What I Want To Say: Fight Club Is About The Hurt So Many Men Feel And The Toxic Masculinity That Doesnt

wings spread and broken flyin’ to eternity but I can’t help falling with you, even falling is beautiful

TOMORROW X TOGETHER - LO$ER=LOVER (2021)

I think that what makes Steve and Eddie’s dynamic so immediately iconic and delightful, is that they have nothing in common except Dustin.

Like, we see them trying to bond a few times, and they are STRUGGLING because they have absolutely no common interest. Whenever they talk, we get gems like Eddie quoting the lord of the rings or mentioning Ozzy to a very confused Steve. They both think that the other is cool but they can’t SAY IT because they basically speak two different languages. It’s a nerd/goth and jock/prep desperately attempting communication, it’s awkwardly wholesome in the best way.

But THEN as soon as it’s about DUSTIN, these two just fucking click and shift full soulmates mode. Dustin does something a little weird or vaguely annoying, and suddenly Steve and Eddie get possessed by an old married couple that has been together for 35 years but also divorced 7 times and keep getting back together to raise their son. Dustin will just breathe, and suddenly Steve "the king" Harrington and Eddie "the freak" Munson are fucking drift compatible out nowhere like "this kid needs to keep his ego in check" "IT’S HIS TONE RIGHT???" or "Henderson you are a butthead" "oh I conclure" or even "Henderson is not possessed is he?" "Oh no he is just deranged"

Whether it’s platonic or romantic, otp or brotp, it’s just think that it’s objectively the most hilarious concept of all time and I want to see more of it in Volume 2 and season 5.

Dating Cliff Booth Would Include:

Just some cute little headcannons!

⚠️ Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, drug use, sexy Dilf Brad Pitt? ⚠️

The way you met was strange; you were at a gas station somewhere in the western parts of Hollywood when you saw a yellow 1966 Cadillac Coupe de Ville pull up out front. Sporting a Hawaiian shirt brighter than the sun and a cigarette dangling from his teeth, the man walked in and announced that he needed heavy duty cleaner because there was blood on the hood of his car. From whom, you didn't know but with the way he flashed his teeth at you and slicked back his hair, you knew that you were in more trouble than whomever Cliff Booth decided to beat up that day.

He had promised himself that he would never get married again after the incident, but you were too goddamn charming and the way your shorts rode up your thighs.......

His bright smile and even brighter persona is what drew you in; a nice contrast against your usual pessimistic attitude and overall sense that the universe was out to stab you in the back.

And your pessimism is what drew him in, you were always real with him and watching a smile light up your face after a joke he made was like heroin to him. And he also found it funny how you managed to trip over nothing when you were lost in your rants about how the seats in his car were too warm or how the sky hurt your eyes.

Long car rides where you share the aux cord- him usually going for something along the lines of Billy Idol and your response with the Sex Pistols.

In this instance, opposites really do attract.

But you loved him good and that's what he had been searching for, unbeknownst to him. He didn't think he would ever date someone with a significant age difference, but the fact that you were fresh into your twenties didn't seem to bother him too much.

On the occasion where you two would play-fight, you would call him grandpa and that would shut up any other insults he could come up with.

Him having pet names for you, which you usually hated but allowed him to continue.

Some examples of these would be: Darling, Babe, Princess, but his all time favorite would be little shrimp because he knew it pissed you off.

And your pet names for him were usually: Love, Babe, Love of my Life, Asshole, and Cowboy. Cowboy was because of his southern accent.....probably.

HIM HOLDING YOUR THIGH WHILE HE DRIVES LORD SAVE ME NOW

Becoming best friends with Rick Dalton because of your close proximity to Cliff all the time.

Spending time with Rick watching his movies while Cliff busies himself with making margaritas in the kitchen.

To which you drink with haste, whereas the other boys take it a bit slower because chances are that they're drunk already.

Laying down on Cliff while you talk to Rick about filming. Rick rolling a joint and offering one to you and Cliff.

Your favorite thing about Cliff though, was his dog.

Brandy instantly loved you and you didn't have to rub peanut butter all over your face for this to be true, unlike your husband.

Getting married with just the two of you and Rick; a bright sunny day in the middle of absolutely nowhere, your only other guests being tumbleweeds and sand.

Having antique rings that the both of you thrifted.

Cliff says it's because, "We're keepin' love alive."

Rick allowing the two of you to spend the night at his place since the camper is usually a mess and is a bit too small for the two of you.

You usually are able to make room when he-

And he-

And on the table where he-

And sometimes even outside when you-

And then in the back of Rick's car sometimes-

Y'all are horny, that's the point.

Wearing Cliff's shirts!!!!!!???

"Hey, that's my favorite yellow one!"

"it's my favorite too, now help me match it with one of your glasses."

He obliges.

Rolling up to pick up Rick but making him sit in the back because he's the third wheel now.

Sometimes he likes to throw a fit about how "movie stars ride in the front, pimps in the back," to which he receives a nice finger from you and an insult about his haircut. It's okay though because you can pet Cliff's hair from the backseat as he drives.

Grabbing snacks for the road!!! You usually grab a coffee and a bag of Twizzlers while Cliff opts for a protein bar and a lemonade.

Kissing Cliff in public all the time.

Like- all the time.

Everywhere.

Cuddling while watching movies and sitting in his lap while you fuss over his hair and making out with him while he pumps gas.

The possibilities are endless.

Chilling with Rick in his pool while listening to his tapes for auditions and giving him advice where you see fit.

Also stealing Rick's sunglasses.

"Where the f-f-fuck are m-my sunglasses?! Cliff??"

"My lady's wearin' em."

"W-well tell her to take em off!"

"Little Shrimp, can you give Rick his glasses back?"

"Nope."

"There's your answer."

Wearing skimpy outfits just because you know you're fucking with your husband.

And him taking his shirts off whenever he decides to work on a project and watching you get all hot and flustered.

Going to restaurants and choosing the wackiest things off the menu, trying to one up each other with your weirdness.

Usually sharing bits and pieces of your meals with each other.

Listening to him talk for hours about his favorite movies and musicians.

And him listening to you talk about yours.

All in all, y'all love each other.

My heart hurts.

I just ripped three of my Kpop posters while taking them down since I'm moving.

I am devastated.

And Yeonjun's missing eye is taunting me.

Nightly Encounter

Carl Grimes x Reader

Characters mentioned: Carl, Daryl, Michonne, Rick, Judith, Eugene, Carol, and Rosita

⚠️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8-9⚠️

Warnings: Extreme angst, mentions of suicide, depressed reader, eating disorder

"(Y/N), turn around."

You were fidgety. This was a new territory, a new level of trust that Carl was putting in you. You knew you couldn't say no the minute he'd asked. He felt comfortable enough to show you the thing he hated most about himself. All in hopes that you would love that part of him too.

And of course you would, it wasn't even a question. But what if you said the wrong thing? What if you stared for too long, what if you looked away too fast? All these 'what ifs' ran through your head, making it impossible to think clearly. 'Calm down,' you told yourself, 'you're turning this into a bigger deal than it is.'

You heard the sound of his bandages being removed and the bed shifting under his weight. You waited for him to give you the sign that he was ready. When he did, you turned around slowly to make sure not to scare him. His head was looking downwards, his hair was in his face. You couldn't see anything but by the slump of his shoulders you knew he was terrified. You could practically hear his heart beating a mile a minute from where you were standing on the opposite side of the room.

You went to sit down on the bed and you grasped Carl's hands, inviting him to look at you. Once he put his head level with yours, you slowly reached out for the long hair that framed his face and you moved it away from his face.

What lie under it was the scar that had hurt him more emotionally than physically. It was large and took up most of the right side of his face, but you couldn't help but feeling as though it was beautiful. It was beautiful because it was a part of him.

"I'm sorry."

Those words shattered your heart when he said them aloud. Sorry for what? He had nothing to be sorry for. He had lost his eye courageously. He had lost his eye but not his smile. He had lost his eye, but not himself.

"Carl. You have nothing to apologise for. I think you're beautiful."

He looked up in pure shock and furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?! I have a hole in my head!" He angrily pushed his bangs back into his face and sprang up from the bed.

"Carl!" You called out after him, grabbing his wrist. He stopped and turned to look at you. He was fuming now, you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "Carl," you repeated, much kinder this time, "sit down. Please."

He sat down on the bed and folded his arms.

"Carl. Thank you so much for trusting me with this. I understand it's such a hard burden to carry but you don't have to carry it by yourself anymore. I think you're just as handsome as you were before. Maybe even more handsome. I love you and I wouldn't care if you shot out your other eye, I would love you just the same." You pushed the bangs back away from his gaping wound and you kissed his forehead, holding his head in your hands. "Please, never forget that."

He stopped being so tense and nuzzled into your touch. This was a lot of trauma to relive at once and you understood it was going to take more time for him to open up. But you were ready to be there for him when he did.

"I love you, (Y/N). Sorry for keeping my emotions from you for so long."

"Again, you have nothing to apologise for, Grimes. I love you and that won't change."

...

You played back the memory in your head. It seemed like a millennia ago that you were holding him in your arms like that. When the worst thing you guys had to worry about was a scar.

You tugged on the grass a little as you laid down on your chest. Your face was pressed against the grave of Carl, to your heart aching to hold him in the way you did before. To tell him that that stupid scar wasn't going to change anything because it didn't. It made you love him even more. Crazy how losing things like that makes your love stronger. Only this time, you'd lost him.

Your tear stained cheeks were starting to get itchy as you prepared yourself to stay another night with Carl. Everyone else was busy, even Rick who had somehow gotten over Carl's death so quickly. It felt shameful to you that he could lose someone so important and then continue as though there were more important matters.

You were ready. Ready to die. Carl was the last thing you'd had in this world and now that he was gone, you and wanted to have no part in it. This cruel world that was based on survival. This cruel world that killed the last beacon of hope. This cruel world that killed Carl Grimes.

Again, more tears came. It had to be almost a week now. You've refused to eat, drink, socialize, or even leave Carl alone. You couldn't. He was right there yet so far away. You could feel yourself slipping sometimes, fading in and out of sleep that was haunted with nightmares of your long-gone lover.

"Hey. I can't let ya stay out here any- jesus (Y/N)! When was the last time you've eaten?!" Daryl came up from behind, sitting down on the grass-Carl's grass- beside you.

...

The moon shone over the trees and cast a pale glow over the gazebo Carl led you to. His hand was in yours as he dragged you to his favorite spot in Alexandria. The place where he could see the stars the easiest.

"Just a little further..." Once you reached the small structure, he offered you his knee so you could climb up on the roof. It wasn't all that tricky, considering the gazebo was only a few feet up. You climbed up to the top and offered your hand to Carl but he denied it as he tried to climb up himself. 'Show-off' you thought as you smirked and laid on the patchy wooden roof.

You heard a grunt as Carl laid next to you, brushing the bangs out of his good eye. He grabbed your hand and looked at you before looking up above. You had to admit, the stars were beautiful and since light pollution was no longer a problem, there was more that you guys could see. But your focus wasn't on the stars, no. It was on Carl. The way that he looked at the world not knowing that your world was him. You could see the reflection of the stars in his eye, but they were there all the time. The boy really held the universe in him and he would change this cruel world one day. He had to.

When he noticed you staring, he scooted in closer.

"Whatcha thinking about?" He asked, a knowing look on his face. He knew that whenever you were lost in thought he'd be the one to bring you back down to earth.

"You. As usual," you smiled and pushed his hat over his eyes,

"All I ever think about is you."

...

"(Y/N)? Are ya listening?"

You forgot Daryl was sitting beside you and not Carl. You grunted as you tried to sit up but found that you didn't have the energy. It must've been days since you've gotten any food or sleep.

"Yeah. I'm listening." You replied but you knew you couldn't. No one could ever pierce your thoughts and knock the sense in you that you needed to hear. You were a thousand miles away.

"Look," Daryl sighed and played with the denim of his vest, "I know things are hard. But I also know this isn't what he woulda wanted. Carl was brave. He worked to keep this place safe....to keep you safe. He wouldn't want to see ya like this." Daryl leaned in and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I don' like seeing ya like this."

You could barely hear him over the rushing of your thoughts. Carl wouldn't have wanted you to live without him, right? You started this world together and you were supposed to end it that way. He got the chance to leave it first, but that shouldn't mean you should go about your days pretending that everything is fine. Nothing could be fine without him. He was your world and it didn't matter what Daryl would say, or Rick, or Michonne, or anyone else for that matter. Because your world had been taken from you twice. All because of those stupid flesh-eating bastards.

...

"(Y/N)!"

You woke up with a start. The grass you were laying on was covered in dew, meaning that it must've rained while you fell asleep after your talk with Daryl.

You reached for your knife, only to find that it wasn't there. Your eyes searched the area looking for it when you saw him.

His boots were all scuffed and muddy, his jeans were ripped and his gun holster was at his side, also empty. His long brown hair was bushy and his hat sat atop his head, exactly in the position you remembered it. Because right before you was Carl Grimes. The love of your life.

"(Y/N), can you hear me?"

Your whole body went into shock and before you knew it you started crying. Tears streamed down your face like never before as you watched him sit down next to you, reaching out to hold you. You sat in his arms for a few minutes as you let it all out, finally conveying the depression you had felt for days.

"Shhhh it's alright."

You suddenly stopped and got a grip on what was happening. Was this real? Carl had gotten bit by a walker. Surely there was no way he has suddenly come back to life to give your pathetic body a hug.

"What happened?? How are you here?" You uttered in disbelief.

He smiled. "(Y/N). I wanted you to find a home here. I don't want you to keep grieving my death. Alexandria is safe now and you're free to live again. Please don't give up because of me." He rubbed your back and pushed his hat up. "You would say the same if our positions were switched."

At this, you fell limp. Of course. What have you been doing all this time? You'd been so wrapped up in the death of your lover you forgot there were other people you had to care for. Rosita, Michonne, Eugene, Carol, Daryl, and even Judith. This was your home. This was a place where you didn't have to suffer from the harshness of the outside world. You could've been helping with the runs and cleaning but instead you were here and as much as you loved him, you knew Carl was right.

"I'm sorry, I- I just-" you held back your tears "living in this world without you- it's hard. I promised myself that there wouldn't be a day where I wouldn't wake up next to you. I love you so much. I- I'm sorry I couldn't save you." The last part came out in a rush. The words hurt you to say as much as they hurt Carl to hear.

"Hey. Listen to me." He titled your chin upwards so that you were looking at him. "What happened was not your fault, okay? It was mine and mine alone. I'm so sorry that I left you here. I should've been more careful. But I promise you're not alone. I'll be here with you everywhere you go. And I'll still be here when I'm just a memory. When you find someone else I'll be here cheering you on. When you have children I'll watch over them too. When you get old, I'll be waiting for you on the other side so that you have nothing to fear. I promise." He slid his hand into yours and wiped away your tears. You smiled- actually smiled as you caught a glimpse of his face for the last time.

"There's no way you'll ever be just a memory, Carl Grimes."

And then he faded away.

...

The lights in the infirmary stung your eyes as you opened them. You weren't lying outside anymore, and instead you found yourself in a bed wrapped in one of Carl's flannels.

You caught a glimpse of someone standing outside your doorway. "Hey- what happened?" You asked to no one in particular. You just wanted to know why you'd been moved.

The man standing in the doorway was none other than Daryl who had visited you that night. He was looking more healthy than usual, although he could use a good night's sleep. His bags were becoming more and more prominent.

He made his way over to your bed and sat down at the end of it, careful to leave you enough space. "Could've died last night. Your heart almost stopped."

This stopped you from asking anymore questions. So what happened last night wasn't a dream? Carl was really there? You had come face to face with death without even realizing it.

"(Y/N)-" Daryl began but you stopped him.

"I saw him."

Daryl's eyes grew wide. "Ya did?" He turned around so that he was looking directly into your eyes. "What'd he say?"

You smiled.

"I have a reason to keep living, Dixon."

Gifs aren't mine, thank you for reading <3

Peanut Butter Death Wish

Steve Harrington X Reader (Established Relationship) X Eddie Munson

Slight crack! Eddie is a little shit in this one, but you're a bit of an antagonist too.

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and weapons, eating expired peanut butter, sexual references ⚠️

"So uh, the Upside Down is a real place. I thought you guys were talking in D&D terms." Eddie says, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. With the way that the eerie glow of the other dimension fell on the two boys, Eddie's Hellfire Club Tshirt looked brighter than ever. Besides from the strangeness of the newfound place, it was all he could focus on as the group walked towards Nancy's house- for what, he didn't know. The infamous Steve (The Hair) Harrington was walking directly next to him and Eddie thought he looked ridiculous wearing nothing but his denim jacket and bandages. Laughing to himself, he let his gaze wander over to where you were.

You and Eddie had been friends for a while, but this stupid Harrington guy always got in the way seeing as you two were together. Eddie had wished he knew you before all this craziness so that he might've had the chance to sweep you off your feet instead of killing Demobats. You were wearing black ripped jeans and a David Bowie shirt which was slightly too large for you and hung loosely at your sides- Eddie was sure it was Steve's but he wasn't going to bring it up. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail and your shoes were triple knotted with their florescent laces. You were beautiful, and this fake snow/ash shit that fell around everywhere definitely added to your beauty. He would've continued staring if it wasn't for Steve interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, I've never played that Dungeons and Dragons game before, but all the kids like to make up names for this dimension using their preexisting ones." Steve said, unaware that Eddie was currently eyeing up his girlfriend. He pushed his hair back with his hand and Eddie saw a glistening stream of blood running down the top of his forehead.

"Uh, Steve dude, you've got some blood up there." Eddie motions with his finger as to where it is and Steve wipes it off with the back of his hand.

"Thanks, guess those bats did give me more trouble than I originally thought." He said, taking off Eddie's jacket. "Thank you for this, but I really don't want to get blood on it."

He hands the jacket back to Eddie and Eddie takes it with an unsure expression. He just wanted to be deemed worthy of Steve's time.

"Hey, I think we made it." You said, walking up to the two boys and immediately going to stand by Steve's side and assess the wounds he had. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." Steve said and you watched more blood run down his forehead, giving him a look which read "Are you fucking stupid?"

"He's lying to you, (Y/N). I saw him stumble over a tree root a little ways back, I'm sure he's getting over the embarrassment of tripping." Eddie smiled and you laughed at his antics.

"Of course he did, he's clumsy as hell." You replied and winked in Eddie's direction. He felt his heart grow ten times bigger at the cute smile you sent him with it.

Walking on towards Nancy's house, Robin struggles with the doorknob and tries to get in to no avail. The lock was stuck in an odd place and no matter how many tries from the group, it wouldn't open.

"Allow me," you said, heading for the living room window and breaking the glass, "It's not your real house so it's fine."

Steve finally caught onto Eddie's staring as you contemplated the best way to slip into the room. He hit Eddie on the shoulder with a scowl and grabbed the denim jacket out of his hands. "Here," he said, putting the article of clothing on the windowsill, "This'll make it so that you don't get cut on the glass."

"Are you sure it's okay that I use this, Eddie?" You asked, completely unaware of the tension between the two. Smiling cockily at Steve, Eddie turned to you and put his hand on his chest.

"Of course that's fine, sweetheart."

Steve felt like the veins in his arms were going to pop.

"Thanks!" You said, slipping into the living room and opening the front door from the inside to allow everyone else in. The darkness consumed the entirety of the abandoned hallways that were familiar to you. Running your fingers over the wallpaper, you remembered all the nights you spent over at Nancy's hanging out with her and watching the latest VHS tapes. Smiling fondly at the memory, you move on into her bedroom following Nancy herself, and have a look around at the posters hanging up. It might've been the Upside Down, but there was the Tom Cruise poster clear as day. You didn't understand the appeal, but hey- maybe the Demogorgons liked him.

Nancy strode over to the closet and frantically searched around for the box that would contain the guns she had for self-defense. Why she had bought them, you didn't know. You picked up the diary from the bedside table and opened up to the latest entry. 1983. The year Barb went missing.

"Where the fuck did they go?" Nancy sighs with frustration as she digs through everything in her closet.

"Maybe the Demogorgons took them?" You offer the ridiculous suggestion to no one in particular and laugh at your own joke.

"Real funny (Y/N)." Nancy says, clearly still upset about not finding them.

"No, no. I think she might be onto something." Eddie says with an antagonizing grin, looking you directly in the face. You stare at Steve with a confused look now noticing what Eddie was up to, but your boyfriend was looking down at his shoes with his mouth pressed into a hard line. He was pissed.

You throw the book over to Nancy, who looks at you with confusion. "What's this?" She asks.

"Your diary. Look at the date."

"You were looking at her diary?" Robin pipes up from the hallway with her head just barely visible around the corner. You rolled your eyes with a smile.

"September. 1983." Nancy read aloud and you watched the realization dawn on her. "I haven't bought the guns yet. That's why they're not here."

"Bingo." You said, laying back on her bed and staring up at her ceiling. Because of this, you didn't notice that Steve and Eddie had walked out of the room.

Turning the corner into the kitchen, Steve leans back against the countertop which was covered in the mysterious vines that adorned the rest of the Upside Down. He glared at Eddie who had joined him and felt the anger rushing back to him. However, he decided it would be best for everyone if he stayed calm.

"What was that?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"What was what?" Eddie asked, rummaging through the cupboards and finding a jar of peanut butter.

"You know what I'm talking about." Steve said, handing Eddie a spoon from the drawer behind him.

"Thanks." He replied and opened up the jar, still staring at Steve.

A couple of moments pass while Eddie eats his snack and Steve waits for him to answer. The punk rocker's hair was strewn all over the place and his shirt was covered in the stains from both the lake and the other dimension. Well, at least he had a shirt.

"Why are you trying to seduce my girlfriend?" Steve asked, grabbing a spoon of his own and sharing the peanut butter with Eddie.

"1983 peanut butter. Seasoned with the sky shit from the Upside Down." Eddie said.

"Can you just answer the question?"

"Oh uh. Because she's hot I guess." He says, moving towards the cabinet again to try and find another snack. Stopping him by placing a hand around his arm, Steve gave him the death glare.

"I respect you, dude. I really do. But (Y/N) isn't available."

"What are you guys talking about?" You came out from Nancy's room with the diary under your arm and your hair down now. You looked tired and worn out from all this Scooby-Doo investigating that both boys felt bad for leaving you to do the work while they had their petty argument.

"Steve was telling me to stop flirting with you." Eddie put point-blank and held out the jar for you. You walked over to him and dipped your finger in taking a little taste of it before deciding it was safe to eat.

"This shit has to be expired." You said, grabbing the spoon from Steve and popping more of the delicious cream into your mouth.

"It most definitely is." Eddie said.

"So uh, the fact that Eddie is flirting with you doesn't bother you at all?" Steve asked you with concern.

"Nah, it just makes you all angry and flustered and I think a jealous Steve is a hot Steve."

Steve found himself grow extremely hot when you said that, the blush on his face overpowering any other expression. He was nervous that you were secretly liking Eddie's antics but to find out that it was just to get a rise out of him, made him feel things he probably shouldn't describe with the third party in the room.

"Pants getting tight, bud?" Eddie asked with a knowing glance and Steve hurried to place his hands on his jeans to conceal anything that he didn't want showing. You were smiling and staring him up and down.

"I gotta hand it to you, (Y/N). Steve is sexy as hell."

"That's just your bisexuality talking." You said to Eddie with a knowing glance. He laughed and now started to check out your boyfriend.

"If you ever need a third party, you know who to ask." Eddie said, exchanging a fist bump with you.

"Absolutely not." Steve said, taking your hand with the spoon still attached outside of the Wheelers house.

BAHAHAHHAA "HI, I'M HOMEWORK."

💛💛💛💛💛

Ok I have to be honest I am a sucker for scenarios where Jason has a crush on y/n but she's dating Eddie. Eddie getting to rub it in jasons face is just so satisfying. Idk maybe I just really love Eddie and really hate Jason. Soooo I was wondering if I could request that. Maybe Jason is always flirting with her and Eddie is finally just like “fuck it” and kisses her right in front of him?

Tysm I'm in love with your writing btw ❤️❤️❤️

You were sitting with your friends on the lunch table, when you felt a heavy hand land on your shoulder. You look up, already starting to smile at the idea it was Eddie, only to come face to face with Jason Carver. The smile freezes. "Oh. Uh. Hi, Jason," you said, and took a sip of your CapriSun to cover your awkwardness. "What can I do for you?"

He smiled at you, and you swallowed thickly. "Well," he said, shifting his weight. "It's the big game tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like an invite to the afterparty. It's at mine."

You blinked. "What, on a Tuesday?"

"Um." He stared at you. "Yeah?"

You bit your lip. "I dunno, Jason. It's a schoolnight. I've got plans, too," you added. "I've got to do homework. Yeah." You nodded twice. "Mrs. Bryce is on my ass. Maybe next time, then?"

"Definitely next time," Jason responded, and winked at you. "Just you and me, I promise." When he left, your friends closed ranks around you, howling at what had just happened. You caught Eddie's eyes above their heads -- he was watching you, chin in his hand.

"What was that all about," he asked, walking you out of the cafeteria. "Jason wanted to recruit you to his Bible study, or something?" He tucked you hair behind your ear and twisted so he was leaning against a locker, watching you fumble.

"I think," you said slowly, piecing together the encounter in your brain, "he asked me out."

Eddie slipped against the locker. "What, like a date?"

"No, like a multi-level marketing scheme," you retorted, and flipped your hair over your shoulder. "Yes, like a date, Eddie." He crowed, punching a fist in the air. "Uh. That's not the reaction I was expecting."

Eddie grinned, pulling you into his arms. "That asshole has been a stick up my ass for almost my whole life," he exclaimed. "Finally I have the high ground."

You looked at him drily. "What am I, chattel?"

He cooed, pressing your cheeks together between his palms. "Just the prettiest chattel this side of the Mississippi, babygirl." He snuck a kiss from you. "Aw, princess. This made my week. Nothing could make this better."

--

"Okay," Eddie huffed against your mouth as he pressed you up against the hood of your car, "this could definitely make my week better. Get my lawyer to scratch that from my record."

"Oh my god," you muttered, pulling him between your legs. "Literally, shut up."

"Shutting up."

Eddie threaded his hands through your hair, tugging it gently until your mouth opened against his, sticking his hands in the pockets of your jeans and grabbing. "Eddie!" you gasped, wrenching your head back. "Quit it, we're in school."

"Mmm," he mumbled, nosing at your neck. "It's technically after hours." That was true. You were picking him up from Hellfire, taking him back to yours for dinner with your parents, like you did every Tuesday night. "Is a school still a school if it's not operating as a school?"

"I dropped AP Philosophy," you whispered, entirely too focused on how his hands were snaking up your back. "So I have no idea."

"I don't really care," Eddie agreed, "but we can totally have a Socratic debate about it la-aaaaah the fuck?"

He was hauled away from you by his collar, arms flailing at his assailant. Jason. "The fuck are you doing here, freak?" Jason spat, before turning to look at you. "Hey. Is he bothering you?"

"Uh," you said, intelligently. "No?"

Jason blinked. "Wh-- you? What are you doing here?" he asked you, staring. "I thought you said you had to do homework?"

"Hi," Eddie said, dangling from Jason’s iron grip. "I'm homework."

Bitch Onions

TASM Peter Parker X Reader

⚠️Warnings: swearing, absolute crack⚠️

Sitting on the rooftop, you look up at the vast sky ahead of you. Your eyes making out the shapes within the clouds and your heart beating slow and steady, as calm as you could be. Things were perfect this high up, the sunset making the entire world a luminescent orange and sparkling off the glass of the city buildings below. The cars honking and the various shouts of the people below.

You were on top of the Empire State building. And next to you, was the infamous Spiderman.

Said superhero was currently devouring a chili dog.

"Could you chew quieter? I'm trying to meditate," you said, pushing your loose strands of hair away from your face and fixing the sweater adorning your shoulders. You squinted at him through warning eyes and then laid down in a similar position as before. Before you could get too comfortable, Peter slides down next to you and continues to annoy you by chewing in your ear.

"Is this any better?" He asks with a knowing grin.

"You're such an asshole." You laugh, and swat the chili dog out of his hands. It was only supposed to fall but you forgot about the fact you were up so high, and, well. Physics.

"NO!" Peter yells as he watches his delicious meal fall off the roof and down to the city below. Before you could say 'what the fuck are you doing?' he jumps off the roof after it.

"Peter?"

His image is going, going, gone. Just as you thought that you had gotten left up there, he resurfaces with his web shooters and the food in his hand.

"You made the onions fall off."

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Count the Ways // S.H.

Request: could you do a steve imagine where they’re a couple and they go to a party together but y/n gets really drunk and steve starts to get nervous because of what happened with nancy but then she just starts telling him how much she loves her and he feels better? it would be so cute - anon

A/N: Such a cute request! Thank you so much for sending it in. I hope you like it and that I have done it justice. I wrote this in an hour and it isn’t edited the best, I’m really sorry but I’m so busy this week that I wanted to get something out for you all!

Warnings: alcohol, underage drinking (American laws), drunk reader, drunkenness, fluff, happy, cute.

Word count: 1.6k

Keep reading

Tourniquet

DUNCAN VIZLA X READER

⚠️ Warnings: Uhhh kinda extreme gore, I mean I definitely go into intense detail about some of the way these people die so probably don't read this if you're squeamish, blood, death, murder, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, I think that's it but yeah ⚠️

Duncan comes to save you and risks his life in the process.

Duncan had originally wanted nothing more than to retire from this god-forsaken line of work he'd been in for over thirty years. To succumb fully to the relaxation that was unemployed bliss, somewhere far off in the lost woods with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Maybe he'd try for another dog again, although he wasn't too lucky with his PTSD responses around Rusty. Wherever in the world he may be or whomever he'd be with, he just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, thankyouverymuch.

Today, he was not so lucky. Of course, he had to take the one job offer to end his career with a bang and to coagulate all of the money he'd originally been promised to begin with. One job after another, one shot fired towards a man's head and a stapler gun to his ankles, all led him here. At the front of this house. On a rescue mission. Which would then lead to a hitman mission. Obviously. Unfortunately.

Duncan sighed and took in the landscape with his one good eye, courtesy of the copious amount of torture he'd pushed through over the past month. Although his wounds were still healing and he felt their burn underneath the folds of his fabric coat, he had to act fast as there was no time to waste. He needed to put his life on the line once again; as he had for so many years working as a hitman. But now, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A reward to his revenge. Nothing that was false promises of money or strippers or nights out at the bar that would only situate him for a week before he grew bored. No, at the end of this mission was the promise of your safety and the potential of the two of you living this retired life he'd dreamt of for so long.

He only had to kill 30+ men and his former "mission mates" before getting to you and fleeing this Damocles shit for good.

Easy, in theory. In actuality, he was probably going to end up dead. Unless he could control himself through his rage and use it as an adrenalin boost rather than a distraction to his plan.

The mansion was huge and lavish in comparison to the wood houses Duncan had come to love in Montana. It was almost entirely frivolous; the magnitude of Blut's weath, all gained from those who did his dirty work and never out of his own aspirations.

Seeing the coast was fairly clear, he crafted a plan in his head as to how he was going to make it in and out of the place unscathed. Two guards to his left on the rooftop, facing outwards. Meaning that there must be at least another two on the other side, not knowing from which direction he'd come. Another one in the upper right window that could easily be taken out with a sniper. A few fifteen or so on the ground in hidden positions, all of which he knew considering he used to work for the damn place. Assuming Blut's usual stupidity would mean that the plans for an attack on Damocles would be unchanged, minus those who were inside of the place itself.

Time for action. He took off his heavy coat and draped it on the tree nearest to him so as not to be weighed down by the material. His thick wool sweater would be more than enough to keep him warm, alongside his steel-toed boots. Underneath his coat and concealed by his initial wardrobe was a now visible belt with two loaded guns on either side. His hand was clad with brass knuckles and he had a knife in his boot, only for an extreme situation. Worse comes to worse, he still had that piece of shrapnel under the second layer of his skin from one of his older missions he could cut out if he really had to. Eyepatch in place and hair tied in an up-do, he was ready to start shooting people.

Hey, maybe if they were all dead he'd finally get his $8 million he'd been promised.

It happened as quickly as the next snowflake hit the ground; Blut's mansion was under attack. They'd been expecting him, but as he was called The Black Kaiser, he was the best of the best. He knew their ins and outs and was now thankful he kept a friendly but protective distance from everyone while he was in the org so that they wouldn't know the specificities for his own attack. One skillful shot to the top left roof was enough to pierce through the necks of both the men standing atop it, one falling off after the other and landing on the ground with a thick thud. Blasted through arteries and a fuckton of blood pooled out the edges from where they'd fallen, creating intricate patterns on the wintery terrain and leaving giant stains on the sides of the building.

Now understanding their mission was a go, the man from the window received the hint and withdrew himself from the window, racing back inside most likely to tell Blut about the outside commotion. No matter. He'd take his time to paint the entirety of the green estate red with the fallen victims of Damocles.

He'd been right about the guards from the top of the building being on the other side, except there were three instead of two. They rushed around looking for the potential places Duncan could be hiding, so as to scope him out first and be the ones to receive the praise from their fat ass nepo-baby boss. They must all be younger and have no idea the amount of years and experience he'd had in this industry because Duncan was in plain fucking sight with his guns readied in both hands.

"Bye." He said, and shot them at the same time, making two of the guards meet the same tragic fate as their friends. One, two, they hit the ground with more thuds and guts, spreading their entrails further out than most people would think the human body could reach. One of their intestines had wrapped around the edges of the window panes, a man still alive wishing he wasn't. He was screaming from the upper floor awaiting his fall as he was held up by the gaping wound in his stomach where Duncan had shot him once more. The last guard at the top of the roof looked down in horror and jumped himself, taking his own life and going limp once his neck made a loud snap against the pavement under the soft snow.

PTSD flashbacks edged the corners of Duncan's one-eyed vision, trying their best to stop him as he witnessed the horror of human death via his hands. He was used to this feeling, of wanting to curl up and revert into himself, to never see anyone or anything again and be tortured as payment for his crimes. He was just a man, not a deity. Why should he choose- or rather- listen to who chooses who should meet an untimely death? What makes him above the others within his species?

Because of their frequent visits, he shut his visions down and went soulless. That was the only way to truly do his job and to continue to do it well within the moment and not fight with the side that was desperate to live in peace and an understanding of humanity. He was a pacifist at heart, truly. And even though it went against his psychological beliefs of the world, he had to pretend that intentions outweighed his actions in the sense of his killing and this mission; that getting to you was worth the rampant murderous spree of all these people, paid by their boss just as he was to do the same tasks he's doing.

Burrowing into himself, he rolls to the nearest icicle filled tree, grabbing the man who was hidden here with the gun and twisting his neck until he heard the sounds of life escaping his throat. He discarded his now empty gun for the one in the holster of the other man, making sure it was fully loaded before proceeding to also extract the menthols from the upper part of the stranger's jacket.

"Mange Tak." He said, Danish for thank you. He could have a little class while he was at it.

Noticing the tree he was under and the man whom he'd just killed, Blut was either following their Five-Ten plan or the Outskirts plan, both of which were effective in combat. The Five-Ten plan was created by Vivian herself meaning that there would be five on the perimeter of the compound, five on the rooftop, and ten within the building before whomever was entering made it inside. Then, after getting through the frontlines of security (if they made it that far), whomever was infiltrating would meet the guards who allowed their cohorts to be killed as preparation time for the main show.

The Outskirts plan, however, would mean that every man who wasn't directly appointed as an assassin to Blut's side would be out in the fields which were now covered in snow, using the trapdoors hidden in the earth to prepare their weapons for combat and kill the intruder as he (or she) approached the compound.

He was going to take his bets with the Five-Ten.

Heart barely going over an easy 65bpm, he calmly readied his guns for the next part of the infiltration where a few other guards would pop up and flock to his sides, hoping that they might catch him off-guard. Which they wouldn't. Another few shots took care of those and as he wiped the blood off his face from the splatter of one of them, he lit a cigarette and started walking towards the front of the compound, taking his chances that he knew which plan they had chosen considering he'd killed most of the other ones when he'd killed Vivian during their surprise attack not even hours before he got here.

Stepping over the walkway and opening the doors to the inside, he'd been proven correct in his intuition and flanked to the wall, keeping himself out of sight to those in the building. There were three open entryways leading from the main hall to the upstairs where the pig himself resided. Which meant around six of those corners could be another guard and he'd have to take his shots carefully, unless he wanted to engage in hand-to-hand combat which didn't always end well when your opponent had a firearm. He checked his inventory quickly.

Six bullets left. He'd have to be stingy about it.

Holding the trigger and aiming the barrel towards his right, he took a shot through the ornate pillars holding up the entryway's corbel arch, a bullet forcing itself through the small opening in which the wall met the pillar. He heard an "oomph!" which he gathered triumphantly signified his tactic of approach was also correct.

Can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Rolling to the floor into the room from whence the sound came, he staggered over to the next wall and shot through the entryway, shooting the man in the room in the leg. Fuck. Slight misstep on his account (or the other guy's considering he no longer had the bottom half of his leg). He dodged the man's bullets and lifted one of the cylindrical vases decorating the hallway and bashed it into the man's skull, once, twice, and then dropping it as he watched blood ooze from his nose. A sound from behind him meant another and he was met with hands wrapping around his throat and a gun being pressed to his temple.

This man was much bigger in stature than Duncan, but it was no matter. He swiftly acted as though he were aiming for his opponent's side as they would have practiced for upon initiation training. Seeing the man respond confidently to where he'd presumed Duncan would strike meant he'd left his nuts unguarded to which Duncan kicked in with precision. The man screamed, letting go of his counterpart and went to hold himself in anguish. Duncan mercilessly grabbed the weapon from his hands and shot through the one holding his injured manhood, shooting off his limb and probably the area underneath.

A few more men appeared from the entryways, and, after killing them all with a few more bullets than needed considering he had two guns now and maybe a hit to the face with his brass knuckles; he made his way to the top of the stairs, ready for whatever else would come. He could take on twenty more of them before expressing any ounce of fatigue as he'd trained his whole life for missions like this.

However, it was just you in the room.

Almost entirely taken aback by the slumped position you were in bound to that chair in the middle of the room, Duncan froze in his advances. He didn't let his guard down, no, but he took careful detail to the contortions of your face and the state of your being from which he could make out from this distance. Your long hair fell from the roots of your head which seemed to still be intact (thank god), but your skin was an ashy grey and blood had littered your hands and chest area. It was deep and dark and so red, redder than he'd felt he'd ever seen before and the PTSD was back, clawing at his chest and vision through his one good eye, all of his labors seemingly returning to dust. If you were dead, it would be the death of all deaths despite having only known you for a short period of time.

It had been the way you'd entered his house for the first time that caught him winded, hands tucked into the pockets of your long coat that kept you warm and smelling like the vanilla candles that littered your house. Your flushed cheeks from being out in the cold. Your smile as he'd offered you a sip of his hot chocolate, only to find out it had an added hint of whiskey. Your face when he'd kissed you for the first time. The hug you'd given him after.

It took fifty years of his life to finally admit it to himself and to anyone else who'd listen to the raspy notches in his throat as he exclaimed that he was, indeed, in love. And it was, indeed, with you.

"Something caught your eye, Kaiser?" Blut's agonizing and cruel voice caught the echos of the marble flooring and flooded the room, signaling his emergence from the darkness. He was wearing his stupid, douchebaggy jacket with a shit eating grin nearly reaching the corners of his eyes. This was the man whom he'd worked for all these years, pledged his loyalty to despite having no ounce of previous companionship with him. The one who owed him $8 million and the one who'd sent out his own personal hitman army to kill Duncan and get away with it so he would no longer be a liability to the company.

"She'd better be alive, or I'll skewer your head on that fucking Damocles sword you have above the mantle." He nearly spat out, taking his time to enunciate the weight of every word that escaped his lips, forcing them out in such an anger that anyone would feel in the depths of their bones. Blut, however, could care less.

"Oh she's alive." Made sure to keep her that way for you." He said, sauntering towards her seemingly lifeless body and tilting her chin upwards to finally reveal her face. "Thought she could use some plastic surgery though, don't you think Duncan?"

It was as if a knife had pierced his chest then and there. Your face, which had been absolutely perfect upon anyone's first glance, now was missing an eye on the opposite side of his own. Flesh had been carved out around it, which meant it would leave a scar possibly even nastier than his. He wanted to throw up at the idea someone could've taken something so important to you and destroy a piece of your life forever. He then thought maybe that was how his victims' families felt, learning that their fathers or brothers had passed due to the brutality of murder.

But you were still beautiful. And he had to save you still.

"Duncan... you're not responding?" Blut taunted with his awful voice, ringing the question in his ears and twisting the metaphorical knife even further into his chest. Duncan knew he'd need to snap out of the hold of his traumas and force himself to swallow anything else other than the situation at hand in order to save you...and himself.

"You're fucking dead. Don't you fucking touch her." Duncan said, grabbing the hefty sword of the supposed Damocles mansion from the mantle near him, letting the blade drag on the floor before discarding his gun entirely and picking up the sword. It had to have been at least four feet long with a shiny hilt and an even shinier blade which would be stained with the blood of the man before him in the time it'd take to say the sword's name. He would avenge this piece of your life that had been wrongfully taken from you.

A little less smug now, Blut reached into his pocket and withdrew a gun. "Y-y-you fucking stay back Kaiser! I won't hesitate to blow your head off!!"

"Where are your other men? Or are you truly so out of options that you're here alone?" Duncan growled, his discarded gun going into the fireplace, and, with a loud boom, caught the floor and curtains surrounding it on fire. The flames twisted and danced against in the reflection of his newfound weapon, a proper visual to the fire that licked his veins with the rage he felt. He continued his progression to your chair, sparing you a softer glance, before focusing everything onto the man before him who was now cowering by the window on the wall.

It was as if he were a child who'd been told hiding under a blanket would save him from the monsters under his bed and in his closet. He shrunk into the glass and tried his best to aim his gun with a shaking hand at Duncan's head. Duncan was now eye-to-eye with the man whom he'd fucking rip to shreds faster than any job he'd done as a hitman in his life.

"Blut...you're not responding?" He sneered, dodging the bullet that flew from his opponent's barrel. He lifted the sword and thrust it from the nape of his neck to the back of his skull, brains flying out against the widow he was in front of. Blood spurt from the open wound like a the lake outside of Duncan's house in Montana, where he'd resided before all this madness. Eyes bulged out of his skull with the optic nerves sliding down the forefront of his face and falling just above his mouth. Duncan dismantled the head from his torso still attached to the blade and spear tossed the sword of Damocles out the window and onto the grounds below, the sharp end getting stuck in the ground and displaying Blut's upside down head like a totem pole.

"'Suck my fucking dick."

Duncan freed you from the chair, taking you outside and down the winding trail, mansion burning to the ground in the distance. Back to Montana where now, at last, he would fucking retire.