Rose

Main : Cherrypop-xoxo MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

[spacedlexi]

happy birthday sweet pea 🍊

[hibi5cus]

Sometimes you just have to live a double life

[mellarkslovergirl]

the state you’ll find me in if Steve sacrifices himself for his kids

[diamond-dust-graph]

Richard Harmon avatars x9

[botanynightmares]

[multi-fandom-imagine]

💘Pretty In Pink || Erik Campbell and his cute soft, pretty-in-pink coquette girlfriend mini series ||

(DO NOT STEAL MY IDEAS)

Like seriously, I've had my work stolen before. If you'd want to use one of these for my ideas for my mini series then tag me

1. “Sweetheart, You’re Gonna Get Me Arrested.”

Erik’s always the one in control—until you show up to his tattoo parlor wearing a pink mini skirt, no panties, and that innocent look you wear like armor. You on his lap while he’s sketching out some things with you whispering about how bad you've been and how much you want him to fix it.

Smut angle: He finally snaps, bends you over the counter, and makes you bite his palm to muffle your cries. His piercing dragging deliciously slow as he makes you beg.

2. “You Promised to Be Good Today.” “I Lied.”

You're both at a party—his friends, a few mutuals, drinks flowing. You look like sin in bubblegum, and Erik knows exactly what you're up to when you start shifting on his lap. Your fingers sneak under the waistband of his jeans while everyone else is too distracted to notice.

Smut angle: He drags you to the bathroom and fucks you so thoroughly against the door that you forget your name—calling him “sir” in a breathless whimper while he tells you how desperate you are is for his cock.

3. “Try to Keep Up, Baby.”

Erik takes you on his bike wearing just a sundress and your kitten heels. The wind keeps flipping the skirt up, and he knows damn well you planned it. When they finally stop in a remote area, you pretend you're shy, sitting sideways on the seat with your legs crossed.

Smut angle: He eats you out right there on the bike seat, one hand gripping your throat while you sobs his name, your thighs trembling. Then he flips you around and fucks you from behind until the bike rocks beneath them.

4. “I Made You Something…”

You show up to the shop with pink cupcakes wearing a trench coat and behind that trench coat a lace-trimmed apron—no clothes underneath. Erik’s doing inventory, but the second he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes, it’s over.

Smut angle: He makes you kneel between his legs and suck him off while he feeds you frosting off his fingers, muttering filth about how good she looks with his cock down your throat. (Bonus: you hums around him just to tease his piercing.)

5. “Tattoo Me, Daddy.”

You beg him for your first tattoo: a tiny pink bow on your hip or inner thigh. You're blushing, flustered—but he knows your game. You writh while he inks, biting your lip and calling him “sir” every time the needle presses in.

Smut angle: As soon as he’s done, you pull him on top of you, riding him slow and deep with the fresh ink still stinging. He holds your hips carefully, his voice low and filthy in your ear, making you cry from how gentle and dirty it is all at once.

6. “I Dare You.”

You two are alone in a dressing room at the mall. You try on pink lingerie sets and keeps “accidentally” leaving the curtain open. Erik’s already hard, his patience gone by the third set.

Smut angle: You rides him on the little velvet bench while he growls about how much of a fuckin’ tease you are. You tug at his chain as you come, and he tells you, you'd better hope the cameras are off—or not.

7. “Pretty Doll, My Rules.”

You surprise him one night wearing pink ribbons around your wrists and ankles, kneeling on satin sheets like a present. You flush is real—but so is the need in your eyes.

Smut angle: He ties you down properly and takes his time. Uses his piercing to overstimulate you, edging you until you sob and beg for release. He only lets you come when you say “please” like the sweet little thing you pretend to be.

8. “Pink Looks Better With Bruises.”

You love showing off your marks—bite prints on your inner thighs, finger-shaped bruises at your hips. He notices how proud you get when people almost see them.

Smut angle: He fucks you hard in front of a mirror, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your ass. You watch yourself break apart on his cock, mascara smudged and pretty lips parted. He marks your neck right before you come again.

💖 FLUFFY IDEAS ( non smut related )

1. “You Painted What Pink?”

You surprise Erik by painting a corner of his apartment bubblegum pink and turning it into a “cozy corner” with pillows, blankets, and fairy lights. He tries to act annoyed… until he falls asleep there cuddling you.

Bonus: He starts leaving his jacket on the chair there when he gets home, and you find it the next morning, still warm.

2. “My Big, Scary Teddy Bear.”

You buy him a plushie that “reminds you of him”—black leather jacket, little frowny eyebrows. He grumbles… but later, you catche him adjusting it on your bed so it doesn’t fall over.

Bonus: When you're away visiting family, he sleeps with the damn thing on your pillow and texts you: “Your stuffed boyfriend misses you. Real one too.”

3. “You’re Not Leaving in That Skirt, Trouble.”

It’s date night, and you show up in a flouncy pink skirt and glittery lip gloss. Erik groans like he’s annoyed, but you catch him staring every five seconds.

Bonus: He carries a hoodie in his truck just so he can give it to you later—not because he’s possessive… definitely not… okay, maybe a little. But he just really wants to see you stay warm

4. “He Knows My Coffee Order.”

You walk into the shop with your pink tote bag and heart-shaped sunglasses, only to find Erik already holding your favorite drink.

Bonus: He gruffly says it was “just a guess” but had actually written it down in his notes app weeks ago.

5. “Bows in Your Hair, Just for Me.”

You put tiny pink bows in your hair because you know he likes playing with it. He acts like it’s no big deal—until he’s braiding one strand into a little rope around his finger while you talk.

Bonus: He keeps one of your bows in his glovebox. You find it and nearly cries. He just shrugs and says, “It smelled like you.”

6. “Matching? Maybe.”

You buy them matching pink-and-black socks with tiny skulls on them and gifts them to him like it’s a national holiday. He groans—but wears them under his boots anyway.

Bonus: When they’re curled up watching movies, you sees them peeking out and beams. He notices and just pulls you closer without a word.

7. “Cuddle Bug and the Human Furnace.”

You love burrowing under his jacket or hoodie, especially when he’s warm from work. He grumbles every time—“Get your cold hands off me, doll”—but he never stops you

Bonus: Sometimes he walks in the door and opens his arms automatically because he knows you're about to climb on him like a koala.

8. “Princess and the Punk.”

You jokingly make him a tiny paper crown with “King of Trouble” written on it in pink glitter glue. He says he’ll throw it out. You catch him keeping it in his top drawer next to his lighter and spare chain.

Bonus: He starts calling you “my queen” whenever you tease him, even if he rolls his eyes after.

9. “My Girl’s Got Claws.”

When someone flirts with Erik at the grocery store, you sweetly loop your arm through his and goes, “Hi! His girlfriend. We bake cookies and fuck a lot.”

Bonus: Erik’s stunned, then smug the entire drive home. You're flushing too hard to speak. He keeps calling you a “jealous little cupcake” for days.

10. “Bubblegum and Bruises.”

He gets into a fight protecting his younger brother, and you fuss over every scrape, sitting him down and patching him up with pink Hello Kitty band-aids. He lets you. Doesn’t even blink.

Bonus: you kiss each one when you're done and then curls into his lap, whispering, “You’re my hero.” He doesn’t say anything… just holds you tighter.

First Piercings

(Different places, different moods—fluffy, teasing, smutty, and intimate)

⸻

1. ✨ Navel Piercing – “Just for You, Baby.”

You show up in a cropped top, glittery gloss on your lips, and tells Erik that you're finally ready to get your bellybutton pierced. You want him to do it. You say it’s because you trust him most—but he knows it’s also because you love the way he watches you when you stretch and that top lifts.

Flirty tease: Later that night, you straddle him on the couch and lifts your shirt just enough to show it off, whispering, “You like it?”

Smut angle: He tugs her panties aside and fucks you slow while kissing the nape of your neck whispering how pretty you look with his metal in your body.

2. 💞 Nipple Piercing – “You Said You Wanted Something Just for You.”

After weeks of teasing and hinting, you finally ask Erik to pierce your nipples. You're nervous but so turned on by the idea of him being the one to do it. You show up in pink lace and no bra, trying to act shy but dying for his reaction.

Intimate: He’s impossibly gentle, focused—but his voice is rough with restraint. “You look so fuckin’ good, doll.”

Aftercare fluff: you're flushed and shaky after, and he cradles you in his lap with his forehead against yours, cooing, “You were so good for me.”

Smut angle (once healed): He bites lightly around the healing rings, watching you squirm. “Told you I’d love ‘em. You gonna let me taste you while they’re still sore?”

3. 🖤 Tongue Piercing – “I Just Wanted to Be a Little Bad.”

You show up to his shop with innocent eyes and a hidden secret—you got your tongue pierced while you were gone without telling him. When he finally sees it? He damn near loses his mind.

Tease: You trail your tongue along the rim of your lollipop and giggles, “You like my surprise?”

Smut angle: Later, you're on your knees, and he can feel the stud sliding against his cock as she moans. He jerks your hair back and groans, “That’s not fuckin’ fair, baby…”

4. 🌸 Septum Piercing – “You’d Still Love Me If I Look Like a Punk, Right?”

You've been toying with the idea of a septum ring but worries you won’t look “cute” anymore. Erik smirks and tells you that you could wear a bolt through your nose and he’d still fuck you like you're the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Fluff: He holds your hand through the whole piercing, kisses the tip your nose after, and says, “Still my dollface.”

Bonus scene: You get matching pink rings for you both—you swap his out while sitting in his lap, straddling him in your thigh highs.

5. 🩷 Helix Piercing – “One More Reason to Play with My Hair.”

You get a cartilage piercing on a whim and chooses a pink gemstone stud. You keep flicking your hair to show it off until Erik finally grabs you by the waist, bites your earlobe, and murmurs, “You’re killin’ me with this whole doll routine.”

Fluffy moments: you let him clean it, babying you with his rough fingers and quiet grumbles.

Bonus: you swap it out for a heart-shaped stud engraved with his initials.

6. 🍒 Double Lobe Piercings – “I Want to Be Pretty Everywhere.”

You've already have simple studs—but decides to go for doubles, choosing dainty pink gems and tiny hearts. You sit in Erik’s chair in her favorite pastel outfit, swinging your legs and asking, “Will you kiss them better when it’s done?”

Aftercare Fluff: Erik does kiss them—every morning and every night. When you pout because one’s sore, he carries you around the apartment just to cheer you up.

Bonus tease: you string tiny chain earrings that spell out “Erik” and pretends not to notice his reaction.

6. 💋 Lip Piercing – “Bet You’ll Think About Kissing Me Now.”

You're nervous but excited—and when you look at yourself in the mirror with that little pink gem on your lip, you know you're going to ruin Erik with it. He stands behind you, arms crossed, just staring.

Smut angle: you straddle him, trailing soft kisses down his chest, lips brushing his skin with every sweet flick. He finally snaps, grabs your face, and says, “You knew exactly what that was gonna do to me.”

7. 💖 Cupid’s Bow Piercing – “Because I Want to Be Kissed Here Most.”

You see a vertical lip piercing—centered through the cupid’s bow—and your coquette brain short circuits. When you tell Erik you wants it, he smirks and says, “That’s dangerous.”

Aftermath: Every kiss becomes obsession. He can’t stop sucking that spot. You giggle, “Told you it was worth it.”

Smut: your lipstick smudged, your tongue slick with him, and the piercing making you pout even more perfect as you beg, “More. Please, please more.”

8. 🧸 Nostril Piercing – “Just One More Little Sparkle.”

You decide that you want a teeny, girly sparkle on one nostril—maybe a heart-shaped stud or soft rose gold hoop. Erik helps you pick it out, even though he pretends he doesn’t care.

Post-piercing cuddles: You're sniffly and sore, curled in his hoodie while he hand-feeds you snacks and pets your hair.

💘 TATTOO ideas

1. “I Want Something That’s Only Yours.”

You tell him you want a tattoo Erik designed just for you—something no one else will ever have. Maybe it’s a tiny bow, a delicate heart, or a sigil only he understands. You don't even want to see the sketch—you trust him completely.

2. “Tattoo Me Somewhere Only You’ll See.”

You want a hidden tattoo—hip, ribcage, or just above your pussy. Something small, dainty, and personal. Maybe a phrase like “Only his” in script, or a tiny pink heart.

Smut: You show him wearing only panties and a bow, whispering, “It’s sore… be gentle.”

3. “I Want to Tattoo You Too.”

You get curious about his machine and begs him to let you try it on him. He lets you give him a tiny heart or your initial somewhere low on his torso. It’s crooked. It’s wobbly. It’s perfect.

Fluff: He teases you relentlessly, but never covers it.

Bonus: Later, during sex, he traces your fingertip over it and growls, “Look what you did to me.”

4. “Give Me Something That Hurts Pretty.”

You confess you like the sting. That being marked by him, inked and raw, turns you on more than you expected. You ask for something a little bigger—a thigh piece or sternum tattoo—with lace and ribbons woven into the design.

Smut angle: When you flinch and whimpers, he leans in and murmurs, “You’re gettin’ off on this, aren’t you?”

Later: You can’t ride him for days, so he eats you out instead, fingers ghosting over the bandage while you tremble

5. “I Want to Match You.”

You secretly design a matching tattoo after finding a sketchbook of his. Maybe a skull and bow combo, or something symbolic of your relationship—his darkness, your softness.

Reveal scene: You show him while curled up in his hoodie, eyes shining, voice tiny: “Now we match.”

Erik’s reaction: Gutted. Soft. Obsessed. He presses a kiss to it and whispers, “You’re mine, sweetheart. Every inch.”

[goryhorroor]

final destination (2000-2025)

"And it was so real, just how everything happens, you know?" "I don't know how to explain it but i saw it." "I should had done everything i could to stop it." "and i realized i actually seen how the next person was gonna die." "I had a vision." "I saw what death was about to do."

[scerek]

Alex Browning, Final Destination (2000) Kimberly Corman, Final Destination 2 (2003) Wendy Christensen, Final Destination 3 (2006) Nick O'Bannon, The Final Destination (2009) Sam Lawton, Final Destination 5 (2011) Iris Campbell, Final Destination Bloodlines (2025)

[xoxovillageboy]

i agonized over salim’s face for hours but then drew jason once and was like yeah thats him thats jason

[sixonefive]

🍕

[rebelfell]

Can I interest anyone in a wee bit of frenemy(?)eddie and some soft confessions while under the influence?

18+, MDNI 2.2k

cw: drug use (edible)

“Oh, wow. She’s really out.”

Nancy wasn’t wrong, but Eddie didn’t need to be told. He had noted your rapid descent into sleep when it started halfway through the movie. Your eyelids fluttering like they had weights attached to them and your body curling into itself as you sank into the cushions of the Wheeler’s sofa.

You were crumpled in a ball at the end of it now, hugging the arm like you thought you were going to roll off the edge of a cliff if you let go. Your half-drunk beer still sat on the end table, abandoned once the edible you split with Argyle took effect.

Eddie had foolishly tried to warn you off it, saying you should start with half of your half and go from there. But of course that only set the two of you off like a pair of dueling firecrackers.

He didn’t know how he kept ending up in these spats with you. He never intended to insult you, it just seemed he had a real knack for it. You always accused him of babying you and he’d accuse you of being too stubborn for your own good.

Had anyone besides Eddie suggested you take it easy, you probably would have listened and might still be conscious right now.

Nancy jostled you gently, trying to rouse you while Eddie peered over her shoulder. He didn’t care for the lifeless way your limbs hung, for the way your head lolled forward on your shoulders like you couldn’t hold it up yourself.

It made his fingers drum nervously on the outside edge of his thigh and the wallet chain that hung there clinked with each and every irregular tap.

Of course he knew there was logically no way you could OD on a pot brownie—but that didn’t mean he delighted in seeing you so incapacitated.

Eyes shut tight, you started babbling softly in response to Nancy’s voice as she tried to draw you back to the world of the waking. With a soft oof, she got you to put one arm around her neck and attempted to lift you off the couch. But even with the deceptive strength of her slight frame, she wasn’t getting you anywhere by herself.

So, she glanced around the room at the rest of their friends in their various states of intoxication.

Steve and Robin were long gone, Robin being the winner of their coin toss for who got to drink that night while the other stayed sober. She’d skipped on the edible and mainlined strawberry daiquiris instead, leading to her calling out forlornly as Steve helped drag her out the door,

“What if I puke pink? Please, please, please, don’t let me puke pink—”

Argyle and Jonathan were passed out, entwined on the pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor, Jonathan likely not realizing the warm chest he was burying his face in wasn’t his girlfriend’s.

Finally, her determined gaze fell to Eddie, and she tilted her head at him in that Nancy way of her’s that gave out marching orders without her so much as speaking a word. With another glance at your sleeping form, Eddie released a resigned sigh and nodded his head.

As they helped you climb the stairs, one arm slung over each of their shoulders, you started to rouse again and slowly registered what was happening through the fog of your high.

“Aww, shit…m’fucked up, huh?” you chuckled, letting out a heavy sigh. “M’so sorry, Nance, I shouldn’t have…he was right…again…”

The bitter edge in your voice as the last word left your lips made Eddie’s brow jump with interest. You lifted your head the full two inches you could manage and peered at Nancy through half-lidded eyes. Your head then swiveled to the other side and Eddie braced himself for more vitriol.

But none came.

Your face didn’t even change and Eddie realized your current state made he and Nancy’s mops of messy brown curls somewhat indistinguishable. You just continued on like you were still talking to your best friend, not the guy you couldn’t stand.

“Wheeler, you’re a fucking beast, you know that? You’re so strong…”

The loopy giggle you let out brought a smile to Eddie’s lips in spite of himself. He felt your hand start to curl around his shoulder and it made him tense, worrying you’d recognize the rough denim of his vest. But your fingers simply held it, rubbed the frayed hem of his cut-off sleeve between the pads, your sleepy smile re-forming.

“God, Nance, you smell so good…”

Your head suddenly drooped, landing partially on Eddie’s shoulder and making his breath catch.

You took a deep inhale of his scent, your chest expanding with it and making Eddie’s eyes bulge and then avert quickly when he caught himself ogling the deep scoop of your neckline. He had already committed most of the night to avoiding just that, his eyes just…slipped for a second.

Over your head, he caught Nancy’s gaze and the cloudy blue color might as well have been a bright red laser for how clearly she saw through him.

Thankfully, they got to the guest room before she could make any damning remarks. She pushed open the door and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating a bed piled obscenely high with pillows and a down comforter seemingly thicker than some mattresses Eddie had slept on.

“Can you hold her?” Nancy asked, looking from the bed back to him.

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and he nodded, only half-sure of his answer. Nancy lifted your other arm from her shoulder and turned you into his body. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder.

His hands wrapped hesitantly around your back, holding you against him almost like you were slow dancing. He had to resist the urge to sway.

Heart thundering so loud he feared it might wake you, Eddie watched while Nancy pushed all of the decorative pillows to the floor and turned down the comforter, motioning Eddie forward.

He walked you backwards a few steps and sat you down on the edge of the bed while Nancy knelt to take off your shoes. Thankfully, the dress code on movie night was always supremely casual and the track pants and tank top you’d worn would be fine to sleep in.

You babbled a bit more as they got you ready for bed, seemingly oblivious to Eddie’s presence—even mentioning him briefly as they helped you lay flat and Nancy lifted your legs onto the bed.

“He’s just so annoying, you know?” you muttered bitterly. “Like, whatever, you’re hot and you play guitar and you’ve banged like half the town. That doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Eddie tried not to let the words sting. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t said before to his face, but there was something about you still saying it, even when he “wasn’t there” to hear it.

Apparently it wasn’t just an act.

“I’m gonna get water,” Nancy whispered, already out the door. “Just keep an eye on her, please?”

Eddie frowned and grumbled in response, but he didn’t move from his spot beside you. He did start to turn away, but stopped when you shifted in the bed. You reached out a limp hand and caught just the tips of Eddie’s fingers, tugging lightly on them like you wanted to tell him something.

He sank slowly to his knees, trying to hear you as your lips moved almost mutely.

“Should’ve listened,” you muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve been such a dick…”

You seemed perfectly content continuing your conversation even without “Nancy” responding, and Eddie wondered if he should just go? He was positive you’d be mortified if you ever found out he had overheard any of this. But even as he was screaming at his feet to move, for his knees to rise, they remained planted on the Wheeler’s plush carpeting at your next words.

“Nance…why doesn’t he like me?”

It took what felt like a year for Eddie to unfreeze. He looked towards the door for a sign of Nancy’s shadow in the hallway, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. But there was none.

Your head lolled on the pillow, eyes still shut but the lids twitching subtly like you were trying to open them. If you did, you’d be staring straight into Eddie’s own rapt gaze. You still held your pitifully weak grasp on his fingers, and he easily could have pulled away. But he didn’t.

Eddie just watched, torn between his standards of decency and being desperate to find out what you were talking about. He didn’t even know you were into anyone—let alone that you liked them enough to groan about them to Nancy. What kind of idiot wouldn’t like you back?

Some sadistic part of him wanted to find out.

“I mean, I know I’m not—m’not like…Chrissy—but I’m alright, aren’t I? An’ I wore thisstupid booby shirt hoping he’d notice and he just…”

Your voice took on a wounded waver and you stopped, inhaling deeply as if to steady yourself. The beginnings of tears started to shimmer along your lash line and you shut your eyes tighter, but it only squeezed one of them out and made it trickle down your temple in a wet trail.

Okay…Eddie was really confused now.

He didn’t even know you knew his ex-girlfriend’s name until it came tumbling past your lips. And he sure as shit had so noticed your booby shirt—he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off you, had to actively force himself not to stare.

Had you actually…did you really wear it for him?

All of a sudden, you rolled onto your side and your eyes cracked open the widest he had seen them all night. You looked almost lucid and you were staring directly into Eddie’s face.

He flinched slightly, worried you might scream when you saw him. But you just sighed, scanning his features all glassy and moon-eyed as you stared at him plainly. Unabashedly.

Like he’s an oil painting that couldn’t look back.

“He’s just so…pretty.”

The words are whispered, like a secret. And it takes everything in him to remain totally still and not to let his eyes bug completely out of his skull. Wait, did you…Did you not think he was there?

“I like’im so much…what’m I gonna do?”

There it was again. That plaintive whine, that broken lilt of your voice that tugged mercilessly at something deep inside of him. Heartstrings he didn’t know were there until you plucked them.

You looked at him with those shiny eyes. Literal tears were filling them now, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You were crying. Over him? What kind of world was he living in?

And nearly too late, Eddie realized your eyes were fluttering closed again. Not from exhaustion, but to lean in and kiss him.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. You stretched your neck forward, hand coming up to cup his jaw—god, your palms were so soft, not rough and hard like his—and Eddie felt himself melt briefly into your touch, just for a moment before he realized what you were doing.

Eyes closing, chest heaving, lips parting as you leaned into what you thought was a dream.

No, no, no, he thought frantically. Not like this—

Eddie wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled away from you. It made you push a little harder, trying to fight your way out of his grasp, but you were weak and looked more like a kitten trying to box. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want you to get upset, he just—

“Hey,” he soothed, gently brushing the backs of his fingertips along your jaw. “Just go to sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.”

You blinked, seemingly in realization, like you were surprised to hear him speak. And it made him wonder how many of your other dreams he’d starred in where he didn’t say a word.

But his voice seemed to soothe you somewhat, your fists unclenching and dropping to lay on the softness of the sheets. You nodded your head as your face sunk back into the pillow, your cheek rubbing the dainty floral bouquets on the case.

Eddie let out the breath he didn’t remember he was holding, his shoulders slumping with it as his mind raced. Carefully, with nimble fingers curled around the edge of the comforter, he tugged it up further over your shoulders, almost to your chin. You snuggled a little deeper into your sleep and Eddie tucked the blanket in a little tighter, his heart pounding with every second.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

Once in a while we have to do the pining, I guess 🙄

Very veeeeeeeeeery loosely inspired by that scene in New Girl where Jess is on painkillers. Ty for reading - love you, mean it!

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

[sweet-shut-eye]

Tools of Self-Destruction

[karlovycross]

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[karlovycross]

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[hanavbara]

“no matter who i’m in love with, you’re my only hero nana” 💔

[redvelvetbunny]

hello to the 4 other people who like this game. today i present you, luke. tomorrow i will give you, who knows. do i even know? probably not. all i know is that i want to kiss you on the mouth right now (non-platonically)