold regret washes over you when he looks through you, the same way he looks at people he’s not comfortable with yet. The exact same expression he gives strangers when he doesn’t understand why he’s been roped into their conversations. His pierced lips purse, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing from a thick swallow. Eyes animatedly round, shocked and astonished.

“Uhh…” He wets his lips before his eyes narrow, brows pinching, “I’m being serious Y/N…”

You nod, “Me too but never mind.” You sigh dramatically, pouring more shots.

“Stop fucking around with me!” He playfully pushes your shoulder, earning embarrassed laughter to bubble in the depths of your throat, “You can’t just say that to me out of nowhere!”

“Out of nowhere?” You repeat, frustrated, “Jungkook I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried hitting on you and it just seems to go straight over your head.” You whine, lips forming a cute pout that he can’t stop staring at, “Anyway… Like I said, never mind. Forget I said anything. Who’s your number one?”

But Jungkook is too stunned to speak. He’s looking down at you as though you’ve just told him you want to marry him and have his babies. Surprised doesn’t cut it, nor does confused. It’s a deadly cocktail of the two mixed with a little nervousness tugging his usually sharp features up and wide.

“I-, what?” He blinks away his daydream, “Are you being serious? You actually wanna fuck me? I can’t tell. You know I’m bad with stuff like this. Spell it out for me loser.”

At this you shake your head, feeling deflated, “It doesn’t matter, honestly just forget I said anything, you don’t find me attractive so it’s not like it’s ever gonna—”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”

An agitated exhale leaves you, your roommate still staring at you expectantly with a single brow quirked, “You don’t have to say it out loud Kook, it’s obvious.”

“Wow, you really don’t know me at all, do you?” His white teeth are bared in a dazzling panty-dropping grin, “Why do you think I’m sitting here in a towel Y/N? Just out of curiosity.”

“Cause you like to ‘air-dry’.” You mimic air quotes with a mocking tone, slugging back another shot of soju. He does the same.

Jungkook’s voice drops into something akin to seductive, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a huge smile, “Actually, I thought that maybe if I walk round the place half naked all the time you’d take the hint eventually. You think when I moved in friendship was the only thing on my mind?” He’s laughing now, shaking his head in disbelief, baffled, tongue darting over his lips to wet them. “You think when I came up to you at the bar all I wanted was to be your friend?”

“W-what are you saying? That you are attracted to me?” Your heart races away in your chest, a lick of heat wetting your spine when your roommate tilts his head to one side, smirking.

“Ask me who my number one is.”

“Okay… I’ll humour you. Who’s your number one?” You’re blushing, unable to wipe the smile from your features when he sucks in a harsh breath of air, watching you closely.

His inked hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging your face closer, close enough that your noses bang together and you both giggle. “You are, loser.”

The next thing you know he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him back.

Where most make out sessions begin soft and slow, gentle and uncertain while both parties attempt to figure out what the other likes – that’s far from what’s happening here. It’s heated, it’s messy and fuelled by years of pent up frustration and longing. His grip moves to your jaw where he pries it open, slipping his tongue into your mouth at that exact moment.

“Oh… Jungkook…” You mewl, smiling triumphantly against his mouth.

Fucking finally.

“You have,” He pulls back, lips kiss-swollen and stained with lip gloss, “No idea,” His hands sneakily find your hips, guiding your body until you’re straddling his towel-clad thighs, “How long,” He’s smirking, palming the fat of your ass when his lips find your in a hurry, “I’ve wanted to fuck you.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything then?!” You frown, sighing in bliss when your dress is being pushed up, pooling your abdomen that’s full of pork belly and butterflies. Giving enough leeway for Jungkook’s fingertips to slip into the waistband of your underwear.

He chuckles into the kiss, averting his mouth to pepper your jawline with lots more dainty little kisses, whispering, “The same reason you didn’t, I didn’t know you were into me like that.”

“Except I tried, multiple times…” You hum, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Palms explore Jungkook’s muscular back, every lump, bump, every inch of tanned bare flesh that you’ve seen simultaneously way too many times and not enough at all. “All the slutty outfits… The compliments, I’ve been pretty vocal about finding you attractive actually.” You’re grinning, fingertips toying with the long brunette hairs at the nape of his neck.

At this Jungkook sighs, lulling his head back to get a better look at your face. His eyes are blown dark with lust, his gaze hooded and intense. But it’s the breath-taking smile he wears that sends a rush of heat straight between your legs.

“I do like a woman who’s vocal about what she wants.” He winks, crushing his lips to yours once more, “So tell me what you want loser.”

“Want you.” You pout, elbows resting atop his broad shoulders when you brush the hair away from his face, physically incapable from breaking the string of messy kisses. He tastes like peaches and sin. “Want you to make me come.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, ridding your body of the skimpy little dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination. “Wish you told me all this sooner, could’ve been blowing your back out daily by now.”

“Not my fault you can’t take a hint.” You snort, blood rushing to your cheeks when you see his hungry stare fixed to your almost bare body atop of his thighs.

He rolls his eyes, “You’re one to talk. Why do you think I put your snacks on the top shelf?”

“So you can help me reach them…?” You scoff, biting down on your lip, “So you look like a strong alpha man helping his poor defenceless vertically challenged roommate?”

“Nah,” He admits with throaty laughter, large palms exploring your curves and reaching round your back, until they’re unclasping your bra in one swift movement, “Like seeing your ass peek out the tiny little dresses you wear when you get on your tiptoes.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock, brows raised expectantly, “Jeon Jungkook!” You gasp, gripping his chin and angling it towards your lips, “Who knew you were such a fucking pervert?”

The man’s in a total daze, lost in your eyes with a bright smile, “You think that's perverted? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Maybe this is a bad idea. Having wild, carnal, fringing-on-illegal sweaty hot passionate sex with your roommate. Maybe. But when your bare back hits his soft mattress with a ‘ooomf’ and he rids himself of that damn towel, you struggle to see past this moment right here, right now. Jungkook is naked, and it’s a glorious sight.

You’re grinning when he crawls up the bed, but to your surprise, no, rather to your excitement, he stops when his profile is faced with your underwear. Hooking his fingertips beneath your thong he smirks, gaze briefly meeting yours until he’s dragging your underwear beneath your ass and down your legs.

Being naked in front of Jungkook is something you’ve often thought about, it was the motivation behind your tactical shave earlier today, secretly praying this would happen. But now that you’re here, in his monochrome bedroom that smells of vanilla, on full display for the man you’ve been crushing on for so long. It all gets a little overwhelming.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles, thick brows pinched when you sheepishly shut your legs and stop him from seeing the whole show.

“I-, uh…” You swallow, clearing your throat, “It’s been a while…”

“And?”

“And I’m nervous.” You giggle, throwing your head back into his pillows.

At this he makes his way up to your face, knocking your legs apart with his knees to settle his weight between them. His strong arms hold his body in place, planted either side of your face. The way he’s peering down at you should be illegal, so smug yet there’s a glimmer of concern behind his sparkly eyes. It’s when he releases a breath of air against your face that his features soften into a faint smile, awestricken.

“I think you’re gorgeous Y/N, you don’t need to be nervous.”

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year…” You whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“And?” He repeats, chuckling mostly to himself, “Neither have I. And it didn’t stop you from using that noisy ass vibrator of yours the other night, did it?” Your eyes snap to his in a panic, he’s fully laughing now, the sound equal parts mischievous and salacious. “Walls are very thin…” He sniffs, tilting his chin to the wall his headboard rests on, backing onto your bedroom.

It’s after you sigh, beyond mortified that he heard such obscenities, that he sinks his lips to a sweet spot on your neck, sucking the flesh harsh enough to leave sensual bruises, “Let me make you feel good baby, I promise I’ll make you feel good… Don’t be nervous.” He murmurs, and you’re left breathless.

The pet name sends a rush of something strange over your body, you’re not used to him calling you anything other than loser. Maybe your name, but definitely not baby. You like it. While he’s working on making a total mess of your neck the familiar heat and lust comes back, stronger, deeper, and more determined.

“Jungkook… Please… W-want you to make me feel good.” You whisper, already in a daze.

It’s then that you feel him smirk against your skin, planting one final coy kiss to your lips before making his way down your body with one continuous lick that has your body aflame. His tongue never leaves you, travelling to your collarbones, your breasts. The flat wet muscle glides over your nipple and you gasp, brows furrowed in concentration.

“You’re so sensitive…” He hums, lapping up your nipple, taking it between his teeth and playfully sucking. Tiny whimpers and moans peep from your lips, along with the occasional gasp that has your roommate losing his goddamn mind. His tongue soon finds the other nipple, winning himself more of the same noises that are making his cock throb with anticipation already.

“So nobody’s ever made you come, huh?” He mumbles, “But you’re so fucking sensitive baby… Aren’t you?”

“Mhm…” You bite your lip, hands greedily smoothing over his bare shoulders. You want to feel his body, his entire body. You want it on top of you, next to you, underneath you, inside you. Perhaps it’s due to all the pent up frustration harboured toward him, but there’s a dull beat between your legs that you so desperately want him to listen to.

And then it hits you, Jungkook likes vocal women.

“Make me come please… Want you to make me come…” You moan, writhing around beneath him at the new found tingles all over your body. The cool air kisses your core when he spreads your thighs, sinking down the bed until he’s eye level with your bare pussy.

“Oh my god.”

His words win you to tug yourself up onto your elbows, a little curious. That’s when you find him staring at your vagina with pure astonishment. Lips ajar, brows hiked so far up his forehead that it’s wrinkled, a small surprised scoff hot against your flesh.

“What?” You frown, suddenly self-conscious, “What are you looking at?”

“What am I looking at?” He parrots, sighing with puffed out cheeks, “The prettiest pussy I’ve ever fucking seen, that’s what I’m looking at.”

“Oh.” You giggle, not knowing what to say.

You didn’t expect him to be so confident in the bedroom, so outspoken and complimentary. It’s no secret that he’s a very socially awkward man in the streets. Apparently a very different story to the personality he has between the sheets.

“You have the cutest little beauty mark…” He whispers, sinking his lips to your folds, “Right here.” He kisses you gently, and you feel like squealing. “Fuck, you’re addicting baby. Losing my mind down here.” He chuckles right before digging in.

He places a languid, drawn-out lick from your entrance to your clit, one so mind-numbingly slow that your toes curl against the sheets. He repeats this, once, twice, three, four, five times until he’s dipping his tongue between your folds with a whispered moan. It feels nice, feels good, but it's not enough.

“You plan on making me come any time soon, loser?” You playfully kick his shoulder, winning hot laughter against your centre.

It’s then that his arms hook under your thighs and he drags you closer to his waiting face, until his full lower-profile is smothered in your cunt. His chin, his multitalented lips, the soft bend of his nose, all of it. He playfully slaps your thighs and you take the hint, throwing your legs over those obnoxiously broad shoulders of his.

That’s when your guttural moan fills the air, when Jungkook starts lapping up your clit so expertly that you question whether the whole ‘shy, socially inept, cute boy’ persona he has going for him is just a façade.

He’s good at this. He’s fucking amazing at this. You’re gasping for air when he suckles on your clit, massaging the muscle with his tongue while it’s still being pulled between his lips. You groan, you hiss, you whimper. It feels indescribably fantastic, and there’s no way he’s not going to be able to get you off doing this.

“Holy shit, Jungkook.” You whine, hips pushing your core impossibly closer to his face. “Mmmph, oh—” Another long moan cuts you off, actually it’s more of a groan. A needy one at that.

His hooded stare flickers up to your face, watching your every move before him. “So sensitive.” He murmurs, sounding disbelieved.

Watching you wriggle and whimper for him only fuels his lust further. He takes it upon himself to push your legs onto your chest with one hand. Until your knees are to your breasts. You don’t complain at the new angle so he carries on, pulling away from your pussy for a second to spit on his fingers. Not that he thinks you’re going to need it, you're already drowning his sheets.

Unceremoniously he plunges two digits into you dripping walls, and you shriek.

“Jungkook, oh god, oh my god Jungkook…” You pant, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open.

It’s a second later when his mouth reattaches to your clit and you’re borderline sobbing. You feel so full, like an elastic band being stretched to it’s limits. You’re going to snap soon, you know it. There’s a heat building in your gut, one that comes in rhythmic waves that match your racing heart.

That’s when something odd swells inside your stomach, something new and exciting and overwhelming. Jungkook’s fingers aren’t fucking in and out of you like you’d expect them to be, they’re consistently inside you, curling upward and pressing against a spot that very few people, yourself included, have ever managed to discover.

“Jungkook seriously what the-, fuck!” You warn him, eyes flying open in utter disbelief.

“Mmm?” He chuckles, his response lost to the sounds of your pornographically wet pussy squelching and sloshing around his fingers.

“I’m-, oh my fucking god…” You’re whining, whimpering, shivering. “Feels so fucking good.”

At this he moans in response, sucking your clit harder, hitting that spot inside you even harder, faster. You inhale sharply, preparing yourself for the earth-shattering ecstasy that’s sure to crash down on your body any second now. But strangely enough it isn’t the hold of your clit between your roommates lips that pushes you over the edge, nor is it the thrilling curl of his finger.

You peer down at him, his brows furrowed deep with concentration, the same way they are when he eats something delicious. His face is spinning and twisting to each and every side to make sure he’s licking and sucking all your nerve endings. And that’s when his heavy eyes flicker up at your mess of a face.

Jungkook winks.

And you squirt everywhere.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god!” You groan, watching the man who you’ve been simping over for years giggle against your skin as though he hasn’t just made a catastrophic mistake.

Because now you’ve experienced this side of him, there’s absolutely no way you can go back to just being roommates.

He doesn’t fold, doesn’t stop, nor does he slow. No. He carries on. Sucking, finger-fucking, licking, moaning, curling those digits and slurping at your pussy until it happens again. And again. And again.

And again.

“P-please…” Your body jumps and jolts on the mattress, convulsing from oversensitivity, your back damp with sweat and heart beating so fast you fear it’s going to implode any second now. “I-, I can’t take another one…” You pant, hands flying to the hairs at his scalp where you try and pry him aware from your core.

He hums in agreement, nodding along with your words all while wearing a big, dumb grin. “Okay.”

You’re fucked. Head spinning, reeling, brain unresponsive. Limbs already aching, you’ve never come this many times in one sitting to date. Not even with that ‘noisy-ass’ vibrator of yours. The distant sound of laughter forces you to come back to reality, finding Jungkook laid next to you with shiny lips and a wicked smirk. His head resting on the bend of his elbow, his pierced brow quirked curiously.

“I’ll give you a minute...” He’s laughing, tongue toying with his silver lip ring. A moment later he shifts on the bed, until he’s laid on his back and his entwined hands are tucked behind his head. A content smile broadens his features, a smug one, one that gives you a devilish idea.

Adrenaline and the need to have his cock inside you courses your veins, along with a hint of arrogance. That’s what leads you to sitting up, mouth falling open when you catch sight of Jungkook’s huge cock, rock hard and waiting. Oh you’re about to give him the best birthday present in the world. He wants a woman that can ride him? Who can last longer than four bounces?

Challenge accepted.

Carefully, you throw your leg over his waist until you’re hovering over his muscular body. He really is huge, by every ridiculous definition of the word. Lazily, he opens his eyes before they grow wide with surprise at your current position.

“Oh?” He chuckles, hungrily exploring your naked body with his stare, as though he hasn’t been ogling it for the past however long you’ve been in here. “I’ll warn you now, if you’re any good at this I’m gonna have to take you on a date.”

“We’re going out on a date regardless.” You snort, gripping the base of his shaft, shit, he’s big, “Since you’re the only guy around here who knows how to make me come.”

“Suits me just fine loser, I'll take you on a date. If you're lucky I'll make you squirt again at the dinner table.” He grins, wetting his lips. “Let me rephrase then, if you ride me like you mean it I’ll take you on the best date of your life this weekend.”

“Deal.” You wink, chest swelling.

You pump his cock a few times before you sink yourself down onto it with a long, shaky moan.

“Holy shit… baby…” He pants, tugging at his own hair with furrowed brows.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut but you can just about make out them rolling back into his skull behind his lashes. It’s when you’re fully settled onto his cock that you bite your lip, picking yourself up only to slam down onto him with a loud wet smack. His doe-eyes snap open at lightening speed, a drawn-out grown rumbling his strong chest.

“Fuck!” He gasps, jaw slack and eyes wide.

You grin down at him triumphantly, clearly he didn’t know you were capable of making him feel just as good as he made you feel. You repeat the motion, harder. You do it again, and again, until Jungkook’s hissing and messily gripping your hips in a hurry.

“Y/N… What the fuck?!” He stifles a moan when he bites his lip, mesmerised by the way your pussy squeezes his cock each and every time you pull yourself up and drop back onto it. “Seriously what the fuck are you made of, oh my-, fuck—”

It’s at this moment you brace yourself on his chest with splayed hands, keeping your body steady before you ride him like your existence depends on it. Like there’s no tomorrow. Like you’re the only two people on earth. There’s a hot burn in your thighs but you don’t let up, bouncing on him consistently, pace never faltering.

He’s so big that you fear you’ll split open, but you welcome the underlining sting of being this stuffed. Obscene wet noises along with the sound of the bed squeaking in sync with your movements fill the air. Beneath you Jungkook is a moaning mess, he’s chewing on his lips as though that’ll stop the profanities and groans from escaping him – but it doesn’t.

“Baby… Oh we definitely-, oh shit-,” He hisses, hands snaking round to your ass cheeks where he squeezes them like they’re his favourite stress-balls, “We should’ve done this-, way-, waaaay sooner.” He moans again, head thrown back into his pillow.

You’re slamming down on him with force, so much intent behind your bounces that the crown of his cock hits your cervix each time without fail. The sight before you will be burned into your memory forever. Jeon Jungkook, panting, whimpering, trying his absolute best to keep it together all while you ride him to heaven and hell and back again.

“You like it when I ride this fat cock of yours?” You moan, usually you’re not one for dirty talk but you simply can’t help yourself. He looks… Feral. And it’s only spurring you on even more. “You’re so big Jungkook, fuck, feels so fucking good inside me…”

“You-, you’re…” He can’t get his words out, they’re dying in the back of his throat, lost to the ‘mmmphs’ and ‘ooohhhs’ he delivers every time you drop down on him. “Do I l-like it? Fuck. Best-, mmmph, best fucking pussy... Slow down baby, please.” He whines, the sound has your lower abdomen in utter turmoil, another orgasm threatening to ripple your body.

You do as he says, he is the birthday boy after all. Besides, there’s no way in hell this is going to be the only time you’ll ride him. Your evenings together are going to look a whole lot different from now on, that's for sure.

The speed of your ministrations slows, but the depth and force does not. You’re still fucking yourself on his hard length with so much purpose that you feel his knees buckling, thick thighs twitching beneath you.

“Baby, fuck…” He rasps, “Ohhh fuck! Mmmph…” It’s like he’s mesmerised, mouth hanging open and eyes incapable of looking anywhere but you. He's completely infatuated with the way you feel atop of him.

You feel a hand snake up to the nape of your neck before you’re being pulled toward his face, his lips smashing against yours in another series of messy, desperate kisses. Gritting your teeth when the white hot heat inside your walls threatens to snap, Jungkook feels your sopping walls clench around his girth and groans into your mouth.

“Again? Ohhh...” He hisses, trying his best to sound cocky but it’s less than convincing when he too is a whimpering mess. “You’re a fucking goddess Y/N-, ohhhh.” He pants, finding your hips with tattooed hands where he holds them in place.

It’s a moment later when he plants his feet flat against the mattress, bending his knees, showcasing his strength when he keeps you in one place above him. That’s when he fucks you hard, as though he’s punishing you for something. Thrusting in and out of you so violently that you’re blubbering into the crook of his neck.

“Fuck! Right there, right fucking there!” You cry out, voice almost lost to the brutal clapping noises of you being fucked ten ways to Sunday.

Each rut of his hips has you seeing stars, he feels so fucking good inside you. So deep. His pelvis is knocking against your swollen clit, be it intentional or accidental you'll never know - but it has you spiralling into insanity.

A long, vocal moan tears from your throat when you’re hit with another orgasm. You feel boneless, as though you’ve just discovered the real definition of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s sliding in and out of you with ease now, the pulsing of you walls throwing him over his own edge until he thrusts into you one final time.

It's deeper, he's holding your hips in place, dragging them impossibly closer to his body when he fills you with his come. Breathless and sweaty.

“Baby… Oh my… god.” He chokes out between ragged breaths, and you can’t help but giggle into his skin.

Moments later you’re rolling off him, too weak to adjust the position you land in but you do throw a leg over his thighs with a smile. Heavy breathing and quiet chuckles bring you back down to earth, forcing you to gaze over at your roommate.

Jungkook’s already looking at you like he’s madly in love, as though you’ve just offered to do this every day with him for the rest of your lives. When you wet your lips and smirk you register his cock twitching against his abdomen, he really is shameless. And by the look on his face, he isn’t even close to being through with you.

"Best. Birthday. Ever." He pants, absolutely befuddled that he's just had sex, mind-blowingly, indescribable sex with his roommate, the same roommate he's been fawning over for a long time now.

You send him a wink before pulling his face to yours, there's no fucking way you're done with him either.

“Happy birthday loser.”

#jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #happy birthday jungkook #jungkook fluff #roommate!jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x you

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Text

𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 • eddie munson x reader

sequel to 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 and 𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • another album, another tour, this time with a stop in Indianapolis featuring a local opener that proves to be more familiar than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 5.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), semi-public sex, extreme fluff, jealous reader, cocky eddie, hatefucking (at first), emotions!!

Objectively, Eddie was never the best you ever had. Considering your long and storied history included a lot of very talented people— sometimes multiple at a time— it was hard to compete. He didn't make you come the hardest, or the fastest, or the most.

But for some reason, he was always your favorite.

Even if he wasn't a sex god, he managed to keep up with you and he was just the right balance of everything: sweet but not too grovelling; good-looking but not too self-obsessed; young but not too naive.

Truth be told, every time you thought about it, you wondered if you should've taken him on tour with you. You imagined a life where you had this little boytoy to keep you company, where he held you close at night in that big empty bed while the bus was on its way to the next stop; where you finished your sets and walked just off stage to find him waiting, and he'd give you a big kiss and tell you how amazing you were.

But it was just a fantasy, something to get you through especially lonely nights. You’d been thinking about him leading up to your tour stop in Indiana, wondering if you should find some way to reach out— all you had was an old phone number, and that was nearly a year ago now that you found out he graduated and moved away. After considering looking him up a few times (and realizing you didn’t actually know if Eddie was short for Edward or Edmond or Edgar or… not short for anything), you decided it was best left alone. After all, your presence in Indiana was pretty heavily anticipated, it’s not like he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to find some way to see you.

Danny nodded at you from behind the drums as you walked onstage for soundcheck.

“Okay, we’re just gonna tune and run the first song on the setlist,” the sound technician announced over the speakers as you put in your earpiece.

“Great,” you answered into the microphone, slinging your guitar on over your shoulder and starting to pick at it to get it perfectly in tune— yes, most big stars have the venue techs or their roadies tune instruments for them, but you preferred doing it yourself. It was like… well, it was sort of like foreplay. You preferred warming up your guitar yourself.

“Hey, you heard of this band that’s opening for us?” Jerome, your second guitarist, asked you as an assistant adjusted his mic stand. “I was talking to the venue manager— he said a ton of people are here to see them. They’re local legends or something.”

“I didn’t even read who’s opening for us,” you admitted. “I haven’t slept since Louisville.”

“They’re called Corroded Coffin,” he said. “Real grungy stuff.”

“Well, it’s a decent name,” you offered. “I’ll have to watch their set and see if they’re any good.”

When soundcheck ended, you retired to the green room for a drink and a rest, the closest thing you had to a pre-show ritual. This venue was nice enough that you had a TV by the vanity, meaning you totally zoned out and lost track of time watching National Geographic; you didn’t even realize the show had started until you heard loud, echoing guitars from outside.

Turning the volume down, you listened to the muffled sound for a couple minutes, nodding to yourself. Hey, they’re not bad.

Deciding to venture out and get a proper listen, you navigated the crowded backstage— roadies, assistants, and for some reason a crowd of kids in matching t-shirts?— so you could peer in from-offstage to see the band. The first thing you saw was the pit; it was full of girls. Screaming, desperate girls. Shit, who is this guy? You figured you weren’t likely to get the same reception from that section of the crowd, unless there was a bisexual convention in town.

Leaning further in, you finally saw the back of the guitarist’s head. Any other context, and that mess of long, curly brown hair would give it away— but this was the metal scene, after all, and most of the guys looked like that.

He took a step back, disappointing the girls who had been climbing over each other to try to touch his ankle, and shook his head to get his hair out of his face. That was when you got a proper glimpse of him for the first time, and your breath caught.

No, it’s not…

He was too far away for you to be sure, and if you leaned forward any more, you’d be visible to the crowd which was not worth the trouble. Spinning around, you saw the group of kids behind you, and narrowed your eyes at their shirts. “Hey,” you yelled over the music to get the attention of one of them, “what do those shirts mean?”

“They’re for our D&D club!” he answered emphatically. “That’s our Dungeon Master!”

As he pointed to the frontman again, you spun around. Fuck.

“EDDIE, WE LOVE YOUUU!!!” a girl with braces screamed from the front row, literally sobbing, and you wondered how you could physically fit in your body every emotion you were feeling in this one moment.

Euphoria, confusion, devastation, excitement, anxiety— he was here, he was opening for you, he really made it. But was he too good for you now? He was the next big thing— you could already tell, hearing him play, that he was the real deal— and you were… well, you were the last big thing. He was Van Halen, you were Black Sabbath; he was video, you were the radio star. He was the nineties, coming around the corner faster than you were ready for— wasn’t it 1979, like, an hour ago?

It didn’t hurt from a stardom standpoint— the record sales didn’t bother you, even when there were less of them. You didn’t need to be famous, half the time you didn’t even like it, you just loved the music whether it was yours or someone else’s.

But it hurt seeing Eddie, because it made you realize how long it had really been. It hurt wondering if tonight was the beginning of the end— but you had hope that you wouldn’t be facing the end alone.

As he focused on playing a complex solo, his tongue curled up over his lip. Be careful, Ed, I dunno if these girls can handle that…

Looking out over his crowd again, your gut burned as you saw the girls fawning over him, even if you couldn’t blame them.

You watched the rest of his set from the best seat in the house, which was actually standing up just behind the curtain, until you heard Eddie speak into the microphone: “You guys have been great! We would stay forever if we could, but this is our last song…”

Heart pumping, you stumbled back and out of the way, retreating to your green room— you weren’t ready for him to walk by, you weren’t ready for him to ignore you, or kiss you, or slap you, or whatever he was going to do.

He was probably over it; he probably didn’t even care, so casually flaunting his one-that-got-away-ness in front of you. You slammed your door shut behind you, pouring yourself a quick drink and tossing it back in a second. It dulled your nerves but only worsened the sickness gathering in your stomach. This was everything you’d been waiting for since 1985, but it was so terrifying now that it was here. Everything could go wrong.

But of course he still wanted you, right? He had to, he was one of your biggest fans just a few years ago. But wow, time can change so much— and you had no idea he could play like that. It only made you more attracted to him, right when you were trying to play it cool.

You heard the crowd going wild, you heard the music come to a halt, and you knew you were supposed to be getting ready for your own set. Right now, you weren’t sure if you could even name one of your own songs…

Well, probably just one— the one about him. In your mind, it was sort of a graduation present from you to Eddie— but you weren’t even a hundred percent sure he ever heard it.

You waited a few minutes, hoping maybe Corroded Coffin would be gone when you stepped out— yet praying that they wouldn’t be— but when you entered the hallway again, you found a typical scene between the opener and headliner: musicians and their most privileged fans everywhere, getting in the way of crew trying desperately to set up between acts, and Eddie right there in the middle of all of it.

He was sitting on an amp, fiddling around on his acoustic, girls hanging off of his arm and sitting in a circle around him. Christ.

Hesitantly, you walked up to the group, crossing your arms and watching for a moment. "Guess you made it out of your garage phase," you smirked.

He looked up at you, his strumming coming to a halt, as he gave you a knowing smile. "Yeah," he offered; his voice was eerily familiar yet different, and you wondered if things were too different now. If you and him were basically strangers, and you'd just have to wave hello and leave all that history behind.

After all, you'd only met once before, technically. But to you, it felt like your story wasn't over yet.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls jumped up to you, “I— I’m such a huge fan!”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear,” you offered her, glancing between her eyes and Eddie’s a few times. “I— do you want me to sign anything?”

“That would be amazing,” she beamed, “I’ve— I’ve got one of your CDs right here.”

“Ah, a CD,” you nodded as she pulled it out of her purse and you got your trusty metallic Sharpie from your back pocket, “that’s how I know you’re one of the new kids.”

“You can make it out to Pearl,” she decided as you took the album from her, “that’s me.”

“Will do,” you agreed, uncapping the pen with your teeth and writing over the cover.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

“Yeah?” you prompted, mostly focused on writing.

“My favorite song of yours is Pretty Boy,” she explained, “from your new album? I wanted to ask you who it’s about.”

You glanced at Eddie again, finding him still smiling at you. Of course he knew, he barely had to listen to the verse to figure it out, it wasn’t exactly cryptic. Can’t take you home when there’s no home to go to, still remember you with all the guys that I go through, it was pretty obvious. “Uh,” you stalled, voice slurred a bit from talking with a pen cap in your mouth, “it’s… not really about anyone. It’s just about the idea of someone.”

You handed her back the CD and put your marker away. “Wow,” she smiled when you gave it back, reading the message to herself. Pearl— don’t be a slut, with your signature across the bottom. Her smile faltered slightly, but she thanked you weakly.

“That’s good advice,” you informed her sternly as she sat back down.

“You know,” Eddie piped up, making your heart beat faster, “I wanted you to sign something of mine, too.”

You smirked at him, summoning some confidence from deep within yourself. “Kid, you’ve already got my name written all over you.”

A few of the girls started whispering to each other, and Eddie glanced down— he didn’t seem too caught off-guard, but his cheeks did flush. “Then maybe you can make my guitar match,” he suggested.

“Sure,” you agreed, and he stood up, lifting the guitar’s strap over his shoulder so he could hold it out for you and your re-uncapped marker.

Your hands were almost shaking, at the worst possible time, as he stood so close, staring at you with those eyes. You thought about what you might write, and decided as you made contact with the glossy wood.

Eddie,

I’m still waiting for you.

As you put your signature at the bottom, you were startled slightly by a flash; you turned to see one of the girls had taken an instant photo, and she pulled it out and shook it as it developed. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “just a little piece of rock and roll history. Legends meeting for the first time!”

You didn’t correct her; Eddie just nodded. “You’ll have to send that to Rolling Stone,” he decided.

“There you go,” you announced as you finished the signature, watching him read what you’d written.

“Thanks,” he smiled, turning the guitar and holding it forward so he could look at it better before looking at you again. “Any chance I could bum a smoke?”

One of the girls started to reach into her bag, but without even looking at her, Eddie held his hand out and she froze. “Actually, I—” quit, you were about to say, but then you met his gaze. He really was still that boy you found waiting outside the back of a smaller stadium nearly four years ago— his eyes were the same: tender, pleading, hopeful. You knew the feeling well. “I… have a pack in my dressing room,” you offered.

“Great,” he smiled.

“Aw, don’t go!” one of the girls whined, the rest joining in a chorus of moping.

“Uh— hey! There’s Gareth!” Eddie pointed. “Will you girls go cheer him up? He, uh, just broke up with his girlfriend.”

Eddie gave his best sympathetic sigh as the girls’ eyes lit up; and while the cloud of adorers descended on the drummer, you guided Eddie back with you across the backstage tunnel, tumbling through the green room door with him.

When you were both on the other side and the door shut, he didn’t even give you a chance to offer him a drink, now that he was definitely old enough— he just kissed you, with every ounce of passion he’d been saving for you all this time. You whimpered and grabbed his face, holding him close, letting his tongue roam wherever and tasting his smile in return.

He pushed you back against the wall, pulling your hips against his, pressing all of himself against you; he tried to break the kiss to say something, but you pulled his face towards you again, you just needed a little more.

He hummed against your lips, and you let him go so he could kiss your neck instead. Your back was already arching up off the wall, and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt, tickling the dip of your spine, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a moment so he could bring his hands around to the front and grope your chest.

You grinned as his fingers toyed with your nipples and squeezed your sensitive skin; there was more experience behind his movements than before, yet the same boyish eagerness under it all.

That said, your grin faded when he pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing you to the air, indulging himself in a glance and a sigh at your breasts before he put his mouth on them. “Fuck,” you whined. “Eddie, fuck.”

Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, and he moaned around your skin, moving to the other nipple while his fingers gently pinched the first. “Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Make me,” you countered.

He stopped right away, spinning you around as you held your hands against the wall to keep yourself upright. He pressed his back up to yours, letting his hips rock so you could feel his erection against you and you purred. The way his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans reminded you a bit of the way he fingered his guitar on stage; the way he pushed your pants and underwear down and grabbed a handful of your ass before giving it a sudden spank reminded you of someone totally different from Eddie. I guess a lot can change in a few years…

“You gonna fuck me or what?” you sighed. “I’ve gotta be on stage any minute now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised— or maybe it was a warning. "But I'm not your groupie anymore, sweetheart, I'm a star, and I fuck like one. All those girls wanted me to do to them what you did to me— but all I want is to be buried in you."

You hummed proudly turning around and facing him so you could start working on his belt for him. “Did you miss me?” you wondered, taunting with your question, but he wasn’t fazed.

“‘Course I did,” he smiled. "I wasn't a virgin when we met, but I still think you made a man outta me that night. You even let me come in you, you remember that? So dirty," he smirked, a hint of a snarl on his smile as he scrunched up his nose for a second. "You just want this cunt bred, huh?"

"Damn," you sighed, "you’re all grown up— and you got nasty."

He laughed breathlessly, looking down. "Guess I did. You haven't changed, though."

He guided you across the room, to the vanity, where he spun you around and bent you over quickly— not too rough, but definitely hurried— yanking your head up by your hair so you had to look in the mirror.

"Want you to see how pretty you are taking my cock."

He was inside you a moment later, and your eyes rolled back. “Fuck,” you groaned, legs quivering as he started off right away; he gave you long, deep strokes that made your walls clench.

"I remember how you like it," he purred. "Deep, and rough— and you like being in control. But right now, I wanna see you lose control."

Well, that was the plan if he kept talking like that…

“I wanna see you come for me,” he continued, “exactly when I tell you to.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled breathlessly. “If you wanted obedience you should’ve snagged one of those little tarts from the pit.”

“If you wanted me to play nice you should’ve taken me with you when we first met,” he shot back, fucking you harder as anger tinted his voice and his movements. “Back when I was still an impressionable kid.”

“That’s— that’s exactly why I didn’t,” you explained through your teeth. “I was trying to do right by you.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes!” you admitted. “Yes, I wish I wasn’t such a damn good person, okay? Now just fuck me, damn it!”

He laughed a little, but finally did as he was told, taking hold of your hips and setting a brutal pace.

“S’this… this how you fuck your groupies?” you choked out.

He laughed as he shook his head. “No, I take my time with them.”

Fuck. “I liked you better when you were nice.”

He smacked your ass again, making you whimper. “Don’t lie to me.”

Touche… “Did you like me better when I was just your fantasy?” you managed to get out.

“No,” he sighed, leaning down and laying his body over yours, holding you tighter. “No, I like you best like this— here, with me. Real.”

You whined and dropped your head down, hoping to hide your watering eyes, but he cooed as he pet your hair before grabbing it pulling you up again.

“Look, baby,” he insisted, “I want you to see it— god, you’re so beautiful. Look how beautiful you are.”

“Y-you’re beautiful, too,” you blurted out as you watched his face in the reflection, still a bit red as he panted behind you, and he gave you a breathless smile

"Tell me how good it feels,” he instructed.

"So good, Eddie, your cock is so good," you groaned.

“Y’love it, huh?” he taunted, but his eyebrows knitted together when you shook your head.

“No, Ed— I hate this… I hate that I’m the one that made you bitter,” you admitted. “You were so sweet before…”

He slowed down a bit, one hand brushing your hair out of your face as the other held your hips— tight, but not painfully so. “I’m still yours,” he whispered by your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back a sob. “Baby, I’m still yours.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“Because you’re not mine.”

You laughed— you actually laughed, and he hissed as it made you tighten on him. “Damn, you got older, but you didn’t get much smarter, huh?” you noticed. “I was yours from the start, Eddie.”

He fucked you harder— but not exactly in the rough way. In a patient, but needy, way; and you felt him smile as he kissed your neck again. “You’re just saying that,” he presumed teasingly.

“No— god, it’s real, it’s not just ‘cause we’re fucking,” you promised. “I’m yours.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, suddenly colliding his mouth with your sopping cunt. You whined as your legs quivered. "Fuck, Ed—!"

He growled as he lapped at you hungrily. "So sweet,” you could barely make out his mumbled groan when it was spoken right against your wet skin.

You were amazed he had the patience to stop fucking you in the middle of that— amazed and slightly pissed. “Fuck me,” you begged, “c’mon, I said I’m yours— I meant it.”

“You’re gonna make me come too fast if you keep saying you’re mine,” he explained. “I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, we’re already out of time,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “I should be on by now… they’re probably looking for me.”

“Well, let’s help them find you,” he encouraged with one more lick up the seam of your cunt before he stood up and shoved his cock inside you roughly. His pace was faster after that, careless to the way he hit the end of you every time— except it wasn’t careless, it was intentional. "Uh huh, scream for my cock, it'll get your voice warmed up,” he encouraged with a smile.

“God, I’m way too close,” you groaned, toes curling inside your boots, back arching deeper even as he held your hips steady. “Don’t make fun of me for coming so fast… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“I’m— Christ, I’m not in any place to judge, am I? M’gonna come too,” he promised, “inside you. Gonna let it all drip out of you while you’re playing your set.”

Imagining that was what pushed you over the edge, actually. “Eddie, I’m coming,” you sobbed, “fuck, I— don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop, I’ll never fucking stop, I swear,” he grunted— and even though he stopped barely ten seconds later as his own orgasm hit him, you knew exactly what he meant.

You both caught your breath, and he held you close as his legs gave out— which meant you both fell onto the floor, but you hardly noticed; you just let him pull you closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was a beautiful, peaceful moment for exactly two seconds before someone banged on the door. “WE NEED YOU TO SET UP!!” a crew member bellowed through the wood.

“GIMME A MINUTE!” you screamed back, making Eddie laugh behind you— and you followed suit. “Not so romantic, huh?”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he assured softly, running his fingers down your back. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“I deserved it,” you sighed, “I’m sorry I left you in Indiana in 1985.”

He scoffed. “I deserved that, too.”

You relaxed as he pulled your back into his chest, kissing along your neck. “I’ve gotta get up and get myself together,” you reminded him.

“Okay,” he sighed, letting you go so you could awkwardly climb up and start pulling your pants back on.

He just laid on the floor and watched you for a second, before shoving his cock back in his own jeans and standing up to correct his button and fly.

You bent down to look in the vanity again, wiping under your eye to carefully remove the evidence of an eyeliner-stained tear.

"I fell in love with you back then," he said suddenly, and you smiled, though you didn’t turn around.

"When we met?" you assumed.

"Before that," he replied. You stood up this time and faced him, heart beating so hard it made you wonder if he could see your chest moving. "Before you even knew me, before I really knew you, I loved you. I worshiped you. And before you even took me for yourself, I was yours. I still am, baby— I'm still yours, and I always was."

“Do you still love me?” you asked hesitantly— only because you knew you were ready for a no.

“Yes,” he smiled, stepping closer to you, “of course.”

"I never stopped thinking about you," you promised quietly. "I never forgot you."

He grabbed your hands suddenly, holding them up with his between the two of you, and you stared at them before you looked up at his eyes instead, brimming with optimism just like you’d dreamed of him for years. "I'm not letting you leave me again," he insisted. "You know how good we are together. You know I'll always love you. C'mon and let me be yours, angel— I'm gonna love you so much you won't know what to do with yourself."

You smirked. "I think you're always mine, whether I let you or not."

"I think you wanna marry me."

You nearly choked, and you felt your cheeks burn but you tried to keep your cool. "Bold claim."

"What if I ask you now?"

"You got a ring?"

"Do I?" he snorted, pulling a skull off of his right middle finger and getting down on one knee as he brandished it for you. "I don't want anyone else. You don't need anyone else. No more of this ships in the night crap— us, forever."

"A skull? Not the most romantic."

"Oh, but it is," he grinned, "til death do us part, babe. It was almost four years ago I said I'd follow you anywhere, I meant it, and I'll follow you to the grave."

The sound tech banged loudly on the door again. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON TEN MINUTES AGO, THE CROWD'S GONNA REVOLT," he bellowed.

"I need to play my set, Eddie," you reminded the man on his knee before you.

"Then play," he agreed, "and give me your answer after the encore."

You leaned down and kissed him, more gently than you’d allowed yourself before. “I will,” you promised.

You dashed out of the dressing room and towards the stage, a thousand people swarming around you to put your earpiece in, fling your guitar around your shoulder, brush powder over your face— and in a whirlwind of a few seconds, you were right there in front of the crowd, your band surrounding you. The crowd cheered, and your heart swelled; I’ve still got it.

“Good evening, Indianapolis!” you greeted through the microphone, and the roar grew. “Are we having fun tonight?”

It was easy, but it worked, and they applauded and whooped excitedly.

“How was that opener?” you prompted, and they cheered again. “Is it just me or was that frontman kinda cute?”

A more feminine cheer answered as if to say, it’s not just you.

“Hope you like this first song,” was your simple introduction before the drummer counted you off and you all began to play.

All in all, it was a great show. Crowd was good, band killed it (as always), and aside from a moment of feedback from one of the speakers, it all went pretty much perfectly. And that was all in spite of your mind being totally overwhelmed with thoughts of Eddie. Normally, music cleared your head, but nothing could keep your thoughts from everything that had just happened— and not even just that! You were thinking about that first night, about how young he was then; about when you called him and he stayed on with you until you fell asleep so you wouldn’t have to spend another night alone; about when he first looked at you backstage half an hour ago, holding onto his guitar, surrounded by girls but looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Shows always went by fast, especially when they went this well, but this one seemed to go by in a moment— and there you were, waiting in the dark, hearing them chant.

Encore, encore, encore!

You were about to go back out, but you smiled to yourself as you grabbed a stage manager by the sleeve. "Get me the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin— bring him out on stage."

"Now?"

"Now."

He ran off to search for Eddie, and you turned to your bassist, Alex: “Think we’ve made ‘em wait long enough?”

Jerome answered instead. “Everybody knows you like to tease,” he smirked.

True, but not as true as it used to be. “Let’s go back,” you announced, hearing a roar of applause wash onto the stage as the musicians took the stage once more.

"We missed you," you offered into the mic, hearing the crowd cheer. "Want us to play one more?"

They screamed again, almost deafeningly, and you laughed. You glanced over at the side of the stage and felt your heart melt just at the sight of Eddie there, the stage manager getting him ready to go out.

"I've got someone I want you guys to meet first," you explained. "An old friend of mine. You know him best as the guy who rocked the fuck out of this place before I came on…"

As they figured out who you were talking about, their applause restored.

"If you don't mind, I'd like him to come out and play this song with me."

Of course, that only made them more excited. I’ll show you rock and roll history, boys and girls.

You motioned for him to come out, and he walked on with a smile and a wave to the encouraging crowd. "But I want you to know something else about him,” you continued as he grabbed one of your guitars and put it on, fiddling with it for a second to make sure he knew the sound and feel of the instrument. “He's not just the hottest new sound in metal, and he's not just a heartthrob—"

The girls cheered louder at that.

"He's also—" you glanced at him, standing beside you at the other microphone, smiling back at you with slight confusion. You took a deep breath in and out, surprised at how shaky it was. You didn't think you got nervous anymore. "He's also my fiancé."

You expected a huge reaction to that, but there was a pause first— a stillness that said, did we just hear that right?

Time seemed to slow down as you stepped up to him. The crowd was frozen, and silent, and then they were gone. Your band was gone, the crew was gone, it was just you and him in an empty stadium.

When you were in front of him, his eyes blinking at you, his smile soft and patient, you reached up and held his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't forget you, Eddie," you whispered. "Believe it or not, I tried. But I couldn’t— because I love you."

He smiled back wider. "I love you too," he returned. "Wanna get married?"

You laughed a bit. "Okay," you answered flippantly, and he pulled you into a sudden, powerful kiss.

Then the crowd was back, and louder than ever. You felt Eddie's hand take yours, squeezing it before gently slipping the skull ring on your finger. Yes, it was a little big, but it would do for now.

You returned to the mic with a smile as you addressed the crowd again. "We're gonna play a song for you all, it's called Pretty Boy. Do you know that one, Eddie?"

"I think I can keep up," he answered into his own microphone with a smirk.

"Then let's show 'em how good we are together," you decided, turning over your shoulder to make eye contact with the drummer as you counted off: "one, two, three, four!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you

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jaytriesstrangerthings · 29 days

Text

Not Sick Fic

744 words of Eddie not being sick and Steve not finding him endearing.

---

“I’m not sick,” Eddie argues, punctuating his argument with an aggressive sneeze followed by harsh hacking.

“Are you holding a loogie in your mouth right now?” Steve crosses his arms and tilts his head in what the Party has taken to calling his Mom Stance (trademark pending).

In a disgusting display of defiance, Eddie swallows. “No.”

There’s a glob of neon yellow snot dripping from Eddie’s left nostril that he drags his crusty sweatshirt sleeve across before snorting up another drip of snot coming from the right side this time.

“You are…” Steve sighs, exasperated, “so gross.”

The furrowed brows and grumpy pout paired with Eddie’s pink nose and puffy eyes could almost be considered cute if Steve hadn’t just witnessed him swallow a loogie.

“How the hell did I fall in love with you?”

Steve knows exactly how it happened. He could write a library’s worth of books about all the things he loves about Eddie Munson. That doesn’t change the fact that Eddie absolutely refuses to admit that he’s sick and is being very gross about proving his health.

“Because I’m so totally handsome and I can do cool guitar stuff.” His voice is scratchy and nasally and Steve can tell he’s trying very hard not to sniffle or cough. “And I’m super rich on account of the cool guitar stuff.” Eddie bats his thick black eyelashes and flashes a big bright toothy smile in Steve’s direction. It’s usually quite charming but the new bead of snot dripping towards Eddie’s upper lip causes his charisma to take a hit. “Gimme a smooch.”

Eddie sniffles harshly, sucking the snot glob back into his nose. He leans in, lips puckered up and chapped from extended forced mouth breathing, eyes squeezed shut. Steve reaches out a hand to stop Eddie from falling when he continues to lean forward.

“You’re cute,” Steve admits, pushing Eddie back to balance on his own feet, “You’re also sick.”

“‘m not,” Eddie pouts again, opening his eyes and glaring at Steve.

Yes he is. Eddie is very sick. His nose is running a marathon and Steve could hear the congestion from a mile away. He’s running a 102 degree fahrenheit fever and shivering like a chihuahua on a sugar high. His eyes are red and puffy and his eye bags have eye bags. He’s sneezing and coughing and if the way he frequently grimaces and groans is any indication he’s nauseous too.

It’s wild to Steve, how easily Eddie tends to ignore his own health and well-being. He’s going to work himself to an early grave and take Steve with him. It’s frankly astonishing how long Eddie’s made it and Steve is half convinced that Death is simply scared of Eddie. It wouldn’t be surprising. Eddie is absolutely horrifying when he wants to be. And also sometimes when he doesn’t mean to be.

“Just lay down in bed, Eds. You’ll get better sooner if you rest.”

“Don’t need rest, ‘m not sick.” Eddie makes a noise like he might throw up if either of them make a wrong move. He clears his throat when the feeling seemingly passes. “Gotta finish planning out the next session for when the Party comes to visit next week and then work on some acous- acousti- ACHOO!” Eddie sneezes and a snot rocket launches toward Steve in a majestic arch of green and yellow nasal mucus. Steve, luckily, manages to move out of the way and not be hit by the bio weapon.

“Did you just say “achoo” as you sneezed?”

“I didn’t sneeze,” Eddie says, like a lying liar who lies.

Steve looks from Eddie to the small puddle of snot on the floor. “What’s that then?”

Eddie scoffs a couple of times, searching for a reasonable answer. His brain isn’t working at full capacity, which is reasonable considering he’s very sick, despite his resolute denial. “Science project.”

Eddie lives and breathes gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, Steve will give him that, but Steve has mastered manipulate, mansplain, malewife. Especially that malewife bit. If the government ever comes around to letting Eddie put a ring on it Steve would make a wonderful trophy wife.

“Yeah? What’s the hypothesis?” That’s right, Steve knows science words. He may be a certified Ken but he’s not stupid. Eddie, of course, is a Barbie, but that was never really a question.

“It’s about projectile paths and stuff.”

Steve cannot believe how endearing Eddie is even when he’s being this gross.

---

#steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddie #sick fic #eddie doesn't get sick like ever #sometimes he does science experiment though

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stars-and-the-min · 2 months

Text

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (7) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n switch out one shitty ex for a slightly less shitty one

masterlist | last part | part 7 | next part

ARTICLE

Revisiting 'Twelve More Days' : How Empty Bottles Spun Their Signature Sound on its Head on Tour April 12, 2024 · Written by Catherine Moore

Almost halfway through the Asian leg of their world tour, it's finally time to talk about what the pandemic-era rock band Empty Bottles has been up to. For greener artists, it's the cookie-cutter way to stick to a genre that has previously worked and give the masses what they want but instead, Empty Bottles have taken their 2022 sophomore sensation 'Twelve More Days' and tweaked the songs for their world tour.

Long-time fans of the Sydney-born band are familiar with the classic rock elements that brought Empty Bottles into the spotlight; claiming influence from fellow Sydneysiders 5 Seconds of Summer, Arctic Monkeys and other croony rock artists, so it was a rather big surprise for critics and fans alike when the album opened with a much softer, hypnotising approach.

The even bigger surprise was the creative and musical approach they took with their tour. As noted by various critics back during the album release, 'Twelve More Days' had a not-so-subtle jazz flavour to their sound, and the band seems to have embraced the jazz-rock sound by opening their tour with a speakeasy-style set, complete with the band decked out in snazzy 1930s reminiscent suits and frontwoman Selina Bui in glittery minidresses, opera gloves and a thematic vintage ribbon microphone.

Despite close to three years since she last performed in front of a live audience, Bui took to the stage like a fish to water, instantly entrancing her audience with her universally acknowledged rich sirenic vocals, drawing in the attention and sending the venue back to a 1930s speakeasy. Strangely, she performs this part of the show without her trusty guitar, leaving the grunt work on the other lead guitarist, talented Lukas Zhang, who delivers without a hiccup with no twin guitar to help cover any mistakes.

Quite a few of the sophomore album's songs are given a jazz-rock twist that nobody could have predicted. Other already jazz-influenced songs - namely deluxe track number 13 'money talks' and track 6 'typo' - have been breathed to life, as well as a couple of songs from the band's debut album 'overtime'.

Empty Bottles then returns after a brief intermission with their award-winning pop-rock sound, spending the rest of the set in much more familiar-looking leather jackets and t-shirts and a guitar returned to Bui's hand. Bui, very well known for having an interesting sense of humour, made the choice of returning to the stage with the fitting song choice of 'do you remember me?'. One thing you have to give the 22-year-old is that she really does know how to pick her moments, and the now-iconic first chords of the cocky, energetic track are enough to send the crowd screaming.

The exploration into the many subgenres of what is considered rock 'n' roll has always been a very fuzzy point of conversation, and it's been an honour seeing Empty Bottles have fun playing jump rope over that line. What makes this tour such a raving success is their perfect balance of experimentation and keeping to what is tried and true for them; the classic, hard-hitting, no-nonsense, inane-lyricism rock coupled magnetically with Bui's captivating execution on stage.

Would you find me at one of their shows again? Absolutely, there was truly nothing more thrilling than the first moments you see Selina Bui walk onto stage with her infamous cheshire cat smile. What did I personally think about the sound change? I was pleasantly surprised at how seamlessly they've adjusted the songs to fit the jazz-rock genre, I also believe that they have found the perfect sound to complement Selina Bui's voice. It's uncanny how it just clicked that she was born to sing the soft, almost lullaby-like, calming songs. If they were to release another album with a similar soft sound, I would happily eat it up.

Empty Bottles wrap up the Asian leg of the tour in Bangkok, Thailand later this month and then shortly begin the European leg in Sofia, Bulgaria.

INSTAGRAM

cameliazzz

liked by aidan_ebass and 122,394 others

cameliazzz life lately 🐾 tagged: selinabui

aidan_ebass Yes ma'am 🫡 ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass i'm dying u are such an old man ↳ lukaszhang @ selinabui he's like barely a year older than you??

cami.png the hottest drummer ever 💜💜💜

conangray a little commotion for the drummer pls and thank you ↳ cameliazzz @ conangray stop i'm blushing 🙈

TWITTER

fiona🩷 @fififorlina · 4h i mean we can all thank tommy for one thing and that's for twelve more days lmao ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 3h i forget that not all empty bottles fans have read this article but i think they all should: Why 'Twelve More Days' isn't a Break-Up Album, it's a Healing One

emme @flowersforcami · 1h yes twelve more days is full of t*mmy slander BUT remember that all the band members have writing credits and they ALL helped write songs so basically what i'm trying to say is that twelve more days is actually the rest of the band roasting the shit out of lina's ex ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 1h every one of those bitches rocked up to the studio and went for blood. that is a universally hated man in their group chat.

amie <3 @mieflrs · 2h it's been 3 years, i think it's time to admit that keeping tabs is absolutely not about thomas fucking howard ↳ amie <3 @mieflrs · 2h i don't care how delusional u are, where in those 3 minutes 54 seconds did you hear a single line that sounds like anything like that sorry excuse of a man??? now a certain japanese-american singer who is exceptionally hot playing the guitar on the other hand... ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 2h yes i agree it's not about t*mmy but it's also not about CHRISTOPHER like WTF R U ON???

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 32m we're in an oscalina drought and it's plain to see not all of us are coping well

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by chrisyamada, oscarpiastri and 279,384 others

selinabui now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh is it that sweet? i guess so

amelia_belrose pop!lina perhaps 🫣

oscarpiastri Didn't need to call me out like that ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri don't tell me u miss me already

sabrinacarpenter she's working late coz she's a singer

lukaszhang woman you hate coffee what are you on ↳ selinabui @lukaszhang why are u even here

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 2h 🚨| Chris spotted at the Empty Bottles 'Twelve More Days' Tour in Seoul Night 2

Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 32m 🚨| CHRIS ONSTAGE WITH EMPTY BOTTLES!!!

↳ Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 30m this made me break ok, i am so fucking thrown off. WDYM WE GOT SELINA BUI AND CHRISTOPHER YAMADA ON STAGE TOGETHER IN THE YEAR 2024???

mabel @ maplemabel32 · 25m i can't breathe chris and lina??? chris and lina???????? after so long??? CHRISTOPHER AND SELINA???? as in "hello it's chris" "and lina"??? MY BESTIES REUNITED???

june @linafesting · 18m sometimes, i'm convinced lina spins a wheel on how to break the internet today

↳ kat ୨୧ @yamayaps · 2m with all due respect, this stunt was NAUT selina's idea, this was a move that christopher 'no boundaries' yamada suggested

INSTAGRAM

emptybottles_official Olympic Gymnastics Arena

liked by chrisyamada and 334,294 others

emptybottles_official Nowhere as incredible as Seoul! Always special to have @chrisyamada join us on stage. tagged: chrisyamada

chrisyamada someone better return the favor later 👀 ↳ selinabui @chrisyamada u begged me to let u come what are u on ↳ chrisyamada @ selinabui ok maybe i did

pi4str1 ok someone catch me up bc i did not know chris and lina were friends??? ↳ linasgirl4 @pi4str1 it's probably best we don't get into it

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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inkluvs · 10 months

Note

ribs — send me a sfw request (prompts here if u want)

sender, seeing that receiver is cold, wraps their jacket around them with rockstar!remus pretty please

stop here

moniqueee babe i hope u like this i miss remus so muchhh <3 tw: slightly tipsy reader ; pet names ; (0.4k)

remus lupin x reader

summer celly // masterlist // taglist

Your attendance at Remus’s shows is something the press seems to delve into too often; Analyzing your relationship and whether or not you’re together based on which dates you go to and which you don’t when in reality, the two of you had come to an agreement a while back.

Fuck the press.

Whichever dates you feel up for attending, you come to, and if you don’t, Remus meets you in the hotel. He never judges you for any decision at all. He knows how hard being under the public eye is and he wants you to have your peace. But when you do choose to show up, Remus makes the most out of it. He holds your hand as you jump to the music and pulls you on stage at the end, dipping you with his mic behind your back and his guitar slung behind his as he kisses you. The crowd goes wild.

Once your upright Remus waved goodbye, a dopey and kiss-drunk grin splitting his cheeks. The fans love the more vulnerable side of him. The side that only you brought out and only you had wholly. It was always a good show when you were there.

The drive home is always amazing. You’re always a bit tipsy, giggly, and touchy with Remus, breathing in the familiar scent of cedarwood and smoke as he loves on you.

“Did we do alright?” The words are hushed against your neck, falling from his lips in tandem with a purpling bruise on the tender skin.

You hum, though Remus isn’t quite sure whether it’s in agreement with him or if you’re humming along to whatever tape the driver had playing.

“Stop here.” The man hits the brakes suddenly and you fall forward, knocking your chin against Remus’s chest as he pulls you into him.

“Here? Isn’t your hotel a few streets down?”

“Getting some air.” He replied, handing the man a few bills.

A shiver rolls over your skin as you step out of the car and you lean into Remus’s warmth, stumbling down the street as the two of you gain your balance. His thumb runs up and down your arm, pausing slightly when he notices the bumps.

“You’re cold.”

“I am not.” You giggle. Remus’s shows were always sweaty, both for the band and the audience, so you rarely bothered bringing a sweater, figuring the adrenaline would keep you warm. It never did.

“Here.” His jacket, black and warm and just a bit too big for you, is draped over your shoulders, a comforting weight as you lean back into him.

“Smells like you.” You sniffle.

“I’d hope so, doll. Wouldn’t want it to smell like James now would I.”

You nod solemnly.

“Race you back?”

You were already halfway there.

#ivy’s inbox 💌#monique 🐣#ivy is writing !#event.ribs #{ivy's summer celly}#remus lupin #remus lupin (ivy's version)#marauderluvs #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #rockstar!remus lupin #rockstar!remus #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader

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swordheld · 8 months

Note

hello! do u have any new music recommendations?

of course!!! going to throw some general pop/indie/rock/instrumental all over vibes at you? these are some of the ones that i've been having on repeat a lot lately because they bring something bright and fun into my days - hope you enjoy them !! 💛

if i'm honest (trousdale) – oh the absolute vibes of this one. the harmonies. the beat. the slow downs and build ups? that ending? it's like easy, slow, growing ease and joy. that point 3/4 of the ways through the song, that building of things? the payoff? those background horns? the drums? i cannot sit through it without some kind of air guitar / drums / chair dance type beat. it's too good that you cannot help it, it just goes so hard.

close one (fizz) – i have been writing so much love poetry to this song. it is soft and slow and serene like light, all golden hour, the soft golden hues of almost, of here, like this, with me? that little 'fuck it' before the chorus is so fun. this group is made of insanely popular individuals (dodie/orla gartland/greta isaac/martin luke brown???) and together .... they are so powerful. cannot wait to see what they create next !!

run (maisie peters) – there is such a fun vibe to this song. that line of the chorus, that 'i've been lied to / i've been cut and deleted / i've heard some things i will leave unrepeated' is sooooo good, that rhyme scheme that syllable count balance? it immediately went onto my writing playlist w/ that fun beat, that synth, that catchy repetition? the whole album this comes off of is so very good too, esp. 'the band and i'? i really enjoy her sound!!

like a brother (hey, nothing) – this song feels like a lullaby, in the way of being swung in a hammock? all late summer, early winter winds? but there is such a lyricism that gets stuck in my brain, the whole layout of the chorus and is just so soft. i feel so many things. another easy one for the poetry playlist.

margo (sally boy) – oh the orchestral, string opening? the easy flow of it, instrumental and light, before hitting that small bit of silence before the guitar and lyrics come in? and then the absolute hit that is the beat of the chorus hitting? obsessed. phenomenal. i love the balance of gentle, light instruments and the slow instruction of the drumbeat, it feels like a whole story that you can experience, the flow of it!

eightball girl (maddie zahm) – i can leave this song for a few days and then out of nowhere it'll just be in my head again, the vibes of it, that beat of the chorus? the layered voice effects? sometimes songs have this balance to them that my brain just sucks up like a sponge and this is one of them. soooo good. i'll be in the supermarket and my brain will just go eightball girllll, tell me how you feel about meeee and it's perfect.

snow angel (reneé rapp) – this was one of the first ones i found on my daylist that was just like, how did i go so long without you. how did i not know about you. and since then it's been a daily listen. the slow, gentle breeze of that beginning? there is such a rising and falling to this song, like seasons, like the breeze? all tide, all here and there and back again, all resilience and ferocity, softness and violence? that electric guitar and the piano and the feedback just makes me want to just. aaaaaaa. this whole album is just banger after banger too!!

grace (henrik) – it's so fun!!! it brings me so much joy and energy, the easy breezy pop vibes, it's so hopeful and gentle and loving. i have it set as my alarm rn because i really do think it'll last through the sisyphean task of getting me out of bed in the mornings, it just feels like sunlight.

#q&a.#birdsong.#music recs.#i have not been immune to the impact of the daylist introduction. spotify will tell u i am obsessed !#some of these artists have only like? 20k listeners? and i'm just amazed. flabbergasted. like they're SOOOOO GOOD????#anyway music continues to be something i love and live to enjoy. artists u have my whole heart!!!!!#went through my liked songs to look for The Recent Hits™ for this and i think i've saved like 200+ in the last week and a half. love it !!!#hope u enjoy them babes !!! lemme kno if ur lookin for more / or anything more specific <33

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

Text

Okay, this is my headcanon! But I think Leon needs a REGULAR civilian girl. I have nothing against Ada (I love that woman) but with Leon you can hit me a dozen times, I can't see her. Their relationship, in my understanding, is toxic. Leon is clearly tired of playing cat and mouse with Ada.

So, my main (and favorite) headcanon is that Leon's partner is still younger than him, and is a student at the College of Arts and Culture. Perhaps she knows how to play the piano or some ancient instrument (the lute? guitars are for wimps). If she knows how to shoot or Leon himself taught her this. Of course, she does not carry a gun with her, but a gas spray must be! Leon will remind her several times to keep it in her jacket pocket.

Her gun always pulls a bit to the left. But in reality it is not, she just shoots askew. But playfully blames Leon.

Leon teaches her how to properly hold a weapon, reload it, but sincerely hopes that this will never come in handy for her. (Besides, I'm just sure that Leon will definitely praise her if she hits the target. It can be nice words or a gentle kiss on the back of the head).

Fluffy Leon. He is very gentle with her, flirts a lot, sometimes even too much. Sometimes he says various smut, only to deliberately embarrass her. But he likes it when she starts to play along, although he likes reddening cheeks from embarrassment more. And no, Leon will not tell her about his work until the last. He does not want to endanger a dear person. Relations with him are also not easy, because Leon is a very reserved person: he is ready to lend a helping hand, but hates to accept it. So it's hard to know what's on his mind. And all if you knock on his "shell" a little, I'm sure that Mr. Kennedy would allow himself to be comforted by insignificant signs of attention. In addition, it certainly relaxes him, as his beloved talks about some historical person.

“Do you know Anne Boleyn? I recently read Alison Weir, "Anne Boleyn, a king’s obsession. Henry VII is just a big pig! He wanted a son, but in the end, his daughter became the Great Queen anyway! He didn't deserve any of his wives."

Leon is unlikely to listen carefully if he has just returned from a mission. Most of the time he will disappear into the bar emptying the stocks of whiskey, but if his mental state is stable, then he is really interested, but not always...

She is literally his sunshine! Unfortunately, when Leon is drunk, he can rudely push away (not physically. Raising a hand to his beloved is beyond impossible for him). He will definitely apologize the next morning, but will feel like a bastard for having snapped at his love. Even if she forgives him.

Tries to fix a mistake. A gift or help around the house... Leon understands that it's hard with him, understands that she can find another good guy, and he will let her go without problems, considering himself not the best option for her. Yes, it will hurt him, but if it's for the best, he'll understand. True, leaving him will be accompanied by another hard drinking.

"I don’t want to leave, but I don’t understand what is happening to you! You are very dear to me, it hurts me to see that you are ruining yourself, Leon!"

The words that at least someone needs him, not as a federal agent, but as a person will break him. Leon would hug her, bury his nose in the crook of her neck, and most likely let himself cry. He's fucking tired of B.O.O, he's always dreamed of having a family and helping people as a cop! His life shouldn't be like this!

Their sex balances on the verge of tenderness and rudeness. I don't think Leon has a fetish for choking, for example. He can grab him by the neck, but he won't squeeze. Suddenly he miscalculates his strength and causes harm ... nevertheless, he still dominates, although Leon is a giver, so he will make sure that his partner gets the highest pleasure from making love to him.

The agent reacts quite calmly when his girlfriend puts her leg on his hip. True, he doesn't like it when she takes up the entire bed, trying to push Kennedy to the floor in his sleep. Sometimes she can be very active in this.

He's fought B.O.O., zombies, and more, but he doesn't always manage to stay on his bed at night. Because this woman prefers to take everything.

The couch is also comfortable.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?

Leon will come up with some kind of go-ahead, but will not tell the truth

Nothing strange, just a man with the last name of the president lost a bed to his girlfriend.

I think because of the age difference, Leon is afraid to marry his girlfriend. To be more precise, he is afraid that she will become a target for his enemies. If something happened to her through his fault, he would never forgive himself for it. And let the D.S.O shove all the programs to protect the relatives of their agents up their ass (I hope they have such)

If an outbreak of a new virus occurs again, Leon will climb even to hell for his beloved. He's already protected Ashley from the ganado and Las Plagas, so keeping his beloved safe from the new stuff will be a priority for him. Leon is trained to deal with this, but she is not, but this does not mean that she will not hit the zombies with a tire iron or a bat in order to protect herself, but once again she will not stick out from behind Leon's back. But she may have to take a few shots, which is unlikely to kill the zombies.

"You have to shoot right in the head."

"This is my friend! You SHOT my friend! He... he... I could..."

"He's not human anymore."

"HE WAS MY FRIEND! Who gave you the right to kill people?!"

Yeap, she fired first, but...Leon realizes it's just a shock. He didn't tell her anything about where he actually works, so her fear is entirely justified. The gun she found will be in his holster, and he will carefully make his way with her through this shit to leave her in a safe place.

Hit a zombie in the head with a tire iron when he wants to attack Leon from behind? She has courage. Maybe she's not a spy like Ada; she doesn't look like Helena or Claire, but she tries her best to hold on even if she has nightmares afterwards.

Some riddles can be solved faster than Leon. Need to quote Kafka or remember an important historical date? Next to Leon is a walking encyclopedia. Play a couple of chords? Problematic, but not critical.

She is his sunlight... or the light from a flashlight. Leon's lantern broke, so...

"Please don't shine in my eyes, baby." "I'm Sorry."

Leon will have to say goodbye to his leather jacket, but it's a joke, he'll give it to her himself.

They will walk this path together. Most likely, Leon will leave her in a safe place, thinking that she does not need a relationship with him. Most importantly, he saved her life.

-Hey, Mr. John Wick, - Leon turned around in confusion at a face stained with someone else's blood, where a tired smile bloomed. - Will you teach me how to suplex when you get back?

-Better we just take a hot shower together.

- I don't think I'll be going back to college any time soon, so I'll wait for you to come back. And I'm sorry about what I said to you on campus. I probably wouldn't have survived without you. Damn, I'd be torn to pieces.

- I understand.

- We'll talk calmly when it's over, right? I probably didn't know much about you. Will this end, Leon?

- Sure.

He'll be back, really. When he finishes off another bastard who has arranged a new outbreak of the virus.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #original male character #resident evil #resident evil vendetta

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justmeinadaze · 1 year

Text

We're A Family Part 9 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, I did warn you people so don't come at me lol Good feels and bad feels abound. Idk where this came from. Probably from some person stuff Im struggling with. But alas...Enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, ALL the angst, and fluff at the beginning and end to warm your souls, Someone from Eddie's past comes into play so his trauma is mentioned (i.e Child abuse and his mom leaving), Dylan talks a bit about his feelings with Charlie. I think those are the big triggers here.

Word Count: 4127

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

You grin from your place on the floor as you watch Eddie strum his guitar and sing as Steve holds her hands while she tries to balance on her feet.

Aurora’s first birthday was coming up and you felt like time was just flying by. Steve had started school, choosing to utilize the night program so he could at least spend time with the kids while they were awake if he was off that day. Eddie had just recently been promoted to manager at the auto shop which he had originally accepted because it paid more but found that he actually enjoyed the work it provided.

Dylan seemed to be getting along ok and was his usual happy self. While he still loved playing the guitar, he asked you if he could sign up for the Hawkins little league team and had steadily grown to being one of the best players on the team. When you picked him up from practice one day you noticed how his face changed as he hit the ball, like he was letting out all his frustrations with the tiny bat in his hands.

After what happened your son barely brought up Charlie, following through with calling Steve and Eddie “dad” whenever he addressed them. You sent him texts of updates regarding Dylan but Vivian was the only one to ever reply and usually it was something simple like “Thank you.”

“What’s mama concentrating so hard on, huh?”, Eddie smiled as he looked your way.

“We’re going to have her birthday here, right?”

“Yeah, why not. Wayne said he’d be able to make it and I have the day off.”

“Me to. I made sure to ask for it like 3 months in advance.” Steve flops down on the floor, Aurora wiggling out of his grasp to crawl to the metalhead as she pats on his guitar. “My mom will be swinging by. I assume Robin and Kierra to, of course.”

“I have some friends at work that want to come and bring their kids. Dylan knows a few of them.”

“That will be fun for him. Maybe I can invite the guys. I know they’ve been wanting to see her again.” Eddie leans forward and kisses the baby’s cheek making her giggle.

You stretch out on the floor in front of you and she promptly crawls towards you bumping her head into yours. “Ow. You have a hard head.” You reach out to mess with her curls the way they do.

“She’s a headbanger like me. Yeah? Just like dada. Dada?” Eddie chuckles as she falls back on her butt, watching him speak before looking over at you.

“Dada? Can you say that? Say I’m just like dada.” Both men laugh until a breathy sound escapes her tiny mouth. You grin at her encouragingly as they completely freeze. “There you go. Come on, baby. Dada.”

“Da…da.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie quickly picks her up and places her on his lap as Steve pulls out his phone. “Can you say it again? Who am I? Am I dada?”

“Da…dada.”

He hugs her to his chest as the three of you smile excitedly. “That’s right, princess. I’m your dada.” He turns her around to face Steve. “That’s your dada to.”

You scoot towards the other man and point at his chest as her wide eyes watch you intently. “Dada?” She follows your finger as you point between them repeating the phrase hoping she doesn’t get confused. Her little hand reaches towards Steve’s phone and he pulls it out of her reach as she crawls towards him, headbutting his chin before he places a kiss on her head.

“Da…da.” She falls onto her back looking up at him as she reaches her hand out again. “Da…da…da.”

##############

“No, she can’t be talking yet.”, Wayne grins as he bounces the baby on his hip. “You need to stay a baby as long as possible. Your dad grew up too fast and I hate it.”

You grin at him as Dylan and the other kids run past you out to the backyard where some of your friends were sitting on the patio talking amongst themselves.

“Yeah, Steve went from toddler to high schooler in the blink of an eye.”, Mrs. Harrington smiled from her place at the table.

“Stop it, both of you!”, you giggle. “I still haven’t accepted that this year my son will be 9. I can’t even think about high school.”

The boys were both outside entertaining the older kids while you started cleaning up some of the plates from the table and putting away the left-over food. A knock on the door startled you as you looked in that direction.

“That’s weird. No one else should be coming…” Drying your hands, you head towards the front door. A beautiful, older woman a bit younger than Wayne stood before you smelling to high heaven like cigarettes. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders over a Van Halen t-shirt and some obnoxiously tight blue jeans. There was something familiar about her but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. Uh, does Edward Munson live…here?”, she asked as she looked around behind you.

“May I ask what you need with him?”

“Or even Wayne… I recognized the truck outside…”

You leaned back, gently calling for the man as he strode over. He froze in place when their eyes met.

“You can’t be here.”

“Wayne, I need to talk to my son.”

“You should have done that 15 years ago, Lynn, when you left him on my doorstep.” He frustratingly sighed as his eyes met your panicked ones. “I got this, Y/N. Go ahead and get back to your guests.” Wayne stepped further out and closed the door behind him.

Numbly, you headed back to the kitchen where Steve was talking with his mom who was holding Aurora. He noticed immediately something was off, running to your side.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“We…we need to keep Eddie outside.”, you whisper.

“Honey, why? What’s wrong with Eddie?”

The man himself comes in holding Dylan upside down in his arms as the small boy laughs. You both meet his eyes and he blinks as he flips his son back around, placing his feet on the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“Eddie…I…”

“No, Wayne! I have every right to at least talk to him!”

“Lynn! This isn’t your house!”

Eddie’s mom rounded the corner, her eyes locking with his. “Edward.”

“Mom?”

################

You and Steve busied yourselves around the living room, cleaning up from the party. Everyone had gone home and Dylan had taken Aurora up to her room before laying on the floor to keep her company while everything unfolded.

“Why don’t you go upstairs to, Y/N?”, Steve whispered.

“Steve Harrington, if I didn’t leave you alone with your father what makes you think I’d even consider leaving him here with her.”

“Because Wayne and I are here to keep him safe.”

All three Munson’s sat at the dining room table silently as Eddie glared into the void with his arms crossed, his leg bouncing under the table.

“Whose birthday is it?”, she asked, sighing when no one answered. “I’m going to guess from the pink cake I saw that woman put away it’s the baby girls?”

“’That woman’ is my wife and ‘the baby girl’ is my daughter.” Eddie’s tone dripped with venom and it killed you. Eddie rarely ever got angry and even when he did it wasn’t anywhere near the level Charlie had gotten to more than a few times. The only time you ever heard him really scream and shout was during D & D or on stage.

“Um, can I smoke in here or—”

“No.”, everyone responded in unison.

“Jesus, fine. It’s not a big deal, you know. I used to smoke around Edward all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m so well adjusted. Either that or the abandonment.”

“Look, Lynn, just tell the boy why you’re here so you can be on your way.” Wayne seemed more in control than his nephew but his anger was just as strong as he glared at the woman across from him.

She exhales as she straightens up in her seat. “I, uh, have you spoken to your father?”

It was Steve’s turn to sigh as he sat at the foot of the stairs, you leaning against the wall in front of him where you could still keep an eye on everything.

“What reason would I have to do that?”

“Because he’s your father.”

“Oh, fuck you. Do you really want to play that game right now?!”

“Eddie!” Wayne extended his arm towards the boy, gesturing for him to calm down. “Get to the point, Lynette.”

“He needs help. Your father has an opportunity to get his sentence reduced but he needs character witnesses. We thought…maybe…”

You growled as you began stepping forward, Steve immediately reaching out to grip your arm and hold you in place.

“I don’t think my testimony would help. ‘Yes, your honor, he may have taught me how to boost cars, threaten people, and beat the shit out of me but I assure you he’s a really great guy!’”

“Eddie, he wasn’t perfect but he did the best he could.”

The metalhead chuckled as he rose from his chair, clenching his fists as he paced in place. “Best he could… Wayne did the best he could. I fucking do the best I can for my kids. Dad did jack shit for me and I still haven’t gotten an apology…from either of you!”

Your heart breaks as you watch him get slowly wound up.

“Is that seriously all you showed up for after all these years? To ask me to lie for him? You seriously are amazing. You hunt me down, show up at my daughter’s birthday party, barge into our house… you don’t even bother to try and get to know me or my family…just thought ‘hey I’ll see if he’s available to lie to a judge. He definitely has nothing to lose.’”

“How did you know where he was?” All heads turn to you as you step into the area turning to face his mother. “Who told you where to find him?” Your eyes meet as she sighs again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lynn.”, Wayne groans.

“He still has friends in town including some that work at the plant with his uncle…”

Eddie’s gaze shift between the three of you trying to figure out what you all know.

“How long have you been talking to him?”, you ask. When she doesn’t answer the anger in your body starts to boil over. “Eddie has a right to know especially since he never even got so much as a fucking postcard! Yet you can keep in touch with his asshole dad.”

“Allen is my husband—”

“And Eddie was your son! How fucking dare you—”

“Baby, come on.” Steve comes up behind you and tugs you to him. “Remember, there are kids in the house. Calm down.” He reassuringly rubs your arms as you aggressively huff in his chest.

“How long?”, Eddie asks. “Since he went in?” He laughs when she nods. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Her jaw tightens as she stands, reaching in her pocket to place a card on the table. “I’ll be in Hawkins for the next month or so. If you change your mind, just call me here.”

Wayne walks her out as you and Steve watch the metalhead continue to fume.

“Eddie…”

“No! No one come near me right now!”

He continues to bounce on his toes as his fingers run frustratingly through his hair before abruptly hurling his fist through the air and punching the nearby wall.

############

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, come on, Ed. You know by now 90% of the time we all get into a car, it’s bound to be a surprise to at least one person.”, Steve grins. “And like always, Dylan is the mastermind behind this venture.”

You son smiles from his place in the back seat as the other man pulls up into a parking lot.

“Aren’t these the batting cages he practices at?”

Dylan hops out of the car, ushering for Eddie to do the same as he takes his hand with Steve following behind. You linger back to gather Aurora and allow your son to work his magic.

He leads the metalhead towards an empty area explaining to him why the helmet is important and which type of bats he prefers while his other dad finds a bench near the cage, motioning for you to sit beside him.

“Ok, so when the ball comes, you’re going to want to swing as hard as you can.” Eddie understood enough about sports to get that was a given but, for Dylan, continued to react like this was all new information for him.

When the first ball shot out, he swung and missed.

“No, dad, that’s ok. I know it can be a bit fast. You have to try and keep your eye on the ball as it comes towards you and lower your hands a bit.”

The ball shot out again and this time Eddie hit it, sticking out his tongue towards you and Steve as you both cheered in your little area. Aurora noticed and began pressing her hands together as she smiled, pointing her tiny fingers in his direction.

The next few balls that head his way, he hits and sends towards the net on the other end that makes your son smile with pride.

“Now, when I play, sometimes I think about… my other dad…how angry he makes me.” Eddie’s eyes meet his as he continues. “I think about how he left and how he treats my mom. How he never wanted to spend time with me like you guys do…”

Steve reached for your hand when he noticed your body stiffen as you watched them. You couldn’t hear what your son was saying but he looked so heartbroken.

Eddie took his stance again, images flashing through his mind of his parents and how they treated him when he was a kid.

“Jesus Allen, how am I supposed to send him to school looking like this?!” His mother gestures towards the fresh welt on Eddie’s face from where his dad had smacked him.

“Look, the little fucker almost got us caught! He cut the wrong wire and the fucking car alarm went off.”, his dad growled.

The crack of the bat hitting the ball made you jump as he hit it harder than he had before. Over and over again, Eddie swung as hard as he could, not thinking about form or how his hands should be. With each memory he let loose, feeling the weight of the last few days lift off him.

The machine tossing the balls whizzed to a stop as the metalhead panted, trying to catch his breath.

“Dada.” Aurora reached his way before clapping like she had seen you do.

Eddie’s head hung as he began to cry, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s shoulders as he came to hug him. Handing the baby to Steve, you entered the cage tugging them both into your embrace.

############

That night Eddie crashed between both of you, you clinging to his back as his head rested on Steve’s chest. While you two slept, Steve laid awake thinking about the last few days and everything the man he cared about was feeling. He hated that he couldn’t wave a wand and fix the pain the metalhead was feeling. Even though he had a much more violent up bringing in the beginning than Steve ever did, he knew what it was like to feel that abandonment when it came to both his parents. He was so grateful that his mom was being more present while trying to be better and he so desperately wanted that for you both.

Eddie’s palm moved against the boy’s chest as a tiny grumble left his lips.

“Steve? Why are you still awake?”

“Thinking.”

“Hm. Well stop it. You have work tomorrow, man.”

“Ed, you know I love you, right? You can talk to me about anything…”

“Geez, you’re starting to sound like Y/N. ‘Would you still love me if…’”, he changes his voice to sound like yours as he smiles.

“I’m serious, Eddie.”

Eddie opens his eyes fully as he pushes up on his elbow to look down at Steve. “I know. I just… Honestly, I thought I had left all that in the past.”

“What triggered everything these past couple of days? Was it just seeing her again?”

“Partly. Most of it was finding out she had still been talking to my dad. Couldn’t manage to pick up a fucking phone to call me but can take the time to write letters to her abusive, criminal husband. It just made me feel like I was ten all over again being left behind.”

Eddie felt your arms tighten around him as you nuzzled into his back between his shoulder blades.

“Are you going to talk to your dad?”

“Wayne is my dad.” Steve nods in understanding before rolling on to his side to face the other boy. “Thanks, Steve. I, uh, I know we don’t…do the whole romantic thing like we do with Y/N but I do know you love me and, of course, I love you.”

“Of course.”, the boy chuckles as he reaches for Eddie’s face pulling him in for a gentle kiss.

The other man giggles as Steve’s kisses get bolder and more passionate. “I’m kinda limited with this seatbelt around my chest.” His grin grows when he feels you hug him tighter before kissing his shoulder.

“You like it.”, you mumble with a smile as you release him from your hold and stretch.

Steve pushed Eddie on to his back, immediately attaching his lips to his neck as he sucked and nibbled on the metalhead’s sweet spot. He lightly moaned as he turned to meet your soft but worried eyes.

“You okay, baby?”

Eddie nodded as his thumb reached out to glide along your bottom lip before he pulled them to his own. He needed this, needed to feel and taste you both; the two people in this world that loved him unconditionally.

Steve placed feathery kisses down his chest, reaching down into the boy’s shorts to pull out his cock. After scooting down the bed, you grab the waistband around Eddie’s hips, removing the garment to allow for more access.

As you run your fingers through Steve’s hair, he leans down over the man’s length and a long line spit falls over the tip. Eddie groans as he strokes it with his palm, coating him with his saliva before taking him in to his mouth.

Tilting your head, you drag your tongue along the parts of his cock he isn’t able to reach as one of your tiny hands reached to massage his balls.

“Jesus… that feels…feels so good.”

Steve’s mouth came off him with a pop, his own tongue tracing the veins to his shaft where it found yours. Eddie perched up on his elbows, watching as you two kissed with his cock between your lips. You took over so the other man could hastily remove his boxers.

Eddie sat up, grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a sloppy kiss before falling back down to his pillow with you in tow.

“Turn, princess.”

When he released you, you tore off your shirt as you rolled over so your back was flush to his chest. He roughly yanked off your underwear, mewling as he glided his tip through your folds.

“Take whatever you need, Eddie. I’m yours.”

You both moaned as he pushed himself into your entrance, kissing your neck as his arms held you tightly to him.

The bed moved slightly as Steve laid behind him, gripping his hips as he guided his cock slowly into him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”, Eddie panted. The sound of their heavy breathing was driving you crazy as your pussy clenched around him. “Ha-harder, Steve.”

As he honored his request, you push your hips back against his own, meeting each thrust with a moan that had Eddie’s eyes flutter closed. You clung to his hand as you craned your neck as much as you could to see their faces.

Steve abruptly pulled out, grabbing Eddie’s waist and tugging him out of you and onto his hands and knees. The metalhead’s hair hung with his head as the other boy thrust back into him, one of his palms reaching out absently for you.

Sliding underneath him, he lifted his arm so you could find his cock and guided it back into your dripping cunt. With this new position it gave him more leverage to utilize his hips he pumped into you and pushed back onto Steve.

“God, you both feel so fucking good.”

You whimpered as you felt the coil winding in your belly, extending your hand between you as you rubbed your clit.

“Eddie, yes. Please… don’t stop.”

The boy pushes up on his knees and Steve wrapped his arm around his chest to keep him steady as he pounded into you. You glance up at them with admiration as Eddie’s eyes close and Steve’s head leans against his shoulder. How did I get so lucky?

“I love you.”

Both sets of eyes look down at you as you softly smile before covering your mouth with your palm, your back lifting off the bed as came. Eddie’s face scrunches in pleasure as he grunts and cums inside of you. Steve tilts him forward slightly, gripping his shoulder as he thrusts his seed into him.

The metalhead lifts you, bringing you back up more comfortably towards the pillows and settles beside you. You play with his hair as his head rests on your chest, his arm and leg slung over your body.

“I love you to. I’m sorry if I’ve been kind of out of it these past couple of days.”

“Eddie, baby, you don’t have to apologize for something like that. I…we just hate seeing you hurt, ya know?” His mess of curls graze your chin as he nods. “I heard you answer Steve’s question but if you change your mind, we’re here for you.”

You giggle when a shirt hits your face. “Your daughter is babbling. Clothes, beautiful people.”

You and Eddie playfully whine as he pulls on his shorts and you throw on his shirt right as Steve bounces in with a bright eyed one year old.

“Ma’am, it is 4am. Why are you awake?” She grins as she reaches for you. “Is it because daddy let you take a nap?”

Steve holds up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. I get it. I messed up.”

Aurora smacks Eddie’s chest and he pretends to wince. “Ow, child. I’m fragile.”

“Dada.”

“Ok, princess. You mastered dada. What about the person that pushed you out, huh?” You laugh as you lean on his shoulder. Steve climbs beside you, tenderly reaching out to smooth her hair. “Mama? Say mama?”

She rubbed her eyes as she looked around the room babbling incoherently.

“Yeah, that’s about right.”, he chuckles. Both men try to mimic what you had done before pointing at you and repeating the word.

There was a small knock on your door and as soon as you granted permission, Dylan’s sleepy frame came into view.

“Why are you up, weirdo?”

“I had to go pee—”

“Thanks for the update.”

He lazily smiles at Eddie. “AND I heard you talking to Ro.”

Steve gestures him over and helps lift the boy onto the bed. “We’re trying to get her to say ‘mama’.”

Dylan grins, poking the baby’s nose making her laugh before he does the same to you. “Mama.” Her eyes widen as he does it again, absorbing his motions. Your son repeats the action, this time saying nothing when he touches your nose. Aurora’s face scrunches just like yours when you’re annoyed.

Her tiny finger reaches for your face and you lift her to her feet as she pokes your nose like he did.

“Ma…ma. Ma.”

“Well shit.”, Steve chuckles.

Dylan smiles in triumph as he kisses his sister’s cheek. “Dad! You can’t talk like that. We have a baby in the house.”

############

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @alienthings

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outerspacebisexual · 2 years

Text

Acceptance - Eddie Munson

Requested: Yes, based on this request

Summary: When your acceptance letter to college finally arrives, you're beyond excited to tell everyone. But your brother Steve and your boyfriend Eddie don't have the reactions you were expecting.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mr. and mrs. harrington being shit parents

a/n: i simply do not care for the inaccuracies in this. i don't care bc it's just pretend and we can pretend that this is how getting into college works :)

also! i love hearing what you guys liked about my fics, so thanks for all the love on my other stuff! <3

Masterlist

The letter sitting on the end of your kitchen counter was taunting you.

Unopened, still in pristine condition even after travelling all the way from New York, and The Juilliard School logo in the top right-hand corner.

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, despite the fear and trepidation that rose up at its mere presence.

This one letter would decide your fate. It would decide the whole trajectory of your life, for better or for worse.

Your application had been a secret. The guidance counsellor at school had made you apply when you applied for your other colleges. You had made her promise not to tell anyone about it when she helped you apply. If you didn’t get in, you didn’t want Steve or Eddie feeling sorry for you.

Music was your whole life. You had been a talented musician from birth, from everything from singing, writing, or composing music.

You weren’t even sure where your love for it had come from. Your parents didn’t care for it. They had enrolled you in a few lessons as kid, but as you grew older, their acceptance had dissipated, and it turned into a hobby that you did without their knowledge. As far as they knew, you could barely manage to play one song on the piano. So, you had enrolled yourself in classes, and taken music at school seriously, with the help of Steve.

Your twin brother had been a major part of your success. While you parents had never come to recitals or eisteddfods—either because they were away or because they just didn’t want to—Steve had always been there in the front row, cheering you on.

Being twins, you and Steve had always been attached at the hip. Not only because you had no other siblings, but because you barely had any parents either. They were never home, and you and Steve had experienced the majority of your life without them there.

It had only been you and Steve at your middle school play. It had only been you and Steve at the DMV on your sixteenth birthday. It had only been you and Steve at prom. It had only been you and Steve at your graduation.

You two were inseparable, and you owed everything to Steve.

Most especially because without him forcing you to go to the music store for another sheet book two years ago, you would have never gotten to know Eddie.

The two of you had nearly bowled each other over as you pushed the door just as he flung it open. He had only just managed to grab your arm to avoid you hitting the ground, even as he balanced his guitar case. You knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson from school, but you had never really known him. Hardly anyone did.

So, when you two began to run into each other more and more at the music store, you had strung up a friendship that quickly evolved into a relationship. That was yet another bullet point to add to the list of things that your parents didn’t approve of. Not that you gave a single flying fuck what they thought of your relationship.

And now, over two years later, you were in love with the Hawkins’ resident metalhead freak, more than you could even express.

That was why this ominous letter was so threatening.

Because it held the answer to whether all of your hard work was worth it—whether it was enough, and whether you would be leaving Hawkins.

You glanced at the clock on the wall of the kitchen.

Your parents would be home from work any minute. It was one of the weeks where they graced you with their presence at their own home. Steve would be home from work in less than 30 minutes, too.

Hesitantly, you reached out and took the letter into your hands. Your eyes ran over your name and address. You breathed in, readying yourself for whatever it said inside. Whatever the response was, it would be fine. You would be able to live with not getting in.

You swallowed, flipping it over and tearing it open without another thought.

You stood still as your eyes ran over the words printed across the page. You read it multiple times, and every time you did, the words didn’t change.

We are happy to write of your acceptance into The Juilliard School.

You got in.

You couldn’t breathe. “Oh my god,” you said to yourself.

The door opened behind you, and you spun around as your parents stepped into the house.

“Y/N,” your mother said, frowning. “What’s the matter?”

“I…I got in,” you managed, barely able to form words.

Your father rolled his eyes. “Speak up, Y/N. Don’t mumble.”

You shook your head. “I got into Juilliard.”

Both your parents stopped. You could see the shock and disbelief on their faces.

“What?” your mother said, rushing forward to rip the letter from your hands. Her eyes went over the letter, eyes widening when she found the same answer as you did. “Juilliard, honey,” she said to your father. “Our child is going to Juilliard.”

Your father huffed a laugh. “A Harrington at Juilliard. Christ, wait until the guys at work hear about this.”

As every second passed, your smile fell more and more. As your mother was immediately on the phone to your aunt who lived across the country, bragging to her about the fact that her child was going to Juilliard.

Of course they only cared about themselves.

It didn’t matter that you had gotten in without any help from them. It didn’t matter they hadn’t supported you in your pursuits. It didn’t matter that you got in.

The only thing that mattered to them was that their child got into Juilliard.

In the midst of your parents talking to different family members on the phone, the door opened again, and your smile found its way to your face again.

Steve looked around confused at your parents who were smiling and laughing on the phone. It was rare to see them smiling at all, let alone in their own house.

“What’s going on?” he said to no one in particular.

You father turned to him. “What happened, son, is that one of my children has managed to make something of their life.”

“Dad,” you said, affronted. You looked between him and Steve. You knew that would hurt Steve. Your father was never one to pull his verbal punches when it came to making sure Steve knew that he was a failure. He was a grade-a asshole.

You saw the hurt flash across Steve’s face, even as he said, “What does that mean?”

Cutting your father off, you told him, “I got into Juilliard.” You couldn’t stop the smile as you got ready for his congratulations. This was what he had been helping you for. All of his time spent walking with you to and from lessons and sitting through your eisteddfods, all of it had led to this moment.

You hadn’t been expecting Steve to jump around with excitement at the news, but you had expected some kind of joy and happiness for you, maybe even a hug as he congratulated you.

You really hadn’t expected him to take a step back, frown turning into a look of disbelief. “What? Since when did you apply to Juilliard?” he asked. There was something about his tone. Something that sounded a lot like disgust.

You were suddenly unsure of yourself. “I—I applied back before we finished high school. They had a really long waitlist to get in, so I didn’t get my acceptance until now,” you explained, reciting what the letter had said.

“But Juilliard is in New York?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting in a month, but I have to leave in a week to get ready—”

“—A week?” Steve shouted, throwing his hands up. “You’re leaving in a week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I wanted to wait until—”

“—Until what? Until you could just leave straight away?”

You took a step back at the ferocity in his voice. “What the fuck, Steve? It’s Juilliard. I can’t just negotiate when I get there.”

Steve scoffed. “So, you’re just up and leaving?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it to try and avoid the tears you could feel threatening to escape. “It’s not that far, Steve. I can come back and visit—”

“Not far? It’s, like, twelve hours one way. When are you going to visit, huh?”

You couldn’t see your brother in the man who stood there in front of you. Your brother had been the one to support you through all of your musical dreams, even when your parents didn’t. It had always just been you and Steve.

And now, for some reason, Steve was suddenly against it.

Snatching the letter from the counter, you brushed past Steve, grabbing your keys from the table beside the door. You stopped, just before leaving. “You know, Steve. I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”

He didn’t even look at you before you slammed the door shut.

Your tears were racing down your face thick and fast as you drove to the trailer park. You weren’t sure how you managed to get there without causing an accident as you struggled to see through your bleary eyes.

You just needed to get to Eddie.

Eddie, being a musician, had always understood your dreams. He understood more than anyone else just what had to be sacrificed in order to get there. He had skipped out on school many times in order to write songs all day or practice his guitar.

It was one of the reasons why he was a three-time senior at Hawkins High School. But you had a good feeling about this year. He would graduate, and you would finally be able to see him cross that stage.

You rapped on the door of his trailer hard, grateful that Wayne was at work tonight. As much as you loved Eddie’s uncle, he didn’t need to see you sobbing on his couch.

Eddie opened the door, and his initial confusion as to who was assaulting his door morphed into concern at your tears. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you.

His hands were instantly on your shoulders, eyes raking over your figure to check for anything amiss. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your face crumpled, and he pulled you straight into him. His arms came around you, pulling you tight against him as he hushed you. You gripped his shirt in your fists, anchoring yourself.

“What’s the matter?” he asked again, pulling away from you just enough to look at you.

“Steve…” you answered, wiping at your face. “Steve and I had a fight.”

That made Eddie raise a brow.

The Harrington twins fighting wasn’t all that uncommon, but never once had he heard of a fight between you and Steve leaving you in tears. You two always managed to sort things out, going from shouting at each other one second, to laughing the next. It must have been something big.

“Hey, it’s OK,” Eddie replied, gently guiding you to the couch. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He sat down, pulling you down beside him so that you leaned against him, your back to his chest. It was one of you favourite ways to sit with him. You loved feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, you matching your own.

Eddie ran his fingers up and down your arm as he held you, and your breathing slowly returned to normal. The two of you sat in silence apart from the soft lull from the TV, some show you had never seen playing.

Sitting with Eddie like this, it took your mind off all your problems. It always made everything seem so far away, like you and Eddie existed in a little bubble, immune from the outside world.

“Babe,” Eddie said softly, placing a kiss to your head. His chest vibrated behind you as he spoke. “How are you feeling?”

You sighed, eyes not leaving the TV. “I’m just tired.” Your crying had left you catatonic, tired all the way to your bones.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You didn’t. You didn’t want to break this soft bubble. You should have been excited to tell Eddie about your acceptance to college.

The two of you had talked about your future together on so many occasions.

Eddie’s thumb traced patterns on the back of your hand as he held it while the two of you laid on the roof of his van.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the night sky, where the stars were shining so brightly without the moon.

You shuffled closer to him, and he looked away from the sky to you. “Cold?”

You half nodded. “A little,” you admitted. The mid-autumn air had started to get a chill, warning of a cold winter to come.

“Do you want to go?” Eddie asked, and your eyes immediately shot to his.

“No, I don’t. I want to stay here. With you.”

Even in the dark, you could see the smile that adorned his face at your words. The smile that you were absolutely, hopelessly in love with.

You both returned your gazes to the sky, your eyes searching the vastness for shooting stars. They were one of Eddie’s favourite things to see.

Aside from the occasional car in the distance, the lookout was quiet, peaceful.

“Do you ever think about us?” Eddie said, breaking the silence.

“All the time,” you replied.

“No. I mean, about us…in the future?” He seemed shy about the question, and you looked back at him, but his gaze remained on the stars.

Your eyes traced over this side profile. “Sometimes,” you said, eyes back on the sky. “I think about what we’re going to do when you graduate. If we stay in Hawkins.”

Having had your fair share of supernatural experiences, you had thought about the option of starting over somewhere without monsters. You didn’t know how to bring it up with Eddie without raising suspicion about why you wanted to leave. But the thought of leaving your hometown—leaving Steve—you weren’t sure if you would be able to.

You turned the question on Eddie. “Do you?”

Eddie was silent for a long moment. “I think about us all the time,” he admitted, and he went quiet again, for so long that you thought he wasn’t going to say anything else. “I think about us getting married. I think about us travelling the world.”

Your heart skipped, and you kept your eyes trained on the sky. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think about me and the band getting signed and then going on tour. And you’re there. But you’re writing music and performing, too. I don’t know how we do both, but we do.”

“What about college?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe we go to college. Or maybe we don’t.”

You hadn’t told him about your application to Juilliard. In your mind, it was a far-off dream that would never come true. It wasn’t a reality. It just wasn’t something that would ever happen.

“Either way,” he continued, squeezing your hand, “We do it together.”

You both looked at each other, and he had that dopey smile on his face, one that you kissed with all the promises of the future.

Eddie squeezed your hand tighter, and if you thought about it long enough, those patterns he traced felt a lot like his name.

Sitting in front of Eddie now, you wished that you were more excited.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the letter that had been the cause of this whole situation. It was crinkled, both from being in your pocket and from when your mother had snatched it from you; it was a stark contrast to how it had been just an hour ago.

You fiddled with it before handing it to Eddie over your shoulder without comment. The letter would speak for itself.

You heard him unfold it, paper rustling as he flattened it.

You felt the way his chest caught as he read it. He pushed you forward with his forearm, and you turned to look at him as he sat up straight. From where you were sitting beside him, you could see the way his face dropped.

“What?” he said, not looking up at you. His kept his eyes trained on the letter, still reading. “What—Juilliard? You—You applied to Juilliard?”

You nodded. “Back before I graduated. They…They have a long waitlist to get in.”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze still on the letter.

You had been with Eddie long enough to know that his silence meant that he was thinking hard. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of this new information.

“I—I leave soon,” you said.

“How soon is soon?”

You swallowed. “A week.”

Eddie’s head shot in your direction at that. “A week?”

He had that same tone as Steve, and you chewed your lip. “I have to be there in a week, but I don’t start my classes for a few weeks.”

Eddie stood, and you watched as he paced around, his hand running down his face. “I haven’t graduated,” he said finally.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Of all the things that you had thought he would say, that hadn’t been on the list. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He stared at you. “What does that—What does that have to do with anything? It means that you’re going to be leaving Hawkins and I can’t come with you.”

“Eddie, I know that—”

“—You know that? Then why the fuck did you apply?”

You stood up at that. “Because I want to go to Juilliard? Because I want to make music—”

“—We talked about this. We promised that we’d do it together.”

You shook your head. “I know we did, but I didn’t expect you to fail senior year again.”

Eddie scoffed. “So, what? This is my fault now?”

“I didn’t say that, Eddie. Don’t put words into my mouth.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to understand where this had gone wrong.

“It sure as shit sounds like you’re saying it’s my fault.”

You huffed, and said, “Well, maybe it is! Maybe if you had of graduated the first time—or the second time—I wouldn’t have to be worried about it.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue across his lip. “Sorry that our promise to wait for each other is so inconvenient,” he spat, the venom in his voice so potent that it brought tears to your eyes.

You shook your head. “I did wait, Eddie! For two fucking years! And I can’t keep putting my dreams on hold to wait for you! I applied in secret because I didn’t want to deal with the pity from you or Steve if I didn’t get in. But I did!” you laughed. “I got into Juilliard! And no one seems to care about that fact that I got in. No one cares about me.”

A sob tore through you, and you put a hand to your mouth to stifle it. No one in your life cared about the fact that you had gotten in. They only cared about how it had affected them. Your parents, Steve, and now Eddie.

Your voice cracked as you continued, “No one cares about what I want. No one is happy for me.”

Your knees gave out from beneath you, and you fully expected your knees to hit the carpet, but Eddie’s arms caught you before they did. He lowered you to the ground, and his arms circled your neck.

But you pushed him away. “Don’t. I—I don’t want—”

“—Sweetheart, hey, listen to me.” Eddie grabbed your wrists as you tried to put distance between the two of you. You refused to look at him, and Eddie gently squeezed your wrists. “Look at me.”

“No,” you said, barely more than a whisper.

“I am happy for you, Y/N. So fucking happy for you.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, his figure blurry from your tears.

He gave you a weak smile, one that was full of guilt and regret. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. I’m sorry for acting like that. I am happy for you, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You choked out another sob. That was the first time someone had said that in a long time.

Eddie released your wrists, raising his hands to rest on either side of your face. “I’m so proud of you.” He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded gingerly, and Eddie smiled at you. He stood up, helping you to your feet as he guided you to his room and got into his bed beside you. He held you to his chest, just like you wanted.

After laying there for a few minutes, you said, “I’m sorry for not telling you. And I’m sorry for saying those things to you.”

You felt Eddie shake his head. “Don’t apologise, babe. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to put everything on hold for me. You have your own dreams, too. I was just…scared of you leaving—leaving Hawkins and leaving me.”

After a second, you rolled over in his arms. Even in the dark, you could see the silver that lined his eyes. “I would never leave you, Eddie.”

He gave you a watery smile and brushed his hand over the side of your face. “I know.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “I’m scared of being on my own. In New York. I’m scared of being there without you.”

“It won’t be for long,” he replied, and at your confusion, he elaborated. “I’ll move to New York at soon as I graduate.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I promise,” he confirmed, and he kissed you, as if to seal the deal.

It turned out that you had more stuff than you thought.

As you packed the last of your boxes into your car, you struggled to shut the boot.

It turned out that while your parents bragged about you going to Juilliard and were more than happy to pay rent for a small one-bedroom apartment in New York to ensure you stayed, they didn’t care enough to see you off.

You hadn’t seen Steve in the last five days. You didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but you had tried not to dwell on it as Eddie helped you pack your life into your car.

“Is that the last box?” you said to Eddie as he shoved it onto the backseat and slammed the door shut to avoid anything spilling out.

He was driving with you to New York, then catching a bus back. When you had brought up how you were driving by yourself, he had promptly informed you that hell would freeze over before he let you drive to New York by yourself.

“That’s it. You’re all packed.” He came to stand in front of you, and you placed your hands on his chest as his rested on your waist. “Are you ready to get going?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. You didn’t know. You didn’t know if you were ready to leave Hawkins. You turned your head to look at the house behind you.

You had grown up in this house. You and Steve had made so many memories there, both with and without your parents.

You blinked away tears at the thought of leaving without at least seeing your brother.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing,” you said, trying to push the hurt down.

Eddie glanced quickly at something over your shoulder, and he seemed relieved. You spun around as a familiar car pulled up, and Steve got out.

You looked over at Eddie, and he just rolled his eyes and pushed you towards your brother.

“Hey,” Steve said when you stood before him.

“Hey,” you replied, giving him a once over. “You look terrible.”

He chuckled at that. “Yeah, that’ll happen when you spend days realising that you’re a shit brother.”

You frowned. “Steve—”

He held up his hand, cutting you off, “Please, let me finish.” You silently nodded. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you. I—I know how excited you are, and it’s what you want to do. I was just upset that you were leaving. I can deal with mum and dad leaving because they always have, but you’ve never left, and I don’t want you to. But…but I know that you want to—that you need to. You’ve always been there for me, and now it’s time for me to be there for you.”

You were already crying by the time Steve finished his little speech. You knew that he had been practicing that all morning. “Thank you, Steve,” you managed, and threw your arms around him. He hugged you back just as tightly.

When you both finally let go, Steve had tears of his own. “Good luck,” he said.

You took the few steps to the driver’s side door of your car. “Thanks. I’ll visit in a few weeks,” you promised.

Steve smiled big and nodded as you got into your car, Eddie plopping into the passenger seat.

You wound the window down to say one more goodbye to Steve, before peeling out of your driveway for the last time. After this, it was no longer your driveway. It was your parent’s house now.

Eddie took your hand in his, and you glanced from the road to him as he placed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Ready?”

You squeezed his hand and smiled. “As I’ll ever be.”

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #stranger things one shot #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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